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        𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑨 𝑭𝑬𝑾 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵,

        Kareem walked along the pavements of Atlanta with his Australian-mixed Sheppard since freshman year college, Spots. The city streets were filled with smelly bars and nightlife activities that kept the city alive and flourishing for another hundred years. Techno music booming from a nearby nightclub he cruised by vibrated his organs and caused a painful ringing in his sensitive ears.

        A drunk woman and her friend, both dressed in skimpy clothing and colorful hair, struggling to carry their own weight pushed past Kareem to throw up—and missed—in the overflowing trashcan.

        "Girl! You just running through anybody like the Tomb Raider." She stepped over the puke displayed at their feet, sending an apologetic smile while pulling back her friend's hair. "Sorry about that. She just turned twenty-one and got a little out of control. You know how it be."

        She did a double take, confirming the man walking his dog was the exact face exploited on TV, billboards, and in the background of artists' stories, and gasped.

        Kareem gave a nod, ignoring her excitement like it wasn't anything new because it wasn't. "It's all good. Ya'll stay safe out here, and happy birthday." The birthday girl attempted to thank him but punk filled her words. His nose riled up in disgust and went on minding his business even after the somewhat sober friend tried for his attention. Spots followed along.

        With his mother positioned as the mayor of the City of Atlanta, Kareem was used to the attention. Forced to attend formal events in necktie suits, shaking a variety of old cold and unwashed hands, endless smiling in public settings even behind the cameras as they never knew who was watching, as his mother always preached. Constantly seen in the public's eye with barely anything to hold onto for himself, taught Kareem to preserve his privacy as much as he could.

        But the attention alone didn't come from his mother's political position or his father's widely known record label—it came from his name. His blood. His ancestors. His place as a founding family member and descendant of wolves.

        In 1906, a massacre in Brownsville took place during the rise of elections. A series of news articles fabricating gruesome stories of Black men raping and murdering White women without evidence or records of said words were published daily and stoked racial fears amongst White readers. White mobs from all over Georgia came together and burned over thousands of homes and thriving businesses, and brutally murdered so many innocent souls that some never made the final death count—missing still till this day.

        Violence went on for days and no one came to their aid to stop the madness. Even those sworn to protect civilians by law joined the slaughter and kept their stations locked down so folks had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to file a report or gain a sense of security. They were on their own as they had been and would always be.

        It wasn't until the night of a full moon where eight women came together in a blood sacrifice, turning their husbands, brothers, and sons, into a hundred forty-five-pound flesh-eating wolves.

They tore through every White life in return for those whose screams echoed to dust as they were trapped and burned alive—running every White being out of town. By sunrise, they were no longer within the borders of Atlanta. The wolves were whole and sound-minded; men with the ability to phase with the help of the full moon which gave them birth.

        With this blessing, they served and protected the people making Atlanta one of the few but first Brown and Black-dominated capital and cities in all of America. Even after the passing of desegregation laws, White people were too afraid to step foot within the borders outside of typical white behavior who lived for the thrill. But even then, they were still and finally the minority.

        Atlanta claimed its rightful title: Black Wall Street. A home where blackness forever thrived and is held in the same class as White peers outside the capital. It's the place to be somebody where you're worth being.

        But as the years went on, came no need for protection. People started losing faith in the reality of men turning into wolves known as Protectors of The Moon.

        Despite its history taught every year in school, segments on the news, festivals and holidays commencing their bravery; museums featuring in-depth stories and preserved history from around the time, even sculptures of the eight women huddled around a wolf built at the center of the city park and campus grounds—they were just bedtime stories. A mystic secret, a whisper in the air to protect their identities. But the real ones knew. Locals and day ones knew its truth.

        However, the unique gene passed on for generations among the male descendant of the eight women. Kareem was part of the gene as was his father and young brother JJ. Bounded to the full moon of every month.

        There were pros and cons to being a shapeshifter. Cons: The unexplained anger. The huge ass appetite. Weird bestiality questions or stupid dog-related nicknames stuck until graduation. Obeying the Alpha over one's intuition and sticking to the wolf code. Pros: Heightened senses. Withstanding durability. Healing faster than the average human being. Overall healthy and rarely sick. And much much more.

