She was going to kill that fucking dog.
She woke up at seven AM to the sound of Lydia's dog Prada yapping like someone had lit its tale on fire. Grumbling, she strode to the door and opened it to see the thing scratching against it on the other side, probably wanting food. Well, that wasn't her job, so that thing needed to chill the hell out. How the fuck was this long-haired vermin a descendant of a fucking wolf?
Her eyes lit up an eerie crimson and her fangs descended. Squatting down to the dog's level she let out a low, echoing growl.
It ran faster than she'd ever seen it move. Thank god. She needed sleep. She was seeing the alpha of the Hale pack today and starting junior year the day after that. Well. Hopefully. If the alpha allowed her to stay, that is.
Kennedy made it back to her bed, intending to get in a few more hours of sleep. However, stress and the sun streaming through her curtains kept her up. Stuck in that awful limbo of trying to sleep and nearly getting there, she tossed and turned for hours. By the time her alarm went off, she was in an awful mood.
Stumbling out from her covers and nearly tripping, she walked over to her dresser to pick out today's clothing. She really wished she had known that there was a pack in Beacon Hills before she'd packed her duffel. She could have worn a dress or a skirt or a cardigan – something that would make her appear unthreatening. Instead, she pulled on a pair of plain black leggings and a argyle patterned oversized sweater. She added a pair of fluffy socks and then stuffed her feet into her boots so they would be hidden. The only makeup she had packed was some mascara, eyeliner, and chapstick, so getting ready was quick and easy, especially since her hair was thrown into a messy bun. Not even the sort of 'messy bun' that looked effortlessly pretty and endearing – hers actually looked disorganized and unattractive with random baby hairs sticking out. Yay.
When she entered the kitchen, Lydia was already sitting at the breakfast table looking impeccable without a hair out of place, eating granola with one hand while texting with the other. On hearing Kennedy entering the room, she looked up and her features twisted into a look of dismay.
"Kennedy. We are related. I already have to deal with your preference of going by a traditionally male name. I can't be associated with someone who dresses in that. I'll even let you borrow some of my old clothes. Just – please change out of those rags if you're going in public."
Raising her eyebrows, Kennedy held up two fingers before putting them down accordingly as said in an incredulous tone, "One, we aren't even going to be at the same school, you won't be associated with me. Two, your middle name is Roosevelt – we were both saddled with bizarrely political names, be fucking glad yours was only your middle name. And Twinny, what is the probability of any of your clothes fitting me?"
Kennedy vaguely gestured to Lydia and then herself. The two girls were polar opposites physically in nearly every way. It was hard to even tell they were related, much less fraternal twins. While Lydia had red hair and green eyes, Kennedy had dark brown hair, was intensely freckled, and had hazel eyes. While Lydia was lithe, Kennedy's body was much more pear shaped – small ribcage and waist with wider hips and a significantly larger ass. Additionally, Lydia was absurdly beautiful. And Kennedy was – well – not.
It wasn't something that bothered her, she knew she was 'cute' or maybe even 'pretty', but she wasn't ever going to be the girl that made a whole room do a double take. However, now that she was trying to keep a low profile, she loved this more than ever before. And that was saying something, because she had been beside her twin when Lydia had gotten breasts early and had grown men started staring at her. It was something Kennedy hadn't had to deal with – she still looked younger than her actual age, and at seventeen her boobs had stopped growing. Yay, A-Cups. But when those men cat-called Lydia in grade school or looked too long, Kennedy had put her preteen martial-arts lessons to work and quickly hit them where it hurt. Even though rationally she knew she was only fourteen minutes older than Lydia, she'd taken the 'older sibling' status seriously.
"Besides, I'm not really doing anything today. I won't see any of your friends or be in any public forum that would embarrass you, baby sis."
Lydia nodded, surprisingly not looking annoyed with the jab - usually she protested seeing as Kennedy was barely older - and looked back to her phone, resuming eating her breakfast. Kennedy smiled a little bit to herself as she opened the fridge. She and Lydia weren't super close. They loved each other, sure, but sometimes they didn't like each other. Even if they were bickering, she was happy to be around her again. Seeing Lydia, heart beating and irritating as ever, was a relief.
Lydia was alive, and that was all that mattered, what kept her from drowning in the guilt and self-hatred she would have been fully submerged in otherwise because of the choices she'd been forced to make the last month and a half. Kennedy had decided right off the bat not to bring up the supernatural with Lydia right away. She wasn't going to leave her sister in the dark or anything as far as werewolves, but she also didn't want to ruin this somewhat-acceptance she currently seemed to have towards Kennedy. Being dragged into the supernatural after being mauled and then having your mind twisted up had to have left scars on Lydia that Kennedy couldn't even imagine. Although in the last month and a half she'd acquired her own psychological scars. But that didn't mean she could unload her problems onto her sister just because Lydia now knew about the supernatural. For now, Kennedy would keep her status as an Alpha from everyone. Being a second Alpha in claimed territory would... well, basically be a complete clusterfuck.
Just as she sat down, Lydia rose and put her dishes in the sink.
"I'm going to do some major retail therapy with my friend Allison, and I'll be back pretty late, I've got a date."
"Got it. See you later, Twinny. Oh, and text me to let me know to put on headphones if your man candy stays over."
With a roll of her eyes Lydia strode out and hopped in her car before peeling away. Honestly, it was a fair request. Lydia was a screamer, and with her enhanced hearing Kennedy really didn't want to have surround-sound access to her sister's sex life.
