My Brother's Beta (UNEDITED SAMPLE)

1 My Brother's Beta

© Caitlin Shepherd 2011

My Brother's Beta {a werewolf romance}

Hello there :) I'm here to thank you for taking an interest in my story :) My name's Caitey, and I hope you enjoy my new werewolf novel xD

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(-Chapter One-)

The day I changed was the day my real life began.

Before the change, nothing was working for me in life. I had dull brown eyes that didn't suit my face at all, instead making my pale face look like chalk; my hair was a chestnut colour, but was so short and unattractive that it might as well of been purple - at least that way I'd get looks of intrigue other than disgust; and, lastly, I was fatter than an obese walrus.

But then, at my brother's sevententh party, that all changed.

I was standing amongst masses of other people, extremely uncomfortable. Everyone here seemed like they had just walked out of a fashion shoot or TV ad, and it was fairly intimidating.

I, on the other hand, looked like a beached whale in my sparkling navy blue dress. As a consequence of my weight, wrinkles of fat spurred out wherever the dress wasn't covering - my arms, thighs, shins, cleavage, double chin etc.

All in all, it was no surprise that I was the only girl who hadn't been hit on yet.

I decided that, even though I'm not pretty or thin, I have more chance of having a guy talk to me if I'm completely drunk. So, I picked up a shot glass, filled it with some pure vodka, and prayed I wouldn't remember this night before downing the glass.

A familiar burning sensation erupted in my throat, making my insides feel like sand paper. And, like usual, the only way to get rid of the painful feeling was to drink more and more alcohol.

So I drank. And drank. And drank.

But what was scaring me was the fact that after twelve shots, I wasn't feeling even the slightest bit drowsy. Usually it only takes one or two shots, as I'm a complete lightweight. But after another three shots, I began to get slightly paranoid. Was there something wrong with me? Surely no one can go fifteen shots of vodka without getting tipsy!

But that's the thing. Despite my mass of alcohol consumption, my vision was improving. Improving. Not even the slightest bit faulted.

And it wasn't even just my eyesight. From where I was standing in the corner of my living room, next to the drinks table, I could distinctly hear everything a drunken blonde was saying from across the room. And, taking into the fact that my home's main living room was the size of an average house - my parents are pretty well off - that was scaring me more than a tiny bit.

Feeling over-whelmed with how my smelling was - man, it really smelt of alcohol - I decided to go outside for some fresh air. Maybe I'm actually so drunk that I'm imagining not being drunk at all. Yes, that must be it!

Then why am I walking properly?

Just another illusion, I hope.