So it seems anytime i'm on an airplane I become flogged with new ideas for a story and against my own will begin to write. I am still finishing my other two stories. A lot of you may not be familiar with this series but give it a try!

For you lot who are willing deviate from Harry Potter... Here is a little summary of the series:

This story is about Bran and an O/C named Piper. Bran is the leader of the North American Werewolves. Essentially, he is the most feared wolf in America, perhaps even the world. Bran is mated to a wolf named Leah. Leah is, well...she's terrible. Leah is jealous of Bran's two sons (Sam and Charles), is power-hunger and only became Bran's mate when his wolf decided he should take one after years of mourning his Indian wife.

Bran is a secondary character in the series but the unhappiness between his mate and himself is obvious. A mate is ordinarily a permanent thing, but Bran isn't an ordinary wolf! I think he deserves his happy ending. So here it is...

Bran Cornick had lived a thousand years and yet, he could never quite get used to the smell of burnt ozone, the smell of the city. Bran glanced around the rotted streets of Detroit, musing at which structures stood in the ghosts of old farm fields. The structures themselves seemed cold in comparison, as if they were decaying from the inside out. It was enough to make Bran's heart hurt. Down the sidewalk, A small child traced the outline of some graffiti. His mother tugged him along and as they neared, the boy smiled openly at Bran. He returned the expression, wondering how the child would feel to know he had just smiled into the eyes of the wild; the eyes of a werewolf.

Of course, Bran wasn't just any werewolf. He was the Marrok; the most powerful wolf in North America, perhaps even the world. Most men would revel in the power, bathe themselves in it until all alphas and submissive were crowing at their feet. Of course, Bran wasn't most men. These days, being Marrok was more of a burden than a blessing. The responsibility of the title had begun to weigh on the man. At times the wolf barley recognized himself.

The fool hearted young Salish trapper who had fallen instantly and recklessly in love with an Indian beauty, seemed like a tall-tale. Calculation and scheming had eaten away any spontaneity in Bran's soul. A bone-deep tiredness had also taken root. All of the funerals and foes and lost-loves in his time made any return to that old man seem impossible. Simply put, forever was a long time.

And even with the wear of the time and burdens, Bran could not abandon his post. Being Marrok gave him access to help others. As long as he served, Bran could ensure no Alpha abused his power. It was essential for the survival of their race. And if precision was a necessary trait for that to be accomplished, so be it.

He shook away the nostalgia and worries, trying to focus on today's task. Bran hadn't come to Michigan merely to reminisce. The local Alpha, Van Bodekin, had asked for a personal meeting. It hadn't taken any craft to know that his friend was troubled. Charles had agreed the visit was necessary and Bran had left on the next flight.

The two Alphas were scheduled to meet later that night, but Bran had become restless within his dreery hotel room. He just couldn't shake the feeling of unease. In no time at all, he'd found himself walking the streets, making his way toward the company his old friend had built.

Bodekin Luxury Supplies stood like a fortress on the corner of the cold Detroit street. It was one of the first companies that manufactured specialized parts for vehicles in the 1950's. The styles and shapes and sizes of the products had changed, but the smiling face of the sandy haired CEO had remained the same.

Bran looked up at the brick building, musing how large it had become. Dozens of glass panes lined the front, trimmed in chrome. Massive lettering was cemented into the brick that lay beneath his feet. Above it, stood cement stairs and two gleaming silver railings. Perched against the railing of last stair, leaned a waif of a girl.

Bran thought the woman had much of the same frailness which once belonged to his daughter-in-law. Instinctively, he tested the air, only to find her as human. Faint traces of metal and alcohol also laced the scent. The way she leaned against the building suggested she was waiting for someone inside.

Bran started up the steps as the girl called out, "Beat it, bud."

His wolf stirred the moment she'd spoken. Something felt off. But, Bran's manors were nearly as ingrained as his instincts. "Excuse me?"

He watched as she opened and closed her left hand, flexing it. A slender pair of brass lay across her right knuckles. Her eyes stayed trained on the cement before her, making her appear uninterested. "Whatever, your selling, we're not buying."

