Alpha Kings Pov
The night was a suffocating blanket, thick with the sharp, unforgiving bite of winter and the metallic tang of blood. It painted the scene in shades of danger, a stark prelude to the chaos about unfolding.
I stood at the edge of the clearing, the Alpha King, Cash Sinclair, a statue carved from shadows and resolve. My warriors were silent behind me, their bodies coiled tight with anticipation, waiting for my command for the signal to unleash the storm. But my voice was trapped in my throat, my limbs frozen.
I couldn't move.
My entire focus was consumed by the woman standing naked and defiant in the heart of the moon's glow, her skin shimmering like polished bone. Every breath I managed to drag in scraped the inside of my throat raw like a jagged blade dragged across tender flesh.
My mate.
Gods, fucking help me.
She wasn't what I expected. Not some demure, submissive she-wolf eager to please her king. She was a warrior, scarred and unyielding, her eyes burning with a defiant fire that could melt glaciers.
Not what I wanted. I envisioned a queen who could navigate the treacherous currents of court, a political asset to solidify my reign.
Not what I needed. I needed stability, order, and a future free from the chaos that had haunted my past.
And yet
The band roared through me, a primal, untamed force of nature. It was wildfire, merciless and alive, searing every inch of my carefully constructed control. It threatened to reduce my kingdom to ash.
I tasted her scent in the frigid air—blood, pine, and the faintest, most intoxicating undercurrent of something wilder, something untamed. Something that called to the beast within me, the ancient, primal part that didn't care about politics or promises or my carefully crafted kingdom.
It wanted her.
No one else.
Nothing else.
I dragged in a breath through my nose, slow and steady, forcing my hands to relax at my sides, to unclench from the fists they yearned to become. I was a king, damn it. I had to act like one.
My wolf snarled inside me, a guttural, furious sound, enraged by the distance between us; by the way she stood there proud, battered, glorious without bowing her head, without offering even a hint of submission.
She didn't submit.
Not even a little.
My lip curled almost unconsciously, a flicker of the beast beneath the surface.
Every instinct I possessed screamed to claim her, to mark her so deeply the gods themselves would know who she belonged to, to drag her into the shadows and keep her safe.
But I was a king first.
A man second.
And kings didn't fall to their knees for rogue-blooded, stubborn hellcats with green eyes and bodies built to make saints fall from grace.
Not when the survival of my pack depended on order, strength, and unwavering adherence to tradition.
Not when I'd already promised another woman my throne, a strategic alliance forged in blood and political maneuvering.
I could feel Elizabeth's gaze burning into the back of my skull. She was watching from the treeline, her fury simmering like a poisonous brew. She was a viper, beautiful and deadly, and she would not take kindly to this…complication.
Too bad.
I kept my eyes locked on the rogue leader—Lilian, she had said, her voice a husky rasp that sent shivers down my spine.
I rolled the name in my mind, tasting it like forbidden fruit, savoring how it felt on my tongue.
I didn't even realize I was moving until I stood in front of her again, towering over her, the difference in our height stark and deliberate. I wanted her to feel my power, to understand the weight of my presence.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't cover herself, didn't cower or beg.
Pride gleamed in her eyes, fierce and unyielding, a challenge thrown at my feet.
It stirred something dark and possessive in my chest, something I hadn't felt in years, something I thought I had buried long ago.
Something I wasn't sure I could survive.
"You and your wolves will come with us," I repeated, my voice low enough to barely stir the air, a rumble of power that only she could hear. It was an order, not a request.
Her chin lifted a fraction, a warrior's pride etched in every inch of her posture.
"We'll come," she said, her voice rough from the shift, the words laced with venom. "But make no mistake, King..."
She spat the word like it tasted foul, like a curse on her tongue.
"We're not yours."
The words hit harder than they should have, a sharp blow to my carefully constructed facade.
Good, I thought savagely. Let her fight it. Let her hate me. It would make it easier when I finally had to push her away when I had to make the impossible choice.
Because I would.
I had to.
Still… the thought of anyone else touching her—even breathing the same air—made my wolf rise up, teeth bared, ready to tear the world apart.
I ground my molars together so hard I tasted blood, the metallic tang a grim reminder of the battle I was waging within myself.
I turned away from her sharply, barking orders to my men, my voice clipped and authoritative.
"Clothes. Shelter. Food. Now."
I could feel her eyes on my back as I stripped off my heavy leather jacket—the one I'd worn for years and that carried my scent—and tossed it at her feet without a word.
It was petty, maybe—marking her, even a little, with my scent, claiming her in the only way I could allow myself to. But I couldn't stop myself.
Not when my wolf howled for it, a desperate, primal plea.
Not when every fiber of my body screamed to wrap her up, drag her against me, and bury my face in her skin until the world faded away and there was nothing but us.
I heard her soft snarl behind me, a low, guttural sound that mirrored the one raging within me.
I didn't turn around.
Coward.
