Alpha Xander: His Contracted Luna

***ABIGAIL MEADE***

In the lightened room. Candles on top of the dresser. The mistress who had them shut the lights, the blinds, and every opening revealed direct sunlight. She wanted the blazing red hot heat. Fire. She was all alone in her room going through her lines for dinner.

In the great house Meade. We are honored as the longest generation of werewolves. We have the greatest strengths, wits, and superiority of the mind. We birthed prodigious packs. We grew loyal packs. We are the dominant in these parts. The community has no hold on us because we are the pillars of the community. Lunas and Alphas let us have a wonderful evening to feast. And cherish the nitty gritty and the grandiose.

“That’s just about right,” she smiled into her mirror.

She was the perfect daughter. The perfect sister. She wasn’t the youngest nor the oldest, but was the most promising child of the three. Although her parents pressured her at a very young age. She had started hunting at age 11. She led her first mission at 15. She came back with a head of blue blood.

Tonight was the night of the big announcement. Everyone was seated across the long plywood table her father made with his bare hands. Neatly grazed and perfectly polished. The family housed many guests. The important guests were seated in the main hall. Right outside was the gathering of the least nobles.

The walls with golden streaks. Hunting weapons were cased on the walls; spear guns for hunting wild boars and bears, harpoons for the time the family sets on the oceans tracking ferocious sharks, and for direct combat if they weren’t to wolf out just yet, knives of different shapes and sizes, they glimmered at the pointy ends.

The other side of the room had portraits and bust paintings of antecedents in the great house of Meade. Their ancestors had fiery red hair. They were all known for their unique senses. Unlike other werewolves, the Meade’s had the sharpest hearing and keenest scenting, and their eagle-eye vision.

The chandelier that dropped from the ceiling was a sight that so fascinating, the dangling sides were embroidered with diamonds that sparkled in the eyes of the viewer. It was a beautiful holding. She was at the stairs. Her hands glided down the silver railings and walked down the marbled steps.

She came into the hall in her scarlet feathered dress. She was like a dazzling phoenix. Her red hair curled down her shoulders. It was held curved like a bob around the edges. All eyes were on her. She saw everyone glimmer in their glistening silver and gold apparel alike.

Marianne, her younger sister despised her. They were both red-haired beauties but we know the most conspicuous and highly favored.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“We have been awaiting your arrival, Abigail,” her mother raised a glass of sparkling wine.

She walked majestically to the seat reserved for her. She was right in between her mother and her father. The Lord and Dame of the great house Meade.

She whispered into her mother’s ear as she bent to sit, “It is Faye now, Mother. Abigail is not me anymore.”

Audrey leaned back in her chair, “I guess it skipped my mind, but Abigail is Abigail to me.”

Her brother, Alfred who sat opposite her was always a knot in her fur. He drummed his fingers on the table, “Would you like to make that loud and clear to us?” he sipped from the glass, rolling his eyes down at her.

Marianne giggled and steeple her fingers on the edge of her silver platter.

Faye gave them both an irritated look. They were sore in her eyes. She wanted to scourge their belligerence. Her class and her modesty restrained her. And besides she wouldn’t want to cause a blood spill on the powdered faces of the guests.

“Ahem…” Alvin stood up and held his wife’s are on the table, “We will be deciding our successor now, but first our daughter would like to say few words.” He smirked at Faye.

Faye spaced out gleaning at her brother. She held her glass tightly, it made a crooked line crack when her mother rubbed her gently.

She rose from her seat, she made a slight bow of courtesy to her father. Alvin sat down and returned to his meal. She cleared her throat and poised her arms around her waist.

“In the great house Meade. We are honored as the longest generation of werewolves. We have the greatest strengths, wits, and superiority of the mind. We birthed prodigious packs. We grew loyal packs. We…”

Alfred kicked back on his chair causing a distortion. The sound settled and all eyes turned to Faye. Their father paid no attention, he was more concerned about slicing through the stake on his plate.

“…We are the dominant in these parts. The community has no hold on us because we are the pillars of the community. Lunas and Alphas let us have a wonderful evening to feast. And cherish the nitty gritty and the grandiose.”

In a laud of cheers and gestures, everyone was waiting to hear the final say from her father. Faye sat disappointed in herself. The house didn’t take her in the regard she had expected. Her father requested everyone move outside to the garden when they were done with their feast.

