Alpha Noah

y life used to be normal, boring even. The most interesting part of my day was when Sam would come over and tell me about all the hopeless romantics that would fall at he

to our records, have been working at the mail office in your town for three years. Surely you have more skill to deal with sensitive material that comes in than them," he tells me. "Accident? What kind of accident?" I question. The worst incident we had with mailing was when a vengeful ex tried to send someone a dead animal, which shut us down for days after it was investigated by the authorities. I've never dealt with sensitive material that affects an Alpha before. Noah blinks a few times, before he scrambles to explain himself. "A substance was spilt over my hands recently when I opened a package. It burnt me." I glance down at his hands. All I see is perfect, undisrupted skin. "Was it an assassination attempt?" I ask. It feels inappropriate to ask my Alpha that, but I'm curious, and if I do take a job here, which is unlikely, I would like to know what I would be working with. In no way have I gone to university to deal with hazardous substances, which means he simply wishes to put me in front of him. "It's not uncommon as an Alpha for something like that to happen," is all he says. It's cryptic, but I get the point. But who would want to kill Noah, when all he's done is been, well, harmonious, as per this Pack's values? There are crazed people in this world, I must remember. People like Cian, who give thousands of dollars for no reason. And maybe try kill an Alpha. "Look, I'm honoured Alpha, I truly am, however, I'm not qualified for a job like that. I don't know how you found me, but I can't take this job. There are mail personal more experienced than me," I tell him firmly. If anyone else heard me right now, they would be disgusted that I was turning down an Alpha, and a job like this. But I know I wouldn't be skilled at it...Plus, I don't have the confidence to leave the house and start a life in this part of the Pack, which I know little about. There's a flash in those emerald eyes, and for a moment I swear I see a muscle in his jaw tick, as if he can't believe I would turn him down. "I would pay you significantly. Put any reasonable offer on the table and I'll accept. You'll also be offered free accomodation here," he explains. There's a flicker of desperation on his face, which is quickly smothered by that impassive, professional expression which hasn't failed to intimidate me yet. I'm just...me. So why is he so keen to have me work here? I fidget in my seat, finding my next words. "Can I ask why you chose me for this job? I come from one of the smallest towns in this Pack, where we probably get under fifty parcels and letters a day. I can offer you next to nothing." "I've offered this job to numerous people, but none have accepted. They come from b