Julie was right: I had a lot of pack members in every single one of my classes. They welcomed me with open arms, sitting beside me in class and walking with me. Several offered to carry my books but I politely refused. They were . . . nice. Nothing like I had always thought they acted. They weren't vicious or rude, like my friends painted them to be. Speaking of, I didn't see my friends until lunch. I was at my locker, dumping my books inside, when the two of them cornered me.

"Hey," I smiled tentatively. "I have so much to tell you."

"Yeah, we know," McKinley snapped.

I blinked. The small blonde had been my best friend since middle school and I'd never heard her sound so cold. "Look, it's all a big mis—"

"Don't tell us it's a mistake, Phoebe. Or a misunderstanding. We heard about it from everyone else before we heard it from you." She put a hand on her hip.

"I didn't have my phone. I couldn't—"

"How long have you known?" she sneered.

"What?"

"How long have you known you're Alpha Alexander's mate?"

"Wha—I just found out yesterday! I swear, I didn't know before then."

She grabbed my chin, twisting my head sideways. "You aren't marked."

I yanked out of her hold. "No. Like I said, it's a mistake. I'm not his mate."

"Then why the hell are you hanging out with those dogs? I saw them drooling at your feet when you walked into the school, Phoebe. Don't try to play this off—once a dog sniffs out his mate, it's a done deal." Her face hardened. "How could you do this to us?"

"I—I didn't . . . I don't know what you're—"

"You're choosing those dogs over us?" she spat.

I shook my head. "No, you don't understand. They're not—"

"I thought you hated them, Phoebe."

My fists tightened in frustration. "No, I don't. They—"

"We're not friends anymore."

My eyes widened. "What? No! You guys don't understand. Alice, please!"

Alice, the petite brunette who joined our group of friends after freshman year, was silent, staring at her shoes as McKinley tore my heart apart.

"We will not affiliate with dog trash, Phoebe," McKinley spat.

I stared at my friend, who was always there with me through everything, and who was abandoning me when I needed her the most. "You can't be serious, McKinley."

"We are," she said firmly.

I turned to Alice. "Even you, Alice? Are you going to just follow McKinley and her blind hatred of something she doesn't even understand? Let her speak for herself, McKinley!" I snapped when McKinley opened her mouth to spew more hate.

My silent friend finally looked up from her shoes and locked eyes with me. "I'm sorry, Phoebe. My parents won't let me be friends with you anymore; they don't like humans who affiliate with the werewolves."

The last blow hurt the most. I held her eyes even as my own started to spill over with tears. "I never thought you were so weak, Alice, to let someone else decide who you can be friends with and who you can't. I am so disappointed." I looked at McKinley, who was giving me her best glare, but it had no affect on me. "Both of you disgust me. I don't even know them, but those dogs you keep bashing each have more kindness and loyalty than the two of you combined, times ten. I'd much rather have them as my friends than either of you any day."

"Good, because they're all you've got now," McKinley sneered.

"They're more than enough, you hateful fucking bitch."

I slammed my locker closed and spun on my heel. Before I took three steps, I shouted over my shoulder, "You're going to eat your words one day, McKinley Prescott. And I hope to God I'm there to see it."

Without another word from either party, I speed-walked out of the school, hurrying to my car. I heard someone shout my name, but I ignored them as I sped out of the parking lot. On instinct, I drove home. My parents were at work, so I walked into an empty house. I collapsed in my bedroom, tears falling down my cheeks uncontrollably. I tried to stop them, squeezing my eyes closed, but they were persistent. I tilted my head up, resting it on the wall behind me, staring at the ceiling while my body shook with silent sobs.

Why is this happening to me? I cried. Why is everything crumbling around me?

My only friends dump me just because I was claimed by a werewolf, let alone an Alpha. I knew my parents would try to distance themselves and Tommy from wolf influence, making it harder for me to keep the already slipping hold to my old life. My friends were the last thing keeping me tied to my human life and they tore it apart by stomping on my heart and cutting me out of their lives completely.

My phone in my back pocket rang. I ignored it, knowing it was probably someone who wanted to know where I was. Next was the home phone, but I didn't move. The answering machine picked up, but no one left a message. My cell phone rang again, then the home phone once more. This time, a voice drifted up to me from the answering machine downstairs.

