The Alpha's Daydream

“What did Luna mean when she called you dreamer?” Sammy asks from the middle of the bed, watching me curiously as I pace back and forth the length of the bedroom.

“I’ve had dreams,” I mutter and wave my hand, dismissing the small question that interrupts my thoughts. I am wondering just why on earth Seneca would destroy my violin, something that she knows means so much to me. But that’s exactly it. She’s not from earth, so I can’t expect her to follow basic human decency.

She’s a demon, with probably way more evil where that spite came from.

“What kind of dreams?” he asks innocently.

“Bad dreams. Nightmares. About people dying.” I rub my fingers against my temples. My head is pounding, my body shaking from the overexertion of earlier today. The conversations with Devanshi and then Hamilton. The vicious fight with Harlow. The hateful destruction of my ancestor’s violin. It is all too much.

Too much.

Sinking to my knees, I bite back the scream that bubbles in my scratchy throat.

“About your mom and dad dying?” Sammy’s voice grows louder as he comes nearer, crouching with me and placing his small hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah. And...and others,” I blink up at him through the tears blurring my eyes. His face reflects a fraction of my pain, but mostly it is sympathy I see in his eyes and it actually comforts me. This little boy, who has lost so much and I have been caring for, is here caring for me.

“Do you dream about me?”

His simple question cuts through the haze in my mind, the faces I see with blood running from cuts and bruises, the strangled cries as too many people die in front of me. As the rogue dies at my hands.

Shaking my head to remove the morbid images, I give him a watery smile. “Only good dreams about you, Short stuff. Don’t worry.” I ruffle his hair, drawing a smile from him. I stand up and pull him up with me, determined to snap myself from this self-pity and be strong.

“I’m not short,” he protests. “I’m nearly up to your waist,” he measures his head against me.

“So you are. But you know, I’m short,” I try a laugh, and it comes out a garbled croak.

“No you’re not! Actually, maybe.” Sammy tilts his head and narrows his eyes as he studies me. “Yeah, Harlow is a bit taller than you.”

I roll my eyes. “Wow, thanks Kiddo for the kind observation. You know, when I was younger, I used to be the tallest in my class.” I prop a hand on my hip and shimmy my shoulders.

“Really? What happened?” Sammy looks at me weirdly, like someone must’ve chopped my feet off.

“Well, some time in high school, I stopped growing and everyone just overtook me.”

He huffs a little sigh and screws up his nose. “That musta been annoying.”

“Uh huh. Sure was.”

“Will I stop growing and be short forever?”

I look down at his worried face and watch as he bounces on his toes, as if trying to keep growing. “I don’t think so, little buddy. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be tall and very strong, maybe even taller than the Alpha.”

He grins at this. “My daddy wants me to be a warrior just like him. I mean, he wanted me to, anyway.” The grin slips from his face, and the frown creeps back between his light brown eyebrows.

I kneel down to his level and lightly poke his ribs. “You’ll be a great warrior one day. And you’ll protect the Alpha just like he did.”

Sammy giggles and begins poking me back. “I can protect you.”

I laugh along, grabbing his waist and tickling him on the stomach. “Yes, you can. And you already have.”

His sweet peals of laughter reverberate around the room, lifting the mood that is weighing me down.

Suddenly he stops chasing me and really looks at me. “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

I sigh, running a hand through my dirty hair and remember the dried blood that probably still clings to my skin. “I won a challenge from Harlow.”

“She challenged you?” his eyes widen.

Nodding grimly and sifting through the reasons in my mind, I reply, “Yeah. She wanted to see if I was strong enough to be the next Luna.”

“Of course you are!” Sammy claps his hands and I smile at his enthusiasm.

“I think she wanted me to lose, so she could have my mate.”

“Really?” His eyebrows rise and disappear under his fringe. “That’s so mean! The Alpha is your mate. As if she could take him off you!” he pounds his little fists against his thighs.

“I know right? That’s what I told her.” I tweak his nose as his face turns all serious.

“Mates are sacred.”

His words resonate within me. “Did your mom tell you that?” He nods, and I ruffle his hair. “She sounds like a very wise woman.”

