Awake | Book 1 of the AWAKE Series | (BWWM)

Chapter One

Karter

I roll out of bed at five in the morning every day. How I keep my body running on the small amount of sleep I get I'll never know. Every day it's the same routine. Wake up, work out, shower, eat breakfast and tend to the pack. If I can squeeze lunch and dinner in there somewhere in between the seemingly never ending pack business I feel accomplished by the time my head hits the pillow. Granted, I shouldn't be complaining. My schedule was even more hectic four years ago when the packs first merged together.

No one in werewolf history had heard of two packs merging until The North Wood Tribe and The Pontchartrain Pack did it, creating the Cynwulf Wood Pack. My original pack, The Pontchartrain Pack, is from Louisiana, New Orleans to be exact. At times I find myself missing the Quarter but then I think about how much we would have lost had we stayed five years ago.

There had been constant fighting between my best friend Derek's pack, The North Wood Tribe, and a neighboring pack, the Dark Wood Tribe, for years. Once he became Alpha the Dark Wood Tribe saw it as their chance to attack, while North Wood was in transition. It only took one phone call from Derek to have me and my warriors on the road.

By the time we arrived, there were major casualties on both sides but with our help the Dark Wood Tribe would be as good as eradicated. Derek, having lost his Beta in battle asked me to fight by his side and have his back which without hesitation I agreed to.
He and I grew up together up until my family moved to New Orleans when I was ten to start our pack, and we still kept in touch as we got older. He was the closest thing I had to a brother and I loved him.

The sky loomed with ever present clouds warning us a storm was coming, in more ways than one. As we approached battle that day Connor, Derek's kid brother, begged us to allow him to fight but being only fifteen he didn't have his wolf yet and would've just been in the way. No matter how much we tried to explain it to him he wouldn't see reason until Derek cursed him out and commanded him to go home and stay there. I've always felt terrible about the last thing he heard his brother say to him.
That day we won the war but lost a brother. Derek's heart was ripped out of his chest right in front of my eyes. I still see it to this day, which is why I don't sleep much.

After Derek's death, the packs came together and decided to merge as one. Unbeknownst to my pack while we were in battle Hurricane Ike hit home and destroyed everything we had worked ten years to build. One trip home was all it took to realize that we were better off starting anew here in Cynwulf.

Through my grief I couldn't take on any role of leadership for a few months so it surprised me when after months of Derek's and my father running things a vote was held and I was given the title of Alpha of our new pack.

Initially the responsibility felt like too much but after another nightmare of Derek's death I refused to let him down and took on the title.

Now here I am four years later, trying to find the balance between being kind and being firm that Derek had such a great handle on. Normally, I just stick to brooding. It keeps people away from me unless they absolutely need me, which I don't mind. The morning moves by just as briskly as it always does. I'm in and out of urgent meetings until about three in the afternoon.

As I'm walking out of my office I bump into my former Beta, Grey. I can tell from the look on his face what he's doing.

"Hiding out from Denise again I see."

His eyes bulge at the mention of her name making me laugh until he slaps his hand over my mouth to stop me.

"Would you hush?" he yells in a whisper, "If she hears you, I'm a dead man."

I slap his hand away from my face and continue to snicker, "What did you do this time?"

I listen to him ramble on about not putting the toilet seat down and Denise falling in until I hear her call his name.

He stops mid story and looks at me with pleading eyes and I laugh again, "Come on man let's go get a drink, its five-o-clock somewhere."

He doesn't argue with me as we head out the door leaving a furious Denise behind in the pack house.

Dylan

"Dylan Trevino, please report to the nurses' station immediately."

I groan and throw away the rest of my lunch knowing I won't be getting back to it any time soon. The walk from the break room to the nurses' station takes a little longer than I thought it would after being stopped a few times by patients and doctors, and by the time I get there my supervisor Lydia is pissed.

"What took you so long?" she snaps but continues speaking before I can respond, "It doesn't even matter! You need to get to the west wing and clean out the bed pans from our elderly patients, get them lunch, and then Mr. Stromberg needs his sponge bath."

She doesn't wait to hear a reply from me before she turns on her heel and struts off. I look at Penny, the receptionist, and she gives me a sad pitiful stare before returning to her work.

After a long day, I walk through my front door and pull my hair from the bun it's been in all day. My shoulder length dark brown locks fall out of the ponytail holder they were in and I can almost hear them screaming for joy, my scalp aches furiously from my hair being pulled back for so long.

"Happy friggin' birthday to me," I grumble and pull my shoes off of my overly sore feet once I plop onto the couch.

I have a cute little condo, not too big and not too small. I don't do much entertaining since my bedroom and living room are the same space but it's not like I have many friends anyway.

After my shower I check myself out in the mirror as I dry off. Pert D-cup breasts that don't seem any smaller, my slim waist isn't any more muscular, my wide hips aren't any thinner, and my thick thighs and butt aren't any slimmer. I have officially not changed at all this birthday, just like every other birthday.

I look up into my weary hazel eyes and sigh. Average features and milk chocolate skin, everything about me is average except for my eyes. They are the most striking part about me.

My cell phone rings and I leave the bathroom to answer it, knowing it's either my mom or Andrea.

"Happy twenty-third birthday baby," I hear my mother say in her calming tone.

I can't help but smile at the sound of her voice.

I start grabbing underwear and a bra to sleep in as I respond, "Thanks mommy, how has your day been?"

She tells me about her day and then somehow gets on the subject of my father, "He would be so proud of you baby. He loved you so much. I remember he would come home and hold you all through the night, even if you were already asleep. It drove me crazy how he was the only one who could do that when normally even the smallest sound would wake you up. The smile he'd have on his face when he saw you Dylan...it was indescribable."

I hear her inhale to keep going on her yearly spiel about my deceased father and decide to take my moment now to cut her off, "You know ma I've had a really long day at work and I'm about to end up falling asleep on you. Can I call you tomorrow?"

She agrees with a knowing tone and tells me she loves me before hanging up.

As bitchy as it may seem, I had to get her off of the phone. I've heard that same speech about my father every birthday since I can remember. He died when I was one and ever since my mother has made sure I never forgot him.

The few memories I have of him are from those times of him holding me she tells me about, making me believe they aren't memories but they're still nice to have none the less.

The one thing I do remember about my father is that I always felt complete and content in his arms. That's a feeling I've been trying to recreate but I've never been able to. Men can't provide it, money can't. The only thing that makes me feel even a little happier is work. As tiring as it is its fulfilling.

I don't even realize I'm crying until the cold tears drip from my chin onto my chest pitter pattering like rain. I sit up and take a deep breath in and out before wiping my face clean and getting under the covers.

I finally reply back to my best friend Andrea's text from this morning, saying thanks for wishing me a happy birthday and then drift off to sleep.