Hello everyone! So I'm revamping this story and hope you all aren't too angry at me! I was reinvigored and am now super excited to get this going in the right direction! Anywho! Feedback is greatly appreciated and PLEASE let me know what you think and if you followed the original! Thanks guys!

- KS

I'm entirely aware that I'm adopted. It was never a secret, it was never a taboo topic. My parents told me when I was about 9 and it's just been kind of a fact since then. Was I ever interested in finding out about them? Absolutely. I mean, you turn furry every so often and you think I wouldn't want to know a thing or two about them? Don't get me wrong, I love my parents to death but finding out they aren't the ones that birthed me was a little upsetting. Oh, I bet you're wondering about the furry thing huh? I'm a lycanthrope, better known as a werewolf. No, I don't have to turn on the full moon, I just get a little moody; yes, silver does affect me but I won't turn into a pile of dust or anything, it's just not very good for me; and yes, I am pretty badass.

My parents knew they were going to have to tell me what I was eventually. However, they didn't think I was going to change as early as I did. I'm eighteen years old but I changed when I was fourteen. Apparently that's not normal… but I mean the werewolf thing in general is a bit abnormal but I digress.

My parents got a hold of my birth parents recently per my request, they had never tried to find me so I was bitter at first and didn't want to talk to them after my initial change. I'm a bit more mature I'd say now though so I asked my parents to give them a call. My parents are what they described as "keepers" they aren't needed too often but basically they keep the pups that for one reason or another the actual parents cannot, whether it's because of death, sickness, war, etc.

My birth parents are apparently going to come and teach me control or something along those lines according to my keepers. Personally, I think I'm fine the way I am but, according to my mother, I don't really have a choice in the matter.

"Stag! Get your butt down here!"

I groaned heavily at the sound of my mother screaming at me. Sitting up, I gave my room a cursory glance before actually getting out of my bed. Messy, but not too messy, and just like I left it the night before. Fantastic. I got out of bed and threw on a tank top and some shorts, then jogged downstairs to see what my mom wanted from me.

"You called?" I said, as I entered the kitchen and started munching on an apple.

My mom turned around and gave me the old once over, "What time did you get home last night?" she was obviously at least kind of satisfied because she turned around and continued frying… something.

I shrugged, "I think around 1 or 2. I locked the doors when I got in right?"

She nodded, "Yes. You did. Thank you for remembering." We continued on in relative silence after that, it wasn't uncomfortable thought, just relaxed. My mother and I have always gotten along pretty well, even when I found out she wasn't actually my mom. She asked if I wanted to continue to call her mom or if I wanted to call her by her actual name then, Riley. I still call her mom.

What felt like 10 minutes later but was probably only 2 my dad walked through the back door. He looked at the two of us and frowned, "We need to talk." He then continued into the living room and my mom and I, timidly, followed right behind him. Dad was a different story, not a very sentimental or emotional man in an kind of way but I knew if I ever needed something he would be there.

We all sat down and he looked at the two of us, "So Stag… your birth parents are going to be here in a little while…" he let the sentence trail off, not knowing what else to say.

I sat on the couch and looked out the window, not knowing if I should be scared or excited. I decided for evasive. "Alright. Do you think I have time to go to the beach for awhile beforehand? Clear my mind a bit." I more stated than asked. Without really waiting for a response I made my way up the stairs to my room and looked at myself in the mirror. My wavy golden brownish blonde hair that falls to my midsection, my dark brown almost black eyes, my tan skin, and petite frame. Typical southern California girl, or so everyone says. I was about to meet the people that gave me these characteristics. Sighing, I quickly changed into a bikini and grabbed my iPod. I bolted out of the house and made my way the half block to the beach. It's been amazing, living where we do; San Diego, California, can't get much better than that. The beach has become kind of my home away from home, when I'm angry or upset I run it, when I'm thoughtful or sad I walk it, and when I'm trying to delay the inevitable I slowly meander up and down and then build a sandcastle. It's worked for me thus far in my life.

Hours later I started to make my way back to my house, my feet may or may not have been dragging. When I was about a block away I picked up on a smell that wasn't normally around this neighborhood. Other werewolves. I know for a fact I'm the only werewolf in a 4 miles radius. Automatically my proverbial hackles were up and I was ready for a fight. I looked down at my short shorts and my tiny bikini top and realized this wasn't really going my way exactly. Oh well, maybe they'll underestimate me.

I opened the door to my house and was met by 6 sets of unfamiliar eyes. They were all very strong alpha males and females and my hackles were raised to a point I didn't know they could get too. "Uh..Mom… ?" I looked to my mother for an explanation before I started throwing furniture or bolted. Good old fight or flight reflex at it's best.

My mother, oblivious to anything that was going on, smiled at me, "Stag! You've been gone way longer than we expected but good timing! Everyone just got here about 5 minutes okay!" I think my mouth twitched into some semblance of a smile, "Oh goodie." It was the best I could manage. Mom gestured to two of the four adults, "Tris, these are your birth parents; William and Bella," she gestured to one of the guys in the room, "this is your oldest brother John," she moved to the other two adults, "these are your birth parents' close friends; Ethan and Whitney," and finally, "and this is their oldest son, Stanton." To my astonishment, my mother didn't even seem out of breath after that mouthful of an introduction.

I looked over all of them carefully, still not sure if I should make a dash for the door or stay and hear them out. I was also curious as to why the non-family members were present but I'm sure someone would tell me. My urge to run away was starting to win out and my birth parents could obviously tell and so, without so much as a glance in anyone's direction, Stanton and John sat down and made themselves as not imposing as was possible for two 6' plus guys and Ethan and Whitney excused themselves to walk down to the water. I watched the two of them until they were too far away to do anything. Ethan was tall, around 6'4" with dark brown hair and startling ice blue eyes. Whitney on the other hand, was around 5'8" with long pale blonde hair and brown eyes. They both gave me stunning smiles as they passed me out the door. I felt star struck and was immediately disappointed in myself.

Turning back to the group, I heaved a sigh and, giving the four werewolves left in the room a wide berth, sat down on my father's chair. "We'll just give you all some space." My mother said and pulled my dad upstairs. Giving them a look, I inwardly cringed and slowly looked back at the people that were my parents.

My mother, Bella, was about 5'6" with long dirty blonde hair and green eyes. She was tan, like myself, and very fit for someone that I knew was not as young as she looked. My father on the other hand, William, had black hair and dark brown eyes. He was around 6'4" and looked like he could lift a minivan without even flinching, which he could. John, this supposed brother of mine, was maybe 6'2" with thick light brown hair and blue eyes. I couldn't help but glancing periodically in the last persons' direction though. Stanton was as tall as his father, 6'4", with dirty blonde hair. He was definitely built like a werewolf, strong, and had the most beautiful eyes; one ice blue and the other light grey.

Bella waited for Ethan and Whitney to be out of earshot and then turned to me, "So Stag… I believe we have some things to discuss with you." I literally laughed out loud at that one, "Well THAT'S an understatement."