Alera woke up slowly, consciousness returning to her in gentle waves like the tide creeping up a shore. Her fingers brushed against soft sheets she did not recognize. The fabric so fine it felt like touching water, smooth and cool against her skin. She blinked several times, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her mind, remembering that she had fallen unconscious from exhaustion in the wolf man's hands as he led them through the forest and gradually became aware that the bed beneath her was large and warm, vastly different from the cold furs she and her master used in the woods. Those furs had always smelled of earth and smoke and the wild things that lived beyond human walls. These sheets smelled of lavender and something else, something clean and artificial that she couldn't quite place.
Confusion settled over her as she pushed herself up to sit, and that's when she realized with a jolt of alarm, her clothes were changed.
She looked down at herself, her heart beginning to race. Clean fabric brushed against her skin, a simple nightgown of soft cotton, strange and unfamiliar. The torn, muddy dress from the forest was gone. Someone had undressed her while she slept, had seen her body, had touched her to put this on. The thought made her skin crawl with a bit of discomfort.
She sat up fully and looked around the room with wide eyes, trying to make sense of where she was. Tall concrete walls rose around her, with small spherical glass like orbs hung against these walls and held light within them that weren't of flames.
She knew magic but couldn't practice it, her master had taught her to recognize it, to feel the tingle of it in the air, the way reality bent slightly around enchanted objects. But this was not sorcery. This was human creation, the product of craft and knowledge rather than power and will. Technology, her master had called it once. all these things that worked without magic, that followed rules she didn't understand, she couldn't help but be intrigued.
She stepped carefully from the bed, her bare feet making no sound as they touched polished floors that were smooth and cool. Her eyes darted from object to object, curiosity pulling at her despite her apprehension. There was a wardrobe against one wall, doors closed. A vanity with a mirror that showed her reflection-hair tangled and wild, eyes too bright, face clear of any dirt due to someone's attempt to clean her. A chair upholstered in fabric she wanted to touch. A window with curtains drawn, hiding whatever lay beyond.
She moved toward the door, intending to try it, to see if she was a prisoner or a guest. Before she could reach it, though, it opened soundlessly, the hinges making no creak or groan that might have given her warning.
A maid stepped in, her head bowed in a posture of submission that Alera found strange. The woman was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with brown hair pulled back into a severe bun. She wore a simple uniform. black dress, white apron and she moved with the efficiency of someone who had performed this task a thousand times before. She placed a tray on the small table near the window without once meeting Alera's eyes, as if looking directly at her would be dangerous or forbidden.
"Here is your food," the maid said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. And then she was gone, leaving quickly, almost fleeing, as if staying any longer would indeed be dangerous. The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
Alera stood frozen for a moment, processing what had just happened, and then her attention was captured by the tray the maid had left behind.
She approached it slowly, warily, and looked down at the meal that had been prepared. Meat, still steaming, cooked in a way that made it glisten with juice and fat. Fresh bread, the crust golden and cracking, the inside surely soft and warm. Fruits she recognized, apples, berries and some she didn't, exotic things that must have been brought from far away. The scents rising from the tray were warm and fragrant, rich with spices and flavors that made her mouth water despite herself.
She wasn't hungry, she told herself. She tried to go days without food before like her master who was barely hungry, but always failed woefully. Hunger was just another sensation, another distraction from the discipline required for learning magic or at least that's what she told herself. But the scent of this food was almost hypnotic, pulling at something primal in her, something that remembered what it was to eat well and often.
She picked up a piece of the meat, telling herself she would just taste it, just see what it was like. The moment it touched her tongue, though, a soft sound escaped her lips, a small moan of pleasure she could not hold back. The taste was rich, complex, layers of flavor that exploded across her palate. It was better than anything she'd eaten in years, maybe better than anything she'd ever eaten. The fat melted on her tongue, the spices sang in perfect harmony, and before she knew what she was doing, she was reaching for more.
Addicting. That was the word. This food was addicting.
When she finished everything on the tray, every last crumb of bread, every piece of fruit, licking the juice from her fingers like a child-she felt almost guilty. Her master would not have scolded and may have even chuckled at her for such indulgence, but she wanted to be like him and felt bad for letting the pleasures of the flesh distract her from higher purposes.
But her master wasn't here, and the food had been so good, and her stomach was warm and full in a way it hadn't been in longer than she could remember.
Feeling restless despite her full belly, she slipped out of the room. No guard stopped her. No one seemed to be watching. The hallways stretched out before her, endless and quiet, lit by more of the small glass balls she saw in her room that cast light but no shadows. The walls were the same as her room, the floors, tidy to perfection. Doors lined the corridor, all of them closed, all of them hiding secrets.
Curious and walking to no end, unable to help herself, she opened a random door and stepped inside.