With a far off look stealing into his eyes, he looks out the window and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know,” I change the subject, taking a deep breath and patting his shoulders gently. “Seneca is right about one thing. I can’t keep acting childish. Imagining beautiful fantasy to distract me from reality. The real world hurts, and I need to deal with it.” I’ve made up my mind, the events of today converging in my head to form one decision.

“What are you going to do?” Sammy follows me into the bathroom.

I rummage through the drawer, pushing aside the toiletries until I find a sharp pair of scissors. I take a strand of hair between my fingers and fill my lungs with a deep breath. “I’m going to grow up.” I snip the hair, leaving it an inch above my shoulder, and watch as the lavender and peony coloured tips fall into the sink.

I don’t even feel any sadness as I cut off the next section, slicing through the thick strands between the pastel colours and my natural hue. My heart has felt too many emotions already today. This is just movement of my hands, woodenly pushing the scissors back and forth until half my hair is lying messily in the sink.

“But your hair is so pretty! Why are you cutting it off?” Sammy stares at the dead hair with a stunned expression.

“It is pretty. For a little girl. But I’m a woman now. I need to be a Luna who can face the painful and gritty stuff of this reality without hiding behind some make-believe dreams. I need to be tough.”

Sammy sucks in a breath, but doesn’t say anything further. He watches as I continue with the rest of my hair until all that remains is my natural chocolate brown locks, swinging loosely around my neck.

The weight that has fallen off my shoulders is literal, the breath I take now easier without the aspect of my appearance that has caused me so much grief recently. Everyone has made fun of it. Why didn’t I just give in and get rid of it sooner?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, beginning to wonder just who the gaunt, sallow-faced creature is staring back at me. The cuts and bruises have nearly healed, but the dried blood remains, painting my skin in deadly hues. I am deadly, and the realisation scares me as I look at my hand that still grips the pair of scissors. It morphs into a dagger, the one I sunk into the rogue’s chest, and I hastily release my fingers.

The scissors fall to the marble sink with a horrible clanging sound, startling Sammy.

“Ariella, are you okay?”

Before answering, I close my eyes against my reflection and take a shuddery breath. “I will be. How about you keep reading your book on the bed while I get cleaned up. Don’t answer the door, especially if it’s Seneca.”

He does as I ask and I slide my own door shut, wishing I could just as easily shut a door on my tumultuous thoughts. The water does its best to wash me clean, shampoo and conditioner cleansing and softening my tangled hair, but I finish with a lingering feeling of muck all over me.

All these expectations.

All these secrets.

All these struggles to be something we’re not.

Is it worth it?

“If you’re hungry, I could make us pancakes?” Sammy offers as I dry my hair, a cosy set of pyjamas veiling every remaining red and blue mark on my skin.

“How about I make us some salad and hot soup?” I can’t keep feeding the poor child pancakes. He needs something healthy if he wants to grow big, and I need the nutrition to remain sane.

We go downstairs together, quickly sorting through the food in the fridge and pantry until we have some savoury smells filling the kitchen. I do my best for Sammy’s sake to be cheerful and smiling, but neither of us can truly ignore the stifling circumstances that surround us.

Especially not when I hear Knight come in to the house around eight o’clock, and still there is no sign of my mate.

I ask about him, and Knight shrugs while stealing food off Sammy’s plate, making him giggle.

“I think Mal is finishing off some paperwork at his office.”

I roll my eyes, “Predictable,” and grab a piece of pineapple bread before stuffing it in some plastic wrap. Heading to the back door, I call out, “Don’t do all the dishes without me,” secretly hoping they will.

Then I’m out in the cold, ready to face my mate and the mountain between us, despite his obvious inclination to avoid and even hide from it.

I don’t get far before I hear giggling. A soft feminine sigh followed by a deeper chuckle. The hair on the back of my neck bristles, my wolf sending its senses out around me. Tasting, listening. Watching.

I round the corner of the mansion, the pebbled path beneath my feet leading to the gardens that surround the eastern wings of the house, sparse hedges morphing into chunky shadows before me.

And two figures lean up against the grey brick wall, a few black vines trailing behind them like a natural cloak.

His scent slams into me before I recognise the obsidian hair and broad shoulders.

“Malachi?”

He steps back, lips sliding from a woman’s with a lethargic pace, and my entire body goes rigid from the sight.