Alfred and Marianne left the table. They had been exiting gatherings at the same times like this, which was no surprise to Faye. Faye was the only true descendant of Alvin and Audrey.

Alvin was the first child, born of another mother. A witch from a shadow land community. They dwelled in the mountains. Alvin stormed there in his youthful years. This was the biggest secret of the great house. The Meade had a strong hate for witches. They were one of the first to go join James Marion’s envoy in the demolition of witchcraft.

Marianne was a child of one of the stewards. Alvin was an outgoing Alpha, but all the more wayward. He had been meddling with maidens which his wife knew well of. She had no courage to confront his unfaithful trope. She had endured quite the abuse during the birth of Abigail.

Audrey was once a human. She was bitten by Alvin himself one movie night, outside a car park in the human world. She was presumptuous at first, but as time went by she knew there was no she had nothing to give but a concession to Alpha Meade. The man had all his was infatuated with having red-haired conquests. It was more of a kinky, not that his wife was a different color. He was just impetuous.

In the advent of secret rooms and sacred quarters, Alfred and Marianne were indulged in incestuous acts. Faye would stumble into their debauchery late at night when she enters into attic. She would often go there to relieve her stress, leaving the hung punching bag clinging to one line of string. Her siblings cuddling their sublime bodies on the foot mats.

They were startled by the first time she caught them. They feared she might inform their parents, legitimate father, and illegitimate mother. They were frightened by being scolded with clawed fists by their father or worse. They tried sabotaging Faye on a mission. They journeyed the mountains. The three alone are on the edge of the escape. Marianne didn’t have the boldness, Alfred took action and pushed Faye down the great height. Plummeting straight to the peninsula.

They went home with a fake story. They claimed their sister slumped to a sordid melancholic death. Alvin faced his children in his quarters. He sat upright on the bed, Audrey was not moved by the news her stepchildren had brought about her only daughter.

She rose from Alvin’s side and sat by the drawer, “I believe my daughter will return,” she said confidently. “Abigail’s death… so soon? It is a hoax,” She scoffed. She took the table lamp and strutted to the balcony.

“Let me hear what happened again,” Alvin lowered his feet to the carpet and crossed his legs. He stared into their eyes. Alvin couldn’t look directly at his father’s eyes.

“We had problems seeing the edge of the mountain. If was foggy and steep,” Alfred clasped his hands behind him and lowered his head to his father. “She was right next to us, and before we knew it we heard her screams descending to her death.”

“By the time we got to the ground, we didn’t find her body on the peninsula,” Marianne raised her chin and leaned off the wall. “She fought strong against the rogues… but her mind was not in the right place when we had claimed victory. She just kept walking down to the-

“Faye!” Audrey shrieked on the balcony. “What made you stay out late young lady?”

Faye’s voice was heard in the garden, “I had a fall. You know… a minor slip-up. And now I’m back Mom.”

Alvin rushed out to see. Marianne just waited in the room and watched her father laugh into his palms.

“What amuses you father?” her face paled.

“You kids should not disturb my sleep with any of this farce,” he laid back on his bed and covered himself with the sheets.

Marianne was distorted by the Alfred rushed back into the room, “Faye is alive,” his eyes widened.

The same look he gave at the dinner. He and Marianne were leaving when he waited to give her a head-start. Faye left her seat when he wasn’t looking. He was too busy being a pretty boy to the young female guests. They blushed every time he smiled at them. Alfred was a handsome devil in their eyes.

He went to the attic and met his sister’s dead body hung on the hook of the punching bag. She had been beaten up so badly, that all her teeth were scattered on the ground. Plucked out even.

“Fuck!” he breathed heavily. He had confirmed she was dead. He heard a splatter of a mushy substance drop behind him. He turned back to see Faye. He hadn’t thought to react when she lunged a hunting knife into his heart.

Why Faye?

You don’t need a reason to die Alfred.

He looked down to the ground to see a ripped-out heart. It was obviously Marianne’s, he thought. Faye’s bloody grip pushed further into his chest. He dropped dead to the ground.

She left her house that night. Unnoticed and never to return again. She had her brother’s and sister’s blood in her hands. Her feelings were dead inside from that moment on. She washed her hands in the rain. She had walked miles in the night.

She attacked a driver and took his car. She drove till the fuel ran out. Her final stop was at the blue and gold paintings on a tall black gate. A manor that held the name Marion.