"I'm a psycho at the bottom of the pack, and you're a warrior built to kill. Isn't it a weird mix?"
He shrugs, a wicked grin plastered to his face.
"I think it's the perfect mix."
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*Completed *
Klepto is a werewolf, an...
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Klepto POV
Sometimes, I consider what it would be like to not be in a pack with people who despise me.
Oh to be free.
I even long to be a human from time to time. Go out to fast food restaurants, have my very own car, maybe even keep a pet fish. The possibilities are endless.
Dreams are only for sleeping, apparently.
Here I crouch in a crowded bathroom stall, delivering a good scrub to yet another toilet bowl while I wish away my existence. My imagination helped occupy my mind some of the time, but it wasn't always useful.
Everyday I had chores to attend to around the pack grounds. Today happens to be bathroom day.
Fun, right?
I sigh with every once of frustration pent up in my body, rocking back on my heels while I peer down into the shiny white pot of water. This is what my life has come to, staring into a toilet bowl where people did their business.
I'm an omega.
Not that I'm one to actually care about labels. I couldn't care less about what my packmates nicknamed me, it's the odd jobs that come along with the title that are absolutely excruciating to handle.
All the bright blue bubbles at the surface of the water shine with the reflected light from the huge fluorescent lightbulbs above. They're pretty.
It's strange that even in a situation like this I can actually consider something beautiful.
I am, after all, a certified crazy person. At least that's what I'm told.
I flush the toilet without a second thought and stand, grabbing my cleaning caddy and stretching my sore, achy muscles. Every last inch of this bathroom is as spotless as it can get. I'm not wasting another second in this place.
Finally, I make my way through the connecting corridor. The well decorated hallway is filled with potted plants, the walls splattered in painted murals of the past pack heroes. Unfortunately, I'm in the pack house.
Or, as I like to call it, purgatory.
It's basically a huge mansion slap dab in the middle of the pack grounds. The wolves who live here are only the best of the best. The blue bloods, if you will. The residence of the pack house have a special heritage that makes them better than the rest of us.
The only thing is that it goes straight to their heads, and that made this place a hellhole. Especially for me.
To prove my point, as I stride with the small amount of purpose that I have, I hear the sounds of laughter. Not just any laughter, obnoxious laughter. I know who it is, there's really no need for me to spare a glance, and yet I am feeling generous today.
