Read Online Temptation (Journal of the Wolves of Spruce Hollow) by Tarrah Betts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tarrah Betts
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The closer together the affected generations were, the younger you went through the transformation and after my dad was taken away from me so suddenly, I became one poorly controlled, angry young werewolf.
I picked fights with older, bigger Weres and frequently got my ass handed back to me but I never backed down.
Not once.
I would go home, bloodied and bruised from fighting and my mother would scream at me and give me hell. Then, I would run away from home and vandalize pack property to appease the rage boiling inside me.
I hung out with the older teenage Weres, since there was no one my own age in the pack that understood what it was to be a werewolf. I got into a lot of trouble with the older Weres too. A typical weekend with them always involved drinking, smoking dope and having sex with older girls from the pack or in town.
I was headed on the fast track to some serious trouble.
My mother was set to lose her freaking mind until the Alpha stepped in and took me to live under his roof with his rules.
I tried to disobey him too but it didn’t work out quite the same way it had with my mother.
For instance, he kicked my ass six ways to Sunday every time I ran away from home. He always found me too; there wasn’t anywhere I could hide from him, like I could with my human mother.
He also got me back into school during the day and in the evenings he would take me out hunting to keep me away from trouble.
On the weekends, he would take me into the woods and let me rage, scream and smash trees. When that still wasn’t enough to calm me inside, he made me chop wood. That first year I chopped the entire pack’s winter wood supply. There must have been 80 cords of wood or more there.
I hated it and would try and run off the minute his back was turned though. So, eventually the Alpha started sitting with me and would watch me while I chopped wood, usually until dark.
He would talk about what it meant to be a Were and told me of the duty and responsibility that every single Were had to the pack.
I tuned him out while I chopped. I didn’t want to be a werewolf. I didn’t want to live in Spruce Hollow. I hated it here. I hated everyone that lived here too. Him. My mother. Everyone.
I just wanted my father back.
I was one angry little boy, but if you could get past that façade and peeled back through the layers of rage and fury, you would find a very sad little boy curled up into the fetal position.
Losing my father had devastated me right to the core of my young being. He had been my entire world and my biggest problem was, I didn’t know how to go on living without him.
One Saturday, on one of our many weekend trips to the woods, the Alpha encouraged me to talk about my father while I was mindlessly snapping sticks.
I turned my back and ignored him while I continued looking for more sticks to snap.
I hadn’t spoken of my father since his death, not with the Alpha, not with anyone, but he didn’t let that deter him and continued to talk, telling me stories from my father’s youth and what an honorable, brave Were he had grown into.
I could feel my rage start to build as I tried to walk away from him. But he followed me still, telling me stories about my dad.
Without warning, something scary and deep inside me snapped.
How dare he speak of my father? He didn’t deserve to talk about him. He didn’t even have the right to speak his name aloud.
It incensed me and I flew into a physical rage, screaming and swinging my closed fists at him.
“Shut up, shut up!! You’re not my father! Stop talking about him! You’re trying to replace him! You’ll never take his place! You’ll never be my father! Never!” I screamed at him.
I was still shaking with the venom of my words when the Alpha started slowly walking towards me, his face an impassive mask.
Inside me, my wolf was saying, “Oh, oh, you’ve really gone too far now. He is going to kick your ass for sure this time.”
But I didn’t care. I was
I picked fights with older, bigger Weres and frequently got my ass handed back to me but I never backed down.
Not once.
I would go home, bloodied and bruised from fighting and my mother would scream at me and give me hell. Then, I would run away from home and vandalize pack property to appease the rage boiling inside me.
I hung out with the older teenage Weres, since there was no one my own age in the pack that understood what it was to be a werewolf. I got into a lot of trouble with the older Weres too. A typical weekend with them always involved drinking, smoking dope and having sex with older girls from the pack or in town.
I was headed on the fast track to some serious trouble.
My mother was set to lose her freaking mind until the Alpha stepped in and took me to live under his roof with his rules.
I tried to disobey him too but it didn’t work out quite the same way it had with my mother.
For instance, he kicked my ass six ways to Sunday every time I ran away from home. He always found me too; there wasn’t anywhere I could hide from him, like I could with my human mother.
He also got me back into school during the day and in the evenings he would take me out hunting to keep me away from trouble.
On the weekends, he would take me into the woods and let me rage, scream and smash trees. When that still wasn’t enough to calm me inside, he made me chop wood. That first year I chopped the entire pack’s winter wood supply. There must have been 80 cords of wood or more there.
I hated it and would try and run off the minute his back was turned though. So, eventually the Alpha started sitting with me and would watch me while I chopped wood, usually until dark.
He would talk about what it meant to be a Were and told me of the duty and responsibility that every single Were had to the pack.
I tuned him out while I chopped. I didn’t want to be a werewolf. I didn’t want to live in Spruce Hollow. I hated it here. I hated everyone that lived here too. Him. My mother. Everyone.
I just wanted my father back.
I was one angry little boy, but if you could get past that façade and peeled back through the layers of rage and fury, you would find a very sad little boy curled up into the fetal position.
Losing my father had devastated me right to the core of my young being. He had been my entire world and my biggest problem was, I didn’t know how to go on living without him.
One Saturday, on one of our many weekend trips to the woods, the Alpha encouraged me to talk about my father while I was mindlessly snapping sticks.
I turned my back and ignored him while I continued looking for more sticks to snap.
I hadn’t spoken of my father since his death, not with the Alpha, not with anyone, but he didn’t let that deter him and continued to talk, telling me stories from my father’s youth and what an honorable, brave Were he had grown into.
I could feel my rage start to build as I tried to walk away from him. But he followed me still, telling me stories about my dad.
Without warning, something scary and deep inside me snapped.
How dare he speak of my father? He didn’t deserve to talk about him. He didn’t even have the right to speak his name aloud.
It incensed me and I flew into a physical rage, screaming and swinging my closed fists at him.
“Shut up, shut up!! You’re not my father! Stop talking about him! You’re trying to replace him! You’ll never take his place! You’ll never be my father! Never!” I screamed at him.
I was still shaking with the venom of my words when the Alpha started slowly walking towards me, his face an impassive mask.
Inside me, my wolf was saying, “Oh, oh, you’ve really gone too far now. He is going to kick your ass for sure this time.”
But I didn’t care. I was
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