An Alpha's Dilemma

The first time Ava Oakley felt the mark burn, she was alone.

The Moon hung low above the forest canopy, spilling silver light through the twisted branches like strands of fate. Ava stood still beneath it, her breath ghosting in the cold air, hand pressed against her wrist where the skin pulsed with warmth. It had started again—just like it always did when he was near.

Alpha Ashton Hawk.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was close. The bond told her. It throbbed, alive and silent, just beneath her skin. Her magic stirred in response, restless, aching, demanding something she could never fully give. Not while he continued to deny her.

She’d tried to dull the connection with meditation, herbs, distance. Nothing worked. Even now, his presence pricked at her senses like static before a storm.

Ava swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back toward the packhouse. Her boots crunched across the frosted ground, the sounds swallowed by the heavy stillness of the night. A pair of sentries at the edge of the territory nodded to her in passing, though their eyes lingered longer than necessary. She wasn’t like them. She never had been.

The Pack treated her like a whisper—heard, but never seen.

She wasn’t just their Alpha’s rejected mate. She was a witch. A cursed, quiet reminder of what the wolves feared most: magic that couldn’t be explained.

The front doors creaked open as she stepped inside the packhouse. Laughter echoed from the common room. Dozens of wolves gathered for the winter solstice feast, sharing drinks, stories, touches. Fated mates curled around each other, warmth in every glance. Ava stood at the threshold, unseen but burning.

Then he walked in.

Ashton. Towering. Cold. Impossible to look away from.

His black hair was damp from the snow, and his sharp jaw was clenched with tension. His presence demanded attention without a word. He wasn’t just the Alpha—he was power incarnate, every step a command. She saw him before he saw her, and when his eyes finally met hers across the room, the bond surged.

Pain. Heat. Need.

He looked away first.

Ava’s heart twisted as he moved through the room, greeting others with brief nods, but never acknowledging her. Not even a flicker of recognition.

He was her mate.

And he hated it.

She forced herself forward, grabbing a glass of spiced cider and retreating to a darkened corner. She didn’t want to be near him, but the bond didn’t care what she wanted. It pulled her toward him like gravity.

The room was stifling. Every sound was too loud, every scent too sharp. Her skin tingled as his presence brushed against her aura.

Her magic coiled beneath her ribs, reactive and hungry.

“Still chasing ghosts, Oakley?” a voice drawled.

Ava turned to see Brielle, one of the unmated she-wolves, smirking as she stepped into her space. Her tone was sweet—too sweet. The kind of sweetness that dripped poison.

“Just keeping to myself,” Ava said quietly, sipping her drink.

Brielle’s eyes flicked across the room to Ashton. “He’ll never choose you. You know that, right? You’re just… broken.”

Ava’s magic sparked at her fingertips, invisible to everyone but her. She swallowed it down.

“I’m not trying to be chosen,” she whispered.

But even she didn’t believe it.

Before Brielle could bite back, a new voice cut through the noise.

“Brielle.”

Ashton.

Brielle straightened like a rod of steel, her smug expression faltering. “Alpha—”

“Leave her,” he said, voice like thunder just beneath the surface. His eyes never left Ava’s face. “Now.”

Brielle shrank under his gaze and disappeared into the crowd.

Ava blinked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Ashton stepped closer, and the bond roared between them like a live wire.

“I don’t like when my wolves harass members of the pack,” he said, low and even.

“I’m not part of your pack,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Not really.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I want this? That I asked for you to be chosen for me?”

She flinched. “No. But I didn’t ask either.”

Silence stretched between them. His eyes darkened—not with anger, but something else. Something dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“I live here.”

“You shouldn’t be near me,” he said, and this time, his voice cracked.

She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or kiss him.

Instead, she stepped past him and walked toward the hallway that led to her small room beneath the stairs.

“Don’t worry, Alpha,” she said without turning back. “I’ll keep my distance.”

Still, her wrist burned.

