After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore.

But the local pack is especially protective and curious when they find that she's an unusual wolf…

Warning: Please don't read this you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work—my characters and story exist in her world, but I'm not making any money off of it, so please don't sue me.

Of Truth and Eyes

"I jerked awake as he was gently lifting me out of the car. I shrieked and wriggled like a fish, but he caught me and pulled me close.

'Joan! It's OK, you're safe, it's me, Angus. Don't be afraid,' I relaxed into his hold sheepishly, calming my breath.

'Sorry, just…woke up a bit startled.' His face was so close to mine. He was so warm…why was I so cold?

It was evening where we were, somewhere on the far east side, up the Cascades by the look of the thick evergreens surrounding the driveway.

'Don't be sorry, it's my fault. I should have just woken you up.' He smiled at me, then set me on my feet still leaving a hand on the small of my back. He moved me in his arms like I weighed nothing, yet his frame was not bulky; I reminded myself that he was a werewolf, and I couldn't let myself feel too safe around him, even if his arms and voice surrounded me like a hypnotic safety net. His closeness and warmth was lulling me into a sense of security I didn't want to believe was false. He reached back in the car and pulled out four greasy paper bags. I smiled. 'Didn't think I forgot about Dick's did you? Just didn't want to wake you up. I also didn't know what you wanted so I got a lot of everything.' His voice was gently teasing as he shrugged.

'Gosh, thanks,' I smiled at him. He wasn't so bad—how was I ever afraid of him?

'No, thank you, for the excuse to get some grease in my belly,' he said, giving me a cheesy wink as he held all the bags out. I took them, obediently, balancing them in my arms. Then he scooped me back up and shut the car door with his foot.

'You need an excuse?' I asked, looking pointedly at massive amount of hot calories cradled on my dirty dress. He grinned down at me and raised his eyebrows.

'Nope.' He said, as his look turned thoughtful. 'I'm… I'm glad you're smiling.' I looked away. He was glad I still could smile. And how could I? Shouldn't I be miserable, basking in the horrible as it consumed my capacity for stupid jokes? What did it say about me that being carried and smiled at by a handsome man was so strange and wonderful that my mindset could so easily move past the last two years? Would a normal woman have been ruined by what I had been through? Was I ruined long before Jim? Was I ever normal to begin with? As he walked up the drive and the porch with me in his arms, I was lost in thought; not over what wrongs were done to me, but at what was wrong within me. Wow—doesn't that sentence just sum up my issues.

His house was beautiful. Stone and dark wood with lots of windows, it was a tall A-frame with at least three floors. It must have cost a fortune to heat in the winter.

The door opened in front of us. Tom held it open for us, looking anxious.

'Thanks Tom. Please take all this food from our guest and bring it upstairs with some plates and maybe some juice? We're going to eat and talk for a while in the atrium, uninterrupted.' Angus sounded polite, but his Alpha voice made the subtext clear—don't butt in while I'm talking to the crazy girl we found. I should have been frightened to be in the arms of a werewolf, a stranger, being carried into his home. But honestly, I was just admiring the décor. His house could have been furnished by the fanciest lumberjack ever. There was lots of dark stained wood, antique snowshoes on the wall, that sort of thing. The whole house smelled of pine, earth and man. He smelled that way too. Yummy. I felt his deep chuckle against me.

'What?' I asked, looking up at him as we started to climb the stairs.

'Were you smelling me?' He said, raising an amused eyebrow. Hey, who was the newly rescued damsel in distress here? Not the time to make fun of me.

'No—well yes. I was admiring your home—it's quite beautiful. And… it smells nice too.' He looked away, his smile softening a bit.

'Why thank you, on both counts. Yes, I love this house. I built it a long time ago. And my wife furnished it, actually, and it hasn't changed much.' I was definitely not thinking anything about him having a wife. That would have been awkward, and inappropriate considering the situation.

'You built it?' I asked, honestly curious. About the house. Not his wife. 'It seems so old.' We were on the third and final floor now. The tip of the A-frame was high above us, and the entire wall facing the staircase was glass. I blinked out at the beautiful full view of the trees outside. There was a couch, an armchair, and a coffee table positioned for staring out the massive window. On either side of the stairwell was a door, presumably to bedrooms, but the sitting room dominated this floor. Everything was wood, except for the couch and the chair which were burgundy and a dark green, respectively. Framed pressed wildflowers hung on the wood paneled walls. 'It's also incredibly beautiful. Are you an architect?'