For a moment, he'd worried the girl might be mentally deficient. A second sniff revealed faint traces of wolf on her, suggesting she worked for the company. Of course, Bran wasn't familiar with blunt-speaking girls in worn jeans and a tattered wool jacket as the standard doorman procedure.

"I'm not selling anything."

She glanced up, then. He saw faint surprise in her eyes and his wolf became even more restless. It paced in his mind as her eyes clung to his body. She mumbled, "too bad," too silent for anyone with human hearing. Bran strained not to smile and the wolf preened at her approval.

"Seriously, Doogie Howser, leave."

He tensed, waiting for the wolf to assert dominance at her command. Bizarrely, it did nothing more than watch it's prey lick her chapped lips. For a moment, Bran was altogether sure the beast had gone mad, waiting to drag him down with it. Despite what he told the newly turned, the wolf and man were not one entity. The balance between the two was delicate and hierarchal. Most could control their beasts with both practice and knowledge. Some, like Charles, could even befriend their wolves. Bran was not one of them. His was just as every bit wild as it had once been as "the beast." Of course, thousands of years of practice had allowed Bran and his beast to acquaint themselves quite well. Even with such knowledge he had never experienced this restlessness toward a human. The wolf was actually displaying submission like a newly turned pup. The behavior was mad for one who'd seen so many years. Most wolfs his age were deceased- from their own doing. Insanity was likely to occur after thousands of years. It seemed his own madness was nipping at his heals.

Bran shook away the dark thoughts, trying to fight some peculiar feeling in his stomach. He didn't have time for them right now, or this intriguing girl. He stepped forward; trying to pass her and wondering what a Doogie Howser was. "I don't have time for riddles."

She sighed deeply and in the next moment, the cold mouth of a handgun pressed against his temple. The wolf and man raged. Easy, old boy, he chanted. Bran grumbled at how unguarded he'd been, having barley noticed her move. He glanced sideways, seeing how comfortable she looked holding the weapon. She smiled back.

She has killed before, his beast whispered through his mind. Bran studied her, noticing the determination and fierceness of her features. Beautiful, the same voice whispered. He scowled, You're a mated wolf, he chastised the beast . It was, after all, the wolf who had chosen Leah. The man had wanted nothing from the woman who'd borne such coldness in her eyes. The wolf didn't care of such things and the decision had been lost.

He shook away the thoughts, concentrating on the metal pressing against his temple.

This was not the first, nor the largest gun that had lay against Bran's head. He could easily disarm her with a quick twist of her neck or simply by cutting off the arm holding the gun. He calculated which option would be most effective and the wolf raged at each thought. Will not hurt her. The words ran throughout Bran like a fire and suddenly, he wholly believed them. No harm would come to a human who could cause such a reaction within him.

"Who are you," she demanded, "Did the Red's send you?"

The Reds also known as Redicious was a group of fanatics, advocating genocide of his kind. Some segments of the group were even starting to follow through. Three attacks had been reported in Detroit in the year past. If a human was being used as a barricade between the Reds and the Detroit pack, things were worse than he thought. Bran was starting to understand the urgency of Van's request.

The image of this girl once again shifted. Not merely a pedestrian or hired guard. She was a human of the pack. She would kill for them. Bran saw it in her eyes.

"My name is Bran Cornick…"

She snorted, "and I'm Elton John."

At times shielding his alpha status was crucial and altogether polite. Rarely, did it ever get him held at gunpoint. Besides that one time in Salt Lake City.

"Answer the question. Why are you here."

"To meet with Van. I'm the Marrok."

One slender eyebrow raised. "You look like you should be fixing my computer and you claim you're the werewolf ruler of North America."

He shrugged and fast as lighting snatched the gun out of her grip. His arm wrapped around her from behind trying to contain her. The human elbowed him in the face, spun and kicked him directly in the gut. The kick was well-placed and had brute force. It took a few paces to catch his breath. She didn't fight like a human, but then again, Bran wasn't really fighting her.

The girl kicked out again and as he blocked her, she nearly landed a blow to his jaw, his speed allowed him to jump out of range. She surged forward and Bran figured before she drew blood, he should end it. He plucked the brass out of her hand, knocked her legs out from under her and dropped her on her ass.

