I enjoyed the darkness, when the sun was long gone from the sky, or when the heavy curtains were pulled over my window to cancel out the brilliant morning rays. It was seclusion and solitude I craved, because when it was quiet and dark I could close my eyes and just sink into the memories of my childhood, all the good things, all of it revolving around Malcolm Kerry.

When I woke up I didn’t want to move, I didn’t even bother opening my eyes as I buried my face further into the pillow, my arms wrapped up and under it, letting the groggy, weightless feeling of sleep settle back over me with the full intention of sleeping the day away. I couldn’t remember the last time I managed that, because someone was pulling on my shirt, as usual.

“Wake up, daddy,” the voice chided me, and I peeled open one eye to see the eight-year-old crouching on the bed, pushing on me with an excited gleam in his stunning gold eyes, “It’s almost breakfast.”

I grumbled, pulling one arm free so I could reach over and pinch his cheek, where a thick square band-aid was taped, “Go make uncle make you breakfast,” I said, “I’m sure he’d love it if you woke him up for once.”

He giggled and rubbed his face when I’d let go to instead run my fingers through his hair, smiling at him. This little boy was mine, my little Rebel, only one of two good things to have happened to me since leaving Kerry Clan. He was eight years old with thick black hair like mine and eyes that rivaled the color of the sun itself, eyes that I never got tired of waking up to.

“Hmph,” I poked his cheek again, “Why are you in my room anyway? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Nu-uh,” Rebel shook his head at me, hair flapping around his face, “You were crying again in your sleep.”

I frowned at his explanation, looking away before pasting a smile back onto my face and pushing myself onto my knees, reaching out and scooping him into my arms, grinning more genuinely when he squealed, “You just like sleeping with your daddy, huh?” I teased, and he giggled furiously, struggling in my hold.

“No, I’m a big boy!” he insisted through his laughter, “I don’t wanna sleep in the same bed as you!”

I tensed up when the door swung open, slamming against the wall, making Rebel cling onto my neck and peer over my shoulder towards the open door where a familiar woman stood, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, curly brown hair pulled out of her face and into a braid that fell down her back.

“Good morning, dear,” I greeted her, but her lips just curled into a scowl.

“Keep that thing quiet,” she snapped at me, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my son, narrowing my eyes dangerously at her as she pushed off the doorframe, “It’s too early for him to be yelling like a pig, so keep it down.”

“The only people who live in this house, Ms. Paige, are myself, Rebel, and Shaede. There’s no reason for you to be acting like a heartless bitch when we haven’t even gotten out of bed yet,” I kept Rebel in my arms as I stood up, propping him up on my hip as he wound his arms tighter around my neck, hiding his face in my shoulder, “Can I help you with something? Or did you come into my house just to harass my son?”

The snarl never lessened as Priscilla Paige turned, flicking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, “Father wanted to speak with you after you woke up, but you were taking too long. He isn’t a young man, Scott, making him wait for you is just selfish.”

“It’s like six o’clock in the morning, give me a break,” I snapped, “Just get out, tell the alpha I’ll be there in five minutes.”

She spun on her heel and slammed the door closed, Rebel tightening his grip on me and glaring at the door as I sat him down on the foot of the bed, ruffling his hair and crouching down in front of him to see his face and the turmoil in his eyes. No eight-year-old should ever look that scared.

“She’s gone now,” I reassured, squeezing his little knee, and smiling at him, “Remember what I said? Just avoid her, she won’t bother you if you’re with me or uncle.”

Rebel nodded to me and I stood up, walking over to my dresser as he kicked his legs, “Uncle says she’s a Pissy Priscy,” he said, and I snorted, looking over my shoulder towards him.

“She can be,” I agreed, shedding my nightshirt, and pulling out a long sleeved black shirt with a high collar, yanking it on as Rebel continued to talk about how mean Priscilla was and how much he didn’t like her.

I didn’t blame him, she could be very cruel. Priscilla Paige was the beta born daughter of Alpha Amos, the leader of the pack. Amos was a good man, exactly what an alpha should be like, understanding and level headed and warm hearted, but his daughter was almost the exact opposite. I hated how she looked at Rebel, that resentment and anger, yet I understood her disgust.

Scilla was my mate, but my son Rebel wasn’t hers.

At first it started out okay with her, we took things slow, I agreed to marry her because of my duty as an ambassador, I figured marrying her would make the transition easier for the rest of the pack when the day came and we had to move and unite with the Kerry Clan. However, things became rocky very quickly. I tried to be nice, but every day was just another fight between us, despite being chosen mates, we couldn’t agree or get along in any circumstance, even if her father was around we couldn’t seem to set aside our differences for his benefit.

