A/N : Chapter 1 of my brand new story is up! I am very keen to get this finished, and am loving writing it, and hope you love reading it! Thank you!
My cousin was a stranger to me.
I hadn't seen him in 5 years, and yet one phone call was enough for my moving to his neck of the woods.
Literally.
I used to live in Florida, a beautiful state with wildlife around every corner. I had never really known many people closely, just by name and the occasional smile, which was fine by me. I liked to keep to myself in the bustling streets of the packed city.
I'd got used to my year round tan, and the year round sun that came with it. I'd got used to only having phone contact with my cousin, and having to only worry about myself and the only 2 other members of my family.
I'd also got used to the fact that I was the soul protector of the entire state. The lone guard of over 15'000'000 people.
Sounds like a big ask, I know. It was my best kept secret; the police believed themselves the 'superheroes' of everyday. Unbeknown to them, I was the reason they kept their jobs, and their lives, for that matter.
Ignorance is hilarious when you know how to look at it.
So, you are probably thinking, 'who is this girl? Who is this overly cocky, bitch of a girl?'.
My name is Ariana Victoire.
The cousin, and fellow wolf, of Paul Lahote.
XXX
Now don't get me wrong - I expected you to flinch, run, hide, maybe scream a little. The news that anyone has the ability to become some furry beast is something I know would freak all people out.
But I'm not your comic book werewolf.
Yes, I can shift between forms at will, but, even though I say it myself, I think I make a pretty sexy wolf.
Pure white with bright blue eyes, bushy tail and floppy grin. Just like your loveable puppy back at home. Though not quite as small.
When I'm not roaming the woods, protecting unsuspecting victims, I look like a normal girl. I mean, I'm not unnaturally hairy, or always craving raw meat, or anything wierd like that.
Trust me, I couldn't be more like a normal Florida girl.
I adjust my hands on the steering wheel and push my sunglasses back into my hair, glancing in my rearview mirror as I race down the freeway.
So you probably want to know more about my, umm, affliction. I'm sure that's what doctors would call it.
Anyway so yes, when we wolves change from one form to another it's called phasing. I first phased when I was 12, only 2 weeks past my birthday.
For most of my life, I'd lived with my grandfather, as Paul lived too far away to be of any help. Plus he hated our grandfather, so there was no chance of any contact.
Anyway, grandpa Victoire wasn't too pleased about my 'change'.
He'd never become a wolf in any era of his life, but her knew all about us; wolf blood ran in the family, so it was common knowledge that there were furry people all over the place.
Seeing as myself and my grandfather were the only Victoires left, no-one else ever knew, and so my big secret became a big secret.
Confused yet? Because I know I would be.
My grandfather died when I was 16, only 6 months ago. I had just become old enough to live alone, (my birthday had been 5 weeks before) so once the funeral and will was sorted, I spent a few weeks finishing up my schooling for that year, and then packed up all of my stuff to move to a house near Paul.
Great fun.
XXX
Sow that's how I ended up pulling into the driveway of Sam Uley's house, the pack leader of my new tribe.
It was weird to think I was about to walk into a house filled with many other wolves, all of whom I was probably related to in some way. To them, it must be like gaining a sister. To me, it was like gaining more people to worry about.
I turned the key and the engine died.
I leant back in my seat, staring at the ceiling of the car, hoping beyond hope that I would be left alone just for maybe 30 seconds. That dream, I knew, would never become reality.
Why did I know this?
Because my big oaf of a cousin was lumbering over to my car, crouching to look in the window and waving like a goon.
Now, I'd better explain my cousin to you before you start thinking my whole family are a bunch of nutcases. Because, I promise you, Paul is a special type of nutcase.
His hair was cropped short, deep black and sticking up in odd places, resembling a deformed hedgehog. His wide shoulders twitched as he stuck them through the open window of my Chevy, ready to get me in a headlock, customary to his type of idiot.
Not for the first time, I was ready, and instantly had him moaning in pain and rubbing the back of his head, in the very place where by bag had hit.
I laughed, climbed from the drivers seat, and walked round to meet him. His eyes met mine, and we pounced on each other. It seemed, however much either of us would deny it, both Paul and I had missed each other.
He smiled. "Good to see you, A."