He was about to help her up when she reached into her boot, withdrew a knife and pressed it against his groin. Between sharp breathes, she warned, "Move and that lovely voice of yours will be considerably higher, Squints."

Some knowing part of himself recognized the strength of this girl; recognized that she was important. Bran knew hurting her would only hurt him in the end, just as Charles sometimes knew whether it would rain or which roads to take. However, as he starred down as the woman digging her blade into the crotch of his trousers, every Alpha instinct told him to react.

Just then, the door exploded open as the Detroit Alpha and his second took in the scene with bewildered eyes.

The girl's knife dug deeper. "Hullo, Boss." She chirped.

"BLOODY…" Van stumbled over incoherently curses. "UNHAND HIM PIPER!"

The pressure remained as the woman, in blatant disregard for the Detroit Alpha's order, reached one hand up to snatch her gun from beneath it's sheath in Bran's belt. A breath later, she shrugged, dropping her knife-arm. Bran watched her stand, flexing her left hand against her reunited gun's grip.

T.J. , Van's second, looked on the interaction with horror. His was among the wolf scents that clung to this human's jacket. Next to him, stood Van Bodekin, Alpha of Detroit. His face registered the same horror with inflections of rage mixed in. "Girl," his arms flailed as he threw one in Bran's direction. "THIS IS BRAN CORNICK…The Marrok!"

She looked taken aback before glancing toward him doubtfully. Her dark hair tangled around her slim neck. "That's the most feared werewolf in America?"

He smiled, dryly. "I prefer Marrok-"

Van scowled, "trrryyyy to show some bloody respect, Piper."

The girl still managed to look unimpressed. Bran studied her face more precisely. It was thin as he'd first spied but her frailness came more from the dark circles and gaunt lines which took up her face. Her eyes met his and Bran's wolf felt warm under the gaze. When she glanced toward his friend, the wolf actually demanded a challenge, snarling at the loss of her attention. The man managed to not make a face at how grim he felt at the wolf's rage. Something was not right.

Her eyes slid back to him and instantly, the wolf quieted. She shrugged accentuating a rip in the shoulder of her jacket. "I prefer Squints," she muttered loud enough to be head.

"Piper!" Van scolded.

The second's laughter bubbled up and escaped into a unconfined howl as as Van ordered Piper into the house. She managed a death glare at each of them before storming inside.

Bran followed, fighting the impulse to defend the girl. His eye's followed her jerky movements as she took the stairs two steps at a time. His muscles felt suddenly tight. The wolf was eager. She stumbled on the last step and Bran nearly surged forward to catch her just as she righted herself and continued into an open doorway.

Bran found Van and his second three rooms down in the doorway of a room which once served as a parlor. Today, it was the Alphas office. The evidence of the change was emphasized by the piles of papers and auto parts. Bran could make out a picture of a familiar dark-waif girl on the mantel inside.

"Tell her it will be something significant for such a stupid, stupid thing."

The second flinched, wincing slightly.

"I there a problem, Thomas?"

"Well, it's just that…last time I said that she-"

"Yes, I quite remember her cutting down your favorite tree, as it was in my backyard…."

"Err.. right, I'll go tell to her," he left with a nod and formal greeting toward Bran.

The Alpha huffed an indignant noise before continuing into the office. Bran followed as his friend threw himself into a chair, holding his head in his hands. He could feel the tension rolling off him like waves. The wolf smelled fear and anxiety tinged with an sandlewood scent that also belonged to the Alpha.

"She's going to be the death of me, Bran."

The wolf stirred. "Who is she?"

The sandy- haired Alpha shook his head in exasperation. "Her name is Piper. She works for me."

Bran doubted that a mere employee would be causing this much distress. This girl was important to him, further confirmed by another picture of her and a dark haired man on the far wall of Van's office. He hadn't smelled the scent of bonding on either Alpha nor girl but it didn't mean they weren't lovers. Bran longed for the ability to read their connection the way he used to before his mother had stripped him. Instead, he used coaxing to get his answer.

