The Alpha's Daydream

“You must be Ella.”

The voice makes me blink in surprise, and clutch the towel around me tighter to my body. My gaze searches out the source of the feminine voice, a young shewolf standing by the windows. She pulls back the curtains and sunlight pours into the bedroom, radiating through her and making her smile appear effortless. This girl—around my age I guess—truly is beautiful, with dark blonde hair in a neat ponytail, a wilful and cheery face, and a figure that isn’t quite slim, but toned with muscles and athletic strength.

My eyes take in her appearance in an instant, female to female, assessing her as either friend or foe. She looks formidable in well-worn trainers, tight exercise pants, a loose tank, and an energy lingering in her hands that straighten the curtains.

“It’s actually Ariella,” I take her offered hand and try not to wince at the strong shake she gives it.

Her smile falters for a brief moment. “But Malachi said—“

“He didn’t know my full name when we first met…”

When her frown deepens, brown-green eyes looking at me strangely as if there was something on my face, I squirm under her gaze and pull back my hand. I tuck some frizzy flyaways behind my ear self-consciously as she wipes off the frown and her smile blossoms again.

“Well, Ariella, I’m Harlow. Nice to finally meet you. Malachi hasn’t given much away about you, so I’ve had to guess what his mate was like. And I can now say,” she tilts her head sideways and regards me with hands on hips. “You’re nothing like I expected,” she smiles, perfect white teeth parting under rosy lips, her eyes offering a nod of approval.

But it doesn’t quite feel like approval. Her brief once-over leaves me feeling that perhaps she truthfully meant the remark in a negative way. Perhaps I am nothing like the strong, courageous Luna she was expecting for her pack.

“Umm—“ I fidget, scrunching the towel between my cold fingers and shifting on my feet, an awkward silence weighing on my tongue with nothing to say.

“Oh, I’m sorry to keep you standing there like that! Where are my manners? Here are the clothes I brought you. I sure hope they fit. I had to guess the size, because as I said before, I really had no idea what you looked like or anything. That Alpha is so tight lipped, it’s like pulling teeth trying to get anything out of him!” She takes a breath after her monologue and pushes me back into the bathroom.

I slip on the gym shorts Harlow had given me, then put on the underwear that was rather tight. It squeezes my chest, making it hard to breathe, but I tell myself it will stretch soon. I can’t expect Harlow to find perfectly fitting clothing on such short notice. Tugging the bright pink T-shirt on over my head, I let it hang down and study myself in the mirror. The shirt is two sizes too large, but I just tuck the front into my shorts. Brushing out my hair that is crinkled from braids, I do it up in a bun before heading back into the room.

“Oh, good. They look alright,” Harlow appraises, giving me another smile. “Maybe sometime this week we can take you shopping for your own clothes.”

I bite the inside of my cheek before replying, “Or I could just get my own things from home.”

Harlow’s eyes widen as she understands the implication of what I just said. “You’re thinking of moving in here so quickly? That’s a big decision to make. Don’t you want to get to know our pack first? Get to know Malachi?”

I look at her quickly, my eyes narrowing. She speaks as if there’s a choice to be Luna or not. But I am Malachi’s mate, so what’s the choice in that? I’m beginning to think she knows more about Malachi and me than she lets on.

I shrug. “We’ll see. So…” I change the topic to something that’s been bugging me for the last few minutes. “It feels like I’ve seen you before. Are you a servant of Malachi’s?”

Harlow laughs, a high tinkling sound that grates on my ears. “Not really. I’m one of his warriors.”

That makes sense. I can see it now in her strength and energy, and the small amount of dominance in her posture.

“But I do other things for Malachi besides, like working around his estate. I was here the night of the meeting between Alphas. Perhaps—“

“That’s right,” I snap my fingers. “You met us at the door.”

Harlow slowly nods her head. “Yes, you’re right. That’s why you look familiar…” her eyes take on a subtle gleam, but it quickly disappears. “I would never have guessed at the time that you were Malachi’s mate,” her lips twitch in an effort to grin as she bounces on her toes, stretching her neck side to side as if she’s anxious to get back to training or whatever it is she’s dressed for. I feel bad for disrupting her morning routine

“I would never have guessed you were a warrior,” I reply innocently, but her eyebrows suddenly crease together as she turns away slightly. I hope I haven’t offended her, so I go on to quickly say, “We don’t have many female warriors in my pack. We had more when I was younger, but I’m just used to seeing..”