A man stood by a large desk inside, his back initially to her as he looked down at papers spread across the wooden surface. He was tall-taller even than the boy who had carried her from the forest. Broad-shouldered, with the kind of build that spoke of both strength and maturity. His hair was light brown, cut short and neat. A short beard covered his jaw, well-trimmed and distinguished. He wore clothes that marked him as someone important. Dark slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. He looked like he was in his middle thirties or a bit In his latee thirties.
When he heard the door open, he turned to look at her, and she saw his eyes. Blue. The same shade of blue as Jackson's eyes, that impossible color like the sky on a clear summer day. His aura was heavy and commanding, a weight that pressed down on the air itself. As Alera knew nothing about wolves, she didn't even notice he was the alpha of the pack she was residing in.
He looked at her, and something in his expression cracked. It was like watching ice break on a frozen lake. One moment solid and impenetrable, the next fractured and dangerous.
He moved. In one stride he was in front of her, faster than should have been possible for someone his size. His hand reached out and his palms pressed against her arms, his grip firm but not quite painful, fingers wrapping around her biceps as if to hold her in place, to keep her from disappearing like a dream.
The reaction was instant and violent.
A surge of power shot through him like lightning striking from a clear sky. His body turned rigid from the jolt. His wolf, which must have been silent, roared awake with savage hunger. This primal thing inside him that had been dormant and was now blazing to life like a fire fed pure oxygen.
His breath hitched, the sound rough and desperate. His fangs, now elongating, sharpening-ached to tear into her skin. To claim. To mark. To make her his in the most permanent way possible.
Alera froze, every muscle in her body locking up with fear and confusion. His grip tightened on her shoulders, not painful yet but promising pain if she tried to pull away. His chest rose and fell in sharp, hungry breaths that she could feel against her own body, he was standing so close. His head hung low for a moment, as if he was fighting some internal battle, and then he lifted it slowly, deliberately. His blue eyes were glowing faintly now, lit from within by whatever power had just awakened in him.
He stared at her like she was something unholy. Something that shouldn't exist. Something both miraculous and terrible.
"What are you," he growled, his voice low and strained, barely human. It wasn't really a question. It was an accusation. "Are you a witch?"
Alera shook her head quickly, panic rising in her throat. "I'm no witch. I'm a bit lost. I'm looking for my master, and suddenly a pack of wolves ambushed me and brought me here." The words tumbled out in a rush, rambling and desperate. She needed him to understand that she wasn't a threat and she meant no harm.
But as Alera rambled on, trying to explain herself, the man, Derrick, though she didn't know his name yet, felt the urge to slide his hands from her shoulders to her waist growing stronger with every passing second. It was a struggle between him and his wolf, and he was losing. He couldn't understand how his wolf was this excited, this desperate to bond with someone, especially since a wolf can only have one mate in its lifetime. That was the law. That was how the Moon Goddess had designed them. Once you found your mate, that was it. Forever. Until death.
But his mate was dead. Had been dead for 15 years. And his wolf had died with her, had gone silent and cold, and he'd accepted that he would spend the rest of his life as half a person.
Now, suddenly, his wolf was awake and ravenous and fixated on this girl with impossible green eyes.
He felt hooked by her presence, like a fish on a line being reeled in against its will. A magnetic pull that he couldn't resist no matter how much his rational mind told him this was wrong, was impossible, was dangerous.
He sighed, feeling his restraint waning like water running through his fingers.
Alera blushed, her cheeks flooding with heat as she felt his hard, callused hands grip her hips. The touch was nothing like her master's delicate hands, her master who had touched her only to guide her, to heal her injuries. This was different. This was intimate in a way she'd never experienced. The touch jolted through her, giving her a foreign feeling that pooled low in her belly, something she couldn't name because she'd never been intimate with anyone before.
Her scent grew thicker, sweeter, wafting up to assault Derrick's nose as his control finally broke completely and he succumbed to what his wolf demanded. His head hung over her shoulder, his short bangs tickling her skin where her neck met her collarbone. His wolf grew hungrier and hungrier with each breath he took, feeding on her scent, on her proximity. He had never felt so powerful not even in his prime, not even in battle. Energy coursed through him, making his muscles sing with strength, making his senses sharpen until he could hear her heartbeat, could smell the fear and confusion and something else on her skin.
His fangs grew out fully now, sharp and deadly, and they grazed her neck, not breaking the skin but promising they could.
Alera's breath hitched, caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat. She didn't know how to feel about these sensual touches, about the way her body was responding despite her mind's confusion and fear. She'd read about this in books, but reading and experiencing were entirely different things.
The Alpha, Derrick, hoisted her up against the closed door behind her, lifting her easily despite her weight. His palms cupped her rear, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, and he could feel his body growing stronger to claim with every second of contact, energy flooding through him in waves. He was ready to claim her, ready to complete what his wolf was screaming at him to do. His wolf was satisfied with the scene, pleased that they were finally taking what was theirs.