        After tying and tossing the baggy of dog poop, a unique scent wafted under Kareem's nose. Sweet. Intoxicating. Almost unbearable, his heart ached. Far different than anything his sensitive nose have picked up before. A scent not even Spots could detect.

        Kareem whipped around his head where he discovered a woman two lights away, on the same side of the street.

        She wore a brown maxi skirt with ruffles along the bottom styled with a brown long-sleeved shirt short at the mid, a color too close to her skin tone that anyone would double-take to be sure she wasn't naked. Her back faced him, tapping her fingers along the rhythm of music booming through her headphones. And it was reaaaaally loud. Deafening.

        He couldn't recall the last time he was this desperate to view a woman's face. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, nails deep in his palms, intensively burning a hole through the back of her head as if she would magically feel his stare.

        Turn around. Look this way. Look behind you. Look at me.

        As though Kareem's inner voice successfully transported, she spun around. His excitement was cut short when she stood sideways at the cross light, waiting patiently for the walk sign to turn white. He leaned along the edge of the sideway longing to see more than the glistening of gloss on her lips, but she kept turning her head and the wind purposely curtained her face with her unruly curls shaping her face. He groaned.

        A scent soo fucking good he didn't realize the blood rushing to his dick until he peered down at Spots licking his fingers. "What is it, girl? Now you're in the mood for affection? Just spoiled rotten." Kareem knelt to pet her spotted coat and calm his throbbing dick.

        Why am I suddenly intrigued by this woman?

        Kareem had been through his fair share of women, most wanting him because he was a founding family member which came with its benefits in Atlanta, and because he was good-looking. Not to get over his head, but he shole wasn't ugly. Nowhere near the definition. Not even a spec. If he stood next to Morris Chestnut, he'd get away with being his son but with a slimmer facial structure, a better hairline, hair, and a septum piercing. The pretty boy, his pack called him.

        But throughout all the women he fucked with which wasn't many to begin with, neither have made his dick hard in seconds. And just by a scent alone.

        A car full of reckless young adults living up the nightlife laughing and horribly singing out the rolled-down windows, failed to decrease their speed at the red light. Just as the walkway flashed white the woman started crossing.

        The car was heading in her direction.

        Kareem's heart lunged in his stomach. "Aye!" He tried for her attention, but no appeal. "Aye, watch out!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. Such power should've been enough to scare her little ass as it did the people around.

        She did not budge. Their speed increased. Kareem was now panicking.

        "HEY!"

        She's still tapping and bobbing her head to the music.

        "Why the fuck isn't she paying attention? She don't hear me?" Kareem worryingly expressed.

        Moving only on instincts after commanding Spots to stay put, Kareem pushed off his feet toward her. He was scared he wouldn't make it in time. That the car would beat him to her and witness a horrendous death.

        I must protect her.

        His mind was screaming at him to run faster and harder than he'd ever had in his entire life. It was as though his surroundings have slowed and nothing else mattered but that faceless woman, sick to his stomach in the deepest pit. And for someone who had never been sick in his entire life—it's serious.

        Close enough to touch, Kareem reached out and pulled the woman into his arms. Securing her hold, he pushed them off the streets just seconds from the car making an impact. The fucking nerve they had to beep their horn and curse at them for being irresponsible.

        Kareem's back slammed the hard ground with the woman on top. Thank fuck. Relief flourished in his system. She's safe.

        He made contact with the frightened woman whose heart pounded in his ears like a drum. . .and his world stopped completely.

        Lips slightly parted and eyes wide with shock, Kareem took in the beautiful, and he mean fine as fuck like no other, woman. There wasn't a proper description to justify what his eyes were witnessing. Captivating. Ethereal. Perfect. She was perfect.

        It was then Kareem finally understood his fears. The desperate need to hold her forever in his arms. To protect her. The way his body reacted to the slightest touch, scent, breath, and everything that embodied this woman, was the same as seen happen before but with his pack members.

        I imprinted.

        The concept of imprinting came to be after the women of the founding families gave their lives to the men they loved for the blessing to proceed. A gift. It was so the man was given another opportunity to pay back their blessing by cherishing and protecting their imprint in any way needed. That she is safe, loved, and happy without stress and violence—a life the eight women weren't given.

