The Alpha's Princess

The wind swirls around a stick-thin girl, pushing the rain into her face so that it slaps her cheeks. She is tiny, small and skinny, her eyes a brilliant green that shines like emeralds. However, thick glasses hide their spectacular beauty, with lenses that dull the brightness and color of her eyes. Her soft, wavy hair is a striking red, cut sharply at the shoulders, giving her a childlike face to match her childlike body.She sits, her thin dress clinging to her soaked skin as the rain pounds her form even more resolutely on the muddy ground. Thunder rumbles overhead, crackling lightning strikes the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is only darkness.She knows she is in mortal danger. Lightning is near and if one tree catches fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if this happens, no one to call for help. Her cell phone is next to her, dead from the constant downpour of water. However, it is easy for her to stay calm.Life is no longer important to her,

BIP! BEEP! I press the alarm button, trying to stop her irritating moans. I lie in bed, my soft stuffed animals surrounding my heavily buried form. I have many of them, a whole collection from my childhood, that I can't bear to get rid of. Golden hues flood my small windows, illuminating my face as I sit in the dazzling sunlight. Just beyond the glass is a beautiful environment of crisp green grass, crystal clear lake water and tall trees. Puffy clouds hang in the blue sky, birds cruising on the horizon. I wearily drag myself out of the covers, my feet causing a thud as they hit the ground. Stumbling to my dresser, I casually grab a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, slipping them over my figure. My spare pair of glasses, the other lost in the storm, squeak as I slide them onto my nose. By chance, I see my body in the mirror and I jump. A huge black and blue bruise spreads over my left shoulder, surrounded by extreme redness.

Matherson Public School looms over us until we can see its brick walls and rather drab surroundings. It looms over its students, standing two full stories tall, casting a shadow over their forms. Weeds grow in small puffs throughout the premises, the grass untamed and wild. Overall, it's the rehashed image of a normal high school that presents itself as a second home to many students. Xavier pauses for me to finally catch up with him, assuming my anger would have subsided by this point. As I unwillingly make my way to his side, forced by my likely tardiness, I catch a glimpse of his excited face. "Why are you so happy, werewolf?" I snap, my voice harsh and abrasive. My bangs fall in front of my eyes as I slump slightly, resuming my usual position when I'm with people at school. He stares at me strangely. "Why are you slouching? I thought you had perfect posture," he inquires quietly. I frown, my eyes crinkling. "It's non

I am exhausted, physically and mentally, by lunchtime. Xavier has been harassed by so many people that even he is tired now, huffing and puffing next to me like a car that just ran out of gas. "That's it," he says, running a hair through his perfect blue hair, "that's why I haven't been to school in thirty-two years." I blink, wondering if I had heard him correctly. "Thirty-two years? I squeak, my voice barely above a whisper. Even now, as we casually walk down the hallway, people look at him, chattering about the hot new senior. "Yeah. I was born fifty-five years ago, March 4, 1955, to be exact, and you're not allowed to go to school until you're five. So, it's been about thirty-two years since I went. I only finished high school and didn't go to college," he says simply. My eyes widen in surprise as I absorb his words. "So you're fifty-five," I say doubtfully. Somehow, it's hard to believe. He look

I look at the scene around me, a blur of green, blue and brown, with awe. It's so strange, the way everything changes so quickly. It's a collage of the senses, all mixed up, unable to observe. The only thing that is constant is Xavier, and his huge arms around my form. Feeling like a baby in a crib, I rock in his arms, marveling at how I seem to fit into his embrace. For once, I am grateful for my small size. His hands offer a steady warmth as they radiate off my skin, warmth and desire mixed together. It's a trial for him, I can tell, to hold me like this, because the temptation is enormous. For both of us. I look at Xavier's masculine features, the way his azure hair glistens in the breeze. When the sun hits it perfectly, it looks like a rainbow, all the colors shining in every strand. It is the most gorgeous hair I have ever seen in my life. His eyes are incredible too. They are also the only things about him that are