History has a way of telling me to stay away
‘Cause all I see is you
I
The day I presented as an alpha was one that was rejoiced all throughout the village. The sickly, little asshole I had become known as, had finally become a man. I was graced with the sacred amethyst stone that hung from braided fabrics to ease my transition into adulthood, but no one warned me that it was only a mere symbol of our people. No one warned me that it held no true power. My mother and father certainly never warned me of the pain that I would have to endure to become one of them. It was almost too much agony for such a small body even with a will as steeled as mine, a riddle wrapped in an enigma. Once the fever set in, the heat raged as it blinded me. It was as if I was tossed into a never-ending lake of fire, hell. Rivulets of blood poured out of the base of my dick as if I had cut it off my accident. A bulge, hot to the touch, burst forth from my loins tearing through my flesh in the process. Nothing could satisfy the ache, I wasn’t strong enough to grip it tight enough, my hands weren’t slick enough regardless of the blood. A knot signifying that I would now and forever be known as an alpha regardless of my size. My teeth sharpened with the urge to bite down on the gland of the first omega I saw. When I came back to myself enough to flee from such thoughts, I found myself amongst the trees, punching away at the barking, splintering my knuckles as more blood escaped my body. I was trying to chip away at the seeming rage that flooded my veins. I tired myself out to an exhaustive state so deep, my begetters would have thought I was dead if not for the faint heartbeat that made my skin jump as I watched my life play behind the backs of my eyelids, limbs trembling from the pain.
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I was born Stíofan Grandt, an alpha male, to Iósaf Mac Ruaidhrí and Sorcha in the year 500 A.D. Christianity had already made its way to Ireland but many of my people resisted conversion. Aligning ourselves with the natural earth was always our way and we wished to uphold our traditions. Because of this, those missionaries called us heathens. Solely because we were different, because we refused to conform to their whims. My mother’s blood was steeped in the teachings of the druids, my father’s blood could be traced back to the sidhe and the Tuatha dé Danann. We weren’t ordinary in the slightest but we were human. Then came the massacre that swept through our lands. It was then that we met my blood grandfather, the creature who traveled from the East, the alpha who turned only alphas. From that day forward, we became the first vampires of the Mac Ruaidhrí clan.
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I was a little slip of a thing before my transformation with the blood of Ibrahim Erskine. With the change, my body finally matched the heart that rested in embrace of my rib cage. It hurt even more than when I presented. I thought I was in hell before but nothing could prepare me for the hellfires that burned their way through my veins when Erskine’s blood transformed me. My bones shifted constantly, muscles strengthened beneath my skin, until they settled into a new and robust form. Everything was heightened on top of that, my sense of smell was better, I could run faster than any creature on earth. I could do so much more now than I ever could before. As an alpha, I was already a little on the feral side. As an alpha vampire? Well, let’s just say I got revenge for my people a thousand times over. The rampage I went on to right the wrongs against old Éire, that unconquerable rage, bled across the north until I felt that it was sated. Little did I know, that craving for blood, that blood mania, had its claws deep in my veins and it would be awhile before I could learn to control the beast within.
Everything catches up to me, like it was always you
It’s a brand new day, but I can’t even think straight
II
Centuries turned, dynasties rose, empires fell, and all the while, I remained changed but somehow the same. Deep down, I was still that little alpha that always had something to prove, that breathed fire and spat out the blood of my enemies. As time wore on, I grew weary of many many things. Tired of following orders whether they be from Ibrahim, who then called himself Abraham, or from my father, who at the time decided to go by Joseph. Spy under this queen, pose as a sower of discord in that king’s court, fight in this war and that one. A captain I may have been then, it was never what I truly wanted. I thirsted for knowledge about my kind and the creatures I came across. Daemons and witches weren’t things of fantasy now any more than vampires were. Once I got a whiff of a book older than even my grandfather, I had to find it. I had to know if it contained information about where creatures, where our precious gemstone came from. I yearned to share that desire for more with someone special. I wanted to share my life and experiences with them. I wished for someone I could take care of and provide for. However, as an alpha descended from alphas, I was expected to follow suit and mate an alpha. I found myself at a loss, going through the motions that encompassed courting without the influence of my heart. Searching for a human alpha worthy enough to be my mate, to eventually turn them was a chore that I no longer wished to take part in. Searching for an alpha vampire was even worse. I refused to fight for dominance at every turn. I craved something different, I craved something sweet.
Got a taste of the bitter in me
Now I keep it just to feel complete
Wish that I could just fall asleep
And not wake up with you haunting me
III
Margaret Carter. Abraham, Joseph, and Sarah, as she then preferred to be called, certainly approved of her. An alpha female, the would-be queen in Wessex forever changed and yet the same by the turn of the 11th century. To appease them, I courted her. I got to know her and realized that she was truly a gift to this world, I loved her. Unfortunately, to me she would only be a friend. It was not an amicable parting and one I would never hear the end of. Peggy has been a thorn in my side ever since and deciding to give a relationship with her a try will always be one of my deepest regrets.