"Phoebe, I know you're there. Pick up the phone."

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears pushing past my closed eyelids. I didn't want to hear his voice right now—I didn't want to think about him right now.

"Pick up the phone, Phoebe."

I took my head in my hands, covering my ears like a child. His voice still penetrated my defenses.

"I'm coming, Phoebe."

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" I screamed and kicked at the wall across from me, sending a bolt of pain up my leg with each separated word. I glanced around my room, for the first time noticing how many pictures and memorabilia I had on my walls and desk from my so-called-friends. I stood on shaky legs and took a frame off my desk. McKinley, Alice and I took a trip to the boardwalk last summer and took a picture on the ferris wheel with the ocean spread out behind us. We were all smiling wide, hugged close together in the small bucket.

I didn't realize I threw the frame across the room until it smashed against the wall beside the door. A small sliver of anger drained out of me as the satisfying sound of the frame crashing to the floor reached my ears. I turned back to my desk and picked up frame after frame—us on our first day of school, us at a football game, me and McKinley goofing off at a sleepover years ago—hurling them one by one across the room.

I ripped pictures off my walls, tearing them to pieces. I threw the pink teddy bear Alice gave me on Valentine's Day only a month ago in the trash. I tore trinkets collected over the years off of the bulletin board that I had decorated just for my friends. I was about to break the china figurine McKinley bought me while she toured Europe with her family over Christmas break, but my arms were suddenly stopped, large hands latched onto my wrists. I screamed in frustration. "Let me go!"

"Put it down, Phoebe." The authority of the voice made my knees buckle.

I tugged my right hand out of his grasp and pitched the glass figurine across the room. Sick satisfaction surged through me as I watched it shatter into a hundred tiny pieces. He brought both of my hands into one of his and held them against my chest, trapping me in his arms as his other arm circled my stomach.

"Phoebe, calm down."

I bucked against him. "You did this!" I cried. I threw my body weight against him, forcing him to lose his grip. I spun around to face him. "You made them hate me." My fists pounded into his chest, aching as they met solid muscle. "You did this to me," I sobbed, throwing all my strength into each punch and each kick. "My friends . . . they hurt me—they abandoned me—because I'm your fucking mate." My shoulders shook with heavy tears. My body sagged in defeat once I realized I was doing more harm to myself than to Alpha Alexander. "I hate you," I whispered. "I hate y—"

He backed me into a wall, silencing me by pressing his chest against mine. He eliminated every sliver of space between us, trapping my entire body against the wall. He held my chin, eyes cold and penetrating. "I understand that you are upset, Phoebe, but I will not tolerate your verbal attacks because you didn't have the sense to find worthier friends."

I tried to shove him away, but my arms felt like noodles—weak and useless. "You're such an asshole. An insensitive, arrogant asshole. I hate—" His lips eagerly cut off the words spilling from my own lips, our mouths crashing together violently. I didn't respond to the kiss at first. His hands slid from my shoulders to the small of my back, pulling me against him as tightly as possible so that I didn't know where our bodies each began or ended. When his tongue pushed past my lips, I finally reacted. A sudden jolt of titillation shuddered through my entire body. My hands captured his jaw as I opened my mouth, deepening the kiss.

Something in Alpha Alexander snapped—his hands moved south, cupping around my bottom, tugging at the maxi skirt until it was hiked up to my knees. He lifted me, my legs wrapping around him almost instinctively. His fingers tickled my bare thigh and a sound that erupted from the back of my throat was swallowed by his mouth.

Anticipation and pure desire rattled my senses, crawling over every nerve and tightening the spot just behind my navel. I didn't think about my friends and the hole they left in my heart, I didn't think about my parents coming home to find the mess I made of my room, I didn't care that I was mad at Alpha Alexander for placing me in the bed in the middle of the night without my consent and for thinking I wasn't capable of driving myself—I forgot about everything as I returned his fervent, almost desperate kisses.

Something sticky and wet distracted me. It clung to his left cheek beneath my hand. I frowned, pulling away softly, catching my breath. His head dipped forward, kissing my collarbone and up my neck. I glanced at his cheek and gasped. "You're bleeding."

He paused, pulling back to reach up and touch the spot I was staring at. He wiped the blood from his cheek, staring at it for a second before grabbing my right hand. I winced as he pulled it up to inspect my palm—a thin cut ran across my hand, a few inches long, from just below my forefinger to the outer corner of my wrist.

