His Forbidden Mate

Death's Day!

"Damon! Run!," someone said to him, sounding very frantic.

As the sun began to rise, casting a soft golden glow across the landscape, the world awakened to the tranquil beauty of a cool morning in the heart of the werewolf's territory. The air carried a slight chill, causing one's breath to form gentle clouds as he exhaled.

The mist hung low, draping the forest in an ethereal veil. It danced among the ancient trees, graciously swirling and twirling around the gnarled branches. The delicate morning dew clung to the leaves, glimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds, adding a touch of enchantment to the atmosphere.

The sky above was painted in hues of pale blue, adorned with wisps of pink and orange as the sun made its ascent.

Through the forest, gentle gusts of winds rustled the leaves, creating a soothing melody. The scent of damp earth mingled with the sweet fragrance of blooming wildflowers, infusing the air with a crisp and invigorating freshness. The melodious songs of birds filled the air, leaving one wondering why humans had a voice.

It was not just any morning, certainly not like the ones the pack had become so accustomed to in the woods.

It was Lord Savage's birthday!

"I can't believe I am clocking sixty two already," he said to Grace, Damon's sister, the previous day. He looked less excited than those who were putting in so much effort to celebrate him.

"You don't look excited, father," she had said to him, her probing eyes all over him, as if the answer she sought was hidden somewhere in his body. "What's wrong?," she continued.

"Everything is happening so fast. It just seems like I was only fifty yesterday," he said to her, looking worried.

"Father! You're not aging; you're still young and…"

"Not today, Grace, please," he said, quickly cutting her short. He knew what she was about to get into. Grace was never tired of always trying to make those around her look towards the bright side of things.

"Even if it's broken, it can be fixed," she would always say. That was her favorite quote.

"But father," she said, determined to get to the end of her speech, "this is not another round of my boring speech, as you like to make me think. You are not old; you are just…"

"Where is Damon?," he suddenly asked her, still showing a lack of interest in whatever she had to tell him.

"In his room with Jack," she said. She didn't look happy that he wouldn't let her motivate him.

"Go get him now," he ordered her.

"Yes, father," she bowed and walked away.

"You should have let her speak," Sophia, Lord Savage's younger sister, said to him, unimpressed. "The girl's distraught."

"It cannot always be her way," he just said, unperturbed. "I love her, but she must understand that not every word inspires, so she must choose when to speak them," he added.

"You're right, but…"

"Father, you sent for me," Damon interrupted her, having walked in.

"Where is Grace?," he asked.

"I have no idea. She left immediately after she had delivered your message."

"She must be upset," Sophia said.

"I could do with time alone with my son," he said to her. Surprised, she walked away, too upset to speak. But Lord Savage was the least troubled about her demeanor. "Sit," he commanded Damon, looking straight into his eyes. That got him really worried.

"Father," that was all he could mutter, surprised.

"You will be alpha when I am no more. Our enemies, just as they have always done, are waiting on the wings. One mistake, just one fucking mistake, that's all it takes to have them feast on us, all of us. I have kept the pack together for these years, and many more to come. It is time for you to be taught what you must do when your time comes. Come with me," he said to him, "for I must show you something."

Deep within the ancient enclaves of the Lionheart Pack, Lord Savage led Damon down a winding corridor, hidden behind an ancient bookshelf. The scent of aged leather and musty parchment lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery.

As they walked further into the passageway, the flickering light of torches danced upon the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper ancient secrets.

Damon, dazzled at the sight of what his eyes beheld, unable to hold his breath anymore, asked, "Where is this place, father?."

"Sometimes, we learn in silence," he just said to him, not even turning to look at him.

Finally, they reached a towering oak door, adorned with intricate carvings of snarling wolves. The door seemed to pulse with a dormant power, as if it guarded a treasure far beyond their wildest imaginations.

It was a rare sight for Damon.

Only the alpha had access to it. In fact, not many knew about the place. Even those who did had no fucking idea what he kept in there. Lord Savage turned to face Damon, his eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and solemnity. "Come on, walk right in," he said to him as he opened the door with an ornate silver key produced from the folds of his cloak.

"Where is this place, father?," he asked again, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Damon," he began, his voice brimming with authority, "this is the door to our pack's most sacred sanctuary. Beyond this lies the heart of our history, our legacy."

"How come I never knew until now?," he asked, a tad fascinated by the sight, even though he understood nothing of what he saw.

"You should ask the right questions, son," he said, unimpressed. "It is time for you to learn about our lineage, to understand the immense responsibility of leading our pack, the greatest there is, and the greatest there ever will be."

Damon hesitated, his youthful face submerged in uncertainty. "Father," he spoke softly, taking his time to carefully choose his next words, "thank you for truly trusting me with this, but I do not think I am ready to take on the role of alpha yet; it's just a huge responsibility. I have so much to learn from you, for only after that will I be ready to lead the people."

