A/N: This story is COMPLETE! It's all set and ready to go and I can update as soon as I have reviews. Hint hint Review!

My life used to be perfect. No, really—I'm not exaggerating. I, Katerina Ariadne Metaxas, was the only child of wealthy businessman Kostantinos Metaxas and we lived in a big, beautiful house in a ritzy neighborhood complete with a cook/housekeeper and I went to the most prestigious private school in the area.

I was (and still am, I would like to think) rather good looking and in great shape. I looked, if I do say so myself (and I do), great in anything from my school uniform to a bikini. I had smooth dark skin, full lips, long, curly dark hair and big hazel eyes that were more green than brown and set above high cheekbones—a gift from my Greek father, of course. Thankfully, however, I had my mother's nose (my dad's hooked, hawk-like nose looked dashing on him but would have made me look like a parrot). In addition to his good looks, my dad gave me pretty much any thing else I wanted and in all, life was just dandy.

I know you're waiting for the catch here. You're waiting for the 'but my life wasn't complete without love' or 'my father didn't have time for me' or 'the loss of my mother left a hole in my soul that had yet to be filled' or 'but I was fighting cancer, AIDS, and the common cold' or some other corny line, right? Well, sorry. There was nothing missing. I had a wonderful boyfriend named Jared, my father was always there for me, and our cook, Soula, had also been my nurse and was all the mother I could want. I was also, as I said, in great physical condition. So what's the catch?

There is no catch. My life was great and I loved it. I also worked my ass off to show my father how much I appreciated what he'd given me. I was at the top of my class, captain of the varsity soccer team and the swim team, president of the choir, county-record holder in three track and field events, secretary of the student council, vice president of our school's chapter of the National Honor Society, and an accomplished equestrienne. I spoke Greek like a native as a result of summers spent with my grandparents and fluent French, Spanish, and Italian as a result of many years of practice. I could play the piano and guitar and I planned to go to the Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs at Princeton University.

Okay, this is all great, you're thinking. Beauty, brains, money, and talent—are you trying to rub it in my face? Why are you telling me this? I'm getting there. If you still think it's too good to be true, you're wrong. It was completely true—it just didn't last as long as I thought it would. Why? Now, here's the point I'm trying to make: things go wrong in life because you do something dumb. Sometimes it's not completely your fault—fate does throw you a curve ball now and then. But when you get right down to it, when something goes wrong, it's usually your fault one way or another. And here's the best part: the more you have, the more you lose when you do fuck up.

My life started to fall apart because I did something dumb. It wasn't incredibly dumb. It's not like I walked across a freeway with my eyes closed. It wasn't even significantly dumb. It was just your average, run-of-the-mill, dumb teenager sort of dumb. And that one dumb moment ruined my perfect life.

Jared and I were at the annual homecoming bonfire, laughing and roasting marshmallows. It was common for couples to slip off to the woods every now and then for a moment of privacy, but Jared and I never had. Why? Because I was a good girl. It had taken ages for Jared to even kiss me. But this once, this one time, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and have a good time.

So when Jared slipped his arm around my waist and nodded toward the trees, I grinned and kissed him to let him know I was game. He seemed startled at first—well, so was I, really—but then he grinned back and seized my hand, tugging me into the trees. I followed eagerly, feeling adventurous and bold. I ignored the little voice in my head that said my father wouldn't approve. When it persisted, I calmly told it to go to hell.

Rule number one, folks: be nice to your little voice. The little voice is your friend. And it's usually right, too. Anyway. Jared and I stumbled blindly through the trees, giggling like the pair of dumb teenagers that we were, and collapsed together in a grassy clearing. The events that followed I'd rather not commit to paper, if it's all the same to you. I was seventeen, he was eighteen, we were alone in the woods—you get the general idea. Before things could get really exciting, however, I heard a noise that was definitely not coming from Jared.