Not having much to do and trying to suppress her worry, Kennedy sat in front of the TV with a massive bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, flipping through channels before settling on a Shark Week rerun. When noon finally came around and she knew way too much about Megaladon, Kennedy went on MapQuest and found the fastest route to the loft's address Stiles had given her last night. Obviously avoiding the roads, Kennedy began her run to the building.
While running, she kept replaying scenarios in her head. The faceless guy killing her where she stood. Forcing her to leave. Every worry she tried to forget was on a loop, flashing before here in a sick cycle, building up her fear until she was nearly terrified. When she reached the door, she stood outside for a full three minutes, willing her limbs to move but unable to reach for the handle.
God damn it. She was a motherfucking Alpha werewolf. Even if it wasn't a fact she'd be sharing with anyone anytime soon, it still should have made her more brave. Alas, she was a Slytherin at heart, and would always run away from danger if it was in her best interest.
Just when she had convinced herself to move and began to step forward, the door was wrenched open. The man who stood in front of her was glaring down at her. His black hair and five o'clock shadow made him look menacing on the surface, but Kennedy had learned recently that the pretty boys could be evil and the scary looking could be saviors.
"What do you want."
It didn't sound like a question. It was like he was hoping she would squeak before hauling ass out of there.
Trying to be as polite as possible she stuck out her hand for a handshake, saying in a light voice, "Hi, I'm Ken, I wanted to speak with you."
He didn't accept her handshake, making her slowly lower it with embarrassment before he raised an eyebrow and – holy crap his eyebrows – said in a monotone, "Why do you need to speak with me."
Alright, it was now or never. Rushing so that her words almost blended together she muttered, "I wanted to speak to you as the Alpha of the Hale pack and request formal permission to stay on your territory as an Omega."
She wasn't expecting the hand gripping the front of her sweater as she was nearly thrown inside.
He pressed her against the wall, body pinning hers as his forearm pressed against her neck just a fraction less than the force needed to strangle her. It was decidedly less sexy being manhandled than movies made it seem. The last time a guy held her against a wall she had wound up unconscious with a set of teeth ripping into her shoulder followed by the worst month and a half of her life. Kennedy wanted nothing more than to flash her eyes and attack the man for daring to threaten her without just cause, but a second later she acknowledged that yeah, it was her instincts were acting up, so she surpassed it as best she could.
Hale's eyes glowed red and his fangs were fully extended as he growled, "Who sent you?"
She panicked. In her panic her verbal filter vanished entirel and she frantically began babbling hoarsely through her constricted throat while clawing with human fingernails at his arm.
"Oh holy fuck shit please don't kill me Stiles told me you were the local Alpha."
His fangs retracted and his eyes narrowed, seeming to assess her. In her sweater, leggings, and five-foot stature, she really hoped he would assume she was a weakling. Without pause she lifted her head up and to the side, baring her throat and showing him she would submit, even though every instinct went against the deception. With a sigh that seemed annoyed he dropped her to the ground, watching impassively as she fell to her knees and clutched her throat, gasping.
"Alright. I'll give you one chance to explain yourself."
She nodded frantically and attempted to keep her voice even as she recited the story she had been practicing.
"I used to live here before I left for school and started living across the country. After I was turned I wanted to come back. I didn't know that there were wolves here anymore, so when Scott and Stiles told me there were I came here to ask permission to stay as an Omega. I don't intend to cause any trouble."
Her heartbeat didn't falter, because she wasn't technically lying about anything. Sure, she was stretching the truth to an insane degree, but all that she said was comprised of half-truths.
He looked less scary after she spoke, and wore a blank face instead of the angry one that scared the shit out of her.
"How do you know Stiles and Scott? And why did you come back?"
"Stiles has been my friend since we were kids, and Scott is his friend, ergo I associate with Scott and accidentally attacked him when I thought a werewolf was coming to attack Stiles. I came back because my family is here."
The alpha continued to scrutinize her face before closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh, acting like she was purposely trying to annoy him. But he nodded to himself and met her eyes, saying, "You can stay for now. But if you do anything, and I mean anything, to hurt my pack or anyone in this town I'll let the hunters take you out."
The threat sounded genuine, however he didn't seem like he was eager or enthused at all really by the prospect of that happening. He didn't strike her as a cruel man, instead he came off as grumpy, closed off, irritated, protective – a lot like herself actually when it came to family.
Huh.
Trying not to look weaker than she had already acted, she nodded and tried to convey her gratitude as she replied, "Thank you Alpha Hale, I won't step out of line."
When she turned to leave, a voice from the back of the room she had only very vaguely noted suddenly asked in a slightly mocking and amused tone, "Care to explain why your scent is undetectable?"
She froze. Fuck fuck fuck. She had really been thinking the alpha wouldn't notice, and she turned back around slowly. Another man stepped forward from the shadowed staircase in the opposite corner of the room. Kennedy warily stared back before reluctantly lifting her left arm and gesturing to the lone bracelet that adorned her wrist.
"I have a bracelet. It's um, magic I think. Probably made by an emissary at some point. It makes me harder to smell, but it also means I can't really smell very much at all at the same time when I wear it."
Derek's expression returned to its previous suspicion as he said, "And why would you need something that obscures your scent?"
Deciding to tell an abbreviated version of the truth she shrugged and answered, "I'm not in a pack. Omegas are not exactly known for extended life spans. If I can't be smelled I'm much less likely to be attacked."
From the back of the room the man smiled slightly, but it seemed anything but friendly. He radiated something sinister, and he gave her major creeps.
"I've only ever seen those bracelets on members of the McNeill pack," he raised an eyebrow and continued in a casual tone, "maybe you've heard of them, they're settled in Providence, Rhode Island?"
Fear. Horror. Blood. Run. RUN.