The Omega's Alpha [ ]

Chapter 6: Settling in

Omega

Two weeks.

In a new place.

In a pack.

With other werewolves.

Yes, I was freaking out.

I wasn't used to staying in one place. In fact, I hated it, I didn't feel safe or secure when I was laying about in one area.

Especially if you added new people to the equation.

That's why I kept moving, I kept running, never slowing down, never halting. I would never stop.

I was sure of it. I would never stop fighting. I would never rest.

And I was content with that.

I am content with that.

So, why did I have to agree? I could just run away from him too.

Well, it was the easiest option and as much as I despise staying still, that didn't mean that I couldn't be a little lazy and look for an easy way out.

While my thoughts were on my predicament, Tundra's thoughts were on our mate.

If I were to ever explain what being a werewolf was like, then I would compare it to being a stereotypical insane person.

You could turn into a wolf.

And you had a voice in your head.

Now, this voice was more or less kind of like you. The Moon Goddess herself chose it especially for you, after all.

So, you could work as a unit. Share your deepest thoughts. It was like having a built in best friend.

Though, this voice usually had your best interests at heart, it would act out at times, since it would still (mostly) act on instinct, as a normal wolf would.

It was simple. If you were strong enough to fight it, then you would win, if you weren't, then you would also win.

Remember, they always had your best interest at heart.

"Fuck him. Mate him. Have him breed us. Please please please please please please..."

...but sometimes your best interest wasn't always the best option.

Tundra continued with his begging tactics, while I struggled with handling both my sick thoughts and his.

Both my mate and I were naked. Both of us.

He was walking in front of me, his untainted pale skin glimmering in the morning rays.

I'm sure that he's fought a bit before (ahem, he wouldn't have those muscles if he didn't, ahem), but he clearly didn't gain any large scarring from any of his fights.

I was a little different in that aspect. I had many different scars, all of them different shapes and sizes, dusting my body like trophies.

I had a story for each one, and a hint of pride with them too.

After all, I fought hard and well, and I won.

My skin was a little darker than his. My long exposure to the sun might've done that, or maybe his lack of it could've caused the difference.

Maybe it was because I, naturally, used to live further up South, and he lived a little further North.

Eh, what difference did it make?

"None, you're going to run away regardless."

...

If you compared us to the Sun and the Moon, then you would instantly know who'd be who.