"Jared, wait," I whispered, pulling away. He grunted and continued kissing me. I was fully prepared to forget the noise and focus on Jared, but the noise came again—closer, this time. "Jared, stop. I heard something."

"It's nothing, Ari." My friends called me Ari for my middle name, Ariadne. "Probably a bird or something."

"It's too big to be a bird," I said worriedly. "Maybe we should go back..."

"Ari, it's nothing," Jared said soothingly, and tried to kiss me again.

I turned my head and pulled away. Seeing it was useless, Jared sighed and sat up. I gratefully took the hand he offered me and held onto it when I was on my feet.

"Let's go back," I murmured nervously.

"Are you scared, baby?" he teased me.

"Yes," I simply.

Jared laughed and gave me a hug. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

I laughed a little sheepishly. Jared was the captain of the football team, over six feet and God only knew how many pounds of muscle. I honestly believed that he could protect me. And he probably could have, too. But when a shaft of moonlight illuminated the huge, shaggy beast standing with us in the clearing and glinted off of wet, gleaming fangs, the damned ninny screamed like a little girl and ran. My last thought before something immense hit me and I lost consciousness was, what a fucking pus--

I never finished that last thought—which is probably for the best. I came to in a hospital bed with my dad's anxious face hovering above me. I had a splitting headache and my right arm ached dully. I lifted my left hand instead and rubbed my eyes.

"Baba?" I mumbled (Baba is Greek for 'daddy' or 'dad'. Not a baby bottle. Just so you know). "What happened?"

"Thank God you're alright," my father breathed. "You don't remember?"

"I remember a—a dog or something—huge—and Jared ran--"

"Ah, yes," he said, beaming. "It was Jared who called the police. He probably saved your life."

I snorted and winced at the bolt of pain that shot through my head. "Is that what he's telling people?"

"Well, it's true," Baba said.

"He screamed like a baby and ran," I muttered mutinously. "Little rat."

Baba scowled. "He implied that he ran after--"

"No," I said through gritted teeth. My head was killing me. "Didn't even look back. Can I have an aspirin or something? I feel like someone's sawing my head open."

"I'll call the nurse," Baba assured me. "You have a concussion and that dog bit you—they've given you shots to prevent rabies and all that, so you'll be fine. Just--"

"Baba—aspirin!"

Baba obligingly scurried away and came back with a nurse. But no aspirin.

"The doctor thought it would be best if you didn't take any medication just yet," the nurse explained kindly, and gave me a glass of water. "Drinking water will help, though, and we can put some cold compresses on your forehead if you like."

"Yes, please," I said, as civilly as I could. "When can I go home?"

"You're free to go as soon as the doctor checks you over," the nurse said cheerfully. "Now that you're fully awake, I need to ask you some questions. You don't seem to have a serious concussion, but I've got to ask, just in case...now, then. What is your name?"

"Katerina Metaxas."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"What's your father's name?"

"Kostas." Seeing the nurse's eybrows shoot up, I sighed and elaborated, "Kostantinos Metaxas."

The nurse nodded and continued scribbling on her pad while I chugged the water and willed my headache to go away. The cold, wet cloth she laid across my forehead felt nice for about two seconds and then turned sort of warm but clammy at the same time. I shifted restlessly and looked around the room. It wasn't very nice. It was seriously like the doctor's office with a bed thrown in. I desperately wanted to go home and take a bubble bath and go to sleep in my own bed and in my own pajamas.

"Will the doctor see me soon?" I asked hopefully as the nurse turned to leave.

"He has just a few patients to see first, but it shouldn't take long," the nurse told me, and bustled off.

It soon became apparent that my definition of 'not long' and the nurse's differed somewhat. I was still lying in that lumpy, uncomfortable bed four hours and fifty three minutes later with a stack of magazines next to me. Some of them were Time magazines, but most of them were girly teen magazines. I know that they're evil and promote low self esteem and are a waste of paper, but man, are they addicting. Unfortunately, I finished the last one about an hour before the doctor showed up. My dad popped in now and again, but he had work to do.

