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Alpha Went Crazy After He Killed Elf Mate

Alpha Went Crazy After He Killed Elf Mate

Short Story · Werewolf
By:  BelenCompleted
Language: English
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Synopsis

Alpha

Countdown

Tragic Love

Winning Back the Wife

The werewolves launched a massive invasion of the Elf Forest had been burned, half my people were dead, and my parents were missing. The Elf Queen asked me to go to Damien Thorne and make him stop the war. Damien Thorne. Alpha King of the North, my True Mate, the boy I'd grown up with. His sister Sera was the youngest of the three of us, and my best friend. A year ago, Sera vanished after a secret meeting. I walked out of the forest alive. He didn't — and to him, that was proof enough. He went mad. He burned the sacred trees, slaughtered my people, turned every drop of his hate on me. But he still loved me. So I went. He locked me in his study and fucked me for nine days. Even when I slept,his eyes full of something I couldn't read — madness, and pain. On the tenth day, he kissed his way down my spine, so gentle I let myself think it wasn't too late. The next second, the dagger went into my shoulder blade, straight through the root of my light-wing. The pain detonated from my spine to the crown of my skull. "Shh. Don't scream." He pressed my face into the pillow. "These nine days were the warm-up. Tell me where Sera is." He locked me in the dungeon. He used my people's lives as a leash. He married another she-wolf. The cold-iron whip came down. Each welt sealed itself shut against the iron-poison's burn, then split open again. Every strike felt like a red-hot brand pressed into my skin and ground in. It would never heal. But every time I came close to dying, it was him who tipped the antidote down my throat himself. His fingers shook. His eyes carried a tenderness he hated himself for. The night he got drunk, he crushed me against his chest. "You think I love you, so you can do this to me. Tell me where Sera is, and I'll let you go." I couldn't say it.The moment I opened my mouth, it would burn to ash. I wouldn't have to keep this secret much longer. An elf away from the forest for one full year is dead. No exceptions. I had two days left.