“Oh, hey Ari. I was just saying goodnight to Mal before I head home.” The blonde shewolf, hazel eyes spearing me brightly from beneath long lashes, pushes off the wall and tightens her arm around Malachi.

“Harlow,” I grow low and deep, eating the ground between us in three steps. “I should’ve known you’d want a replay of this afternoon. Did I not make myself clear when I said stay away from my mate?!” I raise my fist swiftly, but before it even gets close to its target, Malachi intercepts. His own fist closes around mine, tugging it down.

“There’s no reason to keep fighting her, Ariella. We were just discussing something work-related,” he tells me in a stern voice, making me feel like a moody teenager in need of a parental reprimand.

His disparaging tone, clenched jaw and tight hold on my fist, only serve to spark the anger further.

“Oh really? Work-related? So…” I give them both a glare that could put rogues in the grave, and grind out between clenched teeth, “You’re both out here kissing while I’m inside playing the good housewife on my own?”

“Kissing? We weren’t doing anyth—”

“It’s not what it looks like—”

They both begin to make excuses but I interrupt. “I know exactly what I saw,” I yank my wrist free of Malachi’s grasp. Yet even as my hand falls back to my side, the whisper of his touch lingers on my skin, sendings spirals of unwanted warmth up my arm.

“What happened to your hair?” He gives me a perplexed look, studying me in the low light of dusk.

I self-consciously lift my fingers and slide them through the ends of my hair. I’m not yet used to the choppy feeling. “It was cut off and placed in the trash,” I give a brief explanation.

“Obviously,” Harlow snickers, immediately refocusing my attention to the real problem here.

“Now let me make myself extremely clear,” I step up to her and look her in the eye, rising on my toes ever so slightly to get even with her level. “Don’t you dare go near my mate. You wouldn’t like me to rip into your neck again, would you? Unless of course, you’re into that edgy, blood-red choker look.”

“Are you threatening me?” Her voice rises as if she has the right to get mad at me.

I ease back and shrug nonchalantly, trying to keep my anger under control when all I want to do is tear into her. “I don’t know. Do you feel threatened? I can be more threatening.”

“Try your hardest. You may have won the challenge, but you don’t scare me.” She juts her chin out and props a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes on me.

I continue to play it cool, the opposite of what my gut is telling me. Fighting fire with fire has worked once before, but a part of me realises I need more to win this round. I need ice. “That’s fine. I don’t need to be scary to tell the entire pack that you tried to steal the Alpha from his true mate.”

Harlow huffs a laugh, but I catch it sounding forced. “What makes you think they’ll believe you over me? I’m the Beta female here. This is my territory, my family.”

“Then I could tell your brother you have a boyfriend you sneak off to see every morning.” I tilt my head, watching her reaction.

It is exactly what I wanted. Her face slackens, a pale colour stealing over her tanned complexion. “How did you know that?”

“I wasn’t sure. But thanks for the confirmation.”

Her features screw up and she readies herself to launch at me. “You bitc—“

“Girls! Stop this!” Malachi grabs a hold of her, shoving my own shoulder back when I canter forward to meet her attack. “What has gotten into you, Ariella? This isn’t you.”

I feel like I’ve been slapped by his accusing tone. “Those are very ironic words coming from you, Malachi.”

This silences him, and I return my glare to Harlow. “So what’s it gonna be? You back off, or—“

“Or what, you tell everyone my secrets?” she struggles against Malachi’s grip and snarls at me. “I bet there’s loads I could tell them about you, stuff they’d just love to know about their future Luna. Like the time you broke into my house—“

I push her against the wall and cut off her words. “Stay away from my mate, or I will personally escort you to the territory’s border. To be banished forever.” I watch as a shiver passes over her face, as she gives in involuntarily to the dominance exuding from me, from my new status of superior strength over her. “Maybe,” I whisper low against her ear, “you’ll find your mate amongst the rogues. The ones we’ve already killed.”

My words are harsh, especially from me, but she needs to hear them. I need to continue marking my territory.

I watch as the frown between her eyes and pout of her lips melt away into an impassive expression, her body surrendering to me. I relax my hold over her neck and let her step forwards. Without a word, Harlow walks past me and glances once more at Malachi before leaving us alone.