"You love her."

The man looked back toward Bran, looking startled. Like others, he would assume Bran had pulled the sentiment from his mind.

"Yes."

Again, his wolf went into a rage. Every instinct within him demanded to challenge the Alpha before him. He ached to have this man's throat in his mouth, to make him submit and feel his wrath. Bran fought the red haze, utterly surprised at this newest development. This wasn't stirrings or a preen for attention. The wolf wanted blood. Bran fought to keep a neutral reaction. He leashed his wolf and fought back the Marrok aura from spreading. There was no logical reason to be so territorial of this girl. She was neither injured nor too young to engage with Van.

So lost in though, Bran had actually missed Van's first few words.

"-like that, mind you. She's like family."

The haze receded. They weren't lovers.

"How did she come to work for you." Bran had never seen a human move as fast as her. He absently rubbed at the spot she'd landed her kick. Perhaps she could be of some use. Something satisfied the beast at that thought. It was reluctance, he was sure, to let such valuable fighter go.

"Her brother was part of my pack. A red killed him….she was there. Piper is, as you saw, a bit rough. Mac, her brother, and her grew up with some shady shit. "

Bran felt the Alpha trying to choose his words carefully.

"I've known them since they were kids, but she'd always stayed clear of our circles. It was joke between Mac and the pack, his sister's unhealthy fascination with guns… When he died, she came to us for revenge. I figured it would pass. That She'd mourn and move on; become a normal human part of the pack."

"But she didnt," Bran supplied.

Van snorted, "No...One day, she snuck into my study and held me at gunpoint, silver, mind you, until I agreed to let her work for me."

Bran could hear the compassion in the Alpha's voice although he aimed for mirth. Something clicked in the Marok's mind.

"So this girl is why you summoned me?"

Van huffed, "She's getting bolder. Threatening to go after the Red's herself."

He felt something coming- some bit of his senses had anticipated this moment since he'd stepped off the plane. A part of himself felt he was standing on a presipous, this decision would either tip him over or push him back.

"…I need you to take her to Aspen Creek."

Calm. Utter and complete silence took hold of the wolf. "Why is that?"

"Bran, I can feel it. If she stays, she's going to do something reckless. She's ging to die. I'm as sure of it as anything ever in my life. She needs to focus on something else." He smiles as if he doesn't believe what he's saying. "Learn to act like other 25 year olds." Bran noted her age.

"Why not just send her away. Why to Aspen?"

"Because, she wont leave the fight with the Red's unless she feels she's doing something. She's obsessed with helping and protecting us. If she's in Aspen she'll be surrounded by those like her brother. Perhaps…"

Bran could sense where the sentence ended… Perhap's she'll find alternative interests…Perhaps she'll find a mate. The wolf and man felt equally unhappy with that thought.

"You think she'd mate well with a wolf, then."

He hesitated, "Yes, and" Some flicker of hope came into his face. "I believe she'd make a good wolf herself."

His wolf liked this idea far too much. "Does she share these sentiments."

"We've discussed it. She said after we end this business with the reds she would consider it. But she's just so breakable right now…"

"You think if she goes to Aspen she will choose to change?"

Van hung his head in his hands. Bran realized this favor would cost the Alpha. He calculated the likliehood she would survive. Strong. Vicious. And already aware of the wolf life… the man agreed with his old friend. His Wolf wanted this, demanded it, puzzling Bran and yet solidifying the decision.

"I'll take her with me. But it is her decision whether to change."

Girl will his beast whispered.

"Thank you Old Friend..."

"Does she know this is why I've come?" It would certainty explain the gun.

The alpha snorted, "No." Van winced, "She's probably going to react..." he frowned, "poorly."

"You can handle thirty tempermental wolves, but one human worries you?"

Van chuckled knowingly, "You'll see soon enough."

Something stirred inside the Marrok as his wolf went silent once more, watching and waiting, lined in an eager alter-ness. Bran realized that since he'd met this Piper, his wolf had been more vocal than it had in over a century.

So. I'm not sure if anyone will even read this (fine with me, since i write these for myself primarily).

If you do, review. I love to hear what you think