A/N: PLEASE READ THIS!

This is a story that runs parallel to 'Shattered Sunrise'; I would recommend reading that first, as this could spoil parts of that plot if you intend to go on and read it. But both make sense as stand-alone stories.

Basically, this is the story of a pack of werewolves, spanning twenty-four years, told from various points of view as different characters' lives become the focus of the story; their triumphs, tragedies and the loves that hold them together through it all.

You'll notice I've finally worked out how to use those divider lines. So no more 'xox's in the middle of the page lol

To those of you who followed me here from 'Shattered Sunrise' – thanks and I hope you enjoy this! You'll recognise most of the characters, this includes the bits of their story that didn't come up.

White Wolf: Part 1

1984

Deandra Anderson

I never believed in love at first sight.

I mean, I accepted it as a literary technique, never scoffed at those who claimed it had only taken one glance to know they wanted to spend their life with somebody. I knew it had happened to my parents, but still…I never thought it would happen to me.

I was fourteen and sulking on the day I fell in love.

I hadn't wanted to move to Canada. I hadn't wanted to leave my home, my friends, my life and come across an ocean to live with my grandparents, the only remnant of how I had lived before the little brother who was currently doing whatever was in his power to annoy me. Cayne was four years old with angel dimples and a halo of blonde hair, my grandparents' darling. I didn't care so much about that as the fact they'd left me to babysit him while they were out, Grandpa to meet up with friends and Gran to have tea with one of her societies. God, even my grandparents had more of a social life than me.

It wasn't fair.

"Life isn't, Deandra," Gran had told me sharply when I complained. "But it's hardly more fair for your brother than it is for you." You can't fight with Gran. It's only frustrating, because she never ever admits that she may be wrong, and also my parents made me promise I wouldn't. So I just sighed. And sulked.

So there I was, an Irish girl in Canada forced to look after my baby brother, struggling to keep my temper as he ran around the house with a football screaming. But when he burst into my bedroom the third time, I snapped. "Go out and play in the back garden!" I screamed. "Leave me alone! For God's sake, Cayne –"

I stopped. I was shaking too hard to speak, felt the wave of terror wash over me so that it mixed with the fury, threatened to overflow, burst out of me. My brother stared at me with wide green eyes, silent for the first time that entire day as he stared at me.

It was his eyes, I think, that saved him. That innocent, confused gaze had me heaving in great breaths, trying to calm down, forcing all my anger away into blankness. I wouldn't change. I wouldn't hurt him. Eventually the shaking stopped, and I sunk down on my bed, panting. Thank God, thank God, I chanted over and over even as my temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache.

But I hadn't changed. I hadn't hurt Cayne.

"'Andra?" I opened my eyes to look straight into his as he leant over me, chubby face concerned and bewildered. Relieved beyond words, I reached out and pulled him into my lap, held him close. He was safe. I breathed in his scent – grass and mud and little boy – and thanked God once more. "'Andra's burning me!" he giggled, wriggling out of my grasp. I let go at once and he slid to the floor.

"Go play outside, Cayne," I told him, calm now. "And please, please don't come into my bedroom again." He nodded, flashed those adorable dimples at me in a smile before skipping out, and I lay back on my bed with closed eyes. If I'd hurt him…

My situation: I was a third generation werewolf, only recently phased for the first time. My parents belonged to a pack in Ireland who made a life out of hunting down vampires, destroying them. My Grandpa had made the decision to stop changing a while ago, and was slipping into the routine with the rest of his former pack as grandfathers and humans. Mam and Dad had decided to send my brother and I to live with our grandparents when I hit my teens, knowing that soon I might change and there would be nobody to look after Cayne. They didn't want their life for me; they hoped that by sending me away, I might escape the phasing.

But I guess it was too late, because only days after arriving in Canada I changed into a werewolf. Grandpa could explain it to me, but he wouldn't run with me. I hadn't even met any human friends yet to hang out with, so all in all it was turning into one crappy summer, not to mention the babysitting duty.

At least I was learning to control myself. Grandpa had told me a horrible story about a member of the pack, years ago, who'd lost control and mauled his own best friend. I still shuddered to think of it; what if I ever did that? I'd come so close to losing control this afternoon. So, so close.

My thoughts were interrupted by a wail from downstairs that I'd have heard even if I didn't have extra-sensitive hearing. With a sigh I swung my legs off my bed and went to see what Cayne was making a fuss about.

"Cayne?" I found him in the back garden – or yard, I supposed – sobbing his little eyes out. "What's the matter?" I glanced past him to the hole in the chain link fence, looked beyond that to where my brother's ball lay innocently on next-door's scrubby lawn. "It's all right, Cayne. We'll get your ball back." I studied the fence; realized the ball was too far away to reach. I considered climbing over, rejected that on the basis I wasn't going to do that in the dress I was wearing. Besides, I'd got into trouble before climbing into somebody's garden to retrieve a ball Cayne had lost. With a sigh, I took his hand in mine. "Come on, Cayne. Let's go next door and ask them."