It’s only a moment after she leaves that I take a second to gather my strength and catch my breath. Stiffening my shoulders and straightening my spine, I slowly shift my eyes from Harlow’s retreating figure to my stunned mate. I meet his gaze, and infuse steel into my own.

Shadows from the approaching night play on his face, deepening the planes of his cheeks and sharp cut of his jaw. Times like this he intimidates me, the power that radiates from him will always be a heavy weight that I can’t match. No matter how many challenges I win, this Alpha male will always challenge me in ways I cannot contest, even in my most empowering dreams.

“What are you doing, Ariella?” Malachi whispers, as if afraid of what I might do next.

Which I nearly laugh at, because he should be afraid. With my eyes still on his, daring him to stop me, I whisper lowly, “What I should have done a long time ago.”

Then with a territorial growl, I launch myself into his arms and sink my teeth into his neck.

~~~~~~

I’m sitting on my bed, back against the pillows at the headboard, drawing and trying to get my mind off certain things.

Sammy snuggles beside me, excited to be in the Alpha’s bed, even if for only a short time. I’ve told him the Alpha won’t be needing his half of the bed tonight and Sammy can stay, but he doesn’t believe me and is about to crawl back out to his own guest room, after he finishes the story book I got for him.

My diary is open on my bent knees, my fineliner pens scattered beside me. I’m sketching a similar scene to one I’ve done before, but small details have changed.

There was a cliff, with a man standing at the edge. Broad wings extended out from him, unfurled and magnificent in their golden brilliance. In his arms, secured safely, was his mate, his heart.

But not anymore.

Now she is falling from the cliff, with tendrils of gravity tugging her down, away from the dark betrayal of her mate. He wasn’t strong enough to hold her, to protect her from the forces pulling them apart. He wasn’t strong enough to save her from himself.

I didn’t actually mark my mate. The thought crossed my mind—a dark, powerful urging that had my arms and fingers itching to wrap around him and hold him close as I claimed him for all to see.

But another part of me repelled him, kept me at a distance, protecting myself from the Alpha male who seemed to enjoy toying with my heart.

So now I am falling.

He’d promised to catch me every time, yet here I am on my own, adrift, untethered.

The mark on my neck tingles, but that’s all it is. A mark with no significance any longer. He proved it didn’t mean anything every time he would push me away, every time he spent hours on his own trying to be a better Alpha instead of spending time with his Luna. Instead of working for this pack together.

He proved he didn’t trust me as his mate when he kept his darkest secret from me, the darkest reality of the demon inside him.

Sammy tugs on my elbow to look at my picture, frowns, then goes back to his book. “I don’t know why you draw such sad pictures. They’re kinda scary.”

“This is my reality. I draw happy ones too, from my imagination, but this is real. This is what I see.” My hand draws the heavy strokes downward of the fall, emphasizing the height from the top of the cliff to the bottom. So much distance for the Alpha to rescue his mate. So many chances for Malachi to catch me.

But he doesn’t, and I’m left fighting for my own future.

“Maybe you could—”

The door opens, cutting off Sammy’s next thought.

I look up, and nearly fall off the bed when I see Malachi standing there. I really shouldn’t be surprised—this is his bedroom and it’s late—but I am.

“Ariella?” he looks between me and Sammy. His hair is disheveled and appears to have had his hands raked through it numerous times. His shoulders are draped with his usual back coat, the collar turned up around his neck as though to keep the cold at bay though he is now indoors.

Sammy starts crawling out from under the covers, taking his book and pillow with him, but I stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. You can stay, Sammy.”

“But, the Alpha—”

“The Alpha is sleeping somewhere else,” I say, all the while holding Malachi’s ice blue gaze.

It narrows on me in confusion. “What do you mean? Why—”

“Do you really have to ask, Malachi? Seriously?” I put down my pens and push my diary aside, giving him my full, steaming, attention.

“Is this…is this about the kiss?” he furrows his brows, still standing in the doorway with one hand on the knob and the other reaching for the frame.

I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw, refusing to cower under his intense gaze.

“No, not at all. What gave you that idea?” I watch him flinch at my sarcasm, and feel encouraged to go on. “I mean, it’s just a kiss, right? It doesn’t mean anything, isn’t that what you’re about to say? You and Harlow have been best friends since forever, and kiss all the time.” I wave my hand airily, hoping the stupidity of my jokes covers the ache I really feel inside.