Make-believe, telling me that everything will be alright
But all I see is you
IV
Over the centuries I have worn many hats, masqueraded as a jack of all trades. The year was 1945 and most humans were still ignorant to the world around them. Unfortunately, a faction of Nazis had infiltrated creature ranks. Namely, the witches. Relations between creatures had already been strained for centuries. Skirmishes have led to death and destruction, culminating in the wars between vampires and witches, the isolation of daemons. With this group of witches donning red and black, hellbent on wiping my kind out, we had no choice but to act. I fought alongside my father and grandfather under the guise of World War 2 soldiers from America. A turncoat betrayed us, my father and grandfather were captured before being taken across the Italian border. The rage I continuously held at bay was released and I went against the human given orders I was supposed to be following. How could I not? They had my loved ones, my precious people, and were doing gods knows what to them. I tossed myself from a plane to rescue my family. My anguish at finding them not in Azzano fueled my fists and the shield I carried at my back. I burned the facility in Kreischberg to the ground and came back to camp with soldiers of all backgrounds. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”, they would say, rejoicing in their rescue. I searched high and low for Abraham and Joseph with the help of my merry men. Brave soldiers who agreed to help me defeat the Nazis, brave men who reminded me so much of the Howling Commandos I ran with in England when I was a spy in Abraham and Joseph’s game in Queen Elizabeth’s court. My merry men and I had no real name for ourselves, but the bond was sure and true. They were the ones who helped me bring my father and grandfather back to Ireland to be laid to rest when the witches’ spells and torture took their lives. They helped me and the rest of my clan heal for a time before their human lifespans ended. What they couldn’t help was my mother’s rage, I could not either. Sarah’s decimation of the witch ranks had already been known throughout the creature history. Her rage would not abate for decades to come.
I could climb another mountain
I could swim another sea
Fall apart again if you were next to me
‘Cause it was all for you
V
Once the world was full of wonders, but it belongs to humans now. We creatures have all but disappeared; daemons, vampires, and witches. Hiding in plain sight, fearful of discovery, ill at ease with even each other. But in every ending, there is a new beginning. My father said that to me a few days before he was captured along with my grandfather. He was right then. That sentiment still rings after all this time.
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The year is 2024 and today, I go by Steve Rogers. A man living through yet another era, a vampire who has donned yet another hat. A doctor of sorts, more of an academic if I do say so myself. My interests have led me to a rare book and manuscript store not far from St. Joseph’s University here in New York City. I enjoy coming here. Sometimes though, I can’t always find it. The store has an uncanny habit of only appearing when I need it. Sometimes on Montague and other times on Smith, like it is today. It’s a quaint little place, not an overwhelming amount humans paying patronage to the establishment at the moment. Creatures on the other hand are very present, but only those who hold pretty liberal ideals like myself. But, wait a moment… that scent. Who is that?
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I look around the room from my seat at a table hidden from prying eyes to see a beautiful brunet. His hair curls at the nape of his neck, the dip in his chin below pink lips that beg to be kissed. Those piercing irises that mimic the ebb and flow of the tides call to me. His robust build brings a smile to my face, there is strength in his stance. Surely he would be able to handle being with someone like me. The sun streaming through a window catches a shiny surface bringing his metal arm to my attention. I’m astonished by this man. He must be an alpha, especially with a scent that sings so sweetly to me as if he were a siren. A breath of fresh air amongst all these aged tomes. A sharp, cool breeze with subtle hints of eucalyptus and crisp new snow, like a moon song on a midwinter’s night. Underlying wisps of cedar and lavender working together conjuring a scene from my childhood. Reminding me of winters in Ireland, of things I had forgotten. The scent grows cooler the closer I get to this man. When I got up to be this close, I don’t remember. This creature has captured my attention wholly. I know I left pursuing alphas in the past but there’s something about him that makes me follow his path to a cafe in Brooklyn. I smile because ever since moving to America with my family, this city has made its mark on my soul.
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I watch from a distance, the corner window of the paint center across the street, as he opens books he purchased from the store. The moment he flips the first page of the first book in that stack is when I feel it, this gravitational pull toward him, toward the book. My senses are going haywire, my blood is singing for a connection it didn’t know it had. The man places a hand on the book reading from the first page, before jumping in surprise a moment after as if he had been burned. He looks around frantically and we lock eyes across the meaningless distance, through the glass. As if in a trance, I leave the center and head straight for this mysterious man. My blood is still singing, his scent fills my nostrils again as I enter the cafe. There is something different about him now, the aroma of burning wood laden with that eucalyptus and lavender tinges the air around us. Could it be? This man, this witch, is not an alpha but an omega. I am irrevocably drawn to him, I must talk to this precious creature. I want, no, I need to know more.
Got a taste of the sweeter in me
Now I keep it just to feel complete
Wish that I could just fall asleep
And wake up with you next to me
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