        A soulmate that was made for the woman and only her.

        Kareem was the only within his age range—twenty-five—besides a few who have yet imprinted. Of course, until now.

        The pack teased him constantly about it; saying he would be an old, lonely nigga with a shriveled-up dick deprived of a woman's touch before he imprinted. It's common to imprint as early as ten and as late as thirty, but most of his packmates imprinted in high school and early college, leaving him to himself. He was beginning to believe it too. Not that he was deliberately searching for his other half but grew impatient and frustrated finding her.

        Kareem saw how the pack was with their imprints, how inseparable they were and perfect for each other, and he wanted that for himself.

        It's another reason why he kept his past relationships casual. Less difficult. Plus, Kareem knew when he met his woman whatever day it might be, he would leave his current girl for her in a heartbeat. Which he's thankfully single and hadn't been fucking with nobody's daughter, solely working on himself.

        The world started moving at its regular pace once Kareem closed his mouth and reeled himself back to earth. His imprint remained breathless, still processing the situation at hand and the speeding car still beeping and cursing.

        "Are you okay?" Kareem's voice was so soft and gentle butter could slide without interruption. He searched her for injuries and the scent of blood.

        I want to hear her voice.

        I need to hear her voice.

        He'd wondered many things. Is it soft? Husky? Raspy? Sultry? High-pitched and almost childlike? Either way, he loved it. A voice he'd yet heard became his favorite melody.

        Her honey-molten eyes shot straight to his lips as he spoke, then her hand gripped the side of her head and panicked. Instead of responding, she peeled herself off his body in search of an item she lost.

        Kareem joined her search and found her white headphones. It must've knocked off when saving her. Still in perfect condition minus a few scratches. Her scent was all over it. "Here. This what you're looking for?" He offered them to her, music still blasting through. Her taste was impeccable. Yung Diggs, a street rapper under his label. Already a perfect start.

        She said nothing. Her back was facing him, but she ignored him like he wasn't directly speaking to her.

        Kareem was sweating. He didn't know what to expect when imprinting but he didn't think she'd ignore him completely. Others seem to have it easy; their imprints couldn't wait to jump on them especially from the gravitational pull to each other, but she treated a nigga like he didn't exist. A ghost. Even after saving her life.

        He chewed at his bottom lip with nerves. He wanted to be acknowledged. I should try harder, he thought. But he also didn't want to scare her off and assume he was a towering creep.

        He opened his mouth to speak up, only to shut it, again, when she found what she was looking for. A gloomy expression struck her heart-shaped face. In her hand, she held a broken earpiece connected to a short wire with a circular piece latched on. Realizing what the shattered object was, Kareem's heart dropped in his stomach.

        Fuck me.

        She wasn't shy or quiet or intentionally ignoring him or even rude—she was deaf. And the unrecognizable earpiece was for her cochlear implant.

        Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck.

        The moment Kareem finally meets his woman, he destroys the one necessity desperately needed and cochlear sound processors were expensive as fuck. Well. . .he wouldn't know since none of his friends or family members were deaf but he could only estimate based on its design. And judging by her expression, it's a price out of her pocket.

        "Fuck. I. . ." Kareem waited until she lifted her head to continue. "I'm so soo sorry. I-I can pay! Don't matter the price, you got it."

        And he was, from the bottom of his heart, sorry. So devastated he could beg on his knees right now for forgiveness if that's what she wanted. If it would make her happy.

        Her eyes went big as he dug into his coach wallet, entrusting a stranger with his card. Money wasn't an issue and held no limits when it came to what's his. It was his sole purpose to provide for her and cater to her needs, and he was in a comfortable position where he could do so without creating a dent and unnecessary stress.

        She lowered his wallet while shaking her head no. Kareem's movement halted. Her touch was electrifying. Soft and warm. Felt like she was touching every inch of his body, and he was sure she felt electricity circulating that told her he was hers to have. She was good at hiding it and rushed for her phone shoved deep in her tote bag.

        Typing, she turned the notes screen toward him once finished.

        Kareem knew nothing about American Sign Language and when the opportunity presented itself in school, he passed it on to take Spanish assuming it wasn't something he needed. Now look at how the universe bites him back in the ass.