Harlow is giving me a subtle sneer, her eyes flashing with a golden fire, so I trail off, shutting my mouth and dropping the subject. Truth is, after my biological mother died in a battle along with her unborn pup, and my adoptive mum Lexi lost her own pup in the same battle, the ForgedHearts Pack has made new regulations for protecting females and especially those with families, keeping them out of the front line of security and warfare.

“Sounds like a wonderful pack,” Harlow brightens, her eyes searching me, and I wonder if she is being sarcastic. But her gaze is so open and fresh, I doubt it. There’s a goodness that diffuses from her that I can’t help being drawn to.

Harlow suddenly releases a long sigh. “Looks like this place needs a dust again,” she runs her finger across the bedside cabinet, examining the residue on her fingers while frowning. “I’ll have to get right on it after training.”

I blink and shake my head in puzzlement. “You dust Malachi’s private room?”

Harlow shoots me a sideways glance, her face blank with a passive expression, giving nothing away except pure sincerity. “I do anything the Alpha asks me.”

I take a deep breath as the words somehow still my heart, then I remember that she works for him. Why my mind instantly thought of something inappropriate about her comment, I can’t say. I put it down to hanging around Luci for too long.

With a small chuckle, Harlow twirls her ponytail between her fingers, smoothing it down. “Anyway, I gotta bounce. But I’ll be seeing you around, Ariella. I’m sure we’ll become good friends.”

I smile at that. In this new pack, I need some friends, people who will know me and look out for me. Against Malachi, against the darkness within him, I have a feeling that I will need all the allies I can get. “Sure, I’d like that.”

She gives me another radiant smile and pats my shoulder endearingly. The action reminds me of how you might comfort an eleven year old.

With a skip in her step, Harlow leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Trying not to think anything bad of her, I finish getting ready for the day then head out to find the kitchen and some breakfast. My stomach growls, reminding me I barely had anything for dinner last night. Even so, I’m not really hungry, but more curious as to what will happen now that I am here..

I follow a savoury smell, yet I walk slowly to let my eyes slide over the rich carpets under my feet, the ornate wooden finishings on the curved bannisters, the priceless artwork hanging on the walls, and other antique decorations that perch here and there. Just like what I observed in the sitting room all those weeks ago, everything looks heirloom and priceless. Each piece holds memories and sentiment, whispering to the shadows of the house, wishing to be heard. I’m not sure I like it as a shiver prickles my spine.

I find the kitchen after wandering down a few corridors and staircases. It is large with glistening marble countertops and a black table topped with glass. The appliances and utensils are monochrome, without a speck of colour in the sea of black and white. It is cold and stark.

But not the wolf who stands behind the stove, serving a plate and forking food into his mouth.

I raise my eyebrows as my gaze collides with the Beta of the pack.

“Oh hi,” he mumbles around the food and motions me to come closer since I have halted at the entrance. Unlike when I first met him officially at the dinner, he’s dressed casually in a T-shirt and gym shorts. Sweat stains drape his shirt and his skin glistens as if he has just returned from exercise. His wavy blond hair is pulled up into a bun, small wisps escaping around his ears, giving him the appearance of a laid-back surfer who would be situated better on the coast. Not a pristine kitchen of a serious and disciplined Alpha.

Yet despite his casual manner, his body is clearly built for intimidation and dominance. Muscles ripple beneath the shirt, prominent on his chest and biceps. His shoulders are broad, and the way his warm green eyes observe me keenly, taking my measure, I know I am in the presence of a powerful Beta, young though he must be.

“You probably want some food,” his voice decidedly holds a grumble, as if he doesn’t like the obligation of having to share with me.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not really hungry.” I move to the fridge and look for some juice or fruit of sorts. I don’t think the butterflies in my stomach would tolerate anything else.

“Rough night?”

I hear a chuckle in is words, and swivel to see what he is going on about.

The smirk on his face drops as he narrows his eyes at me. “Or not…” he raises an eyebrow before shaking his head. “So Mal really did mean it when he said he wouldn’t touch you. I didn’t think he had it in him, that sly wolf.”

