AN: I am re-uploading the original Battle For Love. This is the content from the very first draft. Enjoy. :)

The Battle For Love: A Werewolf Romance


Parents. Weird, isn't it? We all have them. A common bond that unites every being together . Sure, you may be saying, "No, I don't. I don't have a mother. Or a father. Or either." But seriously, you do.

We all do.

The very fact that we are alive is a testament that two people joined together. Whether through love, marriage, teenage 'accidents', rape, or doctors working their magic, every living person is a combination of two other people: our parents.

Despite this fact, this common trait, we each have wildly different experiences with our parents.

Some parents are not there, leaving the child without experience. Some parents are there in the worse way possible, leaving the child wishing the parent had not been there. Yet others form actual relationships, friendships even with the ones who gave them life.

The contrast between families is extreme, to say the least. Even within families, children can have a different relationship with their same parents.

There is the favorite or the black sheep, the standard of perfection and the failure. No matter how much we love or hate them, or how much we are loved or hated by them, we carry them within us, just as they carry their parents within them.

Sometimes we get the traits we love: those lips, those hips, those eyes, those smiles.

Sometimes we get the ones we despise: the nose, the toes, the skin, the grin. Even personality traits can be handed down through the generations.

Run away if you will, but you cannot escape it.

Maybe that is why some run as far and fast as they do. The runningprovides new pain and keepsminds occupied so they no longer have to worry about their past catching up tothem.

They no longer have to worry about carrying the burdens passed down from their parents.

There are days when everyone wishes to escape, to get away, but has there ever been a day when that solved the problem?

Sometimes it is possible to forget, but the only way to get away is to get over and go forward.

There is a destiny for every person. It waits to be claimed, sitting in solitude at the finish line for those whocomplete the race.

Sadly, some people never make it.

They turn around and go back to the beginning.

They stall and stay in one place, too afraid or too comfortable to go forward.

They quit and step off the course.

They fail to prepare or overestimate the race, and their body fails them.

Others get lost and try as they might, they cannot find their way back on their own.

And then there are some, they push and they push and they make it.

They sprint, they run, they trip, fall, and crawl, but they still pursue.

They fight.

They do not know when the finish line will show up, but they push until they find it, believing it exists.

They may have moments of weakness and of doubt, but they keep going. They may take a break or quit for a moment, but they come back.

They fight until they seize their destiny.

Love is a battlefield. Those who decide to play find out it is not a little game. Lives are lost, hearts are broken, and dreams can be destroyed.

But when love is on the line, only those who stop short of their destiny can say,

"It isn't worth it."

"Wonderful. I think it's ready," Era said handing the essay back to his twin sister, Alia.

Half asleep, she rolled over with a groan and snatched it from his hands. She took one lazy look at the paper and swatted it at her brother's head.

"I liked it, too. I just hope it's good enough," she said with a yawn.

It was nearly three in the morning, and their appearance looked like it.

Alia was sprawled on her brother's bed while he sat squinting at his computer screen. His day clothes were stiff and soiled from his football practice earlier that afternoon. Mud was firmly attached to his jean pants as he eagerly wrote his own essay.

Sure, they technically had all summer to fill out their college applications and send them in, but these two were never ones to procrastinate.

So he ran a frustrated hand over his short blonde hair and squeezed his bright blue eyes shut hoping he would see clearly once he opened them again.

No such luck. Fortunately, he had just finished and had only to find the print button.

"Okay, Alia. I need you to proof it," his masculine voice laden with fatigue rasped out.

When there was no reply, he looked over to see her short, white blonde hair flipped and spiked in every direction. Her plaid pajama shorts and black tank top were heavily wrinkled from use.

In contrast to her clothes, her face was completely serene and peaceful. Her normally large hazel eyes were shut, occasionally twitching in movement with her dreams. Her sweet lips, normally filled with a sly smile were slightly parted as she breathed delicately.

Yes, she was asleep.

"ALIA!" Era shouted as he wacked her over the head with his report.

She snorted a bit and rolled over, but did not wake up. Era groaned and shut off his computer and bedroom lights. After eighteen years of living with his sister, he knew there was no waking her up after she fell asleep.

"I swear, you could sleep through the rapture. The creation of the world. The extinction of all the dinosaurs. The birth of your children," Era mumbled as he wondered into her room.

He continued his list as he peeled off his shirt and fell lazily onto her bed. They were best friends as well as twins. Swapping rooms was never an issue.

They used to sleep in the same bed, but Alia always seemed to have temperamental dreams. For his own safety, Era decided many years ago to stay in separate beds.

And rooms, if possible.

True, most werewolves were rather high-strung, but some were definitely more so than others.

Era may have inherited his father's looks, but he carried his mother's nature. Alia, on the other hand, had their father's hair trigger.

She was always prepared and on guard for sneak attacks and pranks. She loved life and always brightened every room in an instance. She was one of those carriers:always bringing good luck and happiness with her wherever she went.

She was sweet, but she definitely had a sour center. Not sour as in bad fruit, or nasty, but more of an intense, flavorful, in your face character.

She knew how to defend herself and those she cared about. Just like her mother, Alia was a firecracker at heart.

Era, well, he was more of a large puppy. Very patient, he always observed a situation before stepping in: he never, ever jumped on in.

He would usually try to find a peaceful way to work things out. He was more human than wolf, as the other pack members say.

He was full of self-control and self-discipline, always able to keep his wolfish impulses under his direction.


If anyone dared to push him far enough, they knew he had no problem fully relinquishing his human side.

When he went wolf, he went full wolf, and in that state, he was unstoppable.

He was born, raised, and trained to be an alpha wolf.

He fully exceeded everyone's expectations and for this, no one gave him any problems for his human behavioral tendencies.

At least, no one did any more.