Present Day Silver Moon Pack-Talon Williams age 17 up top

***Talon's POV***

Everyday is absolute shit. Shitty day, shitty month, shitty existence.

Why?

Why do I spend my days at a school where people throw disturbing words, their fists and even their books at me?

If Mrs. Cassidy could have just kept her big dick suckers shut, maybe my life wouldn't be a kaleidoscope of anguish.

Lutz Cassidy is the son of said Mrs. Cassidy. Once upon a time ago we were friends. We shared cookies at lunch, cars at play time and secrets in our wooden fort.

Days were shared as best friends. Nights were spent in sleep overs. Summers were filled with pack events.

Not anymore!

One day, Freshman year to be exact, my mother had a peaceful lunch date with Mrs. Cassidy. Histories were shared, stories reminisced and secrets were laid bare.

Who's secret? Mine! Both of them.

My sweet trusting mother, Goddess bless her loose lipped soul.

She let it slip that I preferred to play with bats and balls over jugs and slits.

I'm gay!

Not ashamed, I just wished it was my secret to tell. Oh yeah, it was.

But No! I did not come out of my own proverbial closet. My mother entered the tightly sealed room and pushed me out with a helicopter shining a spot light down on me.

Tell the news, tell the weather, tell Kermit aka Mrs. Cassidy. She will spill your tea faster than a toddler on roller skates sliding down a mountain of butter.

What could be worse than having your sexuality on full display for microscopes and binoculars? Well, the fact that I physically ate my twin in utero.

Technically, I was a twin. I had an identical brother. He was unable to stabilize while my mother carried us. My body absorbed him. The medical term is Parasitic Twin.

Maybe I was hungry. Probably not!

Maybe I was the stronger twin. The chances are slim to none.

However, if I happened to be the dominant twin, that shit stopped after birth.

I'm an omega. That's one secret my mother chose to keep in her precious vault of word vomit. Most packs belittle and harm omegas. My pack does not do that.

But, as my status presented itself on my 16th birthday, my life had already tumbled into a series of unfortunate events.

My mom realized the error of her ways. She put two and two together and managed to come up with a magical four. Thank Goddess!

On my 16th birthday, she was cleaning dirt out of my hair and stitching up the knee patches for my jeans. The epic battle between Lutz and Talon had been on display for the whole school to spectate.

Lutz 365 and Talon ZERO

The beginning of my end was on the day following the front page news, The Silver Moon Tea Party. My world was blast on display in the Cassidy Daily. My secrets spread faster than Monica Lewinksy's lips.

I was 14 at that time. Two weeks into my high school career, Lutz Fucking Cassidy threw his first metaphorical punch. He would then resort to physical affirmations. Goddess knows, I didn't learn my lesson about being gay and eating my brother.

Um, it's not like I chose either of those things.

Insults were thrown, fists were flung, hands were caught. Lucky me, the recipient of all this physical acknowledgment.

Faggot

Bitch

Parasite

Pig

Leech

Fat Ass

Obese

Twink (that one was not painful)

Alien

Weirdo

Barnacle

Sponge

Sodomite

Pervert

Pedophile (personal favorite *cue the eye roll)

Between each word I was gifted with a physical: slap, kick, punch, grope or slam.

It was no big deal really. I mean who whines over a chipped tooth, two black eyes, three fractured ribs, a broken arm and a skull fracture.

Me! That's fucking who. I cried like a kid who lost his Spider-Man toy. The sobs started and even more hateful words flung wildly like confetti at a parade.

So anyways, I'm 17 now and I'm completely over it. No physical scars. No emotional lesions. I'm a regular healthy Senior. I'm popular now and I am living my best life. (Cue the sarcasm)

Not. Even. Fucking. Close.

I'm a Senior. Somehow, I made it to 17 in one maladjusted piece. I see a psychiatrist a couple times a month. I am completely separated from society outside of school. I haven't been to a pack event in three years. I live on the edge of my seat daily waiting for good old Lutz to rain his punishment down upon my already bruised body.

Don't worry, he is not at any disadvantage. His merry band of lackeys, Lyle and Lloyd, join him in his perverse activities. I suppose I may be a tad bit strong. I catch six hands and six feet no less than three times a week. I'm still alive.

I don't go to school on Friday. I take accelerated courses and am set to graduate at the end of this year. One year sooner than normal, it would be two years, but hospital stays and concussions set me off course.

I suffer from depression, low self esteem and panic attacks. I suffer from eating disorders. My mind is a twisted discombobulation of sarcasm and distrust. I am a wet dream for any aspiring psychologist.

I swear my Psychiatrist does a fucking happy dance every time I shuffle into her office with a bruise. When my weight is down she seems to have a special glint in her eye. I don't think she is being malicious. She is just excited to put her Doctorate to use.