“I don’t…” I start to say, but then my face flushes with heat as I catch onto his meaning. Malachi discussed with his Beta what he intended to do to me during my heat? I don’t think my embarrassment can grow any more until this nosy Beta continues.

“Of course, I tried convincing him that you’d be mad and just want to jump him the moment he went to you. But he kept going on about what’s best for you or some other nonsense. But if you had been my mate…”

He let his words trail off, which I thank my God for. This wolf who I’ve only seen a few times before, prattling about my love life like it’s everyone business. This wolf who chased me off his territory, this wolf who wants to be more dark and impressive like a demon. This wolf who glares at me and gives off a frightening and hateful ambience.

But I see it now. A lightness seeping from his features and attitude, in the slight crinkling around his eyes. Maybe his words are meant to hurt me, but they only leave me flustered.

And wanting to know more. More about him, and as an extension, my mate.

“So—“

Footsteps interrupt him, and I jump slightly when two people quickly enter the other side of the kitchen, their gazes immediately finding me and narrowing like I’m the centre of their week-long search.

I don’t recognise the man, with smooth black hair and a charming face to unnerve even the most saintly shewolf; but the woman I know.

Malachi’s mother.

“So it’s true.”

Her words hang in the air, making my breath catch. There is such ice in her tone, such blackness in her dark brown eyes that are pivoted on me. I can’t look away, no matter how much I want to. I can’t figure out why chills are running across my skin, though it’s a warm day. I can’t understand the power that radiates from this shewolf though I know she was Luna. There is something more to her, something beneath the surface that speaks for itself, making my wolf cower in...fear? Why am I afraid of her?

“Hi,” I muster the courage to introduce myself, hating awkward silences. “I don’t believe we’ve met properly. I’m—“

“My son’s mate. I know,” her lips ease up slightly in what could be mistaken for a smile. So why do I get the feeling it’s a sneer? “I am his mother, and the Luna of DoubleEdge Pack. Luna Seneca,” with grace, she crosses the shiny tiles and extends a hand. I glance at it briefly before taking it, at the silvery black polish on slender fingers, adorned with rings that accent her flawless skin.

Her hand is cold, like her eyes, and her touch has no amount of welcoming friendliness in it. I would almost say the way she presses my fingers between hers speaks more with a warning than anything else. And the way she smiles, her ruby red lips curling up to display straight white teeth, is anything but genuine. The lines around her eyes never crinkle, her face remaining motionless with youthful beauty. Her thin figure is draped in black elegance, a dress that reaches the floor and a slim-fitting jacket—a traveling suit.

“When I heard he had claimed some shewolf without a title, I had to come see for myself. But it seems, he hasn’t claimed you after all,” she tilts her head in wonderment, before sharing a glance with her companion.

He chuckles, and I am struck once more by how well they seem to know that Malachi and I didn’t actually mate last night. Is it written on my face somehow? His denial branded on my body like his mark on my neck?

“I do have a title,” the words sputter from my lips, surprising me as much as it surprises them. I draw my shoulders back and jut out my chin with determination. “As you said, I am Malachi’s mate. Therefore, I am Luna.”

Seneca’s dark eyes only narrow as she continues to stare me down, the weight of her gaze prickling my skin and wilting my posture. But I too stare back, this silent force of our wills permeating the room with a challenge.

It is I who loses.

Her eyes flash with a golden Fire. “You think you are the Luna? Dear Ariella, you know nothing about being the leader of a pack. I am Luna and no one can change that until I say so,” she finishes with a feline flick of her wrist.

Her words stun me. So she knows my name. This surprises me, even though she said it wrong.

“Actually, that’s not how my name is pronounced,” I say hesitantly.

“Oh?” Another tilt of her proud head, one that has me shifting nervously on my feet.

“It’s not Ari as in marry. It’s Ari as in starry night. Ariella,” I repeat the line I have said numerous times in my life. Though it’s bothersome, I prefer the pronunciation and make sure people know it.

“Ahh,” Seneca’s lips twist into an amused smile. “I’ll be sure to remember, little girl.” Then her face falls back to it’s usual impassive mask, and she glides from the room with a gentle lift of her head. The man follows on silent heels after throwing me a wink.