The ride back to Blackstone was brutal, a physical manifestation of the war raging inside me.
The rogues—half-shifted, wounded, and terrified—huddled in the back of supply trucks, wrapped in whatever spare clothes the warriors could scrounge up. They were a sorry sight, a testament to the harsh realities of their lives.
I rode ahead on my bike, the engine's roar almost drowning out the pounding in my head, the relentless pulse of the bond that connected us.
Almost.
I caught glimpses of her in the rearview mirror. Lilian was wrapped in my jacket, the leather swallowing her petite frame. She was hunched against the cold, her green eyes narrowed and burning with rage.
She should have looked broken, defeated, and humbled by her capture.
Beaten.
Instead, she looked like a blade being tempered by fire, forged in the crucible of hardship, stronger and sharper than ever before.
My hands tightened on the handlebars until the leather creaked, the strain mirroring the tension in my jaw.
What the hell was I supposed to do with her?
My council was already frothing at the mouth about the rogues and how their presence would destabilize the fragile peace with the Blue River Pack and threaten Blackstone's dominance in the region. They saw only chaos and disruption.
Elizabeth, too, would not let this slide. She would see Lilian as a threat, a rival for my attention, for my throne.
And yet—
My wolf rumbled, low and warning, every time I even thought about sending Lilian away, about severing the bond already tightening its grip on my soul.
She's ours.
The words came unbidden, primal, absolute, echoing in the deepest recesses of my mind.
I growled low in my throat, shoving the thought aside, burying it beneath layers of duty and responsibility.
I had a pack to protect.
A throne to defend.
A future to secure.
There was no place in my life for a rogue queen who would tear down everything I'd built, challenge my authority, and disrupt the delicate balance of my kingdom.
No matter how much I already ached for her, no matter how fiercely my wolf claimed her as our own.
The fortress of Blackstone loomed out of the trees just before dawn—ancient stone walls wrapped in mist, watchtowers standing like silent sentinels against the sky. It was a symbol of my power, a testament to my strength.
I pulled up to the gates, nodding once at the guards, their faces grim and unreadable.
The heavy iron doors groaned open, echoing through the ages.
Home.
Or at least, the closest thing to it.
I cut the engine and swung off the bike, landing lightly on the ground despite my size, my senses on high alert.
I turned—and there she was.
Lilian.
Still wrapped in my jacket, the sleeves hanging off her arms, the hem brushing the tops of her bare thighs, a tantalizing glimpse of skin that sent a jolt of electricity through me.
I cursed under my breath, my body reacting in ways I had no business entertaining, betraying my carefully constructed control.
Her wild and glorious dark hair tangled around her face, framing her features like a dark halo.
Her green eyes met mine, furious, exhausted, proud.
Mine, my wolf whispered again, the possessive claim echoing in my soul.
I wanted to tear the whole world apart for her and protect her from the dangers within these walls.
I wanted to shove her away and never see her again, to sever the bond before it consumed me entirely.
Both hung between us, a dangerous, delicate balance, a tightrope between duty and desire.
"Follow me," I said roughly, my voice devoid of warmth or invitation.
She hesitated for a beat, then jerked her chin in a stubborn nod, a silent acknowledgment of my authority.
Pride coiled hot in my gut, a dangerous, intoxicating feeling.
Stupid, infuriating woman.
I led them through the inner courtyard, up the stone steps, and into the heart of the fortress, the very center of my power.
Servants and warriors gawked openly at the ragtag group of rogues trailing behind me, some with fear, some with disgust, and some with a flicker of curiosity.
I caught every look, cataloged every expression, and filed them away for later.
They would learn.
They would respect them.
Or they would answer to me.
I stopped outside the west wing, an old section of the keep, still sturdy but rarely used, a place of shadows and forgotten memories.
Perfect.
Far enough from the main hall to avoid unnecessary problems and isolated sufficiently to contain the chaos she embodied.
I turned to Lilian, my gaze unwavering.
"You'll stay here," I said, nodding to the thick oak doors. The words were clipped and devoid of emotion: "You and yours. For now."
"For now?" she repeated, her voice icy, a challenge in every syllable.
I leaned down slightly, lowering my voice so only she could hear, invading her personal space, asserting my dominance.
"Until I decide if you're a threat to my pack."
The green fire in her eyes scorched me, a searing heat threatening to consume me.
"Try me, King," she whispered, the words a dark promise, a challenge that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
"I don't break easy."
My cock twitched hard and fast, a visceral response to her defiance.
I straightened sharply, locking my jaw, forcing myself to regain control.
"Get some rest," I said shortly, my voice rough with suppressed desire. "You'll need it."
I stalked away without looking back, my wolf clawing at my insides, desperate to turn back, to claim what was rightfully ours.
Distance.
I needed distance.
Before I did something we would both regret, I succumbed to the pull of the bond and shattered everything I had worked so hard to build.
Before I claimed what I had no right to touch before I lost myself in the rogue queen's fire
And burned down my whole damned kingdom.