The only thing we had in common was how much we respected the alpha. She moved out five months after we married, and we were still married, but neither of us wore our rings, we didn’t sleep in the same room, let alone the same house, and we understood that we’re mates, but it was a begrudging acceptance of something that couldn’t be changed.

We were chosen for each other by the goddess, there was really no way around it. I had to tell myself we were mates because our children would be top notch alphas, because there was obviously no way in hell we were compatible in any other way. We had nothing in common besides the fact we were chosen mates, but that lead to an even bigger problem, because I wasn’t really interested in hopping into bed with her.

That’s not to say I didn’t try to sleep with her, because it was my duty to breed with my mate and leave an heir for our species, but the most we managed to do was get our shirts off before I quite literally lost my lunch. I ended up vomiting on her red lace bra. She didn’t appreciate it. After that we kind of gave up, and we’ve been living on a rocky ledge ever since.

The pack accepted me with open arms, for the most part. I’d easily fallen under Alpha Amos’ apprenticeship, evidently I had a lot of potential to be an amazing alpha, and considering I’d married his daughter, the rein of the Paige Clan would be handed to me at the moment of Amos’ death.

Most of the wolves were happy enough with the decision, but there was one thing none of them were okay with, and honestly, I wasn’t surprised. Rebel. He was mine, my blood, my son, but he was born outside of my chosen mate, he wasn’t Priscilla’s, which deemed him filth in the eyes of everyone in this pack. None of the other pups would play with him, whenever it seemed they were starting to like him, they would end up shoving him around and he would come home with bloody knees, bruises, and a forced smile.

I could understand how the wolves would be uncomfortable around him considering the circumstances, but he was just a child. How could they willingly harass an eight-year-old who’s never done a bad thing before in his life? More than once I ended up in fights with some of the members of the pack because they wouldn’t talk to their kids about not beating the shit out of Rebel, and if it weren’t for Shaede I would probably be dead or thrown out on my own by now.

The knock on my door had me lifting my head up from where I was concentrating on lacing up my boots, smiling at the man who stood in the thresh-hold. His hair was red like blood, unevenly cut to frame his face and fall over his forehead, longer in the back where it reached his shoulders. His eyes were an odd color, like amethyst, a unique shade I’d never seen before as an eye color.

He was already dressed, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his coat and a bored look on his face, though his eyes lit up a bit when Rebel jumped off the bed and ran over to grab onto his legs, hugging him with a huge grin that showed his missing left canine.

“Morning,” I greeted, turning back down to finish lacing up my boots, “I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

“Nah,” Shaede ruffled Rebel’s hair, shrugging, “I was awake. I heard her,” he looked up at me, and I sighed, scratching my head.

“It’s nothing. Amos just wants to see me is all.”

“She didn’t have to barge in,” Shaede said, picking Rebel up and setting him on his shoulders so he could grab onto Shaede’s red hair and touch the ceiling just above him.

“It’s fine, really. Rebel is too,” I stood up, grabbing my coat from where it was hanging over the back of my chair and pulling it on, “I shouldn’t be long, can you keep an eye on him?”

“Yea.”

“Daddy!” Rebel reached his hand out for me when I was close enough, and I smiled, reaching up to grab his hand.

“Hm?”

“Can I see it? Please?”

I rolled my eyes and shook his hand a little, “When I get back. I have work, okay? I want you to keep an eye on Shaede and make sure he stays out of trouble,” Shaede squinted his eyes down at me and I grinned at him before leaving the room, “Make sure he eats!”

I didn’t know Shaede’s last name, in fact I was fully convinced that “Shaede” wasn’t even his real name. Normally lone wolves abandon everything from their past, so it would make since that he’d developed an alias. We’d met maybe eight months after I left Malcolm, Shaede cornered me in the woods, and I can’t really remember what state I was in. All I recalled was it was a national forest, and Shaede was demanding I give him all my supplies.

Details aren’t necessary, but because of my health at the time, Shaede ended up helping me instead of robbing and murdering me. He saved my life then, and I suppose he figured he needed to keep an eye on me, because he abandoned his solitude as a lone wolf and joined me instead, becoming part of the Paige Clan the same time I did.

He was a good friend, and always looked after Rebel when I was too busy. Shaede was the one who ended up naming him. Originally, he wanted something ridiculous, which I easily shot down, but I could deal with the name Rebel, so it stuck. I was happy to have him. Rebel and I both were.