So when the doctor finally decided to make an appearance, I was not in the best of moods. He was short and tubby, with white hair and a white beard and rosy cheeks. He looked like Santa Clause. He smiled cheerfully at me and, despite the fact that I had been sitting in that bed for nearly five hours and could no longer feel my rear end, I found it impossible not to smile back.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Dr. Stanley. And your name is Katerina, yes? Do you like Katie or Kat or something else, perhaps...?"

"Ari, actually," I said. Only my family and my Greek friends called me Katerina—Kahtia or Kahti for short. Seeing the doctor's quizzical expression, I explained, "My middle name is Ariadne."

"Ah, I see. So," he said briskly, peering into my eyes. "You passed Sally's examination, did you? Nothing too difficult, I hope?"

"Ah...no," I said uncertainly, not sure whether he was joking or not. I suddenly noticed a spider on my bedpost and was about to flick it away when Dr. Stanley reached over and picked up gently with a tissue and set it on the windowsill.

"They're helpful, you know," he said conversationally. "Catch mosquitoes and other pests. Now. You remember the EMTs and the ambulance, yes?"

Now that I thought about, it did remember a lot of noise and a period of extreme discomfort which must have been my ride in the ambulance.

"Yes."

"Good, good," the doctor said, and pulled a stool over. He gently took my right arm and began to unwrap it. "Now, Ari, I have to tell you something and, while I know you will not believe me in the slightest, I must ask you to humor an old man and take the...medication...that I give you and use it as instructed."

"Why shouldn't I believe you?" I asked, confused. "Does it have to do with my arm?"

"Yes and no," Dr. Stanley said, and undid the last wrapping. "Ah, yes. Look."

I looked, expecting to see stitches or blood or...something. But there was nothing except smooth dark skin and a small, pale, circular scar on the underside of my forearm. I frowned. I didn't know much about medicine, but I knew that there was no way it could have healed in such a short amount of time. And how had the mark appeared?

"My dear, do you know what bit you last night?"

I shrugged, still frowning at my arm as he wrapped it up again. "A feral dog, probably."

"A good guess, but no." Dr. Stanley took my hand and looked into my eyes. "It was a werewolf. The fact that you survived and that your arm is already healed indicates that the werewolf's curse has passed to you."

I stared at him, again unsure of whether he was serious. "Doctor, are you..."

"I am completely serious," he said, and the merry twinkle was gone from his eyes. "I would not wish this burden on anyone. You may believe me or not, but I beg you to listen to what I have to say for your own sake...and for your family's sake. The next month will probably be the worst you've ever had...you will find yourself becoming progressively moody, restless, and aggressive as the full moon approaches. in the next couple of weeks, people will begin to fear you without quite knowing why. It may even continue after your first transformation. You will find it difficult to sleep at night, again as the full moon approaches. You may smell things, sense things you never did before. Your hearing will be markedly improved. You might start sleepwalking. You may think you are going crazy, but you are not. It's perfectly normal. Before the sun sets on the night of the full moon, you must drink the medicine I give you. It will make you...aware of yourself. If you do not take the potion, the beast will overwhelm you. You will have no control. Your family, your friends, everyone around you would be in danger."

I looked at him helplessly. "Doctor, you don't honestly--"

"Yes, I do," he said calmly, and handed me three small bottles. "One for every night of the full moon. If you don't believe me now, you soon will. I'm going to make a follow-up appointment for next month. I will give you more medication then." He got up to leave, setting the bottles on the table next to my bed. "Oh, and one more thing...you might want to avoid silver jewelery. As long as it doesn't touch an open wound, it's harmless, but if it does it could be quite painful. Good luck, my dear."

"Bullshit," I muttered, but I looked at the strange mark on my arm and felt a shiver run up my spine.