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Authors: Anya Byrne
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Anger Management for Alphas
A Lone Wolf Ripples Short Story
Anya Byrne
Copyright 2015
Chapter One
"This is ridiculous. I don't belong here." Landon
grimaced as he stared at the building in front of him. "I don't need anger
management classes."
"Alpha, with all due respect, I'm not sure that is the
case." Landon's beta, Jason shot him a sheepish smile.
"Unfortunately, you did destroy that bar. We're lucky the patrons were too
drunk to notice anything wrong with your hands and eyes, but the judge insisted
on this."
Landon sighed heavily and struggled to control the fury
already roiling in his gut. It wasn't that he didn't know Jason was right.
Displays of anger like Landon's most recent ones were completely unacceptable.
Landon could have easily breached the Secrecy Accords if Jason hadn't been
there to contain the situation before anything happened.
The human authorities hadn't been impressed by his behavior,
but thankfully, he'd gotten away with a slap on the wrist—one that included
anger management classes. Unfortunately, Landon didn't think any of it would
help. "A human couldn't possibly understand. You know that, Jase."
A human would never be able to grasp what it meant for a
werewolf of Landon's age to be completely unable to find his mate. The stress
of his pack pressuring him to choose a female for reproducing didn't help—and
they didn't let up, even when Landon had adamantly refused to accept anyone
except his other half.
Jason's eyes held so much understanding it hurt. "Yes, I
do know, but that doesn't change the situation," he answered.
Once more, Jason had a point, and procrastinating wasn't
doing Landon any favors. He was an Alpha, damn it all. He refused to be scared
of some little human who wanted him to stand in a circle and talk about his
feelings.
With a disgruntled huff, Landon slid out of the car, leaving
his beta behind. He stalked to the door of the building, only managing to
temper his stride half-way there. Allowing his anger to get the better of him
before the class had even started would be counterproductive at best.
He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately making a
beeline for the assistant behind the front desk. "Hi," he greeted
her. "I'm here for the anger management class. Could you direct me to the
right room?"
She lifted her gaze from her computer and smiled at him.
"Of course. Name, please?"
"Landon Boone."
Landon tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited for
her to look the information up in the database. He knew some people were
irritated by the habit, but it was the mildest way he'd ever expressed his
annoyance. Thankfully, the assistant didn't seem to mind. "Room 202, on
the second floor," she instructed him. "Take the stairs to the
left."
Landon thanked her and headed up the stairs like she had told
him. He found the room with ease, and knocked on the door. A female voice
invited him in and he took a deep breath, resigning himself to the unavoidable.
Most of the chairs—situated in a circle, of course—were
already occupied when he entered the room. "Hi," he said. "I'm
Landon Boone. I apologize for the tardiness."
"That's all right, Mr. Boone," the woman replied
with a smile. "We're still waiting for another member. If you'll take a seat,
we'll use this chance to make all the introductions until our errant friend
shows up."
Landon obediently slid into one of the two empty chairs and
focused on the people who were studying him with undisguised interest. The
woman started with her own name. "I'm Flowerchild Jameson, and I'll be
your anger management coach. These are your fellow students. Everyone, please
introduce yourselves."
As he listened to the words of each individual present, it
occurred to Landon that someone with the name "Flowerchild"
definitely needed a lot of anger management skills to go through life. Or maybe
that wasn't even her name? Humans were strange and often made choices Landon
couldn't hope to
A Lone Wolf Ripples Short Story
Anya Byrne
Copyright 2015
Chapter One
"This is ridiculous. I don't belong here." Landon
grimaced as he stared at the building in front of him. "I don't need anger
management classes."
"Alpha, with all due respect, I'm not sure that is the
case." Landon's beta, Jason shot him a sheepish smile.
"Unfortunately, you did destroy that bar. We're lucky the patrons were too
drunk to notice anything wrong with your hands and eyes, but the judge insisted
on this."
Landon sighed heavily and struggled to control the fury
already roiling in his gut. It wasn't that he didn't know Jason was right.
Displays of anger like Landon's most recent ones were completely unacceptable.
Landon could have easily breached the Secrecy Accords if Jason hadn't been
there to contain the situation before anything happened.
The human authorities hadn't been impressed by his behavior,
but thankfully, he'd gotten away with a slap on the wrist—one that included
anger management classes. Unfortunately, Landon didn't think any of it would
help. "A human couldn't possibly understand. You know that, Jase."
A human would never be able to grasp what it meant for a
werewolf of Landon's age to be completely unable to find his mate. The stress
of his pack pressuring him to choose a female for reproducing didn't help—and
they didn't let up, even when Landon had adamantly refused to accept anyone
except his other half.
Jason's eyes held so much understanding it hurt. "Yes, I
do know, but that doesn't change the situation," he answered.
Once more, Jason had a point, and procrastinating wasn't
doing Landon any favors. He was an Alpha, damn it all. He refused to be scared
of some little human who wanted him to stand in a circle and talk about his
feelings.
With a disgruntled huff, Landon slid out of the car, leaving
his beta behind. He stalked to the door of the building, only managing to
temper his stride half-way there. Allowing his anger to get the better of him
before the class had even started would be counterproductive at best.
He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately making a
beeline for the assistant behind the front desk. "Hi," he greeted
her. "I'm here for the anger management class. Could you direct me to the
right room?"
She lifted her gaze from her computer and smiled at him.
"Of course. Name, please?"
"Landon Boone."
Landon tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited for
her to look the information up in the database. He knew some people were
irritated by the habit, but it was the mildest way he'd ever expressed his
annoyance. Thankfully, the assistant didn't seem to mind. "Room 202, on
the second floor," she instructed him. "Take the stairs to the
left."
Landon thanked her and headed up the stairs like she had told
him. He found the room with ease, and knocked on the door. A female voice
invited him in and he took a deep breath, resigning himself to the unavoidable.
Most of the chairs—situated in a circle, of course—were
already occupied when he entered the room. "Hi," he said. "I'm
Landon Boone. I apologize for the tardiness."
"That's all right, Mr. Boone," the woman replied
with a smile. "We're still waiting for another member. If you'll take a seat,
we'll use this chance to make all the introductions until our errant friend
shows up."
Landon obediently slid into one of the two empty chairs and
focused on the people who were studying him with undisguised interest. The
woman started with her own name. "I'm Flowerchild Jameson, and I'll be
your anger management coach. These are your fellow students. Everyone, please
introduce yourselves."
As he listened to the words of each individual present, it
occurred to Landon that someone with the name "Flowerchild"
definitely needed a lot of anger management skills to go through life. Or maybe
that wasn't even her name? Humans were strange and often made choices Landon
couldn't hope to
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