Just as he was about to carry her to the couch that stood opposite his desk, just as he was about to cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed. A knock on the door stopped him in his tracks. The sound was sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze of lust and power like a knife.
"Sir," came a lady's voice from the other side of the door, professional and urgent. "The Alpha of Black Mist has come to see you."
The words hit Derrick like cold water. Reality crashed back in, and with it came shame and horror at what he'd almost done. He breathed out a sigh that was part relief and part frustration, and then dropped Alera onto the couch, perhaps a bit less gently than he should have.
He stood there for a moment, staring down at her, wondering how he could have stooped so low. How he could have been about to take such a young girl. She couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty. What was wrong with him? And why was his wolf so eager to claim her? Was he in heat? But males didn't go into heat?
A ton of questions flooded his mind, each one more troubling than the last, but they were halted by the realization of what the news from the door meant. Silas was here. The Alpha of Black Mist, his sometimes-ally, sometimes-rival. Jackson's future father-in-law. This meeting was important. They'd been planning it for weeks.
He looked down at Alera one more time. Her body was soft and alluring even in dishevelment, even with fear written clearly across her features. Her big green eyes stared up at him with such naivety, such innocence, that it almost made him wonder if she didn't know what he had been about to do. If she was truly that inexperienced.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, thinking of how uncalled for it was to even think of stripping her innocence, even though it was the very desire burning through him right now, the thing his wolf wanted more than breath.
With another sigh, he straightened his clothes and told her quietly, "Get some rest." He was silently pleading with her to leave before he came back, because if she was still here when he returned, she would regret it. His control was hanging by a thread, and he didn't know how long that thread would hold.
Then he walked over to the door and opened it. There stood his secretary, Tina, looking up at him as he towered over her. She was a small woman, efficient and no-nonsense, and as the dominating Alpha he was, his presence made her naturally submissive posture even more pronounced. Her eyes darted past him to the young woman who lay on his couch, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, clearly wondering how a young girl got there and what had been happening. But she was professional enough to dismiss her thoughts immediately. There was something more urgent to focus on.
The two of them walked out, discussing important things about the visitor as they moved. They took a turn in the lobby-an open space with high ceilings, before walking into an elevator that took them downstairs. The elevator was another piece of that strange technology, a metal box that moved through the building, and Derrick used the brief moment of privacy to try to compose himself.
When they came out on the ground floor, they were greeted immediately by the sight of a big Black man standing in the center of the reception area. He wore thick, long dreads that were big and fell past his shoulders, bound with leather cords and decorated with small bones and beads. He had a scar that cut across his left eyelid, a mark from some long-ago battle that had nearly cost him his sight. His chin was covered with a stubbled beard, and he was very buff and strong, his muscles clearly defined even through his clothing. His presence alone seemed to cut the air, making it heavier, making it harder to breathe. Only an Alpha could look at him directly without feeling the overwhelming power he emanated, the dominance that radiated from him like heat from a fire.
Tina, the secretary, bowed her head immediately in acknowledgment of his dominance. She literally couldn't look up, her wolf forcing her into submission even though they weren't part of his pack.
The man, Silas laughed when he saw her reaction. His voice was deep and hard, like rocks grinding together. "What a greeting," he said, the dangerous smile never leaving his face. It was the kind of smile that promised violence even as it pretended friendliness. "You left me here for god knows how long."
"Tina reported it was only thirty minutes," Derrick replied calmly, gesturing to his secretary, who clutched her book to her chest as if it could protect her from the weight of Silas's presence.
"Only thirty minutes-" Silas drawled, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes darted around the hall without any emotion shown on his face now, assessing, calculating. "Don't forget you're the one depending on me, Derrick."
"I'm not depending on you, Silas," Derrick replied, unperturbed by the other Alpha's attempts at intimidation. They'd known each other too long for these games to really work. "We both agreed to this cooperation."
"Cooperation my ass," Silas scoffed, his voice dropping to something closer to a growl. "Your boy hasn't even come to see my daughter since then. Do you know how upset she is?"
"I don't think you have anything to worry about since she's Jackson's mate," Derrick replied evenly. "Let's go somewhere to talk."
"You don't understand," Silas said, and now there was real anger in his voice, real offense. "My daughter needs love and attention. Just because she's his mate doesn't mean he shouldn't take the time to court her. The bond is there, yes, but bonds need to be nurtured, cultivated. Warn your son, Derrick." He growled at the end of his words, letting just a hint of his Alpha power leak out, making the air shimmer with threat.
The two of them walked together toward a fancy room set aside for important guests, a room with comfortable seating, a bar stocked with various drinks and refreshments, a pool table, and many other things meant for leisure and for putting guests at ease while still demonstrating the host's wealth and power.
Neither of them noticed that upstairs, in Derrick's office, Alera still sat on the couch, her heart racing, her mind trying to process what had just happened, and her body still tingling from touches she didn't fully understand.