        "It's not your fault. It's the fucking peoples' for not paying attention to the red light! If I wasn't here when I came, I could've lost you and I just found you. I can't lose you already. But you gotta look both ways. Niggas be driving crazy around here, catching bodies left and right. You—" Kareem trailed at her furrowed brows tugging closer at each said sentence, struggling to make sense of his words beyond his heated expression and typed in her phone.

        He waited patiently and allowed himself to calm down during the process.

        It wasn't like him to anger himself over someone else's problems. This wasn't like him at all. He was more stressed about this woman almost losing her life than she was, and she didn't seem the type to make a fuss so it was his job to be angry for the both of them.

        Kareem sighed, an array of emotions weighing his shoulders. Useless, he thought to himself, I'm so fucking useless. Disappointed in himself for being neglectful toward his imprint. He had one chance to make a good impression and he's already fucking it up little by little, and on the first day.

        Nodding, he motioned toward her broken processor. "You sure I can't replace them? I feel terrible. I mean, it's not a problem. There's no shame in accepting a little help especially when the fault is mine, regardless of saving your life."

        Despite her clear refusal to accept his money, Kareem wanted to check again in case she changed her mind or didn't want to seem desperate at first. And fuck, he wanted to spend money on her. So badly his inner wolf screamed at him to shove his card in her hands.

        She made a gesture confirming all was good. She didn't want his help. She's typing again.

        Kareem was so worried about this woman's safety above all that he'd forgotten he took most of the impact to reduce any life-threatening injuries on her end. He's a quick-healing shapeshifter. Any cuts or bruises he encountered were gone the second they appeared.

        "Nah, I'm good. Not a scratch on me." Kareem confirmed while running a hand through his locs short at the bridge of his nose and reaching his tucked chain. She released a sigh of relief; thankful her savior wasn't dying anytime soon. "I'm just happy you're safe."

        He was on cloud 9. Nothing could drop him from that level once it's been reached.

        "Where you headed? Let me walk you there." Kareem offered.

        She contemplated her answer. He didn't blame her. She had to be around 5'8, still smaller than Kareem who was 6'1 and fairly built. Not over the top and hard but fit enough women were no match if a man his size was to attack them. He just wanted more time with her. More time getting to know her.

        But if she felt intimidated by his presence, then he's okay to back off so she's comfortable. . .but desperately hopes she reconsider the decision. He's not stressing about losing her and never meeting her again. Her scent alone was distinctive enough that he could find her anywhere across the globe.

"I mean, it's cool if you don't." Kareem assured her it was her decision to make and he's okay with rejection. It'll probably hurt like hell, but if it's in her best interest and what makes her feel safe, then he could take it like a champ.

        Typing away on her phone again, she turned the screen around.

        It's a five-minute walk back to his condo, two if he's pepping his steps. But the woman didn't know that and Kareem was going to soak as much time as he could to be with her. His imprint. Plus driving through the city traffic especially at night was longer than five minutes given all the narrow one-way streets and clubbers not looking both ways when stepping out.

        "Bet."

        He flashed her a charming smile, lost in her beauty, before he remembered Spots obediently waiting and whining for a command. When the road's clear, Spots came running at his whistle. The woman followed his attention and gasped, kneeling to pet her.

        "Her name is Spots." Kareem introduced. By the look, he just knew what she was asking without words.

        She smiled at the name, an 'of course' gesture given Spots' polka-dot coat. A warm, infectious smile built a tight tension in his chest. His heart skipped beats, struggling to find a rhythm to match hers. This woman was still a stranger to him—a stranger to her because he knew who she was to him—and Kareem was already whipped.

        As they're walking side by side, the woman away from the road as taught, Kareem couldn't take his eyes off her. She's so fucking pretty, was on a continuous repetition he could've broken down from malfunctioning. She would feel his stare and offer her attention, only to smile when not knowing what more he could do.

        Kareem hated the fact he couldn't communicate with her in the way he wanted but it didn't stop his attempts. And no matter what challenges came his way, he never gave up.

        He waved for her attention when other options weren't working. "What's your name?" He asked.

        A pretty name.

        "I'm Kareem."

