Alexander Grand and Nathan O'Railey couldn't be any more different: One is an Omega in his pack, who despises everything about being a werewolf, the other is the future Alpha, deeply rooted in traditions and commited to becoming the best Alpha any p...
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A/N: Pictured above a slightly older Alex, as he envisions himself once living in Los Angeles. Not so average, I know, but I just like the image ;-)
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Alex POV
„Alex, get your lazy ass off that couch immediately and get dressed!"
My oldest brother James is towering over me when I look up from my iPad, a gift I received on my birthday last month. My father had taken it away until today, as punishment for me getting my tongue pierced and a tattoo without his consent.
James is twenty-six, and looks like a younger version of our father: Big in hight and build, with dirty blonde hair, cut short and so damn neat, it pisses me off. His eyes are usually a light blue, but now they sport some speckles of gold, a sign for him being highly agitated and his wolf coming through.
„Why?", I bark back, annoyed that he's disturbing my dilligent search for a place to stay in Los Angeles. It's the first time I'm able to do so, since looking up rental sites on our family's computer would be too risky, even if I delete the search history. I have tried using the computers at school, but the constant checking over my shoulders, if someone came up behind me to see what I was doing, gave me a severe headache.
My mood is already dark after realizing how expensive the rents in LA are. I knew that living there would be anything but cheap, but reality is even worse than my imagination. Yes, I have some savings, hidden underneath my mattress, but they won't get me far. Once arriving in the city of angels, I'll definitely have to look for a part-time job sooner than assumed.
James doesn't take my defiant attitude well. „What do you mean, why? Because I say so! You know that our future Alpha returns today, after being away for five years. Alpha Dylan invited the entire pack for a barbecue, to welcome his son, and I won't allow you to embarrass our family by insuting the Alpha! You can't skip on this one, and you definitely can't go in your sweatpants!", my brother replies, noticeably fighting hard not to give me a beating. He's never hit me before, if you don't count light slaps or shoving me down on the ground, but this time, he's close to loosing his shit. And I bet a punch from him would send me flying.
With an annoyed snort, I decide to give in to the inevitable, and get dressed more formaly. Not that I would ever wear really formal clothes, especially not to please my family dearest. My definition of dressing up are black jeans, a black top, black combat boots and a jacket in the same color, maybe lightened by a scarf in a brighter shade. And that's exactly what I wear twenty minutes later, re-emerging from my room. The scarf slung around my neck is forest green, looking good combined with my momentarily dyed auburn hair.
In comparison to the rest of my family, I look strikingly casual. My mother, sister and brother's female mates wear cocktail dresses, and my father and brother dark grey suits. Far too uncomfortable for my taste, I prefer jeans.
