Ava Barbara P.O.V

My sixteenth birthday was filled with excitement that spread through our school's hallways. As the well-known Alpha Female of the pack, my friends and classmates whispered birthday wishes to me. Being the Alpha had its advantages, and I could feel the warmth and respect from everyone recognizing my birthday. As I imagined the warmth of being cradled in a safe embrace and supported by strong arms, I couldn't help but yearn for the elusive connection that comes with finding one's love partner. It struck a deep chord with me to think of someone who would sacrifice all for my security and who would be there no matter what.

Friends made up the fabric of my social circle, be they the stalwart betas and deltas or the less prestigious omegas, zetas, and epsilons. I preferred to value friendships that were unrestricted by social conventions over the hierarchical divisions that come with positions. Throughout the evening, my father Marcus-the pack's current alpha-organized a lavish feast in my honor. Our pack, Loupe Lycan, was quite excited about the party, and I was too, hoping that somewhere in the thick of the celebrations I would finally run into my mate.

I dutifully engaged in the customary social dance, stepping and spinning in time with each suitable man in attendance. But the pressure on my feet became apparent. "I apologize, but I just need a little break," I said to my dancing companion. He smiled back, capping the silence with a gentle peck on the back of my hand that made my cheeks flush scarlet.

Desiring a breath of fresh air, I stepped outside the pack house. A concerned friend, Emily, intercepted me. "Hey, going somewhere?" she inquired, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Just need some fresh air. Don't fret," I reassured her, setting out with a silent determination.

Wandering into the woods, a routine for werewolves like us, I found solace in the embrace of nature. Clad in an alluring, flowing red dress – my favored colors being black, red, and white – the night held the promise of enchantment and mystery.

I moved farther into the trees, my dress and hair dancing behind me like wild spirits as the cool breeze launched its assault on my skin. I gave in to the wild's appeal and, in true rebel fashion, let go of my high heels to enjoy the feel of mud on my bare feet. I was a fighter at heart, therefore I didn't run from the raw energy of the natural world.

My style was definitely not prep, always leaning toward the rebellious side and loving all-black outfits and tight jeans. However, I was pushed by my family to wear this massive dress on this specific day. Their justification? "Dear, you're a woman. Would you like your partner to think you're a man?

I chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. Imagining a straight guy discovering his mate is a man and suddenly grappling with an unexpected twist of sexuality – the sheer mental image was enough to provoke laughter and sympathy.

My journey led me to a waterfall stream, a haven I frequented in times of joy, sorrow, or frustration. The place where I unraveled my thoughts and emotions, settling on the green meadow, feeling the grass beneath my palms.

Beneath the stars and moon, I attempted the futile task of counting the stars, only to abandon the effort in favor of simply relishing the dark blue expanse of the night sky. With my eyes closed, I allowed myself to exhale, the tension of the day dissipating with each breath.

The tranquility of the moment shattered when the snap of a twig reached my ears. In an instant, I, along with the wolf within me, snapped to attention, attuned to the rustle of leaves and the subtle shifts in the forest. My senses heightened, I sniffed the air, listened to the subtle sounds, felt the energy around me, and observed the shadows.

Just as I detected a strange scent, a searing agony pierced me, akin to an injection thrust into my core and then slowly withdrawn. The mysterious encounter in the heart of the woods had begun, shrouded in a mix of curiosity and foreboding.

Anonymous P.O.V

"Sir, we've captured a female werewolf," one of the men reported.

"Good, bring her to me, and alive," I commanded.

My father and I both harbored a deep-seated loathing of werewolves. My mother was taken from me by a species I never had the opportunity to meet. Even numerous werewolf deaths couldn't heal the gap left by her death during childbirth. I had turned into a hunter, a merciless killer of these animals, especially the renegade ones who possessed a werewolf and human bloodlust. They were easy pickings, the weak and defenseless, and I had made it my mission to kill them.

I'm the pre-eminent here because of my genes, I'm a half- I began to think, interrupted by the arrival of the captive girl, unconscious and roughly sixteen years old.

"Tie her to that chair," I instructed, and the men promptly obeyed, securing her with sterling silver chains that weakened werewolves, rendering them powerless to resist or break free.

I detested werewolves, but something unusual was eating at me: I didn't want to see the girl hurt, not even a little bit. I dismissed the feeling, walked over to her, and gently raised her chin with my thumb and index finger. Her beautiful dark brown hair, thick lashes, lovely nose, and luscious lips briefly took my attention away from my task. She was gorgeous.

No! Snap out of it, what's wrong with you? I scolded myself internally.

"My, another one and a girl, isn't this sensational?" my father beamed, entering the room, and surveying the unconscious werewolf.

"Cut her dress till it reaches her knees; it's unreasonably wearisome and vast," my father directed, and the men wasted no time in complying. An unexpected pang of displeasure surged through me at the thought of them touching her, cutting her dress. It was as if I, and only I, was permitted to have any form of skin contact with her.

Who is into me? I was divided between duty and an inexplicable connection that challenged my hatred for her type, and I thought that maybe I should kill the girl sooner than I had planned because she was the cause of my feelings.