Gran had told me this morning that the neighbour – one Peter Delmont – had returned late last night from a family funeral. He had been away three weeks, so it was just my luck that Cayne should throw his ball through the fence today.

A single car stood in the driveway, but otherwise the house appeared lifelessly silent. As I pressed the doorbell, I heard it echo in the house, hoped that Peter Delmont was in or I'd have a snuffling, whimpering Cayne on my hands for the rest of the day. God help me. We waited, Cayne fidgeting at my side, until I heard light footsteps, bolts being drawn back.

The door creaked open an inch.

I hadn't expected to be confronted with a little boy. I decided that this wasn't Peter Delmont, as Gran had never talked about him like he was a ten year-old. "Um…hello? I was wondering if I could get back my little brother's ball. It got into your back garden…yard."

The boy stared at me a moment.

"I'm from next door," I offered. He nodded once, eyes flickering past me to Cayne. "Um…" I was running out of ideas. "Is anybody else in?" A nod. Irritation rose within me, and I struggled to hold it down. Couldn't the boy talk?

"Cole, who's at the door?" Another voice. Footsteps on the stairs as the little boy – Cole? – glanced back into the house. "Who is it?"

I was still biting back annoyance when the door opened wider.

And I fell in love.

Dewayne White

When I woke up, finding my soulmate wasn't on my list of things to do. It's hardly something you plan for. But nonetheless, that afternoon when I came downstairs to see who was at the door, answered by my little brother, I looked out into the eyes of an angel.

It took less than a second for me to realize that I was in love with her.

She was the answer to every question, the reason my heart beat, the reason for the air I drew into my lungs. She held everything I was, everything I ever would be. If I had lived before this moment, the world must surely have been a pale shadow compared to this new place I found myself in. Everything was brighter, my senses on overdrive, and she was brightest of all.

I had tripped into a new, sparkling world where angels appeared on doorsteps, where one glimpse of a person could have your heart skipping in your chest and render you speechless. I could have died in that moment and still been perfectly happy, been absolutely sure that in heaven there would be a green-eyed angel. Even if I didn't end up there, everything would be all right because she would be in heaven; she would be there even if I ended up in hell.

I knew in that moment that I would do anything she ever asked of me, if it made her happy. I would become anything she wanted, as long as she allowed me to be in her presence. If she asked me to run to the other side of the earth to bring her back…a fist sized emerald, I would worry only that I might not be able to return fast enough to please her.

I was drowning in her eyes, green as emeralds, green as grass in springtime, green as…scrap that, her eyes were the definition of the word. Why would anybody ever want to look at a different colour? Except for the shining red-gold of her hair that framed her face, a halo greater than any worn by any other angel.

A soft breeze lifted those strands of fiery gold, stirring her scent so that it filled my lungs, filled my world with swirls of heaven. Perfection smelt like this, I decided. This was Paradise and Eden and Nirvana all rolled into one, only better because she was there. The girl I would do anything for. My angel.

This was where I wanted to be. Forever.

Deandra Anderson

He was staring at me, and sudden panic gripped my throat. What if he didn't like me? What if I wasn't good enough? I would change; I would become anything he wanted if it made him like me, if it meant I could be with him. Be near him so I could watch his face, hear his voice, smell the scent that rolled off his skin in waves of wonder.

I wished that I could find some way to let him know what he meant to me, tell him how I wanted to be everything to him that he was to me. I wanted to see those so serious eyes laughing, wanted to see his lips curve upwards into a smile and know that I had made him happy.

Words couldn't describe the feelings that were overflowing inside me, building until I was certain they would explode.

I would do anything for him. He was my other half, completing my heart and soul. He had unlocked my spirit, and it was his. Everything I was belonged to him, was because of him. I lived, I breathed, for him.

Everything about him was…I couldn't find a word. The black of his hair that shimmered blue where it caught the light; the deep bronze of his skin that covered each curve and line of his face; his eyes, a rich chestnut that words couldn't describe. My stomach flipped, twisted in knots, and I knew I could never be good enough for him. But I could try; I would do anything if it meant I could see him smile. Smile for me.

The silence stretched on. I would have been happy staying there, but he would think me crazy. I didn't want him – the angel, the god – to think me mad. "My name is Deandra," I murmured.

"Deandra," he repeated softly, and I panicked again. What if he didn't like it? "I'm Dewayne."

It was perfect. "Dewayne." I savoured the word on my lips, sure he must think me an idiot and unable to stop the flush that rose to my cheeks. He kept on staring at me with those depthless eyes, meeting my gaze with an intensity I was sure I was imagining. Dewayne. I had fallen in love with Dewayne. Sweet Jesus, could I have ever been more wrong about the fallibility of love at first sight?

