The Alpha Calls Me Kitten

Chapter Eight: Watch Your Language

The girls helped me pack.

It's was one of the most upsetting things I've ever went through. And that's saying a lot.

I left my family when I was thirteen, nearly died, had to live out my life never knowing if I was ever going to be excepted. Did I care? Yeah. We're human, somewhat. We worry about other people more than ourselves sometimes. And some of us just care about ourselves. I envy those people. Never having to care about anyone else. Themselves are their main focus, their main priority.

Eventually everything was packed and I sat in my room alone for about an hour. I stared at everything in there. The walls, the now filled cardboard boxes, the flooring. I just felt bitter. I felt as if I wanted everything to suffer the way I was going to, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

But truth is, I deserve this all. I've had a way to nice life. I could stand Mariah's taunting and the taking away from my friends, but what I put my family through is probably the worst thing I could have done.

I left no note. Never called. Nothing. I just vanished.

"Are you going to speak at all?" Greyson asked from behind me. Nearly three hours ago, I arrived at Greyson's pack house. He escorted me to the room I was supposed to be staying in but I refused. Sleeping in the same bed as him was not acceptable.

Much to his displeasure, he took me to another room which I was fine with. I had my own bathroom and a nice closet, not that I had a lot of clothes. Mainly black clothing. Some color here and there, but nothing special.

I hadn't spoke to anyone since I had arrived. I could tell Greyson was annoyed by my lack of respect. I resumed to my ongoing staring contest with myself in the wall mirror as I sat with my legs crossed on the floor.

"Alex, why won't you just say something?" Greyson asked again obviously irritated. I just ignored him and ran my tongue along my bottom lip. I heard Greyson's heavy footsteps enter the room and make their way toward me.

In the mirror, I watched as he walked behind me. His black hair looked messy as usual and his cool grey eyes focused on my frozen figure. He wore a navy blue shirt that clung to his torso and a pair of jeans. His entire image made him seem like some badass fictional character.

"Say something," he said firmly. I watched as he clenched his fists and unclenched them.

"What?" I retorted quickly. I didn't move, though. I just continued to stare at him through the mirror.

"Kitten, you have to eat," he said and held out his hand for me, but I ignored it. He was really starting to anger me with that name. I put my hands on either side of my body and pushed myself off. I turned around and stared up at Greyson. We were closer than I wanted to be, but it didn't worry me.

"Then let's go," I said bluntly and stared at him waiting for an answer. His eyes glanced down at my lips and back up to my eyes. I didn't move, though. I kept staring it his mesmerizing, grey eyes that I wanted to pull out of his head. "Hey," I said snapping him back to reality.

He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. He turned around to exit the room, but as he did, his hand brushed against mine. I jumped as a small rush of shocks flew up my hand. It brought warmth to my entire body.

I followed him through the house until we were in a large kitchen. He turned around and looked at me with a hopeful expression.

"What do you want?" He asked. I clapped my hands together and sighed.

"To go home." His face instantly fell. He walked right into that one.

"Well that sucks because you aren't going anywhere, kitten." I growled lowly at the nickname and crossed my arms. It was the most ridiculous thing he could call me, and I'm positive he only does it to get on my nerves.