TWISTED FATES BOOK 1: THE FIRST TWIST by Jacklyn Rogers (e book reader for pc txt) 📗

Contents

Chapter 1 I’m Mated to an Alpha

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Afterword

Chapter 1 I’m Mated to an Alpha

WARNING: PLEASE NOTE THIS BOOK IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. IT CONTAINS ELEMENTS OF SEXUAL NATURE, STRONG LANGUAGE, AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE – I DO NOT CONDONE THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR, NOR AM I TRYING TO GLAMORIZE IT. STILL, IT IS AN ELEMENT OF MY STORY.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Sammie's POV

So, I know what you're probably thinking. The title of my story says it all – mated to an Alpha; presumably, life for me should be all exciting because I'm with a sexy badass Alpha?

Nay, Nay my friends.

Recently, in fact, life with my Alpha has been quite the opposite.

My name is Samantha Hunter, but I go by Sam or Sammie to everyone who knows me. Only not Samantha: for some reason, being called by that always gives me the chills and makes me feel a LOT older than I am.

For the most part, I'm just a normal 24-year old girl, aside from the fact that I am currently in a relationship with a werewolf/former Alpha named Devon Montgomery. Okay, maybe not the most normal girl, but what can I say potay-to, potah-to; it’s all in how you look at things.

As I was saying, I'm just a "normal" 24-year-old girl. I have long fiery red hair that lands right below my shoulder blades, admittedly not my natural color; I was inspired by The Little Mermaid when I was younger, and I have emerald green eyes – those are natural. I may be a little vertically challenged with my menial height of 5'2, but with my vibrant crimson colored locks, I bet you'd be able to find me better than Waldo from a block away.

Oh, and did I mention, I also tend to be a bit of a smart ass. It's part of my charm – to know me is to love me. At least that's what I believe.

Even though I have bright red hair and bright green eyes, I have never made the mistake of wearing red and green together. I personally do not feel that looking like a walking poster board for Santa's elves would be considered fashion-forward. Nay, Nay my friends.

 To be perfectly honest, I made that detrimental mistake once in the ninth grade, the week before winter break.

As you may have guessed by my *cough* positive opinion, this resulted in, to say the least, a not so good outcome.

Since I'm so short, the football team decided to kidnap me and place me high up on top of the school's Trophy Cabinet, which happened to be located right in the main building's entryway. To further their immature little joke, the jerks placed a banner beneath me, and I was labeled Elf on a Shelf. Principal Johnstone was not too happy, but since I wasn't actually hurt per se, the jerks that did it only got a week's detention. Too bad that stupid nickname haunted me for the rest of the year. Ish 

To be honest, I was pretty pissed off, not only at the dumb jocks for, well, obviously condemning me to finish my senior year with a constant reminder of my humiliation, but I was also majorly peeved at Principal Johnstone as well. Not that I was out for blood or something. I just didn't appreciate how, simply because I was some minor character at my school and the jocks were the power players, they were pretty much given a free pass at everything.

Was I hurt physically? No.

Mentally? Hell yeah.

Despite everything, I wasn't someone who was very outgoing. I guess you could say I was kind of a nerd. I mean, I wasn't bullied or anything; I was just ignored by everyone other than my small circle of friends. I guess losing both my parents by the time I had entered High School had made me a little guarded. Granted, I really loved my foster mom, but she had troubles of her own with her recent divorce mid-way through my senior year. Luckily, I was already eighteen, so there was no threat of me being placed in another home when she asked me to continue living with her for as long as I needed. I loved Isabelle, and my two adopted twin siblings, Mathias and Maximilian, but I understood that she was now a single mom. Times were hard enough for her without an additional mouth to have to worry about, even if she acted as if I was no bother.  My main priorities were intensely focused on my studies. I knew I wanted to go to college and was well aware Isabelle couldn't afford to send me, so my only hope was to get the best grades I could and earn scholarships.

So being me, I had to ignore the taunts and jeers and push on. I may have been labeled the Elf on the Shelf in my High school yearbook, but I still managed to get a full ride at my college of choice.

Yep, guess there is a Santa Clause, after all, Virginia.

The funny thing about my traumatic high school memory is that before Devon first set eyes on me, he told me that I reminded him of Christmas, not just because of my hair and eyes but because of my scent.

Oh, the irony.

Apparently, all mates have their own unique scent that attracts them to their mate; for Devon and his wolf, Slade, I smelled of warm cinnamon and spice chai with whipped cream; a drink his mother and him used to share every Christmas morning until she passed away when he was twelve. Once he got to know me, though, he came up with a spicier nickname. Evidently, the combination of my spitfire personality, short stature, and bright red hair reminded him of a little cherry bomb; I was