Milo loves sex, parties and alcohol. He adores the thrill of being young, wild and mateless.
He has witnessed his family and friends find their mates, settling down and living happily ever after. But this has never appealed to Milo. He wants to be...
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Duties at the pack house have been chaotic these last two days. With Leon's limited mobility and his need for constant rest, my father has ordered me and Imogen to step up for the attack that is due to happen in the next couple days.
We're not directly in charge but we've been given the role of distributing jobs to each wolf and making sure that they're doing what they need to be. My father has been working amongst the older wolves, to protect the house and Leon as he will not be able to fight when it starts.
That's when I realised, me and Imogen work really well as a team.
Our ideas somehow have managed to fall into place with one another, using our skills and our objectives to get the pack into order. We managed to do it within a day, Leon was impressed to say the least.
As he should be. That's his damn daughter.
We've been training non-stop, ready to defend what's ours.
Within two days, we're more than ready to go and I have every faith in me and Imogen that we can lead us to victory. That's if everyone does as they say and fight with everything they have inside them. This is our home and I will not let anyone take that away from us.
It's one of the only places left where I have memories of my mother and I will cherish them for the rest of my life. So yes, this means war.
In the back of my mind I've been thinking about Milo a lot, what this means for him and his pack. I desperately wanted to see him before the threat inch any closer, not that I'm worried anything might happen–okay I am.
I worry for my family and my home, but I worry for Milo too.
After a long day of training, the sun is still up and the pack are spending time with one another. I take this opportunity to meet up with Milo, just in case. But I'm trying not to think too negatively about the situation because I need to have every faith that he'll be okay.
I hate that I won't be fighting with him but in the future we will be. Right by each other's sides and that gives me hope.
This evening I agreed to practising fighting and defending with him. We've never trained together before and the thought sends fireworks off in my brain, any excuse to get my hands on him but also benefit ourselves at the same time.
"Come on," I beckon him as I stand across the clearing. "Give me everything you've got."
Milo wipes a hand over his sweaty forehead. "You're literally killing me already."
I shrug. "Then you better get training. Come on."
"Fine," he mumbles.
Then he charges at me but he's slow, very slow and I push past him. I pin him to the floor within a matter of seconds and push my weight down onto him. He groans and closes his eyes. "This is so pointless, I'm fucking weak."
