The Cursed Alpha

Chapter 1

Andrea Stefanovic stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath to inhale the north western air. Pausing to survey the surroundings, a small street in a small town, with blocks of apartment buildings, beautiful maple trees on the sidewalks, she smiled a little, recognizing the irony of her situation. The tall brunette with striking blue eyes and fair skin had always thought her journalism degree would get her gigs chasing down old politicians for the New York Times, but here she was, in a picturesque Massachusetts town, chasing a very different type of story.

Andrea slung her back pack over her shoulder, slammed the door of her little Prius shut and strode confidently to her apartment building's lobby.

In her thigh high leather boots, blue jeans and blue hoodie, she looked more like a model than a journo, her Eastern European genes, adorned with high, prominent cheekbones and a sensous mouth. She DID look like a Victoria Secret model.

Andrea opened the door and stepped into the sparsely adorned lobby, with floors made of cheap marble, a pot of wilting flowers for decoration, and the massive counter for the doorman at the side, she was less than impressed with the look of the place but oh well, the rent was cheap.

"Good afternoon" she called at the doorman, walking up to the counter, "I am the new tenant? Stefanovic? Room 14? Mr Jean should have told you about me."

The man, a middle-aged looking white guy in an old hairy suit with a salt-and-pepper beard and brown hair looked up at her with bored eyes which lit up the moment they got to her face.

"Uhm... yeah, Stefanovic, he mentioned you, of course" he said, standing up to smoothen out his jacket and stretching out his hand offering a handshake. "I am Henry" he smiled, showing a set of uneven, yellow teeth. "Henry Boyce, the doorman, but everybody calls me Hank."

"Hey Mr Boyce" she smiled back, already disliking the way his eyes roamed unabashedly down her body, but shaking his outstretched hand anyways.

"Let me help you with your bag."

"No it's fine, I am good."

"No, I must insist, you must be tired from the car ride."

"I am capable of carrying them myself" she said, in a tone that left no room for argument. Somehow she didn't want this guy closer to her apartment than he had to be. She was used to this kind of treatment from men but that didn't mean she had to allow it.

He backed away, still smiling stupidly. "I am here, if you need anything, just call."

"I will" she answered already walking up to the stairs. She had moved most of her stuff in the previous week, leaving only her most personal belongings in the bag pack she was carrying.

Unlocking her door and stepping into the small single bedroom apartment, sparsely furnished, she slumped on the couch and took off her boots.

The digital wristwatch on her wrist, a gift from her grandma, had 3:03 pm glowing on its face, she was already exhausted. But she had to get her s**t ready, the next day promised to be a very hectic Monday indeed, with visiting the hardware store for some furniture and getting her project started, she knew she needed to get some rest.

But first, she took out the picture she carried on her, a photo of her, her sister and parents from when she was 7. Her little sister, Alexandria stared back at her, a 5 year old kid with a wide smile and big eyes, sitting on her Mom's lap while Andrea leaned on her Dad. They had been so happy, just a little Serbian family, living together. Until the accident ripped them apart 6 months later.

She always blamed herself, her sister was never found. Her parents were so distraught, they died shortly after, within months of each other, leaving her to her grandma. Andrea heaved herself on the dusty floor, remembering vividly the next few years when the changes had started. At first she thought it was puberty, the lapses in recollection, her frequently waking up in the morning with a headache and aching body.

It graduated to her freakishly sensitive sense of smell, near perfect vision and unusual strength.

Her grandma remained weirdly vague with her explanations, but soon she couldn't hide it forever.

Andrea could remember the first day Nana told her the truth. She was 13, she had passed out during dinner at night and had woken up in her bed, with Nana standing over her looking concerned.

"Nana, what happened? Why do my knees hurt so much?" She had asked, in pain.

"We have to talk child" her grandma replied, sitting next to the bed.

"You aren't like other children dete." she whispered softly. "You have gifts."

"Gifts? Nana, what do you mean?" Andrea had asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

"You are special my child, you and your family, all of us. We have gifts, we come from a very ancient family... a family of werewolves"

Andrea remembered having no idea what the hell Nana was going on about. Werewolves were not real right? That's nonsense to scare little kids. Grown men who also happened to be half wolves? That was nonsense.

But then all these years later, with all she had gone through, she still marveled everytime she remembered that story. Andrea ran her fingers across her sister's face. She missed the little thing even though she barely remembered her now.

She had so many questions, was Alex a werewolf too? Were also her parents freakish wolf-people? Was that why they were targeted? What would happen to her now?

Her Nana had been understanding but fairly cryptic until she died 2 years ago, leaving Andrea with a small fortune and her most prized possession, her diary. Andrea had consumed the diary like crazy, trying as hard as possible to understand herself.

With the revelation if her were-wolf powers, high school hadn't gone well for her. She had no friends. Had to go through it all alone. It was tough.

"Bloody hell." She thought, "I gotta get out of my own head." She didn't want to spend all day mourning the past. She had work to do.

Deciding she might as well take up Henry's offer, she walked back up to lobby to find him dozing on his desk. "So much for security" she thought, rapping impatiently on his desk to wake him.

After getting the name of a bar down a few blocks away, Andrea placed a call to her handler back in New York. A middle-aged, tough as nails woman from California, Midge Hall was responsible for getting her this job. While it wasn't much, chasing a story on decades old, unsolved kidnappings, it was something, and Andrea was willing to give it her best. The phone rang twice before Midge answered.

"Hey honey, how is the Boston air treating you?" Came the brisk voice on the other end. Andrea smiled appreciatively, feeling her mood improving. She missed the woman.

"The air stinks of drunk men and skanky women" she joked back.

"Says the New York girl, you have lived around drunk men and skanky women all your damn life."

"Touché."

"But seriously baby, how are you? How is the place? Made any new friends yet?"

"Unless you count the dumbass doorman and his very inquisitive eyes, no."

"Have you tried to make new friends?"

"I am working on that."

She heard Midge sigh. "Andrea, sweetie, if you want to get anywhere with your story, you gotta go out more, get a lay of the land, meet people. That way, they are more willing to talk to you and answer whatever questions you may have."

"I know, I know Midge, I am working on it." Andrea repeated. She always felt like a kid being told off whenever Midge got this motherly.

"It's not enough to work on it. This is your chance, your big break. Don't f**k it up, do everything it takes to get that story." She snapped, "within the law of course." She added, as though getting the story was the main goal and staying lawful was merely a suggestion.

Andrea couldn't help but smile at the speed Midge switched from caring mother to no-nonsense boss.

"I hear you ma'am, I am on my way to a bar right now. Might meet some of the locals."

"Good for you. I gotta go now dear, will check back later to see how you are doing."

"Bye Midge." She said, hearing the beep indicating that the call had been cut. "Well, this is a drag" she thought. It was nearly 5pm according to her watch.

Sighing again, she walked out into the street, without even bothering to bid good-bye to gawking Henry. Time for a few drinks and she craved some bloody steak.