He smiled, and moved to the couch, setting me down gently before he settled into the armchair. 'Well it is old. I built it in 1927. A good year, while it lasted. And yes, I'm a carpenter turned architect, or I was, back then at least.' I laughed.

'You mean you refurbished it?' I asked, smiling, desperate to be in on the joke. He looked maybe 30.

'No… I built it myself. With help from my men, though, yes. Is it that surprising I could be a builder?' I must have looked disbelieving. I wanted to believe every word that came from him. His eyes furrowed.

'Um, it's surprising that you would have to be, like, almost a hundred for that to be true.' I said with a breath of laughter, shaking my head.

He leaned in. 'Joan… you do know that werewolves live a very long time, don't you? I mean… theoretically forever, if you don't meet a violent end.' My jaw dropped, and I was speechless.

Can you imagine that? Me, speechless. It's sort of funny, if you don't think about what had been my reality for two years. Like, even when I was a socially awkward nerd, I talked too much. People like a shy girl, she's mysterious-but me? I'm a nervous talker who doesn't know when to stop."

I paused to sip my coffee, actually smiling. The man across the table looked up from his notes at me curiously, with a slight smile, but didn't say anything. Encouraging but not interrupting I guess.

"No jokes about how even now I'm making a long story long? Well then, moving on.

So I was sitting there, speechless.

'Jesus,' He ran a hand through his sandy hair. 'Didn't he tell you—'He stopped himself and took a breath. 'I'm sorry, I'm going about this all wrong. There's so much to say and ask. Can you talk to me about what happened?'

'Um… Where do I start?' I was focusing on him, focusing on the task at hand. If I thought about how crazy all of this was, I'd go crazy myself. If I wasn't yet. A horrible thought hit me then, one I must admit came back to me often. What if I was crazy and this was all some kind of waking dream? What if I was really still in that basement and this was some crazy fantasy world my mind created after it shattered with the death of my child?

'How about we start with… when he took you. Do you know how long you've been down there? Can you remember the date you were taken?' His voice was gently inquisitive, and I took a breath. The task at hand, the task at hand…

'Yes it was during finals week-December 2nd, I think. In '92. I lost track of the days but it must have been… at least two years. It all sort of runs together.' I looked down as he quietly gasped, visibly controlling his calm.

'Two years four months since December 1992. He kept you down there that whole time?' His face was still but his nails were digging into the arms of the chair. Tom came up the stairs with a couple big plates piled up with all the grease you can eat and two carefully balanced glasses of juice, then headed back downstairs, waving away our thanks quietly.

I looked away from Angus and out the window. 'Yea. He took me from my school. I go—I went—to Seattle University. It's downtown, on—'

'Capitol Hill, I know. Do you think your family is looking for you? How old are you now?' I thought carefully.

'I guess I'll be 22 next month. I was raised by my grandmother, but by the time I went to college she was in a nursing home with severe Alzheimer's. If anyone talked to her about me it would probably just confuse her more. My older brother lives in South America, or at least he did two years ago. It's possible someone found out how to get in touch with him, but I wouldn't know how. Besides, he's 12 years older than me. We're not that close.' I can't believe I was being so calm and logical about this. Shouldn't I be needing a straightjacket right about now? 'There's my friends from school, but honestly, none of us were so close I want to call them up and let them know I'm done being held as a sexslave now, by the way how are you?' I could tell from his face that he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or apologize for my lot in life.

'Okay then, for now at least, we'll not contact anybody. Can you tell me what you know about being a werewolf? About when he changed you?' Now that I think about it, if I had lots of family looking for me, he wouldn't have let me go to them or let them know I was alive. The pack couldn't afford the police looking into where I'd been, how I'd survived, etc. But who knows.

'I know you turn into one every month, on the full moon. I know you smell better, and you're stronger—but not superman strong, or at least I'm not. You—we hear better after too. I know… werewolves can't be pregnant.' He waited for a moment, maybe for me to go on, before correcting me.

