Pull My Heartstrings

Chapter 1

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Rowan

"Rowan!" Andrei strode to where I sat on the balcony, look over the Chicago skyline. "There's another werewolf here to see you."

I sighed, setting down my sketchbook. Playtime was over, it was time for business. I walked back into the apartment that I shared with Andrei and his mate, Kari. It was wide and open, letting in plenty of light. Oh, the perks of a nice job, I thought bitterly.

"Are you the seer?" a cute guy with messy brown hair stood in the living room, muddy shoes right on top of my favorite rug. One look confirmed that he wasn't the person I was looking for.

"I'm not a seer," I snapped. "I'm a werewolf. I assume you want to find your mate?"

He nodded. I stopped focusing for a moment, letting the barrier in my mind drop. Red strings appeared everywhere, criscrossing outside the window, a few through the kitchen, and only one originating from the man's chest. Concentrating harder, I quickly caught the red string between my index finger and thumb before it could drift away.

Instantly, images flooded my mind. A petite blond girl hummed happily as she worked at a reception desk. A name tag on her desk declared her name in embossed metal: Claire Moreau.

She picked up the phone to her right when it rang, holding the phone between her shoulder and her cheek expertly.

"Evergreen Incorporated, this is Claire, how may I help you today?" She asked in a melodic voice. Her face softened with affection and her pupils narrowed, her inner cat rising the the surface as she listened to the voice in the other end of the phone. "I'm good. I can't wait to see you. What about you?"

"Mm, I can't wait to see you either," she purred. "My place or your place this time?"

The vision ended. I snorted. "Have fun with this one," I warned the man as I flopped down on the couch. "Sounds like she's already involved with someone. And get this, she's not a werewolf. She's a werecat. Been a while since I've met one of those."

The man growled. Most likely the only thing he heard was the "involved" part. Go figure. I rolled my eyes and stood, ready to leave.

"She's a receptionist at Evergreen Incorporated. Her name's Claire. I'm sure you can figure out the rest," I flicked my hand dismissively. Time to get rid of this guy, I thought as I stood and inspected my nails. Rude and insolent was the way to go when ridding an apartment of unmated male werewolves.

When he didn't leave, I looked up and said, "Bye, bye," wiggling my fingers in a cutesy wave. The man scowled at me.

"You know what?" he smirked, strolling to the doorway. "I think my friend would really like you, mind if I bring him over some time? My name's Josh, by the way."

"I don't care about your name," I growled, heading back to the balcony. "And sure, why not? It's not like I can refuse."

As I heard the door shut, angry tears flooded my narrowed eyes. "Fuck my life," I growled, leaning over the balcony railing. The ground was exactly 21 floors below me -- high enough to hurt, but not enough to kill an adult werewolf. Not like I could even try anyways, I was bound for life.

Sixteen years ago,

"Alpha Ramires," my mother bowed her head and pushed mine down as we approached the tough, inner city alpha. He had a string coming from his chest, as usual. "This is Rowan."

"Hello," his eyes softened as he bent down to my level. My mother's surprise filtered through our link; alpha's hated being short, I think. "My name is Frederick. How old are you, sweetie?"