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12 Chapters
Chapter 1
My name is Elara Vaelorien, last living heir of the Elf royal line. By human reckoning I am one hundred and twenty-seven; by Elf standards I am still young — we live three thousand years inside the forest, and one year outside it.Today is my three hundred and sixty-third day outside. In two more days, I will dissolve into light and scatter on the wind.But I cannot die now. Because I have to kill a man, or — let him kill me.Elves and wolves have spent two centuries killing each other. The wolves want our blood, which neutralizes any poison. They want our tears, which can purify wounds. They want our light-wings, the symbol of immortality. We fear their claws, their fangs, the senseless strength they wield under a full moon.But once every century, the Moon Goddess chooses a True Mate — two lives tied to the same thread. One dies, the other has seven days to follow. One feels pain, the other feels it too. One heart skips, and the other keeps its beat.When I was seventeen, the Moon
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Chapter 2
The thing I'd been holding for five years — I never got to say it.A year ago, Damien's sister Seraphine vanished after a secret meeting. That meeting had been organized jointly by my parents and his — the Elf and wolven royal lines had been quietly building a project for years: combine sacred Elf blood with the Alpha blood of the Thorne line, brew a permanent antidote, end the war between the two races for good. Sera was the heart of the plan. Her job was to infiltrate the pack that had cursed the Thornes three hundred years ago — Blackmoor pack. If the antidote succeeded, Blackmoor would lose three centuries of leverage. So they had to make sure it failed.The day Sera vanished, she left me with one sentence:"Elara, no matter how Damien asks, you cannot tell him I'm alive — not until the traitor exposes himself. Not one word. Swear it on the Moon Goddess."I swore it. Once a blood oath is sworn, breaking it turns the tongue to ash.But Damien didn't know any of this. All he knew
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Chapter 3
I lost the bet.The nine days ended with me on the floor of a dungeon. The wound the cold-iron dagger had cut would never heal — the iron-poison was working its way deeper, an inch at a time, into the bone beneath my shoulder blade.On the third day, Damien came down to look at me. He stopped outside the iron bars, holding the dagger in his hand. He laid it flat on the stone step outside my cell and told the guard: Make sure she sees it every day. Then he asked, "How long does an elf survive outside the forest?""One year," the Beta said."Then one year."His footsteps faded up the stone stairs.The next six months, I counted the days from inside that cell.Every few days he came down. Never inside. He would stand outside the bars and look at me for a while, then go.Once, my fever climbed high enough that I started talking nonsense and rolling on the stone. The guard didn't report it; he came on his own. I half-saw him crouched outside the bars, his fingers reaching through, stopping
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Chapter 4
The first month after the Rejection, Ophelia was pregnant. Every wolf in the pack said it was a blessing from the Moon Goddess.By the third week of her pregnancy, she started showing symptoms — a poison only the oldest Alpha bloodlines carried. Slow. The fetus would not survive. There was one antidote: Elf tears.Every three days, the guards dragged me out of the dungeon and into Ophelia's bedroom. I knelt at the side of her bed. An old maid gripped my jaw and tilted my face under a small crystal vial. Elf tears are precious. So they used the cold-iron whip.The whip came down on my back, across the stump where my light-wing had been broken. The wound never healed — the iron was still burning inside it. Every lash earned them a single tear that fell into the vial. Ten drops were enough for one dose. Thirty lashes left my back swimming in blood.The maid carried the vial to Ophelia's lips. Half-conscious, Ophelia would still part her mouth and swallow each drop. Then she would open her
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Chapter 5
The clock reached eleven months and twenty-eight days. Two days left until I dissolved into light.That night, two guards burst into the dungeon. "The Alpha summons you. Something's happened to the Luna." They didn't give me time to dress. The cold-iron chain tore open my ankle when they ripped it loose; I bled the whole way down the corridor.A crowd had gathered outside Ophelia's bedroom. The smell of blood hit before the door did. Damien was standing with his back to the door. He didn't turn around.The Healer wiped sweat from his forehead. "The Luna is bleeding. We can't stop it. We need Lady Elara's tears."He turned around and said: "Cry."I didn't move. He crossed the room and took my jaw in his hand. "I said — cry."My eyes were dry. Elves do not cry on command. Especially not after the True Mate Bond has been severed by his own hand. I didn't have enough feeling left in me to make a tear.Damien stared into my eyes for three seconds. The wolf-gold in his pupils dimmed for a mo
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Chapter 6
On the way back to the dungeon, the guards dragged me past the kitchens.A new maid was coming the other way carrying an iron pail. Inside it was the runoff from the slaughter shed in the back yard — blackened organ meat, clotted blood, a few flies turning lazy circles on the surface. She set the pail down in front of me."The Luna says we can't let you starve to death." She smiled. "This is your meal today. Eat. Lick the bottom clean. We'll be checking."I looked at the pail. My stomach climbed up my throat.The maid crouched, tilted her head at me, fished out a blackened lump with her fingers. "Not eating? Then I'll go tell the Alpha. I'll say the elf doesn't appreciate his hospitality." She made as if to stand up.I reached out and caught the hem of her skirt.I opened my mouth. She pushed the lump in — wet, rancid, cold, with the faint sweet-iron note that only Elf blood has.She added, "The Luna killed three elves this morning. She had the kitchen prepare your 'meal' herself. They
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Chapter 7
The next morning, the maid came to dress me — in a long red gown. The color elves hate most. Red is the color of slaughter and betrayal."There's a Blood Moon Feast tonight. The Luna asked for you by name."The Blood Moon comes once a year. It is the largest of the wolven festivals — and the most fitting night for executing traitors and offering sacrifices.The feast was set on the altar grounds behind the keep. The bonfire towered four stories high. Four hundred wolves circled it, drinking. Elves fear fire. Sixty feet from the flames, my skin began to blister. By the time I was standing beside Ophelia, my left ear had already started to peel.Ophelia came toward me in a long white gown, took my hand, leaned in close to my ear: "Do you like the dress? It was dyed in Nyssa's blood."Damien stepped down from the high seat. He stopped in front of me and said to Ophelia, "She doesn't look well. You're carrying — blood near you tonight is bad luck. Have her taken back below."Ophelia hooked
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Chapter 8
Four cold-iron cages were carried into the room. Their bases dragged across the floor with a high, scraping sound that crawled up the back of the neck. Each cage held a person.In the last one was Lyra. My thirteen-year-old sister. She should have been in the deepest part of the Elf Forest — the safest place we had.Lyra saw me. She crawled to the bars. "Sister." Her voice was raw. Her eyes were threaded with red. Her body was a map of wounds. There was a cold-iron collar burn at her throat — the same one I had at mine. She had been wearing it for more than a day.Ophelia crouched beside the cage and gave a small smile. "Elf light-wings don't grow in fully until twelve. Your sister just had her thirteenth birthday, didn't she?"I lunged forward and caught the hem of Ophelia's gown."Ophelia, anything you want — my eyes, my voice, my blood, the rest of my life. Take it. Let her go. She is a child."Ophelia looked down at me. "I've used everything you have, this year. I want something ne
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Chapter 9
The room emptied out. Just me and Lyra now.In my arms, she had almost no warmth left. The iron-poison was working its way in through the cuts on her back. Her lips, her fingertips, the rims of her ears were going translucent."Sister," she said, very softly, "I'm cold."I held her tighter. I wrapped the hem of the long red gown around her."Lyra, let your sister sing for you. Like when you were little.""Okay." She closed her eyes. "Sister… after you sing… will your throat hurt again?""No. This is the last one."I started the Soul-Binding Lullaby.The song has three movements. As the first line left my mouth, the candle flame leaned toward me. By the end of the first movement, my fingertips were going clear. By the end of the second, my wrists were dissolving into points of light, drifting upward — through the dungeon roof, through the cracks in the stone, toward the moon.Footsteps overhead, in the birthing chamber — quick, pacing, back and forth. Damien's footsteps. Eight years ago
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Chapter 10
At that exact moment — upstairs, Damien was holding his son.He looked down at the child, and then he froze. He raised one hand and pressed it to his own chest — not the child's. His own.He felt it. The thread he had thought was severed was burning, drawing back inward. He shoved the child into the Beta's arms, turned, and crashed down the stairs.He punched the cage door open and threw himself in front of me. His face was bloodless. His eyes were threaded with red. He reached for me — his hand passed through my body.Then I saw it in his eyes — the spark of hope. He still thought I could be saved. He still thought there was time. He thought he had only to come down here and call my name once, Elara, and I would do what I had always done — cry, and forgive him.I looked at him. I said nothing. Let him wait. Let him stand there and feel it — what it is like to want someone to save you and know they aren't coming. That was every day, every night, of my year.He dropped to his knees. The
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