The Alpha's Beta: Once Rejected, Now Desired

Elora's POV She let out a moan as his hands found her boobs—squeezing gently—his lips resting on the nape of her neck. Then his lips trailed down, from collar to chest, to her tummy, to her waist, and then finally resting in between her legs. She shit her eyes tightly, her right arm grabbing her hair, and the other the sheets beneath them. Suddenly, her eyes met mine, a grin playing on her lips. I gasped as I jerked up from bed. It was all a dream—a stupid one. One with Zeke and Charlotte making love. I rushed into the bathroom, switching on the shower. The cold water hit my skin, sending a chill that calmed my nerves. Stepping out, I took a towel and dried myself. I couldn't help but glance at the mirror as I walked by, staring at my blue eyes. Just then, an image of Dad flashed before my eyes, sending an ache into my heart. For days I've been thinking about him a lot. Henry Stark—a well-educated gentleman—one of the greatest Betas to have ever lived. He had raised

Elora's POV "Don't you talk to her like that!" Zeke yelled back at Laura. He was defending her. He was standing up for Charlotte?! "Zeke?" The word left my lips before I could think. "What... What are you doing here? And with..." My voice broke, fading away, replaced with the chill I felt running down my spine. What the heck was he doing here? Didn't he say he wasn't in contact with her? And why was he fighting for her? So many thoughts ran through my mind. But Zeke looked shocked. "Babe. What are you doing here?" He asked. "Shouldn't you be at the cemetery with Katelyn?" A chuckle escaped my lips at his words. Now, that was definitely funny. "Annie! I asked you to keep Elora away from here!" Laura snapped. Zeke's eyes darted from me to Laura, confused. "Wait a minute! You know this bitch." "That's it!" Laura growled, picking up a fork. "I'm going to use this and put a hole in your..." "Calm down, Laura," I muttered, standing in between both of them as I held up my h

Elora's POV I felt the color drain from my face as my eyes remained locked on the digits. "Do you know the owner of the number?" He asked. He seemed to have noticed the look on my face. "I... I'm," My voice trailed off as my mind went blank. I wasn't sure what was happening. All I knew was that I started walking, and before I knew what I was doing, I was in front of our home. I was about to go in when someone held my hand. "This is?" The old Beta asked. "My home," I muttered, turning to them. The Alpha frowned. He seemed to have understood what I was trying to say. "Do you need help? Maybe we can come with—" "No," I muttered, cutting him off. "I want to confirm it for myself." I tried to go in again, but the Alpha held my hand, his grip gentle against my skin. "Remember, we still don't know what we're dealing with. So if you see anything that seems off, just come out, tell us and we'll handle it together. Don't do anything irrational. Understood?" I barely heard what h

Elora’s POV Morning had barely broken when a knock rattled the front door. I froze, still standing at the sink with a chipped mug in my hand. The sound came again—three short raps. Zeke didn’t move from the dining table. He just flicked his eyes toward the door and back to his cup, as if whoever it was had nothing to do with him. Which, in his mind, it probably didn’t. Not anymore anyway. I set the mug down and walked over, peeking through the curtain before unlocking the latch. A courier wolf stood on the doorstep, dressed in the silver-gray of the Alpha’s direct messengers. His posture was rigid and professional like he had been doing this all his life. His eyes never met mine. Instead, he held out a small, rectangular package—black velvet, sealed with a silver emblem. It was a crescent moon slashed with a claw—the Alpha's mark. My fingers tightened around the box as I nodded and murmured a thank-you, watching the courier retreat without a word. Back inside, Zeke s

Elora’s POV"Thank you, Mrs. Ken," I muttered as I walked into the in.The stone floors of the Pack’s archive were colder than I remembered. The archive was circular in structure, its walls lined with stacked scrolls, aging tomes, and weird-looking cabinets. Each level was marked by carved runes worn from centuries of fingers pulling at it.At the heart of the room sat a singular obsidian desk. It was empty, save for a quill and a ledger used by the archivist. He barely glanced at me, murmuring a distracted “Sign in,” as I filled in my false reason for being here."Research on historical Pack artifacts—specifically enchantments used in border weaponry."It was vague, but she free#afe.No one questioned those who sought knowledge, so long as they didn’t look like they were chasing ghosts.I moved past the desk and deeper into the shelves, the temperature dipping as I descended a short spiral of stone steps leading to the second tier. It was a place reserved for things not forgotten—ju