A/N: Hello Everyone! I've been working on this short story for a while now, but have been so busy that I couldn't dedicate much time to it. I've finally finished it though and will be posting it within the span of the next few weeks. Please let me know what you think!

The taste of blood still lingers on my teeth and lips. I moan as I lick at it, eager to have more. How did my life come to this? Dependent on the thrill of the kill. I couldn't help myself. My human side would argue with my wolf, trying to make him feel some sort of compassion. Telling him not to do it and that it isn't right. But in the end, it's my wolf that always wins. He is the devil on my shoulder. He is a predator. He needs to kill. He longs for it.

Even now as I stand in the middle of the woods. The moon shines bright and full above, intensifying my wolf's cravings to hunt.

I know I must submit to him at times, especially under the moon. It makes me sick but I can't keep him bottled up. If I do, his desires increase. His appetite intensifies. His rage builds up so much that it will eventually burst on the slightest temptation.

I would be powerless against his repressed impulses and that could get an innocent person killed…

It has gotten an innocent person killed…

As a result of learning from my past mistakes; I frequently take very long walks, or even a run, depending on how I feel, out to the middle of the woods that surround my house. I go to where no one else could possibly be around. And I hunt.

I hunt anything that satisfies my wolf's blood lust. Deer, rabbit, beaver, rodent. Even bird. Whatever I can catch and sink my teeth into, I let my wolf take it's life.

It keeps him at bay enough to where I can control him comfortably and not have to worry about his hunger becoming too strong that he lashes out again.

My wolf's whining pulls me from my thoughts. He's waiting for me to open his cage inside my mind and let him out to play. He wants me to willingly grant him his little bit of freedom to use the body we share.

I, reluctantly, begin to give him the control he wants so that he may ease his urge to kill. This process takes some time, though. I do it slowly that way he understands that between us, I am the dominant one. That when he is in charge of our body, it is because I allow it.

My ears are the first to shift. They can sense all the different sounds of the woods from miles away. The running water of the nearby stream. The rustling leaves as the wind rushes past them. The chattering of animals that have not found sleep yet.

I listen to my surroundings, focusing my hearing on what creatures are here with me tonight. Figuring out which ones will not be here by morning.

I then let my wolf take control of my nose, a sensational intake of all the various scents flood my nostrils. I smell the family of bunnies a mile from my left, the badgers resting 30 ft to my right, a few deer walking away a few miles behind me, and...

What's that? I quirk my head as a new smell touches my nose. I hear my wolf whine louder as I take a deeper inhale of the intoxicating, familiar scent that we haven't been around in what feels like ages. It smells wonderful. Not like any animal that is my usual prey. No. It emanates a variety of delectable odors that no animal can mimic.

I can smell the Old Spice Pure Sport body wash he uses that contrasts with the Axe Shock body spray he wears. I can detect the smell of pizza he ate for dinner, lingering in his breath. The salt from his sweat coating his body. The Tide and Downy that he no doubt uses to clean his clothes. Except for his sweatshirt that has his specific, boyish scent embedded into it.

I can feel my wolf drooling. It took over control to my mouth without my permission, my teeth enlarging and becoming canine-like. The teenage boy has to be a mile and a half ahead of me, but I can still taste the self-satisfaction and thrilling energy within the gust of wind that flurries passed me from his direction.

I can tell he likes the feeling he gets when he runs alone through the woods late at night with nothing to guide him apart from the light of the full moon. He likes the exhilaration of the danger it possesses. I don't think the boy has ever actually encountered anything dangerous in his life. If he had, he would not be out here tonight. That's for sure.

I start pulling my wolf back into his cage, undoing the shift, not wanting to take the chance for him to harm the boy. Even though he shouldn't be out in the woods in the middle of the night in the first place. He should be at home instead. Where it is safe and he doesn't have to worry about being the very thing that indulges the Big Bad Wolf's hunger.

But I have to be the responsible one. I know he has no clue about my kind or anything else that goes bump in the night. So I will force my wolf to hunt another time. Even if he does give me attitude for it. I would rather deal with that than the boy's blood on my hands.

I can hear my wolf snarl at me inside my head. I realize that this is the first time we have been near a human in… Well, I don't even know how long. I've kept us apart from society as much as possible.

I regret that now because we aren't accustomed to the smell of humans anymore. My wolf forgot how desirable a human's scent can be and he aches for it like a drowning person would ache for air.

Just a bit closer. My wolf tries to convince me that his intentions are harmless. I won't hurt him. Just want to see him.

I see no harm in just looking at the boy, but I know my wolf better than that. I know he only wants to trick me so that he can get close enough to the boy that his hunger goes into a frenzy that I won't be able to hold back.

No. I tell him. We are going home tonight. We'll hunt tomorrow.

At this, my wolf growls. He doesn't like when I tell him what to do. He scratches and claws at his cage; but for the moment, I have control. I cut him off from all my senses, making it easier to keep him in. I can't let him harm another innocent kid.

