CHAPTER ONE - THE START OF MY RUINING

Hatred and vomit spewed up in my throat as I remained crouched down behind the dumpster in the alleyway, watching as my friend, my only friend, suffered. Foster was kneeled down, beaten raw and blood dripping from his lips. Three shirtless werewolves circled around him, like predators stalking their prey. They were enforcing their dominance and they were enjoying it. Their evil chuckles and scummy comments were repulsive.

Foster cried out again when a fist connected with his jaw. His agony was heart-wrenching. He was defeated, yet they weren't stopping. They were going to kill him. Us humans were disposable to them.

Shakily, I reached into the back of my jeans, pulling out my handgun. It was loaded with silver bullets and I was hoping that since they were so focused on Foster, they wouldn't see me coming. The sound of their growls went straight to my stomach; the urge to vomit washed over me again, but instead, my eyes hardened in anger.

As if sensing my anger, Foster turned his head, looking at me. He knew I was there - he knew I was watching. He had the same cool, almost blank expression as when I met him. Then, he gave me a shake of his head, spitting blood onto the pavement.

A foot collided with his shoulder and he grunted in pain, his eyes snapping away from me. I gripped the gun in my hand, taking a deep breath. I couldn't shoot from behind the dumpster, not at this angle. I strolled out with soft footsteps and raised the gun, my hand steady. They were oblivious of me - they were too busy kicking and swinging at my friend.

I bet you're hoping that I fired the gun, that I shot one of them. I wanted to, so badly, but I was stopped by the man who would later break me.

With impossible speed, a set of arms came from behind me, ripping the gun out of my hand. I gasped, whipping around in fear as the three werewolves circling Foster finally noticed me. I felt their eyes crawling all over me, possibly enjoying the view, but my attention was centered on the werewolf in front of me. There was something different about this one, something that terrified me.

There was a change in the air in his presence. It was stronger, more electric. Powerful.

He hovered over my five-foot-four frame, easily over six-feet tall. He was sculpted into a weapon, a force to be reckoned with. Broad shoulders, muscular arms with various tattoos, and long legs thick with muscle. His facial features were sharp, just like the rest of him. His brown eyes trailed down my body, his face cold and expressionless.

Growls erupted from the werewolves lingering around Foster. I looked at my friend in regret, realizing I had just killed us both. Foster tried moving to his feet, but he was instantly kicked back to the ground. "Don't h-hurt her! She was just - "

His sentence abruptly ended when a fist slammed into his cheekbone. I almost burst into tears when I witnessed his eyes roll back, followed by his body collapsing, motionless. He was only unconscious, but I had never seen my friend so helpless, so broken. 

The werewolf held my gaze as he emptied my gun. 

I was done for.

His dark eyes glinted as he tossed my gun aside. I heard it clatter against the pavement, reminding me that I was weaponless, officially pathetic, against them. My heartbeat increased when the three other werewolves approached us, wickedly grinning. I was a young, human woman being surrounded by four massive, inhuman males. I was expecting the worst.

I moved to make a run for it, but my upper arm was suddenly snatched, yanking me back into a warm body. It was one of the men who had beaten up Foster holding me. I felt his face lower to the crook of my neck, his breath tingling my skin. "We're going to have so much fun with you."

"She's mine."

My entire body froze. The werewolf, the one who held a different demeanor than the others, narrowed his eyes, daring them to challenge him. I was slowly released as the three other werewolves stepped back, looking just as confused as me.

The werewolf shot his arm out, his forearm powerfully built and corded with thick veins, snatching my wrist. I shrieked when he roughly pulled me against his body, his other hand pressing against my lower back. I lifted my gaze from his sweaty chest, meeting his wild eyes. I was trapped, locked in the jaws of a wolf.

The corners of his lips quirked upwards. He suddenly had the smirk on his face that told you he had a whole lot of trouble planned for the evening. "Do you know who I am?"

"No."

My voice was soft, almost too soft, but he still heard me. There was a rumble from his chest in response, before he ducked his head into my neck, taking a long, deep inhale of me. I waited for his canines to extract, to puncture my artery and end me, but I was surprised when he pulled away, looking down at me with hungry eyes.

