The Alpha’s Forbidden Mate

“Do you think they’ll dare look me in the eye tonight, Kael?”

Ronan’s voice cut through the stillness of the evening, low and edged with the same hostility that had been burning in my chest since the message arrived. He stood at my side, his broad shoulders taut, every muscle prepared for a fight that hadn’t yet begun. The moon’s pale light spilled across the clearing where the Shadowfang warriors had gathered, their silver eyes glinting in silence, awaiting my command.

“They’ll have no choice,” I replied, my voice as cold as the night air. “Darius knows what happens to those who disrespect me. He can bring every last one of his mongrels, and it still won’t save him from my claws if he forgets it.”

I could feel their fear even before I saw them. The stench of the rival pack—Stormclaws—carried on the wind, bitter and sharp, stirring the instincts in my blood. They were close.

Tonight was supposed to be the night of truce, the first time in two decades that our packs would sit in the same place without blood being spilled. An ancient pact had been proposed—marriage, binding blood with blood to end the carnage that had painted our borders red for generations.

But peace was a word that always tasted like ash on my tongue.

“Peace,” I murmured to myself, the word more curse than promise.

Ronan shot me a sidelong glance, his dark hair catching the moonlight. “Do you even believe in that word?”

I smirked, baring a hint of fang. “No. But I believe in power. And power demands that I at least play their game tonight.”

The first growls came from the treeline. My warriors tensed, but I lifted a hand. Not yet.

Darius arrived the way he always did—loud, arrogant, determined to show strength he did not possess. His wolves poured into the clearing, their formation precise, but their stench giving them away as nervous. I recognized every scarred face, every set of glowing amber eyes. Stormclaws. My enemies.

And then, him.

Alpha Darius stepped forward, towering and broad, his beard streaked with iron gray, his presence radiating authority. But I saw past it. Age had begun to dull his edges, his wolf slower than it once was. He was still dangerous, yes, but he was no longer a predator without cracks.

He smirked at me across the clearing, as if we were equals.

“Kael Veynar,” he said, his voice deep, his tone laced with mock respect. “The ruthless Alpha of Shadowfang. I wondered if you’d actually come.”

I took a deliberate step forward, the silence of my warriors thick behind me. My voice carried, smooth but edged with steel.

“And miss the chance to look you in the eye after all the blood you’ve spilled? No, Darius. I wouldn’t dare disappoint you.”

For a moment, the air itself seemed to grow heavier. His wolves shifted uneasily, and mine responded with quiet snarls.

But Darius only chuckled, as though my words were no more dangerous than a child’s. “Still sharp-tongued, I see. I had hoped age might dull you, Kael.”

I bared my teeth in a grin that held no warmth. “Age sharpens me. Unlike you, I haven’t gone soft.”

Ronan muttered something under his breath behind me—something about patience—but I ignored him. Tonight wasn’t about civility. It was about proving strength, reminding Darius who held the upper hand.

We stood across from one another, separated by nothing but history.

And history was written in blood.

I remembered the first time I saw him—years ago, when he led a raid into our lands. His claws tore through my father’s chest. My father, Alpha before me, bled out in the mud while I, too young then to fight, was forced to watch. That night, I swore vengeance.

And though I had taken my revenge in pieces—wolves slaughtered, lands reclaimed, Stormclaw warriors burned—I had never truly quenched the rage. Tonight, it stirred again, hot and savage, begging me to lunge across the clearing and rip his throat out.

But I didn’t. Not yet.

“You wanted this meeting,” I said finally, my voice hard. “So speak, Darius. What words could possibly be worth this farce?”

Darius’s eyes glittered, and for a moment, I thought he would attack. But instead, he smiled, slow and deliberate.

“A future without graves,” he said.

Laughter erupted from my chest before I could stop it. A dark, bitter sound that echoed in the stillness. “Graves are the only future your pack has ever earned.”

His wolves growled at my words, but one sharp look from him silenced them.

“This blood feud,” Darius said, taking a step closer, “has lasted too long. Too many sons buried. Too many daughters lost. Our fathers began it. But perhaps… we can end it.”

The weight of his words pressed against me like a blade. End it? After all he’d taken?

I narrowed my eyes. “And what? You expect me to forget what you did to my father? My people?”

He did not flinch. “I expect you to do what’s best for yours.”

I hated him for the calm in his voice.

Still, I remained silent as he continued.

“A union,” Darius said, his tone heavy with intent. “Your blood and mine, bound by pact. No more raids. No more border wars. One bond to unite us both.”

The words struck me like a blow. I had expected threats, perhaps offers of temporary truce, but not this. Marriage. A binding pact through flesh and vow.

Behind me, Ronan bristled. “You insult us with this suggestion,” he snarled. “We’d sooner bleed the ground red than—”

I raised a hand to silence him. My eyes never left Darius.

He smiled, pleased I hadn’t dismissed it outright. “You see the wisdom in it, don’t you, Kael? I’ve studied you long enough. You’re ruthless, yes. Cold. But not foolish. You know this endless war will destroy us both eventually. Neither side wins if we burn each other to ash.”

His words rang with truth. And yet, truth was a blade that cut both ways.

I stepped closer until we were only feet apart. His wolves bristled, mine growled, but we held the line.

“And whose blood,” I asked softly, dangerously, “would you bind to mine?”

Darius’s smirk widened. “Mine, of course. Through my daughter.”

Ronan cursed under his breath, and even some of my warriors shifted in unease. A marriage pact. A union not just of names, but of fates.

I should have rejected it outright. I should have torn his throat out where he stood and painted the clearing red. But something in me hesitated.

Because though every instinct screamed to hate him, to reject his words, I knew he was right about one thing: this war could not last forever. My people—strong as they were—bled with every moon. And I would not let Shadowfang fall the way my father had let it.

I drew in a long breath, the weight of the night pressing heavy on my shoulders.

“You think,” I said slowly, “that binding me to your blood will erase what you’ve done? That a vow will cleanse your sins?”

Darius tilted his head. “Not erase. But perhaps prevent new ones.”

The growl rose in my chest before I could stop it. “If this is a trick—”

“It’s no trick,” he cut in firmly. “It’s survival. For you. For me. For both our people.”

The silence stretched long between us, broken only by the restless shifting of wolves behind us. The moon hung heavy above, watching, waiting.

Finally, I spoke, my voice like steel dragged across stone.

“Very well. I will consider it.”

Gasps rippled through both packs. Ronan stiffened beside me, fury radiating from him. But I didn’t look at him. My eyes stayed locked on Darius, who looked far too satisfied for my liking.

“Good,” Darius said, inclining his head ever so slightly. “I knew you would see reason. You always were more calculating than the others gave you credit for.”

Reason. That wasn’t what this was. This was strategy. A game of survival. And if marrying into his bloodline bought me time, power, leverage—it might be worth the chains.

But make no mistake. I did not trust him. I never would.

I turned away sharply, signaling to my warriors. “We’re done here.”

As I walked back into the shadows, the growl in my chest coiled tight. Marriage. Union. Peace. Words that meant nothing to me.

And yet, for the first time in years, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, as though the future had just changed course.

Perhaps it had.