        Alyina signed. And though Kareem knew not a slick of it, it's clear she was expressing her gratitude for meeting him.

        Kareem failed to copy the gesture.

        Alyina chuckled at his failed attempt. A light breathy but cute sound from her lips.

        He tried for her attention again after crossing the street, Kareem doing triple takes to prevent the same incident from occurring. A part of him hoped he wasn't annoying her though she didn't seem agitated at his attempt to communicate with her. She loved it even.

        "Where you from? I haven't seen you around before. You new here?"

        Due to the fact Kareem didn't spend time with the Deaf community, which was often secluded from hearing communities, would make sense as to why he hadn't imprinted yet. He doesn't know where they be hanging at. He doesn't know anyone a part of the community where he could easily squeeze himself in and socialize and whatnot. And the fact she wasn't impressed by his name, face, and presence, meant she wasn't from around. Or simply didn't care.

        She's been here for a month and he JUST now found her? I gotta get out more.

        "Born and raised."

        Kareem shrugged. "It's aight." But it was even better with her here, not that he would admit that just yet. "You in school?"

        "Oh word? Am I speaking to a future director in the making?"

        Alyina lowered her head with a flustered smile inching her lips.

        Kareem shook his head. "Long graduated with a degree in business and engineering."

        "I'm taking over one soon. My pop's company." Kareem answered and she nodded in response, in a way that wanted to know what he does for a living. "He owns one of the biggest record labels in Atlanta 'n some other shit across the country during his free time."

        Kareem hadn't thought much into his future because it was already set in stone as the eldest. The obedient son who have always done what his parents asked of him, but he did so out of love and less because of an obligation that wasn't there. Music was his breath of air. Escapism from reality. A place where his art was respected and presented among other like-minded individuals, creating a safe space for his voice to be heard.

        He have no problem taking over his pop's record label. And when push comes to shove, it's his name that will make an impact. The only that meant something to his father and to Atlanta.

        "For now, yes."

        Spots hopped in the backseat of Alyina's black Toyota Camry. Kareem plugged his address in her phone, which then she discovered wasn't that far and could've walked. Not that she said anything and drove off.

        It smells like her.

        And the floral-scented item hanging on the rear-view mirror.

        Too overwhelming and suffocating that he had to row down the window and slouch with his hands on his lap, stressing to regain his sense of mind and calm his raging dick that wanted her so bad. He's aware lust was a prominent reaction in this case. Rooted in wolves to encourage procreation. Even just looking at her was enough to set him off, worse when he had little to no control over it.

        But Kareem fought for control. He didn't want his sexual attraction toward her to overpower his senses that its mistaking his love for lust. A foundation he wanted to build with Alyina and not ruin it because his dick needed petting.

        Because Alyina couldn't pay attention to his lips while driving, Kareem remained quiet and content. Just being with her was enough.

        "Thank you for dropping me off." Kareem said as she pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building and parked in an empty spot following his directions.

        She gave a nod, smiling.

        He was tempted to invite her to his place but that would be pushing his luck. Instead, he offered an appropriate approach. "If you like, since you're new—" Alyina motioned for him to slow down. And he does. "My bad. But since you not from around, I was hoping to show you around the city. Help you settle in and show you all the lowkey spots people don't know about yet, and whatever you wanna see."

        Agreeing, Alyina gave him her phone to type in his number. He'd never typed his number in so quick one could tell a nigga was desperate, and he wasn't denying it or ashamed. He sent himself a message to save her number.

Kareem handed back her phone feeling accomplished. He waved when she did while pulling off, turning to find Spots sitting at the elevator waiting for her human to come. "Fuck." A breath he wasn't aware of finally eased out, tension all throughout his shoulders letting loose. "I can't believe I just imprinted."

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

Thank you for reading my first chapter💗 Hope you like what I have in store for this book, and the way I altered history and how Atlanta will currently be viewed with my supernatural twist. Hopefully, it wasn't as confusing. But if you need clarity for anything, please don't hesitate to ask.

But in short, 8 women sacrificed themselves for the men in the family turning them into wolves. They run out all the white people so Atlanta is a Black and Brown-Dominated capital/city. As well as a few others (we'll get to it when we do). So the whole city is thriving with blackness :]