'Not exactly. You can change anytime, though as you probably know, it's unpleasant and physically draining. Yes, your senses are increased from that of a human's, but in wolf form, they are stronger still.' I made a face at his use of the word human. Was I no longer human? 'You also have a silver allergy, as the stories say. One touch won't kill you, but silver poisoning is not fun, and makes you heal much more slowly than usual.'

'Right, and I heal much more quickly now, I've noticed that.' I said, nodding and focusing on every word. The student in me wanted to take notes, but somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate that.

'And Joan… werewolf women can become pregnant, but they miscarry in the third, fourth, or fifth month. With the change.' He looked at me sadly, sympathetically. Did I look sad to him? Did he pity me? 'The baby just can't take shapeshifting I guess. The Morrok's second son is the only person ever born from a werewolf woman I believe—and she had magic that kept her from shifting. Male werewolves can have children with human women, but not easily' I was quiet, considering. What do you say to that? Until the death of my son, I never knew I wanted children. Now that I couldn't have any, it was a desperate burn in me.

'Who is the Marrok?' I asked. He took a deep breath.

'The Marrok is our leader. Keep eating, and I will explain away, because clearly the bast—'He stopped mid-word and closed his eyes as if containing himself. When he opened them, I noticed with a start that they were gold. 'Normally, wolves are informed of all this before they are turned. And it is their choice I might add.' I heard a hint of an Irish accent when he spoke then, but it disappeared as soon as it came. He pointed at my massive plate of food seriously, and I started eating.

While a squished two cheeseburgers, a glass of juice, and all the fries I could into a stomach clearly less swollen and small than I thought, he told me all about the Marrok, about the importance of body language, about pack hierarchy—everything. I probably should have actually taken notes, as I was basically taking werewolf 101 while drowsy and in shock.

'And then in every pack there is one of me—I'm the Alpha. That means I am duty bound (and personality bound) to protect and serve my pack. My deepest instincts are, put uncomfortably, to dominate and possess.' I stopped chewing and stared at him. Did he realize I had just come out of a long term relationship with domination and possession? 'Put well, my instincts and my pack magic serves to lead and protect. To keep those less dominant, those submissive, safe.' He said this last word with a tone of finality and seriousness that I couldn't misinterpret.

'So I'm a submissive…and that makes you want to protect me?' The gears were turning. Was Jim as crazy as I had thought or was hejust acting more on his animal instincts? Was Angus acting on his animal instincts?

'Yes. Well, also no, or at least sort of and I think so.' He stuttered, and I giggled.

'What a way with words you have there, Alpha.' He smiled, but didn't break his very serious eye contact.

'What I mean is, I want to protect you not because you are submissive, but because I am dominant. Dominants will fiercely fight amongst each other for pack rankings, but they are also compelled to protect those less dominant. A submissive wolf-and this is where the maybe comes in, because I can't yet guarantee that that is what you are—is not just a very non-dominant wolf. You have very different instincts that do not include violence or a drive for power. You become the heart of the pack because you can be impartial and you are not out for your own gain in status. It is much more complex than one who wants to give orders and one who wants to follow them.'

'So the submisives in your pack are at the bottom of the pecking order—but comfortably so?' I asked. Though my gut was saying to trust him, it did sound a bit weird.

'No Joan, there are no subs in my pack. But one in my ranks would not be a servant at the bottom—more like a princes we all loved to pamper.' As he said this, he leaned forward and put more food on my plate, smiling ironically.

'Wait, why are there no submissives like me? How many people—how many wolves are in your pack?' I set my plate down and stared at him with caution.

'My pack is one of the largest and most powerful in the country. Not that I am bragging,' He grinned. 'I have simply been Alpha for nearly 90 years here, and a stable pack like this grows its numbers from wolves who move here and those who have chosen the change. Our pack has 57 members—it doesn't sound like much, but the only bigger pack in North America is the Marrok's, and he claims a whole town in Montana. The nearby wilderness, the climate—because we run a bit hot, if you haven't noticed—and a few other factors have led to our pack's successes. But we have no submissive in our pack, not yet.' He looked pointedly at me as he sipped his juice.

