The King of Alphas

"All accept ksei, Noah Silverton as their King?" Noah knew he could be challenged for the throne any moment. Then he would have to fight and kill, only to land back at the dais, in front of the Elders of Vermiculo Pack. A pack Noah would be made Alpha of a day after. The coronation before the marking demonstrated that he was to be a King before an Alpha. And challenging the strongest werewolf on land would be folly, yet there was a moment of silence for anyone to arise one. On his knees, with a wolf's bane flower and a moon stone in either hand, Noah held his breath. He was only eighteen, being handed the throne three years after his father's death, from the clutches of a hungry council who enjoyed their interim rule over Utrif. He was not prepared for this. But now he had to pretend he was. And he could take on a challenger, couldn't he? Uncertainty clouded his vision for a moment. He shook it away. The coronation was something made to be after the first kingdo

Longing roils in the pit of my stomach as I set foot inside my pack building after weeks. Everything reminds me of him. Every single detail screams of his absence. Death is unforeseen and unsought. It comes knocking at your door and suddenly life doesn't make sense. From the moment I was found by Alpha Renier half dead at the outskirts of their vacation home's hunting grounds, he considered me his own. The pack wasn't given much of an explanation about how the Alpha family suddenly had a new daughter. Most considered me to be an illegitimate child. This made Aria, Alpha Reiner's wife hate me even more. And she made her disdain pretty evident, further feeding the rumours until they became half truths for everyone. Rey, on the other hand, simply did not care. It was like I was never there. Like I didn't matter. I am shaken out of my trance when a there's a sudden pick in my heart beat. It thumps rapidly and continuously. I suddenly feel heavy for some reason.

"Mate," he says, his voice a silent thunder, a command. As if, he knows who I am, he is just making sure everyone else does either. I have heard stories about this. How you just know. A blessing. No matter who you are, how you are, what kind you are, a blessing for all. But somehow I led myself to believe I was an exception. I have never been so happy to be proven wrong. I raise my hand. He can't be real. I breathe in. I have a mate. I breathe out. My palm touches the fabric of his cursed mask and everything falls into place. I sigh, a wave of gratification rendering me breathless for a whole minute. He's real. "Mine," I gasp, more shocked than joyful. My mate likes that. The slight crinkles under his eyes show that. His eyes are sharp, sweeping through every inch, every corner of me. I do the same. Though, there is not much to find. A dark cloack, a dark mask and a dark cap. All I can see is his eyes. A part of me screams to rip the cloth off his face

Valis lunges forward in less than a moment. I sidestep, movement fluid and precise, and dodge him with no effort. I may have been resting here for seven years but that does not mean I would let the torturous training I endured go to waste. Valis barely has time to react before my fist connects with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. I spin on my heel, my movements a blur, and deliver a swift kick to the other rogue's midsection. He doubles over, gasping for air. Valis lunges again, his claws extended. I dodge, feeling the rush of air as his claws slice through the space where my head had previously been. I counter with a powerful punch to his ribs, the impact reverberating through my arm. Valis staggers but remains standing, his eyes blazing with fury. "You'll pay for that," he snarls, spitting blood on the rough pavement. I aim a kick at his knee but Valis catches my leg, wrenching me off balance. I twist in mid-air, landing awkwardly but on my feet. Pain flar

"Let me see your face." His voice sounds like safety. Powerful. I shake my head. My wolf is a slobbering mess, screaming in true delight at the sound of our mate out loud. We stay still for a few minutes. "Are you alright?" he asks in a whisper. The three straight cuts throb, reminding me I am not. I finally pull back, looking up. His face is still covered under the strange looking mask I couldn't decipher in the darkness of the ballroom. But now, in the dim basement lights, I see it and instantly a chill runs down my body. It's an eerie black skull, gleaming ominously with shadowed eye sockets and delicate silver-highlighted cracks. Sharp cheekbones, a jagged nasal cavity and a chillingly realistic grin of teeth enhance its lifelike, unsettling texture. Only the azure of his eyes pokes out. "Take off your mask," I say so, so softly that even I am surprised at my tone. He gives me a half smile. And then one of the men behind him takes a careful step forward. His eyes g