Stolen by the Alpha

The grand hall of the rustic lodge feels stifling as I stand here, facing Ethan. My promised mate."Traditions be damned, Ethan!" My voice pierces through the air, echoing off the walls adorned with lunar symbols and pack artifacts.Everything packed with symbolism. Meaning. Everything meant to keep me down and perpetuate the ancient traditions of the Blackwood pack. But I refuse to marry Ethan.His sharp blue gaze locks onto mine, his eyes blazing with a fire that matches the hearth’s glow in the center of the room. "You will respect the ways that have kept us safe for centuries, Lyla," he snarls, the authority in his tone as unyielding as the ancient trees surrounding our home.We’ve attracted the attention of the other pack members. The door opens at the back of the lodge, and the elders enter. I feel more than see my younger sister Ana enter the lodge, but I don’t look at her. I know she’ll be judging me.This is between me and Ethan. I clench my fists at my sides. "Safe? Or s

EthanWhen I left the lodge to track Lyla down, I knew it might come to this.Our passion for each other frequently ignites in anger, in fighting, in plays for dominance.But it usually ends in carnal pleasure.Still, my eyes widen as she kneels before me, her hand wrapping around my cock. I can’t believe the boldness of this woman, the way she is taking control and turning the tables on me.Maybe she’s ready to end the stand off between us and perform the ritual. Be my mate.I can’t deny how much it turns me on, how much I want her to take what she wants from me. I groan as her hand moves up and down my shaft, her thumb rubbing against the sensitive head of my cock. My hands grip fistfuls of grass beneath me as she continues to pleasure me. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, but I want to prolong this moment for as long as possible.Instead of focusing solely on my cock, she leans forward and begins kissing and nipping at my thighs. Her tongue darts out to swirl

KalenDammit! I knew something was off. Now it makes sense, the scent of something unfamiliar in our territory. My heart races, my mind already calculating the potential dangers.I race through the forest, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow through the canopy of ancient evergreens. I move with practiced ease, my footsteps silent against the forest floor. Years of patrolling these woods have made the terrain second nature to me. I know every hidden trail, every secret clearing. My eyes scan the surroundings for any signs of movement. I catch the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, the scurrying of small creatures in the underbrush.I duck under low-hanging branches and I leap over a fallen log, landing silently on the other side. I crouch at a narrow stream, my eyes narrowing as I scan the area. The sound of rushing water masks the subtle noises of the forest. I inhale deeply, discerning the various scents—moss, wet stone, and something faintly metallic. The moonlight da

I sniff, my nostrils flaring, and notice how her scent fills the small space of my cabin. Blood mingled with sweat and wolf.If I can smell it from here, the pack will smell it outside.I have to mask it. I head back to the corner of the cabin where the hazel clippings are stored. The branches are fresh, their leaves still green and vibrant. Hazel is a powerful mask, a trick I learned from the elders in my youth. Its scent is strong, overpowering, and if used correctly, it can drown out almost anything else.Taking a handful of the clippings, I move methodically around the room, sweeping them over every surface. The air grows thick with the smell, a bitter, almost medicinal odor that stings my nose. I crush the leaves in my hands, releasing more of their pungent scent, and scatter the fragments across the floor, over the bed, anywhere she might have left a trace of herself.The sweat on my brow drips down my temple as I work, and I wipe it aw

I stand in the center of the grand lodge, the heart of our pack's territory, surrounded by the elders and my beta. I scan the room, noting the stern expressions on their faces. The lunar symbols adorning the walls mock me, reminding me of the weight of my responsibilities."We haven't heard from Lyla in days," I say, my voice calm but an underlying intensity breaking through. "I'm concerned for her safety.""You banished her, Ethan," one of the elders, a graying wolf with a deep scar across his cheek, reminds me. His tone is cold, unyielding. "Her fate is no longer our concern."I clench my fists, frustration boiling within me. "She's still my mate.""Yet she defied you," my beta, a young but capable wolf named Samuel, interjects. "And we can't afford to show leniency, not with the Slavers sniffing at our borders."The mention of the Slavers sends a shiver down my spine. The Ironfang Slavers, the Chainmasters, who demand a tribute from us every yea