Lord Savage paused for a moment, his gaze piercing into the depths of Damon's soul. It felt like his pride had been crushed and turned into powder, one that slowly evaporated before his eyes. "How old are you, Damon?," he said to him. He had a tough time trying to hide his fury.

"Father!"

"Answer me!," he commanded him.

"Twenty," he said.

"I was fifteen when I killed a wolf who had attacked my friends. Less than two months later, my father, the alpha, who was told the story, asked me to lead the pack in battle against a pack of hybrids who thought they could not be defeated. I made sure they begged to die by my claws, and I did them the honor," he said, chuckling.

"Father, I…," Damon said, hoping to better explain what he meant.

"Listen!," he said, quickly cutting him short. "You will speak when I'm done," he continued. "I wasn't your age when the alpha appointed me as his lieutenant. I earned it, Damon, I fucking earned it! I wasn't scared of the enemy; they were fucking scared of me! You know what, you are right! You're not ready; you are too weak to lead the pack! Another deserves your place! Fuck!!!" He threw the key at him and walked out, furious.

Damon stood still at one spot, as he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. He looked as lost as ever.

"Fuck!," he said, frustrated.

"Hey, mate, why did Lord Savage request for you?," Jack, as curious as ever, asked him as soon as he walked back in.

"Nothing you should be worried about," he just said and walked out almost immediately, muttering words only he heard.

That night, he woke up to a bad dream. It was so terrifying that he lost whatever desire to go back to the comfort of his bed. He walked to Sophia's room, knocked gently and waited for what seemed like centuries before she opened.

"Hey," she said, surprised to see him standing in front of her door, "what are you doing out here?," she asked him.

"I need a favor from you," he said, sounding desperate.

"Come in," she said, satisfied that he had come alone.

"I had another nightmare," he began. "It felt so real. They didn't spare anyone, not one. They are coming!," he said, feeling so uneasy.

"Hey, easy," she said, holding him, as she tried to wake him up from whatever nightmare she thought he was having.

"It felt so real," he said again.

If only she understood!

She didn't see what he saw!

When she finally did, it was too late!

It was Death's day!

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The party had started. As expected, everyone seemed to be in high spirits, as they laughed, danced, ate, and hailed their alpha. The maids had a tough time dealing with the "more whisky, please," audience. Even Damon, who looked ruffled the previous night, made sure he was not left out.

Sophia had succeeded in convincing him that whatever nightmare he thought he was just his mind messing with his head. "No one should even hear of it," she had warned him. "They would think of you as a weakling, one unfit to rule after his father," she added.

Her words seemed to resonate with what Lord Savage had earlier told him. So, determined not to be seen as the weak link, he decided to let go of his conviction about the dream.

"It's just my mind messing with my head," he often repeated to himself, as he tried to shake off the doubt.

"Hey," someone tapped his shoulder from behind. He quickly recognized her.

"Emily," he said, quickly turning back to behold her. "You sparkle!," he added, wowed.

"Got a spare time?," she just asked him, more interested in what she had to tell him than in his compliments.

"Sure," he said, surprised.

Emily was Damon's ex girlfriend. In fact, they used to be childhood sweethearts, and everyone thought they had been mated. But they were everything but. Damon had found out that Emily seemed to enjoy Jack's company more than she did his. Jealous, he had confronted her about it.

"Tell me the truth," he said to her, furious.

"I'm sorry, Damon, I can't be with you. I love Jack; I always enjoy his company. He just seems to have a piece of my heart," she confessed.

"Does he know?," he asked her, unusually calm.

"I don't know if he has read the signs. Even if he has, I doubt he understands them. But I can't tell him. See, Damon, I'm so sorry; I know I shouldn't…"

"I will tell him," he just said and walked away.

"Mate, I can't do that," Jack protested when Damon told him about it. He had suggested that Jack give Emily a chance. "Come on, mate, how could you even say that!? She's yours, not mine!"

"Tell me you don't feel the same way about her, come on," Damon said to him. He had managed to wear a calm demeanor all through. Jack was his best mate, one he didn't wanna lose because of Emily.

"You got me on this, man. I never intended for any of this to happen, I swear," Jack said, silkily admitting.

"I know, and I believe you. She's yours, mate!," he said, trying to make him smile.

"My father thinks we're still together," she continued.

"Everyone thinks the same way, too," Damon cut in, managing a grim smile. "Should that trouble you?," he asked, wondering why she looked unhappy.

"Can we dance together?," she requested, looking straight into his eyes.

"Dance?," he asked, as if he hadn't heard the first time.

"Please. I just want them to think we're still together."

"What if Jack…"

"He knows already," she cut in.

Just as they had begun dancing, the entire place went into a blackout. The power had been cut from its source. Darkness brought with it the wailings of the slaughtered, with bows, arrows, growlings and claws heard in disarray.

The nightmare had seen the day!

Death had come knocking!

It was Death's Day!