Alpha Alexander glared at the bloody cut for barely half a second before wrapping his arms around my back and behind my knees, carrying me out of the bedroom I had redecorated with broken glass and torn photo-paper. He set me down on the couch in the living room—the same couch I had sat on with my parents, demanding Alpha Alexander to agree to terms for our mating, less than twenty-four hours ago.

He left for a brief moment before returning with the first-aid kit. He set it on the cushion beside me, pulling out hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin along with a few pieces of cotton. I reached for the cotton ball to clean out my cut, but he pushed my hand away.

"Let me see your hand," he demanded.

"I can do it." I reached for the cotton ball again, but he shook his head, holding it out of reach.

"Give me your hand, Phoebe."

When I didn't move, he reached over me and took my injured hand in his. He soaked the cotton ball with rubbing alcohol and pressed it over the cut. I hissed and yanked my arm back. He didn't release my hand and instead pulled my whole body forward, pressing the wet cotton ball onto the cut again. I cried out in pain and tried to pull my arm away from the stinging sensation. He pulled me toward him once more. We played tug-of-war with my injured hand until I was pinned against him, the majority of my body in his lap.

He gently cleaned the cut, wiping away blood and putting on a thin layer of Neosporin. The cut wasn't deep, nor was it wide enough to need stitches, but it was long and I didn't know how I got it without feeling any pain. I had to have been really focused on destroying every piece of evidence that I was ever friends with those jerks. He took a roll of gauze and wrapped it around my hand several times before cutting and taping it like an expert. He put the supplies back into the first-aid kit and closed it, pushing it aside. The bloody cotton balls sat on the coffee table where he had discarded them.

He fingered the bandage. "You might have a scar."

"I don't care," I said softly. "It'll remind me of how stupid I am."

He glanced up at me. I was struck by how intimidatingly handsome he was, but the fear quaking in my stomach overcame any attraction I might have felt. He just watched me break down, kissed me senseless, and bandaged my hand for me—all the while, completely stoic. I knew I had looked pathetic standing in the middle of my trashed bedroom, sobbing and throwing picture frames every which way. I probably looked even weaker when I tried to hurt him with my fists, landing punches but never receiving a hint of pain from the big, bad Alpha.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with me for a mate," I muttered, focusing on my hand.

"I'm not," he said smoothly. It was almost too soft for me to even hear.

I didn't reply—what could I say? We locked eyes for a minute, and I was half-afraid he was going to kiss me again. When he blinked and looked away first, I was half-disappointed. He gathered the bloody cotton balls and first-aid kit before walking out of the living room. I listened as he went to the kitchen and made a call. I didn't hear the conversation, but understood that he was more than likely calling my parents.

I didn't want them to find out what happened—they were good friends with both Alice's and McKinley's parents. But, once they found out that their daughters had a friend who was mated to the local Alpha, they would shun my parents anyway. I sunk further into the sofa, wishing, not for the first time, that this was all just a huge bad dream. I glanced up when Alpha Alexander reentered the room, shoving his cell phone in his pocket. "I'll take you home."

I wanted to snap at him, telling him that I already was home, but didn't have the energy to argue more with him. I slowly stood and followed him out of the house. He went to his car and I knew it would be pointless to try and drive my own car. I silently got into the passenger seat, buckling in and staring out of the window as he sped out of the neighborhood.

"I didn't mean it," I whispered.

He heard me, like I knew he would. "Didn't mean what?"

I sighed. "I don't hate you. I'm sorry I said that. I . . . I don't know why I did, but I shouldn't have."

He didn't speak for a long moment. "Humans have been conditioned to fear us—that's not what we wanted. When we revealed our species to the humans . . . we never intended to make you fear us. It was getting difficult to stay hidden and we wanted the secrets to stop."

I finally look at him. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, but his hand is tight on the steering wheel. I licked my lips before speaking. "It's human nature to fear what we can't control."

He glanced at me. "It's human nature to fear what ranks higher than them on the food chain."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah. That, too." I idly rubbed the makeshift bandage with my thumb. "Thank you. I'm embarrassed beyond repair, but . . . thanks."

He nodded stiffly.

Now when are we going to talk about that kiss?