Vying For The Alpha's Heart

Eltonia’s fingers pressed into the knotted muscle of his left shoulder, right where the old burn scar tissue puckered the skin.

"Harder, 'Tonia," Alpha Oreon rumbled with that thick voice she'd grown so fond of. He was face down on the massage table in his private study, the scent of sandalwood and old parchment permeating the room.

"If I go harder, Alpha, you will be bruised," she murmured. Her heart did its usual stupid flip. "You were tense during the council meeting. I could see it from the hall."

"You... saw that?" He let out a long breath as her thumbs found the center of his pain, the spot on his neck that had ached since the fire.

The fire that had taken her family.

The fire that had given her… him.

She had been nine years old, trapped under a burning beam. He had been twenty, a new Alpha, pulling her from the wreckage himself, his own back and neck burning as the roof collapsed behind them.

For eleven years, she had been his Omega. His personal attendant. The one who laundered his clothes, the one who organized his study, and the only one allowed to touch him like this.

Her reward for this intimacy? A front-row seat to his life.

She’d watched him bring home women. She’d watched him try to form mate bonds, only for them to shatter. She’d smelled their unfamiliar perfumes on his sheets when she came to collect the laundry, and a fresh, intense pain stabbed her every single time.

He was the Alpha. She was the Omega. He was the sun, and she was the speck of dust floating in his light.

"The council is... restless," Oreon finally admitted in obvious frustration. "They speak of duty. Of the bloodline. Of my age."

Eltonia’s hands stilled for just a second. She knew exactly what this was about. His thirtieth birthday was in two months. The deadline.

"They are old wolves, Alpha," she said softly, resuming her kneading. "They fear change."

"They fear me failing," he corrected. He twisted his head to the side, and one dark, weary eye met hers. "They gave me an ultimatum today, Eltonia."

Her stomach dropped. She kept her expression smooth, the perfect servant’s expression. "An ultimatum?"

Before he could answer, a polite rap echoed from the heavy oak door.

"Enter," Oreon growled, his good mood vanishing instantly.

The door swung open, and Lord Abram, Oreon’s uncle and chief advisor, glided in. Abram was a wolf who never seemed to walk; he flowed, his graying dark hair slicked back and his smile never, ever reaching his cold eyes.

"Alpha Oreon. My apologies for the intrusion on your... recovery." His gaze flicked to Eltonia, observing for a moment too long, making her skin crawl. He dismissed her as if she were a piece of furniture and turned back to his nephew.

"What is it, Abram? I am occupied."

"Just a formality, my boy," Abram said in that sultry honey-coated manner. "The council asked me to deliver the proclamation personally. To ensure you understood the... gravity."

He unrolled a small scroll. Eltonia’s hands were still on Oreon’s back, and she could feel the muscles under her palms turn to hard rock.

"By decree of the Wilder Moon Council," As Abram read, his voice filled the quiet study, "Alpha Oreon of the Ashwood Pack has until the rise of the Blood Moon on his thirtieth year to secure a mate, present a chosen Luna, and ensure the continuation of his line."

Oreon said nothing. The air became soggy with tension..

Abram smiled, a thin, reptilian gesture. "Failure to do so," he continued, "will result in the immediate forfeiture of his titles and lands, to be passed to the next viable heir, as dictated by the council."

Eltonia felt the blood drain from her face. Dethroned. They would take everything from him.

Abram rolled the scroll back up. "It would be a shame, nephew. All this... gone." He waved a hand around the study, at the maps of the territory, the ancestral portraits, the heavy, dark-wood desk. "But rules are rules."

"Get out, Abram," Oreon growled dangerously.

"Of course, Alpha." Abram gave a shallow bow. "Just ensuring the message was clear. We are all... very concerned for your future."

He backed out of the room, and the heavy door clicked shut, leaving a silence that was louder than any shouting.

Eltonia’s thumbs barely moved. She was afraid to breathe. Abram was the "next viable heir." He was the one who stood to gain everything. He wasn't concerned; he was praying for Oreon to fail.

"He's been planning this," Oreon finally said, his voice muffled by the headrest. "My entire life, he’s been waiting for me to stumble."

"You will not stumble, Alpha," Eltonia’s voice shook slightly, though she tried to hide it. "You will find her. Your true mate is out there. The Moon Goddess would not abandon you."

Oreon was silent for a long time. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up.

Eltonia scrambled back, her cheeks hot, and grabbed a warm towel from the cart. He sat on the edge of the table, his bare back to her, and she quickly wore the towel over his shoulders. He was the Alpha. She should not see him exposed.

But she had seen him. Every scar, every line of muscle, every night for eleven years.

"That's the problem, 'Tonia," he said, rubbing his face with a weary hand. "Abram and the council... they aren't leaving it to the Goddess."

She paused as her hands held the edges of the towel. "What do you mean, Alpha?"

He finally turned, and his dark eyes, the eyes she dreamed of, were filled with a deep, resigned exhaustion that broke her heart.

"He's starting a 'selection.' Abram has used his advisory powers to organize 'stay periods' for potential mates."

Eltonia’s throat closed. "Stay... periods?"

"He's invited high-born females from all the surrounding packs. They will stay at the packhouse. Each one will have a week to… convince me she is Luna material."

Oreon looked past her, toward the window, where the first stars were beginning to appear.

"He says it's to 'help' me find a match," Oreon said bitterly. "But I know what he's doing. He's trying to control the outcome. He's stacking the deck."

Eltonia's heart, which had been in her throat, now plummeted to the floor. She had to watch him with other women before, but this? This was a parade. A competition. A nightmare.

"When?" she whispered, fearing the answer.

Oreon’s gaze met hers again, and in it, she saw an apology.

"Tomorrow," he simply stated, "The first one arrives tomorrow."