"They call me Alpha of the North," he said, dragging a single finger down the curve of my neck. "The Devilish Son. Leader of Beasts." I held my breath when he moved his face to mine, leaving merely an inch. He was so close. "Alpha of the Farkas Pack."

I stiffened. "The Farkas Pack?"

"Your heart rate just spiked," he said, his eyes dropping to my chest. I didn't like how he was looking at me. "You've heard of me."

"I-I-I - " I struggled for words, suddenly fearful of everything that I did in front of this monster. I swallowed the lump in my throat, still in his grasp. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

He tilted his head. "A wolf never takes pity on his prey." My eyebrows furrowed together as his hand trailed down my arm, creating goosebumps. "It's funny to me how the prey always believe that if they don't move, they won't be hurt."

It was taking everything in me not to panic. "And, y-you're going to hurt me?"

His face moved to mine, his lips a centimeter from my own. There was a danger, a craziness, in his dark eyes. "Oh, I'm going to break you."

In a split second, his hand was sliding up to the nape of my neck. My eyes widened when he pressed a forceful, dry kiss to my lips. It felt like he was marking me, preparing me for something monumental. That could both change and ruin my life. There were howls and claps from the three werewolves standing around us, watching the whole interaction. 

When he pulled away, there was blood on his lips. It took me a moment to realize that he had bitten my bottom lip - as soon as that realization kicked in, I felt the pain. I tasted the blood. I watched in horror as his tongue darted out and swiped my blood off his lips. 

I tried prying myself from his grasp, now panicking.

My attempts for freedom just caused all of them to laugh. The Alpha's laugh was deep, cruel, bone-chilling. There was no amusement, more like satisfaction. His eyes flickered over to Foster's motionless body, narrowing slightly. He pulled me closer, his grip tightening, surely leaving bruises.

"He will die," he said, terrifyingly quiet. "So will you."

I watched as one of the other werewolves walked over to Foster's body. He grabbed him by his hair, lifting his head enough for me to see his bruised, bloody face. The Alpha kept his eyes trained on me, eager for my reaction.

"Don't!" I shouted, trying to wrestle myself free. "Leave him alone!"

A painful moan escaped Foster's mouth, right before the werewolf slashed his claws across his throat. Blood spurted, before quickly forming a puddle on the pavement. I stood there, numb from disbelief. I had just watched my friend die and I couldn't do anything about it. My eyes started burning as the Alpha grabbed my chin, turning my head to force me to look at him.

His breathing was ragged. "Remember this, little one. I don't share what's mine."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the world went black when his hand swung up, nailing me in the cheek. 

-

I was awakened by the sound of my chattering teeth, but I opened my eyes when I heard the sound of drums.

I moaned, feeling the soreness in my face from the punch I had endured. Glancing around, I was taken back by my surroundings – it was dark now. I was in the forest, in a clearing, and there was a large, burning fire in the center. Around the flickering flames, werewolves danced, wearing little to no clothing at all. All of their body lines and contours were highlighted by the fire. Some werewolves were slapping at drums near the edge of the clearing; some were blowing into handmade instruments.

When I tried to move forward, I was held back. I looked down, frowning at the rope tying me to a tree. It sliced into my skin with each struggling movement.

I was so cold that I couldn't feel my fingers. The warm fire was right there, yet so far away.

My eyes skimmed the dancing werewolves, almost curiously. Some of them were painted with black paint; some of them were wearing animal skin. The women danced on their toes, swaying their hips and twirling their hands. The men danced more like animals, aggressive and assertive. The whole scene was weird to a human like me.

Foster.

The face of my only friend flashed through my mind. He was dead. I watched him die. A tear streamed down my cheek in grief. I was next – I would be joining him soon.

I spotted the man who would surely be the one to end me. The Alpha was seated on the ground, relaxed back against a log. There were two beautiful women under his arms, dragging their hands up and down his ripped abdomen. He was wearing shorts, his only source of clothing, and his feet were bare. I quickly noticed that most of the werewolves were barefoot.

I was startled when his dark eyes snapped to me.

The corners of his lips curled, as if he was pleased that I had finally awakened. I watched as he waved the beautiful women away, then rose to his feet. He stalked towards me, all of his muscles on display. I could see his biceps, his quads, his pecs, all of it – he had truly built himself into a weapon. His whole demeanor demanded attention, respect, and loyalty.