My mom and Dad love me dearly. They pamper me and have tried but failed to have me report the bullying that verges on attempted murder. The problem is, I can't afford for the scales of Justice to lean any further away from me. Their is a slim chance that The three L's could be punished. I'm not usually lucky and I don't like the odds.

I miss my friends. I miss my pack. I miss the days when Lutz and I shared a blanket and a flash light as we told legends of our species.

I want to find my mate. However, I don't stick around anyone long enough to have my wolf get a good whiff of a scent. Poor Meka, my wolf. He whines incessantly. I don't blame him. I would whine if I was stuck with me as a host too.

I'm not the worst host. Maybe the second worst. I take him on runs in the late hours of the night. The hours when my dad is on patrol and everyone my age is in bed.

I talk to Meka. We are friends. Most the time he responds. Those rare days when he is quiet, is a direct result of him healing our abused bodies. My wolf is a fighter. He takes the pain when I can not. God I love Meka.

Meka whimpers.

No greater gift could I have than Meka Williams. He is my strength and my pillar. Maybe Meka should have been my mate.

Meka laughs.

My wolf might be a freak.

Fuck, maybe I am too.

Well, here we are. Today is Remington Mathews 18th birthday.

Remington is my future Alpha.

Remington. Remi. Rem. Sex on legs.

That man is absolutely drool worthy. Many nights he has starred in my dreams. He makes me wanna kneel down and worship his Greek God Body, Mind and Soul.

I have only seen him in passing recently. I couldn't be lucky enough to be in his friendship circle.

Word around school is: he is as kind as he is sexy.

That's a dump truck full of kindness.

The man is six foot two inches of heavenly devotion.

Just thinking about Remington has my wolf rolling on his back showing his appreciation.

I am a secret admirer. I sent him a birthday gift. I could not attend. Lutz was set to be there. I didn't want to ruin the night by taking a trip to the pack hospital.

The gift? A small book of poetry. If memory serves me correct, Remington is a huge literature fan. We had class together one year in middle school. Remington submitted a poem into our literary contest. He won, shocking each student into humble revelry.

His poem is embedded into the cognitive maps of my hippocampus, otherwise known as Ammon's Horn or my brain.

In His Hands

In his hands, I am stronger

I am who I was meant to be.

In his hands, I am weaker

He owns parts of me

In his hands, He holds forever

Our souls are linked as one

In his hands, I find meaning

Our lives have just begun

In his hands, my heart lies

Trusted to his love

In his hands, I am peaceful

He was sent from the Goddess Above

Not bad at all for an eighth grader. Hell, in my eyes, he could be the next Robert Frost. Just remember, I see him with rose colored glasses. Maybe they are sex colored glasses. What color would sex be?

Anyways.

I have a certain lust and adoration for one Remington Sex God Mathews.

If it weren't for Lutz The Fucktard Cassidy and his crew of imbeciles, I could have handed that gift to Remington personally. Another reason to wish a bag of dicks would land in their mouths.

Maybe not. I don't want to share Goddess' best appendage with maggots. I would wish they bit into a lumpy blue waffle the next time they attempted to eat a straight guy's favorite meal.

I wonder if Remington found his mate tonight. I sure hope he did. If anyone deserves a mate, Remington does. Besides, she will be our new Luna. Maybe she could boot Lutz out of the pack and his ass licking followers would go along with him.

Any woman would be lucky to have an Alpha as a mate. Remington isn't going to be just any Alpha. He will be the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, one of the largest packs in existence. He will rule with a firm but fair hand. He will make Silver Moon great again. Not that Alpha Jamison doesn't do a great job, I just wish Lutz was outed to the world as the piece of trash he really is.

I pray his Luna is up for the challenge. She will carry his children. She will love, honor and cherish each of the pack members as the family they are. She will get to nurture and mentor the pups that grow up alongside their own pups.

Being a Luna is a huge honor. Being Remington's Luna is the biggest honor.

Yeah, I hope his mate is half as amazing as he is. That would make for a pretty fantastic couple to lead our pack into the future generations.

I also pray that she sees Remington for the value he is. His heart is worth his weight in the finest of treasures.

Remington Fucking Mathews. Alpha. Gentle Giant. Warrior. Sex God.

Let me get off the subject of my obsession.

Before I'm forced to get off in another way.

Time for me to cut this shit show biography, of my not so amazing life, short. Meka deserves a run. I want a distraction from this so called life.

***Third Person's POV***

Talon wonders thru the territory of The Silver Moon Pack. Tiny pricks of discomfort sting his lonely soul. For 17 years he has been a "member" of one of the largest packs in the country. He has never been more alone than he feels at this moment. Talon knows he is a mistake. He prays the Moon Goddess will forgive him.