I try to start walking away, towards the other side of the forest or just anywhere away from where the boy is running. But as I attempt to turn around, my legs stop me. I can't move them at all. The only motion they seem to be able to perform is a slight tremor from wanting to obey my order to move but not having the ability to do so because my wolf won't allow it. My wolf is fighting for control over my body and refuses to let me leave without giving him what he wants.

While struggling with him, I feel his desires as if they are my own. To not give in to them, to not give him what he wants is mentally painful. It's like I'm going against my own instincts. I'm denying everything I am. Everything that I don't want to be. It's making me weak because it means that I'm not just fighting my wolf. I'm fighting myself.

My wolf is quickly exhausting me, his desires fueling his strength and giving him so much more power than my human half has. If I want to win against him, I need to rely on something more than my strength. I need to rely on my mind. To out smart him is my only chance at saving this kid's life.

I need to be calm.

I need to concentrate.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

I mumble this aloud to myself, taking my focus away from my wolf and his needs for a few moments. I'm finding myself gaining some relief from this the more times I repeat it.

I let out a deep exhale that I didn't know I was keeping in.

I am the Alpha of this body. Not you. I tell him, reasserting my dominance. I am in control.

Just as I begin to think that I have full control over my body, I hear a faint voice snarl in the back of my head, Control is overrated.

With that, my wolf bashes hard against my skull. I'm winded from the pain as I'm knocked to my knees. I hold my head tight, hoping it will ease some of the heavy pounding.

Let go, he sings, knowing what he is doing to me. Just let go.

No.

Another assault of throbbing torture spikes through me. If I had any breath left in me, I would have screamed out. My wolf has never put me through this much pain before. I feel as if my head is about to explode, and if I'm being honest, the relief of that would be so welcome rather than enduring this for much longer.

Let. Go. He commands.

A tremor runs through me as tears begin welling up in my eyes.

I. Can't. Not again. Please, not again.

The pain disappears as he chuckles. The knot that was in my throat smoothes out and I gasp for air, leaning on a tree that stands to my right.

I'm thankful for the relief, but why? Why did he release me? He doesn't give in easily. He just doesn't. He is as stubborn as I am. What is he planning?

Feet treading their way nearby answers my questions. The boy is close.

I hear my wolf rumbling to himself.

I need to get out of here. Now.

I begin to lift myself, but before I can stand up, the agony that was in my head a moment ago returns worse than ever. I whimper on my knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut as I press my forehead into the dirt.

LET ME OUT! My wolf bellows.

I don't answer him out of fear. That, and because the pain is fogging my thinking process so much that all I know is that I want this to stop.

I can barely make out a muffled voice in the distance when my wolf releases me again. I gasp for air, weakly. Very weakly. I tremble as I look up towards the faint and garbled voice.

My vision is blurry, but it clears in time for me to see a confused looking pale and scrawny boy walking in my direction. He wears gym clothes and a red sweatshirt zipped half way up. In all honesty, he didn't seem like someone who would go out for a jog that often. His strained, heavy breathing confirms it.

"Hello?" The boy called, searching in my direction. "Is someone there?"

He hasn't noticed me yet.

Of course. The moon's light is bright, but it isn't bright enough for the boy to make out my figure in the tree's shadow. He stops about 15 feet in front of me, squinting his eyes in my direction. I notice him reach into his pocket to grab a small, black device. A beam of light turns on not a moment later.

I watch him as his light finds me. At first, it quickly passes, but the boy hastily flashes it back so it is brightly shining on my face. He takes a step back, his mouth hanging open.

I hear his heart pounding against his chest. It's beating so fast. The rhythm of it is almost soothing until a breeze drifts my way and a wave of the boy's many odors tickles my nostrils. A groan escapes me without my permission.

I can feel my fangs growing in, drool dripping from them.

Oh, no. I'm shifting.

I'm shifting and I can't control it.

No, no, no, no.

He needs to get away. His scent is driving my wolf out.

I want to tell him to run. Run as far away as possible and as fast as he can. I don't want to hurt him. This kid. This innocent and stupid kid who has barely experienced life yet. I don't want to be the reason that he goes through the rest of his life guarded or crippled. Unable to trust anyone. Always on edge. Refusing to take chances. It would strip away everything that life is meant to be. All because I'm weak.

The boy stands there, frozen and unable to move a muscle as he gawks at me. My claws digging into the Earth. My pointed ears. My cringed up nose. I couldn't even hold back the short and ragged panting from coming out. The longer the boy stands there, the harder it's getting to resist my wolf.

No! No, we aren't going to do this. I'm not going to let it happen.

My wolf snickers at me. I don't need your permission anymore.

Fear creeps through my body with the realization that he's right. I can't stop him. I look up at the boy with wide eyes to warn him to run, but all that escapes me is the daunting laugh of my wolf as my calm sea green eyes are consumed by a blood thirsty, dark red.