When my marks began to appear my family began to openly express their disdain for me. Everyone in our family had always been a Dom or Domme. I didn't have the same instincts to take control and lead. My brother had been an obvious Dom from a young age. He showed all of the initiative, prowess, and dominance my parents wished for in a child.
I, on the other hand, lacked initiative. I doubted myself at every turn. My younger brother was my only comfort. We were both smaller, weaker, and quieter than the rest.
My younger brother grew into his confidence. Eventually, even he left me behind. I understood. It was natural selection. Survival.
I was a late bloomer. Everyone knows only omegas, or submissives, are late bloomers.
I left before anyone said anything. I knew sticking around would hurt my family more. I couldn't stand the look on my little brother's face. I didn't want him to have to look at me like I was a creature to be pitied.
I was smart enough to know when things needed to be over.
YOU ARE READING
Their Pet
WerewolfI was scared. No, scratch that, terrified. I was alone. Any rogue could easily take advantage of me....I was out on the streets and unclaimed. I had been for three weeks now. But then...they came. (Please read, sorry I'm rather horrid at summeries)...
