ALPHA: Heir Of The Four

Chapter Eight

Chapter Notes : Ava-Rain's POV

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- 'You are a stranger here, why have you come?' -

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The deep breath I took to calm my nerves only proved to be pointless. I was seconds away from entering a house full of werewolves and Caleb's endless optimistic comments of assurance did little to infuse any of that optimism within me. He may not have voiced it, but I was pretty certain that this 'little routine introduction'—as he so nonchalantly put it—was a bigger deal than he was letting on. As a matter of fact, I was positive that this meeting was set up to determine if I would be rejected or accepted by not only the pack, but his parents, as well.

     No pressure or anything.

     "Relax, Ava-Rain," Caleb's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as we drove up the path leading to the mansion. With every passing second that brought us closer to the house, my heart would beat a little faster and pound a little harder.

     Relax? Easy for him to say.

     I pulled down the passenger side mirror and checked my appearance for the billionth time. Never one to over indulge with makeup, I kept it light and neutral. My hair straightener had made the very unfair choice to no longer provide me with its services that morning, so I had no choice but to wear my hair in its naturally curly and unruly state. The early evening humidity certainly wasn't doing my uncontrollable mane any favours either, but the 'wash-'n-go' approach I took had yet to take a disastrous turn.

     When Caleb found me—five seconds away from enduring a mental breakdown in the bathroom over my straightener—he had insisted that it did not matter because he favoured the wild curls anyway. Normally, I would have accepted it as yet another one of his attempts to make me feel better. Normally. But when he took my baby and disposed of her without a care in the world—and before I could offer any parting words—I could not shake the feeling that maybe he had something to do with her untimely death. I would prove it one way or another, that is, if I did not follow suit by meeting my own untimely death in the next few hours.

     I snuck a glance out of the windshield. We would be pulling up in less than a minute. I quickly skimmed over my little, black dress, brushing off the non-existent lint and smoothing down the hardly visible wrinkles. I hadn't exactly known if the meeting required a formal attire—Caleb had instructed me to wear whatever I liked, which was obviously no help—but I knew one could never go wrong with black. The dress was constructed out of a lightweight cotton and lace. The visible under piece of the princess seamed, a-line dress bore a sweetheart neckline and the hemline stopped a few inches above my knees. Attached over it was the sleeveless, floral lace embroidered mesh, with a cowl neckline and scalloped hem that stopped about an inch past the under dress. It was not overly formal, but it did not give off an 'I-did-not-put-much-thought-into-my-appearance' vibe either. Although I was very determined to accessorize the dress with my black and white Chucks, I instead opted for an old pair of black, lace up Steve Madden combat boots.

     "You still look as gorgeous as you did four minutes ago," Caleb's voice sliced through the silence.

     I tried to pick up on any hint or trace of irritation in his tone, but there wasn't any. I had been driving myself crazy with worry the entire day, and as a result, had not really engaged Caleb in conversation unless it pertained to his pack or his parents. But even through the endless questions and rants about what to wear or how to style my hair, Caleb had remained patient and attentive. My wolf boyfriend had done everything in his power to comfort me and obliterate my doubts. I hoped to never lose that nor him.