All Chapters of Alpha's Feral Kitten : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

BILLIE “New girl, Tristan,” says the one with floppy brown hair. “Human.” The boy next to him looks up, our eyes meet, and my breath catches. His straight black hair is shaved in an undercut, with the long part hanging down his face until he brushes it back. He has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, as green as the forest in summer. His pale skin glows in the dark of the pub. He has a black lip ring, and as I watch, his tongue darts out to touch it. His expensive-looking black shirt and black leather jacket pull tight against his muscular body. A triple moon hangs from a leather cord around his neck. He exudes power, strength, and charisma so strong I'm overcome by it. We can’t seem to stop staring at each other. “New girl,” he agrees. His voice sounds like liquid heat. “Hello, Kitten. Don’t be afraid.” He must know how intimidating it is for a human to face all seven of them at once. Their combined aura of physical strength and power, their size, is almost stifling. But h

BILLIE I wake up the next day around 8 am. The first thing I do is pile my hair on top of my head, pull on some legwarmers, and run through some barre exercises in my living room. I do this every morning. Then I go for a 20 minute run through the human trailer park where I rent a tiny one-bedroom. After a yoga-fueled cooldown, I take a shower in the stained but clean bathroom. I mix some cereal with yogurt and a banana, then take my coffee to the stoop. It’s early, so it’s safe to be outside without getting sexually harassed by one of my neighbors. The view is of my next door neighbor’s garbage bins, but the air is fresh and my rent is paid. Around noon, I put on a hoodie and head to the bus stop to visit my mother. She’s in assisted living, and most days I have to remind her I’m not my long-dead Aunt Tracy. On the days she remembers me, she gives me messages to take to my father, who was shot in the line of duty when I was four. Today is one of those days. “Tell your father that M

BILLIE I get a ride home from work, bribing my coworker Jenna with gas money as usual. I can tell she only takes it to make me feel comfortable; otherwise she would just give me a ride like she’d tried to insist on the first three times. I could take the bus, but it’s not safe this late. She waits until I’m in my trailer as usual, then I watch her leave safely from the back window. I put my counter chair under my doorknob, since my landlord still hasn’t fixed the deadbolt. Then I plug in my ancient phone to see if I got any messages. There are two voicemails. “This message is for Billie Black, this is Tricia from the Wesley Dance Scholarship fund. We’re pleased to inform you of your acceptance. Terms will be sent to your email, there will be a housing and equipment stipend. Since your acceptance is so last-minute, there was only one housing spot available, on campus. Welcome to Crescent University. We’ll see you Monday.” My jaw is dropped, and the second voicemail plays.

TRISTAN “So. How was it?” I ask Dominic. He’s giving me a report on Billie’s first day here…in the room next to mine. I can sense her next door, smell her. My inner Wolf is so restless he wants to climb the walls. I'm right there with him. “Raven and Fleming both flirted with her, and her main reaction according to Raven was shy surprise. I don’t think she's used to a lot of male attention aside from her waitressing at the Gaelic Wolf, which she probably resents as a part of the job. I think it was a novelty for her, and she seemed flattered,” my second lieutenant tells me. “She'll have to get used to male attention from more than one source as our Omega,” I respond. “I may have strict rules regarding sex with her, but I won't restrict anyone's instincts to flirt with her or show physical affection. It will still be her place as our Omega to fulfill that role, just not sexually.” It's a tricky situation. On the one hand, the pull towards her as my fated mate gets stronger every se

BILLIE I’m eating lunch in the quad at the Rock House with Fleming, when he comes at me with this: “Listen, Billie, they’ll eat you up at Crescent if you don’t get some different clothes. You have to at least look like you have style,” he says. “You know I’m a drama major, but you probably don’t know my concentration is costuming. I know how to dress women. Let me help you.” “I can’t afford clothes. The scholarship is generous, I can afford my dance gear and I have a food and housing stipend. There’s nothing left for anything else.” “Then you’re going to have to learn to let others do you a favor. C’moooon,” he whines, drawing the word out. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s werewolf billionaire sugar daddy. Let me?” I give him an assessing look. He really is into this. “I don’t know, it would have to be minus the sugar…” “Of course, everything strictly proper, no obligations. I know all the best places to go if you want to look like you have money. I promise I won’t spend too m