Love. I was in love. But how could such a little word convey the depth of all that I was feeling? How could this moment, the way I felt right now, even be described? It was…it was everything.

A small, irritating, insistent tugging on my hand drew me back from my living dream and I glanced down in annoyance at Cayne. What did he want? Couldn't he see…? I almost melted as Dewayne's voice cut through my exasperation, smooth as velvet and the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

"Cole, would you take…"

"Cayne," my brother supplied eagerly.

"…Cayne to get his ball? Back yard, Cole." The boy glanced up at his brother just once before leading Cayne away.

Dewayne and I were left staring at each other.

The breeze whispered through the tops of the trees behind our houses, setting the leaves to singing. It brought with it a thousand little sounds – children's voices, the quiet rumble of the main road on the other side of the estate – as life passed by, the world turning on even as ours stopped.

"Deandra…" My eyes flickered down to the hand Dewayne held out to me, then back up to his gaze disbelievingly. Could he mean…?

I reached out tentatively and laid my hand in his, the breeze catching my hair as I did so to blow it forward around my face. Blushing, I pushed it back with my free hand, only to find Dewayne staring at me with an unreadable emotion on his gorgeous face. His fingers tightened on mine, and it was only then that I realized how hot his skin was; it was as scaldingly warm as my own.

Confusion colouring my face, my eyes snapped up to meet his and found a fierce joy in them. "Run with me," he commanded. And I knew.

I would run with him anywhere, anytime. Because I was in love with him. Because he was a werewolf, and he was my mate. Because I was his, too, and we would run together for the rest of our lives.

Dewayne White

The breeze stirred her hair, blew her scent towards me again but this time something about it caught my attention. Underlying the beautiful smell of her was another, more familiar that my body recognised and reacted to before I could work out what it was.

My hand reached forward of its own accord, my lips murmured her name, and I was flooded with joy as she moved to lay her fingers in mine. The instant she touched me, I knew.

Like a fire, the point of origin our joined hands, flames raced through my blood so engulf my heart in a roaring inferno. Fire meeting fire, an explosion of souls neither one of us could have resisted, because she was a werewolf. My mate.

"Run with me." The words slipped from my lips without thought, the most natural thing in the world to say, and although she did not speak I knew her answer. Hand in hand, we headed silently for the forest, moving as quickly as we could deep into the woods where the world was quiet and nobody could intrude.

I turned my back as she removed her clothes, yet was still tortuously aware of the sound of her dress sliding up over her skin, of the material falling softly to the ground, of the soft crackle as her bare feet against the dried leaves as she stepped free. Our heartbeats pounding in unison, even that small distance between us felt like a gaping void and my fingers twisted in my clothing in my hurry to rid myself of it. Free at last, I gave in to the overwhelming desire to change.

A surge of emotions, flickers of thoughts and memories, and I knew I was home.

I'd shared my mind before in the form of a wolf; I'd been part of a pack for enough time, albeit only of three, to know what it was like to share all thoughts and feelings. But this was different entirely. Nothing held back, nothing hidden, this was an intimacy such as I had never imagined, a bond between us of hearts and minds, and souls.

This was what being whole was like.

Love freely reciprocated as we searched each other's minds, learning more about each other in a moment than most pairs would learn in a lifetime. I skimmed through her memories, utterly aware of the image at the forefront of her mind; myself, from her point of view, with as much love pouring towards that one picture as I knew must be flowing to a similar image in my own mind.

Except there was no I or you; there was only we.

We weren't alone any more.

A wave of sadness washed over me from Deandra, and I cursed myself at having brought up that memory for her to see, cursed myself for making her feel that grief.

Not your fault, I heard. So sorry.

It's over, I thought in reply. Nothing I could do.

Selfish, she thought, and that was swiftly followed by a wave of remorse and guilt at having thought that. I considered it now, wondered if I had been right in my initial judgement.

Had my father really been so selfish? I had certainly thought so, after he killed himself rather than live without my mother. But if he had felt like this – been this much in love with her – how could that have been selfish?

No, and I felt her horror. Never hurt yourself. You mustn't.

You'll never die. I felt sick at the thought of it.

Her amusement cheered me as if it were my own. I'll promise never to die, if you promise not to hurt yourself if anything ever did happen to me.

We'll both promise, I assured her. If anything happened to me, I couldn't bear the idea of her ending her own life. But then, if I had to live without her…

We promise never to die, then. Whether the thought came from her, or me, I didn't know and it didn't matter. We were one and the same; two halves of a whole.

Run with me, we thought.

We ran, ran faster than we have ever done before, and it was ecstasy knowing that we moved together, moved as one, two separate bodies of the same entity.

Spend eternity with me.

Forever.

An agreement; as if an agreement had to be made.

A/N: Simultaneous imprinting. Got to love them. Please review and let me know what you think! xxx :)