HER BETTER HALF

JEREMY The moment I've longed for finally unfolds. I ascend to the coveted position of Alpha in the Starfire pack, much like the Alphas who came before me. It's a silent signal that the time has come to reclaim my beloved. The very thought of her fuels my relentless drive. Through the harshest trials, it's her memory that sustains me. She is mine, and I'll move mountains to ensure it remains so. "Alpha." A voice pierces through my reverie. It's Dustin, my beta and closest confidant. I must've missed his words, judging by his puzzled expression. With a sigh, I quell my irritation, recognizing it's not his fault. He wasn't there centuries ago to understand the weight of my thoughts. "What is it, Dustin?" I reply, reluctantly setting my drink down. The scorching sensation in my throat tempers my impatience. "I was wondering if you had a destination in mind for our celebration. You see, becoming Alpha at such a tender age is a momentous occasion," he muses, sipping from his freshly poured drink. Tender age? Two centuries ago, none ascended to Alpha beyond 19. At that age, your destiny should have crystallized. The younger generation appears too relaxed in assuming responsibilities, a trend that vexes me. Worse yet, their parents seem to encourage this idleness. I remember pleading with my father, the former Alpha, repeatedly to step aside and let me inherit his mantle. His refrain? "Not yet, son." "I haven't given it much thought, Dustin," I reply, nearly rolling my eyes at the irony. Back then, our youth embraced responsibilities earlier, distancing themselves from frivolity. Nowadays, it's the reverse, as the young are entangled in aimless pursuits, all in the name of 'YOLO,' whatever that acronym signifies. Dustin's eyes gleam with delight. "Well, you must consider something," he insists. I roll my eyes, a reflexive response. "How about you choose our celebration venue for tonight?" I suggest, knowing I may regret the decision. Dustin's excitement mirrors that of a child handed a sweet treat, though I'm unsure why I've granted him this authority. Regret may loom on the horizon. Oh, Dustin is in deep trouble. I can feel it in my bones. As I sip my drink, I contemplate ways to eliminate him, a dark thought veiling my consciousness. My gaze drifts, attempting to catch Dustin's eye, when an alluring figure approaches our table, initiating an impromptu lap dance. A stripper, it seems. My best friend has, indeed, led me to a strip club for our celebration. No, I'm no saint, and I've indulged in my share of one-night affairs, but this... The dancer employs her full repertoire of moves, clinging to me as if her life depended on it. Her desperation emanates through her, and I have no appetite for such neediness. She's not my type. A whiff of her desperation hangs in the air, and I simply don't despair. So, I endure her attention with a bored expression, patiently waiting for her to tire. Amidst the sea of blonde locks with gilded streaks, a particular figure captures my attention. I glimpse the back of a woman, her body an enchanting masterpiece. Her curves are alluring, her posture could rival any model's, and her aura holds a magnetic charm. She's accompanied by a slender man, presumably her boyfriend, judging by his possessive arm around her waist. Irrationally, I envy that man. Lucky bastard! I'm spellbound by the mysterious woman, nearly forgetting the dancer in my lap. That is, until she turns my face toward her, prompting a low, involuntary growl. "Keep your eyes on me, pretty boy," she purrs seductively. "Do that again, and it will be the last time you use your hands," I warn in a tone laced with menace. I glance back in hopes of another glimpse of the enigmatic beauty, but she's vanished, almost at the exit. Returning my focus to the dancer, I find her smirking. May the moon goddess spare me from committing murder. I reach for my drink, the fiery liquid soothing my fraying temper. "Out," I commanded tersely. She requires no further prodding, quickly disentangling herself and scurrying to regain her composure. I step outside, seeking respite in the cool night air, hoping to catch another glimpse of the goddess who'd briefly captured my attention. I navigate the throngs of revelers, my frustration mounting as I struggle to find her. Just as I'm about to curse my misfortune and launch into a soliloquy about teenage hormones and the futility of existence, I spot her. At first glance, it seems she's engaged in a heated exchange with her boyfriend, but closer scrutiny reveals a lovers' quarrel unfolding. She gesticulates wildly while he stands there, smirking. Oh, how I yearn to wipe that smirk off his face. The insufferable jerk I approach the duo, compelled by the desire to assist, despite her seemingly capable demeanor. "Well, she was practically begging for it. How could I resist such an offer?" He grins cheekily. "Merely because she asked doesn't make it right. How can you engage in such an act in a club's restroom when you arrived with your girlfriend? Do I mean nothing to you?" She protests indignantly. He shrugs nonchalantly. "Eh, it didn't mean anything to me. She's a whore." His audacity leaves me seething; I'm itching to do something drastic. "Mean nothing to you? Imagine if I did the same to you and uttered those words," she retorts, and suddenly, he's in front of her, his hands tightening around her throat. I hear her struggle against his grip, but her back obscures her face from my view. I've sworn not to interfere in the affairs of mates, as they treat each other as they see fit. But I can't restrain myself. I rush over and deliver a forceful punch to his face. He retaliates swiftly, but by then, he's released his hold on the goddess. I tackle him to the ground, raining blow after blow upon him. I'm confident I heard his nose c***k. After my onslaught, I wipe my bloodied knuckles on his shirt and stand up. I know he won't risk shifting, not on human territory. There are consequences for shifting on their land, and he might not even be a wolf. I turn to her, intending to inquire about her well-being, but something stops me dead in my tracks. Beyond the horror on her face, I discern a face I recognize. The same eyes, the same nose It's her. It's Lucia. My girl. My instinct is to pull her into a hug, but reality jolts. "What are you doing? And who in the world is Lucia?" Her voice, though gentle, carries an undertone of stern curiosity. I hadn't realized I'd spoken her name aloud. As I examine her more closely, I see that she's visibly shaken. "Lucia, let me take you home. Do you remember your address?" I offer, attempting to break the ice. She scoffs incredulously, "Are you out of your mind? Why would I entrust my address to a stranger who pummeled my boyfriend? And seriously, who are you calling Lucia?" I can't help but retort, "Can you honestly still consider that piece of trash your boyfriend? If you're not Lucia, then what name should I use?" She gives me a defiant stare and takes a step back, increasing the distance between us. "I'm not telling you my name," she retorts. I let out a sigh of exasperation. "Quit making things difficult; I genuinely want to help you." With a glare, she snaps back, "I didn't ask for your help, hero. You can go save someone else." She then turns her attention back to the unconscious man on the floor. "I hope you didn't kill him." As I observe her tend to his condition, my anger simmers beneath the surface. A part of me genuinely hopes I did kill him. I clench and unclench my fists, determined not to let my temper interfere with the situation. Glancing at the time, I realize it's nearly 3 a.m., and I should be returning to the pack soon. Just as I contemplate my options, my beta contacts me through our mental link, inquiring about my whereabouts. Torn between the urgency of my pack duties and my concern for Lucia's well-being, I devise the best course of action at the moment. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Let go of me!" She screams indignantly as I physically guide her towards my car. It's true; I'm practically dragging her along. Call it what you will, but the thought of leaving her alone in this state is unbearable. She fights me every step of the way, shrieking and resisting as I finally shove her into the car. I swiftly lock the door, anticipating her next move, which, unsurprisingly, comes almost immediately. As I make my way to the driver's seat, I mind-link my Beta, explaining that he should proceed without me, citing an emergency. "Hey, you have to release me," she protests, kicking the backseat of the car. I responded firmly, "Sorry, not happening. Now, what's your address, Princess?" She bristles, vehemently asserting, "I am no princess, and I certainly won't be giving you my address." Frustration wells up inside me, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, I will get your address. Now, if you would be so kind as to share it, I have places to be."