I never cared much for those who judge me for who I am and what I do to survive. I am the myth that instills fear into the minds who speak of my name. I am a mere illusion to many who call my name; they call me the Demon Wolf. I am an Alpha; many don't dare cross. Those who have spoken ill of my name have lost their tongues. Everyone over the years has turned away out of fear. I have been persecuted like a witch. Left out to dry and die.
'Kael, do you think we will ever find a true mate?' my wolf says, daydreaming.
'You are like a love-sick puppy, Knox!' I grumble. No wonder we don't get anything done, always pondering a mate. Having a mate is the least of our concerns.
Knox grumbles, 'But we deserve love, Kael!'
Kael becomes agitated, 'Do you think I don't know that!?' I was well aware of the love I wanted. To have someone love me for who I am and not my story would be a meracle. The topic always makes me sink into depression. I am nothing more than a rogue to them, I live outside normal pack society. I might be a beast, but I'm not a heartless killer.
Knox huffs with a whimper, 'I just want to feel wanted for once.' The fear and absolute terror we see on the face of the others in our presence. The way they tremble. We are nothing but a monster when they see me coming.
'I know, I know, buddy. Oh god, how I know!' My face fell, finding my eyes fixed on the floor in despair. I should be used to this dread by now. I have lived with it for 28 years now. My heart yearns for understanding, to be genuinely wanted.
I was on my own once I turned 18, told to get lost. Being the Alpha of my father's pack was rightfully mine as the eldest son. My father handed the pack to my brother instead, leaving me no choice but to be a rogue alpha. The news of him giving my brother the pack cut deep. The deepest betrayal a son could ever feel from his father. I thought being the eldest son meant something to him, but I guess not. I was just to be tossed aside like I was never born or wanted in the first place, as if I were adopted. I haven't spoken to my Father in 10 years. After my father's betrayal, I had to find family within myself, the strength to move on.
His words cut like a knife, or a hard horse-sized pill to swallow. The vengeance I felt faded away over time, but never truly left. He dismissed every day of my life we spent together, like I was a nobody to him, like I was invisible. There was never a single ounce of shame in his eyes, let alone his heart, that day. My father was dead to me after that dreadful day. I was nothing more than a mutt that was dropped off at a kill shelter or dumped on the side of the road to him. I started to despise my brother after that day, and I sneer at the mention of either of them. Bloodlust boils in my veins at the sound of their names. They are dead to me. Nothing but an old memory.