When he stopped in front of me, the intensity of his stare had my knees wobbling. What would he do to me? How much longer did I have to live?

"Tell me your name," he ordered, his eyes not leaving mine. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not responding. I just kept thinking about my dead friend. I just kept thinking that this was a game and I refused to play along. "Do you want warmth? Food? Water?"

My stomach rumbled.

He growled, stepping closer to me. I was helpless, tied to a tree, numb as ever. His breath fanned my face as he forced out, "I will leave you tied to this tree and have my pack do whatever they please to you."

I couldn't win. "Chloe."

"Chloe what?" he growled, his eyes wild.

"Chloe Mars," I whispered, dropping my gaze in defeat. I flinched when he lifted his hand, dragging a finger down my bruised cheek.

"I'm Roarke Farkas," he breathed, his hand trailing down between my breasts. When he reached the rope tied around my torso, his fingers pulled at it, easily yanking it off me. Once the rope crumbled to the ground, I took a deep breath, feeling as if I could properly breathe now. I hugged myself, feeling uncomfortable underneath his heated gaze. "Come."

He grabbed me by my upper arm, then began dragging me to his spot. Several pairs of eyes darted to us, but I didn't dare meet any of them. The ground was covered with animal skins and Roarke gave me a hard shove, sending me falling to my knees. I flipped over onto my ass when he took a seat next to me, once again leaning back against the log, relaxed.

I bit my bottom lip, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I was close enough to the fire to feel warmth, thankfully. From the corner of my eye, I saw Roarke looking around, eyeing his pack with a calm expression. The light of the fire hit his face in just the right angle to illuminate the golden flecks in his eyes, his lashes long and thick.

If I wasn't so terrified of him, I would've thought he was attractive. He had the aura of pure raw strength, the guarantee of protection in his eyes of what belonged to him. I needed that protection, but who would protect me from him?

When my eyes drifted to his powerful chest and arms, a young male approached us, carrying a slaughtered, well-cooked pig. Roarke leaned forward, then broke off the front legs, nodding once. As soon as the Alpha received his portion, everybody else leaped forward for their portions, filling the clearing with murmurs.

Roarke extended one of the front legs to me. "Eat."

Hiding my disgust, I took the leg from him, seeing the snapped bone. I had been a vegetarian for four years before the end of humanity happened. While running and hiding for my life, I lived off dumpster food and canned food left in abandoned pantries. I kept meat limited over the past few months, so having a pig leg in my hand, it was repulsive.

Roarke chomped into his, hungrily.

When he noticed that I wasn't eating, he narrowed his eyes. "Eat."

"I-I'm not hungry," I stuttered, shaking my head. That wasn't necessarily true – I had lost my appetite at the sight of a pig leg, but I knew that my body was craving food. He was not pleased. His hand shot out, snatching my upper arm in a tight grip. I remained still as his eyes traveled up and down my body, from my head to my toes.

"You're too thin," he stated, bitterly. "Eat."

I hesitated. "I can't."

With a growl, he ripped the pig leg out of my hand. "I won't be generous again." I gulped loudly, looking out at his pack. All of them were devouring their food, chatting among themselves. The females seemed to be carefully watching me.

I looked at Roarke. "Do you always hunt for your food?"

"Yes," he replied, chewing. "The males hunt. If a male can't produce a kill, if he can't provide for his mate or children, he's shunned." My eyes widened slightly at his bluntness. He turned his head, looking at me with his intense eyes. "There are no pathetic weaklings in my pack."

"Oh," I whispered, before looking down at the animal skins. "And, you keep the fur of your kills?"

He nodded once.

I dragged my hand through the black fur of what seemed to be a bear. "Did you kill all of these?"

"These are all mine," he said, eyeing the furs underneath us. "I have many more at my home." He seemed to be watching me closely, as if trying to understand me. "Does it bother you?"

I was taken by surprise. "Um, well, I love animals."

The corners of his lips curled. "Even wolves?"

"I don't like wolves," I told him, quietly. I was afraid that he would react terribly to my honest reply, but instead, an insufferable grin crossed his face. He was glad that I didn't like wolves, that I was scared of them. He chomped back into his pig leg, shifting his attention to his pack. I looked over my shoulder at the dark trees, longingly. I couldn't escape him; even if I tried to run, he would've caught me in seconds.

