The Alpha Heir - Archie

Chapter 6

Archie POV

When I heard Gamma Rolando yelling at Spencer, amidst the laughter of Melissa and Raven, I didn't find myself smiling.

Everything hurt.

My skin cracked in various red cracks.

Teeth ached, gums throbbed.

"Is it happening again?"

Dad knew it.

Just as I knew it.

"I have to go ..." The tone of our voice was low, double, "Can you tell mom?"

My father wrapped his heavy arms around me and pulled me to his chest. A momentary shock almost made me forget about my painful situation.

He was not an affectionate man, at least with gestures or words. And I couldn't have wished for a better father; he is my hero, my mentor, my best friend.

But I had only seen him hug my twin Aurora, or mom. My small sister Sofia, only a couple of times, but usually she pissed him off more than anything else.

"You'll be fine, son." Dad pursed his lips, and his eyes filled with pain, "Take all the time you need."

I didn't dare tell my mother that I was going ... again. And so soon.

And for all the time I needed.

She would cry, scream, and beg me not to go.

And I would have done exactly what she wanted ... just to feel like hell later on and become dangerous.

Unstable.

After all, I was a beast.

I was different.

My…urges needed to be satiated.

The solution was simple. I would go to the only place where I could be myself, in my true form, without people fainting all around me, without werewolves twice my age shaking.

Of course inside my own house I was in my true form sometimes ... when there was no one else around. Which was rare. Sure, I left fangs, claws and other wolfish things out, as I was more comfortable that way... But still, that wasn't my true form.

Hard to explain, and tiring, but imagine this: if, for a werewolf in his/her human form, teeth and nails were the confort, they weren't for me. Claws and talons were. Fangs and furry tail were.

Imagine being forced to crawl instead of walking on two legs. Imagine being force to reduce your pace dramatically when walking, like walking in slow motion. Imagine being forced to go out without clothes.

Only to adapt to the rest, werewolves and humans. Crawling at a fast pace was my confort. Having fur on some part of my body was like human wearing clothes.

A frustrated sigh escaped my dilated nostrils. I was different.

Nobody could fully understand me. My urges.

If for a wolf, tail and snout were natural, for me they weren't. I didn't feel comfortable in either human or wolf form, but especially human. And I still struggled to keep it today.

The worst of all? The more I wasn’t in my true form, the harder it was for me to control my needs.

Even my family couldn't stand my true form, though they really tried not to wince. Only with my twin Aurora could I be my real self. The fact had caused great questions, arguments and quarrels among the people who loved me.

"I can come with you." Dad proposed, even though I saw him hesitating. He hated leaving Mom and the pack.

A tight smile puckered my sore lips, "No, dad, that's fine."

He looked thoughtful for second. “I can order him to go with you.” He said.

A lifeless chuckle escaped my lips, only to grimace when pain shot through my lips and gums.

Fangs ached to come out, bite, destroy, tear.

It was like sharing my skin with a bomb ready to implode.

"I will ask him."

I took a look at the trees. No one could ever know where Grandpa was when he wasn't spending his time with his mate - my grandma, or my siblings.

True to be told, grandpa was the only one who really understood me. He was not born exactly like me, he was a powerful werewolf who, after various tragedies and misfortunes, learn how to share his body with his wolf.

A memory struck me, coming from a past that hadn’t been too merciful...

“A beast, they said?” Grandpa frowned down at me, his massive body stiffened, the dead squirrels, hanging upside down from his belt shook slightly.

“Who said that? Give me their names.”

I shook my head, hugging my knees to my chest, “You can’t kill everyone that think that of me, grandpa.” No matter the anguish in my heart, a small smile made its way to my lips, curling the thin line, at the fierce love my grandfather showed.

“To hell with it!” He snarled, green eyes glowing with their own light.

“It’s against pack rules.” I grinned.

“f**k pack rules. I’m not part of any pack.” His response for a mere grunt.

This time, a chuckle invaded me, and he stared at me before joining me. His laugh was more like rocks falling on other rocks, but still. His big hand fell on my head, patting it twice - his way of showing affection, "Your dad repeats the f*****g pack rules to me every week now." He snorted, probably annoyed at dad.

Eleven-year-old-me giggled. Then I remembered the other kids hiding from me. As soon as they saw me, fear mutated their features. “A-Alph-h-a,” They all said, bowing, before scattering to every direction.

“You know what?” He crouched down in front of me, big hands on my shoulders.

I rose my eyes, meeting his, “What?”

“Look for the beast, find it. Then get to know it, make friends with it.”

I tilted my head to the side, stretching my legs out, with my hands resting on the fresh grass. "What do you mean by your riddle?"

“You and your beast….are on the same side. You are one. Train, think, and be the beast.” The way he spoke, with such fierce determination, made me believe him. In every word.

“You are saying I need to be a beast?” I arched an eyebrow.

It didn’t make any sense! Mom just told me to be kind with everyone. To help them.

“Yes. Be a beast.”

Silence fell on us. Not uncommon with grandfather, unless I spoke, he never initiated – always the quiet companion.

The listener.

“Okay,” I mumbled, “Be the beast. Got it.” I gazed up at the sky, seeing so far away. Seeing not just the blue, but the complexity of what was hidden. “What do I do with this beast of mine, once I tame it?”

Grandpa didn’t respond. My eyes found his.

One of those smirks that, once upon a time, once upon a monster, used to scare the living out of the living. To me, it did nothing. I love grandpa, despite what everyone else said.

It was one of those smirks that, even though both lips curled up – like the universal symbol of smiling, meant the opposite. Instead of instilling joy, that smirk aroused fear. Instead of friendship, the smirk said, “Run. Go. Or I'll bite your neck and break your life in two unrecognisable pieces.”“Run. Go. Or I'll bite your neck and break your life in two unrecognisble pieces.”

“Who said about taming any beast?” Grandpa rose his eyebrows, the smirk still in place.

“Didn’t you just-“

He snorted, green eyes, same as my mother’s, darkened, “You train the beast. Then you unleash it.”

I frowned, not following him, “But grandpa, I’m the beast.”

“Exactly. Unleash your potential! Don’t hide it, only because of lesser beings!”

I didn’t understand what grandpa had meant at the time.

Now?

All I knew was that, from time to time, I needed to be myself.

From time to time, I had to unleash the beast to be happy.

I had to unleash myself.