⸻

The room was small, barely more than a storage space. Ava closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling shakily. Her hand trembled as she reached for the chain around her neck, pulling free the moonstone crystal. It pulsed faintly in response to the mark on her wrist.

She sat on her cot and let the magic rise. Only here could she breathe. Only here could she feel safe enough to let her power surface. Threads of silver light laced her fingers—delicate, flickering energy drawn straight from the Moon’s pull.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” she whispered to the magic. “So why does he hurt so much?”

She let the threads vanish, curling into herself on the bed. The ache in her chest pulsed with every heartbeat.

A knock at her door startled her.

She sat up, fingers tightening on the edge of the bed.

“Who is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

No reply.

But she knew.

She could feel him.

The door opened a crack.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Ashton said quietly. “But I need to say something.”

Ava’s breath hitched. “You’ve made your feelings clear.”

“I thought I had.” He stepped inside. His face was unreadable in the dim light. “But the bond… it’s louder than I thought.”

She swallowed hard. “So what now? You reject me again?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then stop.”

He was across the room before she could stop him, kneeling before her. His hand hovered above her wrist where the bond mark glowed faintly.

“I feel it every night,” he murmured. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you.”

“And yet you still deny it.”

“Because I’m afraid of what it will make me become.”

Ava leaned in, her voice trembling. “It’s not weakness to feel. It’s not weakness to want something more than control.”

His lips brushed her wrist, soft and reverent.

“I’m not ready,” he whispered. “But I’m not walking away.”

Ava closed her eyes, her heart thundering.

“I don’t need you to be ready,” she said. “Just don’t keep lying to yourself. Or me.”

⸻

Ava’s breath caught in her throat as Ashton remained kneeling before her, his lips barely inches from the glowing mark on her wrist. The air between them crackled—not with magic, but something rawer. Wilder.

His hand rose slowly, hesitating just a moment before brushing against her thigh where her robe had slipped open. His fingers burned through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Her pulse thundered. She should have stopped him. Should have said something.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

“You make it hard to walk away,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

“You already have,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I know.”

He leaned in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin. She felt every heartbeat between them, like a silent countdown.

Then his lips touched hers.

Soft at first. Hesitant. But it ignited her like a spark to dry tinder.

She kissed him back, fiercely, her hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space between them. The bond pulsed like a second heartbeat, demanding more, deeper, faster. His tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a moan from her throat.

When he lifted her into his lap, her legs wrapped around him instinctively, the friction of their bodies sending waves of heat through her core. His mouth traveled down the line of her jaw, nipping gently at her neck where the mating mark might one day be.

“You smell like moonlight and fire,” he murmured against her skin. “It’s driving me insane.”

“Then stop pretending it doesn’t matter,” she said, rocking against him with slow, deliberate motion.

He groaned, hands tightening on her hips.

Her nightdress slipped from one shoulder, baring her skin to the cool air and his hungry gaze. He leaned down, trailing hot kisses across her collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she whispered, dragging his shirt over his head.

Muscle and heat. That’s what he was—every inch of him radiating strength, tension, restraint on the edge of breaking.

And he was breaking.

Their bodies pressed closer, skin to skin, the bond screaming for fulfillment neither of them was ready to give.

But they were close. So close.

Ashton’s lips returned to hers with bruising intensity, his hands sliding under her dress, exploring with reverent hunger. Her back arched, her breath came faster, but before either of them could give in to what the bond truly wanted…

He froze.

Pulled back.

His chest heaved as he stared at her, pupils blown wide with desire—and fear.

“I want you,” he said, voice barely holding together. “But not like this. Not before I’m sure I can protect you.”

Ava’s heart clenched, her body aching for the completion he denied them both.

“You think this is about control,” she said softly. “But it’s not. It’s about trust.”

He cupped her cheek gently. “Then trust me when I say… I’ll come back. When I’m not afraid of losing myself in you.”

Then he was gone.

Leaving her alone, burning, and trembling in the silence.