The Grumpy Alpha and His Chubby Mate

Zara Lovegrove Moonclaw POV

“Take it back right now, Damon, or I will dump this entire bowl of stew on your head!” I yell, my face burning up.

My hands shake as I grip the heavy tray, the smell of roasted meat and gravy hitting my nose. I am panting, my chest rising and falling fast under my tight tunic. Being a plus-size, chubby wolf in the Lovegrove Moonclaw Pack means I already take up space, but right now, I feel like a giant target.

“Make me, Ivy,” Damon Thornclaw sneers, using my old pack name just to watch me flinch. He leans back in his carved wooden chair at the Alpha’s Table, a nasty grin stretching across his face. “You are nothing but a dropped-off stray from the Ashborne Wolfblood Pack. A fat, useless little maid who cannot even find a mate.”

The other four warriors at the table laugh loudly. The sound cuts right through me like a silver blade.

“I told you to let go of my wrist!” I scream, my voice cracking.

He squeezes harder. His rough fingers dig into my skin. It hurts, and a small whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it. My heart is beating like a trapped bird. I want to run, to hide my heavy body away from their mean eyes, but the anger inside me burns hotter than a forge.

“Come on, Zara,” Damon whispers, his eyes dropping down to look at my curves with pure disgust. “Just give me what I want. One night in the woods. Let’s see if a big girl like you can even keep up with a real wolf.”

“Never!” I shout.

I pull my arm back with everything I have. My foot slips on the smooth stone floor of the Moonlight Feast Hall. I stumble backwards, my heavy weight throwing me completely off balance.

Smash!

I crash hard into Amelia Rosewood as she walks past, carrying a massive jug of dark berry juice. The glass shatters against the floor with a sound like thunder. Deep red juice splashes everywhere, covering the floor, my face, and my white tunic. It looks exactly like fresh blood.

“Oh my Goddess!” a woman shrieks from across the hall.

I look up from the floor, my breath catching in my throat. Standing right in front of me is Lady Esme Whitlock. Her expensive, snow-white fur cape is completely ruined, soaked through with thick, dripping red stains.

I am frozen. My eyes are wide, and my whole body starts to tremble. I am finished now.

Theo Kingsley Silverfang POV

“Shut your mouth, Luca, before I break your jaw,” I growl, my voice deep and low.

I slam my wooden flagon down on the table, making the ale slosh over the side. My eyes are locked onto the back of the room. I do not care about the pack merchants, or the missing resources from our territory, or the grand tournament rules.

“What is wrong with you, Theo?” Luca Harrington asks, blinking at me. “You have been staring at the corner for twenty minutes. We are supposed to be talking about the royal tournament.”

“It is her,” I whisper.

My chest tightens. My wolf thumps hard against my ribs, howling inside my mind. It is a wild, crazy feeling that makes my claws want to burst right out of my fingers.

“Who?” Luca turns his head to look. “Wait. Is that the chubby girl from the Ashborne pack? The one Teddy used to bring around before the pack war?”

“Do not say her name,” I snap, my teeth bared.

My eyes follow the long, thick braid swinging down her back. Zara. She is different now. She lost the bright smile she had a year ago, and her soft, beautiful face looks pale and tired. She is carrying a heavy load on her shoulders, working like a common servant in the feast hall when she belongs on a throne. My throne.

“You are crazy,” Luca mutters, shaking his head. “She is a plus-size nobody from a fallen family. Your father, King Victor, will never let a broken wolf like her near the Silverfang Royal Pack.”

“I do not care what my father thinks,” I say, my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge of the wood. “She is mine.”

Before Luca can speak again, a loud shout echoes from the centre of the hall.

“I told you to let go of my wrist!”

My head jerks up. Every muscle in my body goes completely stiff.

I see Damon Thornclaw gripping Zara’s small wrist. He is pulling her close, laughing while his friends mock her size. Zara is shaking, her sea-green eyes filled with pure fear and anger.

“Theo, stop,” Luca warns, reaching out to grab my shoulder. “Do not start a pack war in the middle of the neutral territory.”

I do not hear him. The sound of her breath catching triggers something primal deep inside my blood. My vision goes completely red.

Crash!

Zara falls backwards, smashing into another servant. Glass explodes. Red juice showers over the floor, coating her skin and staining a noble lady's expensive clothes. Zara sits in the middle of the mess, looking small, terrified, and totally helpless as the entire room starts pointing and shouting at her.

Damon stands up, laughing at her pain, with a raised hand ready to strike.

I stand up so fast my heavy chair flies backwards and splinters against the wall—a massive, deafening roar rips from my throat, shaking the very stones of the hall. I leap over the table, my claws tearing through my skin, ready to rip the throat out of anyone who dares to touch my mate.