GREEK SING IS OVER!!!! =]

You have no idea how happy this makes me. We didn't win, but we don't care, we're just glad we don't have to practice it anymore.

Anyway, my updates should be a bit more steady now. And I'm sorry the chapters are short, but I just cut them off wherever I feel like the TV would place a commercial. Sometimes it's a long chapter, sometimes it's hardly anything. I just do what feel right and I'm sorry if that bothers some people.

Anyway, enjoy this one. I wrote it while the guys downstairs are having a "let's see who can be louder than anyone else in the world" competition, and I'm sick.

Chapter Eleven: Erika

The pack was kind, warm, inviting; like a family. They joked, laughed, pushed each other's buttons, and welcomed me- without question- their arms open wide.

I made me feel whole again; like I finally belonged somewhere, with someone.

Like I wasn't just Al Basti's plaything, floating out in some warped type of universe.

But I couldn't let myself become too comfortable with them. Regardless of how normal they seemed, I couldn't forget what they were, what they would always be: a pack, a pack of do-gooders.

And this pack, if they ever discovered my true nature, if they understood what I was doing to their people, would kill me.

Roles reversed and, on the drive home, I was nervous. I didn't speak, couldn't. Paul must have assumed that it was the influx of information that silenced me, but it was really just that was confused, conflicted in the worst way.

See, I was interested in Paul, interested in his pack; but, at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to suck the souls from their warm bodies.

On the flipside, I admired the werewolves and their dedication to protecting their own; they reminded me of my old hive, guarding one another from the evils of humanity.

But, no matter how much I wanted it, I could never be a friend to these people because I had to feed on them. I could not survive on the souls of animals like their life-challenged foes.

And, worst of all, unlike the wolves, I was, in the very depths of my soul, truly evil. I would always be evil, and they would always be good, and so I knew what had to happen: I was going to kill them before they had the chance to kill me.

With a sigh I looked to Paul and felt confliction all over again.

He was such a beautiful man; strong and warm.

I didn't want him to die.

And that's when it hit me…

It all made sense now.

Al Basti wanted me to suffer in the worst way possible.

This is what I had know: She'd taken me thousands of years into the future, dropped me into a land I didn't understand, to a people who despised me, and made sure that I could never belong as one of them, because I would always have to feed on them.

The topper, I know understood, was that I was supposed to find the werewolves- in fact, it was probably her magic that had me so driven to search for them. I was supposed to love them, relate to them, care for them, and then I would have to feel the heartache of destroying them.

She wanted to break my heart, and this made me hate her more than ever.

"Hey, are you alright? You look really pissed off." Paul noted and I looked into his eyes; the sense of hopelessness clear in mine, I'm sure. When I didn't answer he continued. "I'm sorry about all this."

I heaved a heavy sigh. "Me too."

I leapt to his side of the car, straddling his lap and latched my lips to his.

He was going to die first.

Oh and, Review? Please?