'That numbers difference seems weird to me. I'm not that strange for being a submissive, am I? Shouldn't there be more of us? I mean, plenty of people are quiet and obedient' I had gone from self-pitying to curious. After all, he had called my kind the heart of the pack. I could be a heart, couldn't I? A nerdy, awkward, young heart?

'No—you are not strange. Submissives are rare because the change does not go well for many. When you were bitten, you were ill and struggled for your life, weather you knew it or not. The stubbornness and to be honest, brute strength of a dominant personality style makes it though that change easier. Many people die, submissives and women especially. You were very lucky, and though I… though the circumstances of your change make me want to bring Jim Parab back to life just so that I can kill him slowly again, I am glad you found your way to us. If you would join our pack, you would be our treasure, the heart we are missing.' he smiled gently at me, though his voice was thick and his eyes had gone gold again.

'I'm just a college student—actually, not even that anymore.' I took a moment to pause and file away the need to mourn the change in my identity from student into victim. 'In fact, I was there on scholarship-I bet not showing up canceled that. God, I have nothing to offer your pack. You want me just because you need submissives?' He wanted a heart for his pack. I'm a busted heart. A watch where the gears ground and the glass cracked. Couldn't he see that?

He rose from his seat, took a strong step and knelt before me. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, he took my hands from my lap and held them to his chest. His warm, warm chest. Did he see me for the busted heart I was, only his dominant instincts made me even more attractive because I was something to put back together? Did he want me because he hadn't yet grasped that I was broken, or because he thought fixing me was his duty?

'You being a submissive is one of many reasons why I would like to ask you to join our pack. You should know I do not offer this lightly. Though, I would beg you join us even if you were dominant and male enough to be my Second, yes, you being submissive would be a valuable asset to my large pack missing its heart. But more importantly, one of my pack, however disliked in life, has wronged you in my domain, on my watch, in such a way as I can never fix, and I can never repay. But I do feel it is my duty to try to make it up to you, to help you, to serve you, save you, protect you, shelter you, and support you in any way I am able.'

His golden eyes burned into me fiercely as he paused for thought. He was using his Alpha voice, the voice that had made me calmly crawl out from under the bed to face the world and my fears once more. His voice was a compelling music. I had to trust. There was no alternative to the dominance in his voice, and a thrill ran through me as his accent thickened again, with a clear Irish lent to the R's now.

'In my pack, I would offer you shelter, I would promise all your needs be met, and though we would have to work out some kinks like a possible new identity and forged transcripts, I would like to pay for the education you were torn away from. I would like to provide for you and to protect you. It would not… it would be nothing like what Jim did.' He looked at me, sad and serious, as though it pained him to have to say what came next. 'This is not a request that you stay in my bed. This is a request to accept my payment of the debt I owe you. This is me begging you to let me and my pack fulfill the need I told you about—I must protect you. I must care for you. It is my nature. For that I beg you, join my pack.' He finished his speech and stared at me. Was he waiting for some sort of answer?

Did he realize I'm a broken heart? Was he asking me in spite of that, or because of that?

Was he offering me my life back? Was he offering me a new life?

Did I have any choice?"

AN: Hello readers! I hope you are enjoying this fic so far. This concludes the last full chapter I have written. I wrote about 50 pages for this story on a binge muse session one night, and since then I have just been editing *-choughprettymuchrewritingbecauseIwasabitdrunkcou gh-* what I had into something cohesive, and breaking it into natural chapters. I tell you this because I have now made it through all of the material that is enough for full chapters. The point: I am not sure if I should continue with this or not. Number wise, it hasn't gotten much reaction compared to the other stories I would be writing. Though, it could be the Brigg's world isn't too popular or that I don't really have an author fanbase on this account (I made a new one just for this because my little sis reads all my fics on my other account—a bit awkward considering that this one is about rape and my plot bunnies include graphic scenes later). Aaaaanyway, this is one of those annoyingly long AN's that asks for reviews—but honestly, I want to know what you think, because I won't waste my time if this keeps getting the same reaction. I have a pretty long outline with plans for action and craziness, but as always with my stories, the plot can organically change and develop with suggestions and critiques from readers, so let me know what you think. Maybe it's because it's my first jump into a really adult fic, but I'm just not feeling confident I should move on with this one. Let me know what you think, and be honest.

Thanks,

King Kilter