I am left staring after them, confused, my heart thudding with the immensity of the encounter. Seneca scares me in more ways than one, and the worst part is I cannot fathom why.

There is so much mystery wrapped around her that I can’t see past. If Malachi is darkness like a gloomy twilight, his mother is midnight during a rainstorm. I clench my fists and nearly shake them in defiance at the empty doorway.

“So, Ariella,” the Beta drawls, pronouncing my name clearly and precisely. I had forgotten he was behind me until now. “You know what amuses me?”

I spin and narrow my eyes at him, annoyed by the smirk on his face. “What?”

“The fact that you think you can stand up to Luna Seneca.”

“But I am the Luna. I am Alpha Malachi’s mate!”

The Beta chuckles and shakes his head. “For as long as you remain a virgin, unmated to my Alpha, then Seneca will be the Luna of this pack.”

I cringe, feeling my cheeks flush with heat, again. What he just insinuated fills me with embarrassment...and questions. Since when was mating the requirement to be Luna? Didn’t bearing Malachi’s mark carry enough authority? He had chosen me, claimed me, and I was his mate. His Luna.

But obviously the Beta didn’t think so. With averted eyes, I brush past him and hurry from the room, scampering up the stairs and shutting the bedroom door behind me. Sinking down to the ground, I try not to let the tears fall. Blinking my eyes furiously, I press my fist to my mouth and try to forget the darkness in Seneca’s eyes, the disgust and amusement that danced in her irises towards me.

My heart is taking its time to slow down from its erratic dance, thudding through my veins as the adrenaline still pumps from the reaction within me.

I am Luna, I am Luna, I hiss to myself, feeling utterly worthless and incapable of the title.

After feeling sorry for myself for another hour, I take a shuddery breath and stare out the window. There’s something I could be doing to calm down and relax instead of winding up more and more pitiful. It’s making me sick, so I brush my tears aside, pat down my hair, and look about the room and its numerous shelves.

I decide against ruffling through Malachi’s personal desk, not wanting to invade what I don’t have the right to, and instead head downstairs again to look for something more communal. I can sense there’s no one else in the house as everyone has left to their work and duties for the day. I am grateful as I slip back into the kitchen and snag the apple I spied this morning.

Rummaging through the pantry, I unconsciously begin making a mental list of what is lacking, and wonder if Malachi could take me to a supermarket later.

I eventually come across a stationery drawer and find what I am looking for. Clutching it to my chest, I push through the back door I saw earlier, and am greeted by tall hedges lining a cobblestone path. Grinning to myself, I follow it as it winds around the front of the estate.

Empty pots of soil sit here and there among the straggly hedges, making me want to plant them with blossoming seedlings. I’m not sure I should be here, but no one has instructed where I can or can’t go, or what I should actually be doing today. So I’m just content to wander, maybe bump into some pack members and introduce myself. The thought makes me tighten in nervousness. I would call myself a naturally introverted person, so just thinking about leading people and being their Luna, friend and comforter, is daunting.

My footsteps carry me to the front of Malachi’s mansion, and I notice the circular drive is lined with small trees. From this position, I have a good view of the grand structure. Of the straight pillars and sharp cut steps, the curving eaves and rising turrets. It is magical in a way, and if I look at it from just the right angle I can see the beauty of it, like a fairytale castle.

But it is too sad to really be that. Shadows cling to the cornices and darken the lines. The gargoyles peering down have a sinister gleam in their eyes. The ivy that trails up the walls is creeping it’s cold fingers with an intent to strangle. The mood, the pallor, is dreary and pensive, as if even the very bricks and mortar have reconciled with the darkness and succumbed to its chains.

I refuse to see it this way.

Hoisting myself up to the first branch of a stumpy apple tree, I situate myself with a perfect view. While balancing the notebook on my lap, I tug the pencil from my pocket and begin drawing. With broad and light strokes, I sketch the frame of the mansion before including windows for the rooms and open balconies. The prince of this castle will want fresh air and a cosy space to admire his beautiful land. The towers at the top are spiralled with gold edges, glistening in the eternal sunshine. The plants and vines blossom with flowers so big the hummingbirds nearly drown in the nectar.

I am still daydreaming about the filigree gilding on the porch railings when a voice near my elbow nearly makes me topple from my branch.

“Well look who it is, up a tree.”