The Rebel Mate..

Zarek

“Congratulations on your new mate.” Zechariah, my private confidant and an absolute pain in the ass chuckled mockingly, while twirling the immortal dagger between his fingers.

I stood by the window of the pack’s strategy room. My gaze, sweeping over the towering walls below. Beyond, the forest stretched endlessly into a darkening horizon, silent and watchful. It was one of my favorite spots to retreat whenever I needed to think clearly.

Lifting a goblet to my lips, I took a slow slip, letting the bitter tang of wine cut through my thoughts before I finally broke the silence. “She’s the one.”

Zechariah smirked, surprise marring his brows as he perched against the window wall like a lazy cat. “For years you’ve been searching for her. Who would have thought it would turn out to be Nicholas’s child?”

A dry laugh escaped him. “But I must admit, she’s stubborn.” He said casually.

Indeed, she is. Stubborn to the bone. She’d dared to stand against me. Her fire refused to bend even when the weight of my name should have crushed her. Any other woman would have broken. But not her.

Irritation flickered in my chest. I didn’t have time for this. For a woman with a snappy tongue and an ill-mannered attitude.

If I had my way to pick any she-wolf of my liking, I would have beheaded her the instant she spoke so freely to me, before all my subjects. Then replaced her without blinking an eye.

My jaw tightened, the goblet nearly snapping in my grip.

For years, the curse has been gnawing at me. An unrelenting thirst and hunger for blood that no kill could satisfy.

It coiled inside me like a beast, savage and uncontrollable. It forced me into isolation, driving me further away from my own people. Even my wolf has become something monstrous, a shadow of what it should be. What remained was not the creature of balance a true Alpha should be bonded to, but a shadow overtaken by hunger.

The curse is patient, but it is the most merciless.

Each passing year, it consumes more of me, chipping away brutally at my control. And when it takes me fully, there will be nothing left of me, only the beast I have no command over.

I inhaled deeply, as my eyes darkened at the thought.

There was only one way to break the curse. By breeding an heir. My heir.

And she is the only key.

Valtira.

The one who fate has bound me. If I claim her, and she bears my bloodline, the curse will shatter.

But if she fails and time runs out…

Then not only will I be lost, but my offspring, should I ever sire one, would inherit the same curse, doomed to carry the hunger through eternity.

And that, I know, I cannot allow. I would burn the world before I let it happen.

“What I’m trying to understand is, if she’s truly your mate, how come you both didn’t sense it?” Zechariah’s voice broke me out of my dilemma. I could sense the thick confusion flickering in his voice. He was truly concerned this time.

My jaw clenched tight. My gaze, still locked outside, on the quickly darkening sky above us. “Because of my curse. There’s a blockage between us. She cannot sense it as strongly as I can.” I replied flatly.

Zechariah straightened. The dagger, still in his hand. He rose from the chair and strode towards me. The shadows in his eyes disappeared as quickly as they had surfaced.

“You want her to bear you an heir. But judging from her behavior, I don’t think she will. She’s far more stubborn than you think. Or…wait.” Zechariah’s eyes widened with suspicion. “Do you plan…on forcing her to bed?”

I remained silent. My eyes locked on the towering pack walls beyond the window.

Indeed, the daughter of the Nightveil Moon would not make things easy. Valtira was a rebel herself. I’d tried to make her know her place. To knock sense into her—and she had returned my generosity by proving her stubbornness through and through.

She hasn’t experienced even a quarter of the things I’ve had to go through. So she shouldn’t blame me for being impatient.

I finally turned my gaze toward Zechariah, deliberately stepping over his last question. “I thought she was rumored to be cursed.”

Zechariah shrugged with infuriating ease. “It’s only rumors. She isn’t.”

“Hmmm,” I muttered. I do not care if she carried curses or blessings. All that matters is that she breaks my curse, by giving me an heir.

The thought clawed at me, as it always does, driving me to an unfair insanity.

The curse has destroyed me. For years, it had taken bits of myself, hollowed me out, and turned me into a monster I could not recognize. It had driven me to kill my own father, and one of his most loyal watchmen. That night had burnt itself into my memory. It's been years and I still haven't gotten over it. The sight of my father mauled by my own hands, covered in blood I had spilled.

For years, I have avoided battles. Avoided hunting. Anything that could spill blood and let my men take care of shit. For even the scent of blood awakens the beast inside of me. And still, every second, every minute, the hunger gnawed at me. It was never satisfied. Blood.

Always. Wanting. Blood.

“Maybe—” Zechariah began, but his words were cut short as a thunderous crash shook the chamber.

The heavy doors swung open violently, slamming angrily against the stone walls.

A soldier rushed inside and immediately dropped to his knees in reverence. Behind him, my most trusted adviser followed. His face, pale as he sauntered in with urgency written across his features.

“Forgive me for barging in, Alpha Zarek,” The latter said breathlessly as he gave a low, hurried bow. “But there is urgent news that cannot wait.”

My eyebrows narrowed. “Speak.”

He stepped forward quickly. Then unrolled a folded parchment across the stone table. His hands, trembling as his voice filled the hall.

“For weeks now, the wolves in our pack have complained of a strange illness. At first, it was small, almost unnoticed. But in the last two days alone, four deaths have been recorded. As we speak, the healer’s house overflows with the sick… and he cannot understand what plagues them.”

My face darkened, shadows deepening quickly across my face. “Are you certain this isn’t the witches’ doing?”

The witches have been getting on my nerves as of late. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume this was one of their silly tricks again. If this were another one of their ploys, I would raze their coven to the ground.

The adviser shook his head. “No, my lord. If it were magic, there would be no trace of it in their bodies. But the healer… he found something. Something lodged inside them.”

My voice lowered. “And what exactly did he find?”

“The healer does not know, Alpha. He has never seen anything like it. It is not natural. Whatever it is Alpha, it kills swiftly. Nothing good.”

Zechariah stepped up from the shadows. His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed with interest as he stared from the adviser to me. “An illness? How curious. And why now, of all times?”

My back teeth clenched. Zechariah had a point. Why now?

This was the worst time for a distraction to emerge. The timing… was awfully perfect. Too in sync with Valtira’s arrival. My tone turned lethal. “Not even a remedy to slow their deaths?”

The adviser bowed his head. “None, your highness. Which is strange. This is rarely recorded in our history. It appeared from nowhere. Perhaps… perhaps there is something more to it.”

My eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

He swallowed. His eyes lowered with fear lodged in them. “I am not certain, Alpha.”

“Gather the Moon Soldiers,” I ordered coldly. “They will investigate. Make sure no stone is left unturned. Do whatever you must but find the cause.”

The adviser bowed lower, trembling under my voice. “At once, my lord.”

But before he could rise, my eyes snapped wide open.

My body stiffened as every damn hair on my skin stood at alert. My aura, crackling with sudden energy.

Zechariah frowned. “What is it?”

My lips curled into a dangerous snarl. “She’s trying to escape.”

“Who?” His brows lifted.

“Valtira,” I growled, already striding toward the door. “The slave I bought.”

My steps thundered through the hall as I stormed out.

Within me, my wolf clawed hard against my chest, drawn by the spark of her defiance.