Chapter 1 It's Just a Story

Bailey

Yawning, I stretch my arms above my head and look down at the pages of the open book on my lap. The words are blurry, a true indication that it’s time for me to close the book and put it away for the night. I’ve been telling myself I’m just going to read one more chapter for the past two hours, and the promise I made to myself that I’d be asleep by midnight has fallen by the wayside.

“That’s enough.” I force myself to slam the book closed and set it next to my phone on my nightstand. The clock reads 2:12 A.M., and I can’t help but let out a groan. “Morning me is going to be so pissed.” 

Why do I do this to myself almost every night?

It’s meant to be a rhetorical question, but I find myself answering aloud anyway. “Because your life sucks, and no one wants to be a fucking accountant at Broadburn and Broadburn.” My life is so unbelievably boring! If only I could live the adventurous life of the people in the novels I read. Then, maybe my life would have some true meaning.

“Well, maybe not this particular book.” I glance over at the cover of The Alpha’s Hated Omega, letting my eyes grace the chiseled abs of the hero of the book who’s pictured on the cover. Lukas Blackwood, the Alpha of the Silverhide pack. He’s dreamy, that’s for damn sure. No one in real life has muscles like that, do they? Hell, his muscles have muscles. His Luna, Claira, is described as being gorgeous, with long flowing blonde hair. These people are practically perfect, which is just a reminder to me that I am far from it.

I’m not ugly, I guess. I have straight, dark hair that reaches just past my shoulders, blue eyes that brighten when I smile, and straight white teeth. The fact that I like to run keeps me in relatively good shape, too. But I am not Luna material. If anyone ever wrote me into a story like that, well, let’s just say the readers would be disappointed.

“Goodnight, Alpha Lukas,” I mutter, turning off the light on my nightstand. I pull the blanket up over my shoulder and listen to the sounds of cars passing outside on the busy New York street. My shitty little apartment is in a relatively safe part of town, but I traded safety for comfort. It’s practically a studio; the bedroom is so small it’s almost a closet. I live alone.

I am alone.

My parents died in a car accident when I was young, and then my sister was murdered late last year. Since then, well, it’s been easy to lose myself in books. Sometimes the people in the stories I read have it even worse than I do, if that’s even possible.

Not Lukas and Claire, though. No, their lives are pretty easy. Sure, there’s the built in drama of having to run a kingdom, but I honestly can’t identify with either of them. This may be the first and last werewolf book I ever read.

The only reason I haven’t set it aside completely is because of the antagonist. I know, I know. No one is supposed to cheer for the bad guy. But Rian is… different. Yes, he’s vicious. He’s hurt some people that appear to be innocent, and his reason for hating Lukas and Claire hasn’t been fully disclosed yet.

But when the writer puts me in his head, I don’t see evil flowing freely there. No, what I see is pain. Lots of it. I want to know exactly what it is that has driven poor Rian Gray to become the villain in Lukas and Claire’s story.

Rubbing my eyes, I mumble, “That’ll have to wait for tomorrow. My six o’clock alarm is going to go off before I know it.” I’m not ready to get up, get dressed, and drag myself to the subway station to take the forty-five minute train ride to the office, only to have Mr. Broadburn tell me that, while my work is technically correct, I could do it with “more enthusiasm.” I roll my eyes. Coffee only gets a person so far. Involuntary smiles are not on my list of must-dos.

I roll over so the streetlight filtering through the window isn’t hitting me in the face and try to ignore the sounds of honking horns and blaring music from the street below. Instead, I imagine I can hear the sounds of the forest Rian would be hearing from where he lay, injured, beneath a tree in the woods near his pack lands. Vivid images of dense, lush trees with emerald leaves shimmering in the moonlight fill my mind. I can practically smell the woodsy scent of cedar and earth, mingled with the remnants of fresh rain. My relatively soft bed melds into the forest floor covered with pine needles and decaying leaves. I’ve left New York behind, and in my dreams, I flutter off to the enchanted land of The Forest of Shadows, the mystical place that separates the Blackwood pack from their enemies. An ocean of stars swims by above me, and I can’t help but smile. Rian Gray might have a hard life, but at the moment, I’d trade his world for mine any day of the week. Sleep takes over, and I fall into unconsciousness, only vaguely aware that this world I’ve conjured up suddenly seems far too real.

What seems like only moments later, sunlight filters through my eyelids. I groan and take a deep breath, unwilling to open my eyes. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so I must have a few more minutes to sleep.

But… it can’t be daylight without my alarm going off, not unless I’ve overslept. Thoughts of what Mr. Broadburn will say to me if I’m late have me sitting up in bed.

Except… I’m not in bed. My forehead furrows as I look around me. I’m lying on the ground, my hands pressed into piles of leaves, pine needles pricking my palms. I’m wearing a dark blue dress and boots, with a red cloak around my shoulders. “What the fuck?”

I hear a groan next to me and turn my head meeting the slitted eyes of a man who appears to be glaring at me. He’s injured, that’s evident by the way he’s lying, so still, blood staining his tunic. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks me.

My mouth drops open, but it’s not my name that comes out–it’s his. “Rian Gray?”