As soon as Roarke was finished eating, I watched in confusion as the pack all rose to their feet. They squared their shoulders, raised their chins, and looked at Roarke in patience. The sudden silence was eerie; the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the breeze.

Roarke grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, hissing into my ear, "Let me show you who has the power here."

I frowned as he walked forward, his muscles rolling.

Roarke paused in front of the fire, his pack members watching him, eagerly. He set back his shoulders, then looked at me, just as his eyes glowed a bright yellow. As if that wasn't freaky enough, he flashed me his canines, looking more beast than human in that moment. He tilted his head back, peering up at the moon, then released a loud, rumbling roar. The ground trembled as birds flew into the sky in fear.

His pack erupted into cheers and claps.

The slapping of drums started as people began dancing once again. I rubbed my upper arms, holding my breath. Roarke turned his head, looking at me with his eyes still glowing. Then, he released a snarl, just to make me jump.

I stumbled backwards as he stomped towards me, a growl rumbling from his chest. I didn't get far - he reached me, grabbed me, and slammed me into his body. I placed my hands against his bare chest, balancing myself. He took advantage of the moment and took a deep inhale of me.

He pulled me out near the fire, ignoring my protests. "I-I just want to sit."

"Everyone must participate in the celebration."

I tensed. "What are we celebrating?"

"Me," he replied, shortly. I didn't get to question him any further because he was suddenly whipping me around, pressing himself against my spine. The heat from his close proximity began to claw its way up my body. Our bodies moved to a slow, methodic rhythm. I was uncomfortable, definitely confused, but I didn't fight him.

His hands remained on my hips, preventing me from pulling away. I flinched every time his teeth grazed the nape of my neck. The slapping of the drums matched my heartbeat - fast and frantic.

When Roarke whirled me around to face him, a small shriek escaped my lips. He just stared down at me, keeping me pinned to his body. I didn't understand his behavior - it was as if he hated me, but wanted me at the same time.

I bit my bottom lip. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

"Then, why haven't you killed me?" I asked, quietly. "Why are you making me dance with you? Why am I even here?"

His eyes darkened. "Do you want me to kill you?" A shot of fear washed through me and I quickly shook my head. "Then, stop asking so many questions."

As his hands splayed over my ass, I peered around at his pack members. All of them were dancing, much faster than us, with no glances our direction. I was relieved that they weren't stopping and staring. There was another rumble from Roarke's chest, catching my attention, and I looked up at him.

He gritted his teeth together. "Stop trying to look for an escape."

"I'm not," I said, feeling him haul me closer. "I'm just watching your pack."

"I have no intention of letting you go," he growled, angry. "But, I am going to kill this version of you." My entire body froze at his words and his hands moved to my shoulders, holding me in place. "Your innocence attracted me and I will take great pleasure in corrupting you."

I was careful with my words. "You want to change me."

"I want to break you," he corrected, dragging a finger across my dry lips. "You will not survive in this world if you remain weak." I didn't consider myself weak, but I didn't bother arguing with him. "Just don't ever try to challenge me when I make you strong."

"Why would you, an Alpha, want to make a human strong?"

"Because, I need you to be strong," he whispered, his teeth grazing my ear. "To survive me."

A shiver shot down my spine. "So, you want to keep me around."

"I've already told you, you're mine," he grumbled, the scruff on his chin scratching my cheek. "I chose you, and I will keep you." His hand traveled up my back, pressing me to his chest as he took another deep inhale of me. I was fighting back tears as his words processed in my head. I was a prisoner. "I have your scent now."

I was overwhelmed. "What if I told you that I'd rather die?"

All of his movements ceased. I instantly regretted my words and mentally cursed myself. His jaw tightened when he removed a hand from my back, showing me his scarred fingers. In a split second, sharp claws protruded from the tips. There was no joking evident on his face as he placed his claws at my throat, the points dipping into my skin.

"You want to die?" he asked, coldly. "Say it." My eyes started burning as I felt one of his claws break skin. "Tell me you want to die."

I winced. "S-Stop."

He slowly removed his claws from my throat, his face expressionless. "I have been much too kind to you. I think it's time for me to show you just how cruel I can be."