I feel betrayed.

Cast out.

Worthless in my own mate’s eyes.

“That is not what was going on, and if you’ll just let me explain—

“What’s there to explain?” I lift my hands and glare at him, hating the way my stomach is churning and the way he is looking at me. Like he can see through my attempts at being strong. Like he can see the little weak girl I still am. “You obviously have a thing for her, and I don’t blame you. She’s been mad at me ever since I showed up as your mate, desperately trying to get your attention and win you back for herself.” Even as I speak, I know my words don’t make much sense. Didn’t I just call her out tonight for having a boyfriend behind her brother’s back? But that was probably just a distraction, something to fill her time as she worked to bring me down.

“Where do you get these ideas from?” Malachi sighs in agitation and stalks towards the bed, making like he wants to sit down.

“No, you’re not staying here tonight.”

“Excuse me?” He halts a foot away, his whole body alert.

“Obviously you wish to be elsewhere. I don’t satisfy you as mate, so why stay here?”

“Because it’s my bed, and you can’t stop me. And of course I want you as mate. However, if you don’t want to be near me, feel free to have the guest room.” He says lowly and with a hint of censure, and I feel the heat of his words roll over me, sucking me in to surrender.

But I don’t. I steel myself with strength and tape my heart together with confidence. “Well, seeing as I’m your true soulmate—despite what your head might be telling you otherwise—I am the Luna of this pack. And therefore this bed is mine, so I’m staying. If you want to be with someone else, by all means go ahead. Don’t let me stop you. You have a whole pack of bedrooms and girls to choose from. But this is rightfully mine so I’m staying here.” I spread my arms across the width of the bed and level my most serious gaze upon him.

His jaw clenches, his fists tighten as he ponders my ultimatum. I didn’t give him a choice really, he’s just deciding if he wants to force me to move, or play along with my game.

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it to be.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll go.” His gaze flickers down to the open diary in my lap, to the image of the man with the ugly black wings oozing from his shoulder blades, and the woman falling helplessly off the cliff. Malachi’s face pales, and I feel a twinge of satisfaction.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he taps his foot a couple times on the carpeted floor, his eyes once more finding mine and holding them in a depth I can’t translate, before turning and gliding from the room.

I bite back against the fist in my throat, and the tears at the threshold of my eyes. Shadows scurry after him and I hate to admit the room grows brighter with his retreat. I know now the source of the dark aura he carries with him. Chills scurry down my spine and evaporate as Sammy snuggles closer.

“You were brave, Ari, but now he’s angry with you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t want you to keep fighting like this. Mates aren’t meant to fight each other,” he says simply, and I hear the tremble in his quiet voice.

“I know, Sammy, I really do. But sometimes we need to work things out before we can fight on the same side.” I wrap my arms around his small body and press my cheek to the top of his head. Then an idea strikes me. “Hey, if the Alpha’s mate isn’t actually with him, can she still be the Luna of the pack?”

“Ariella, you’re not making any sense.” Sammy looks up at me with wide eyes. “You haven’t had an acceptance ceremony yet. And you haven’t marked him as your mate,” he points out.

“Oh, I’ve been trying to,” I bite my lip and mentally strangle Malachi around the neck for the number of times he’s pushed me away. Maybe it’s for the best, I now tell myself. “But Malachi has marked me, pretty much claiming me as his Luna. I’ve proved my strength to hold the title. I don’t have to actually mark him or be with him until we learn to tolerate each other.” Or love each other. “So…” the idea comes together in my mind, making so much sense I nearly laugh in glee. “So unless he outright rejects me, I can be the leader of this pack. I can be the Luna no matter who he wants to mess around with.”

I talk about it casually like it isn’t tearing me up inside, the possibility that Malachi really feels nothing for me despite how far we’ve come together, how close we’ve grown. I need to be strong on my own.

I begin hastily drawing a new picture, flipping the page in my diary and beginning with a blank. The same cliff, the same man at the edge with heavy black wings, hanging limp by his sides.

The same woman falling to her death on the rocky abyss below.

But this time—

This time she isn’t falling. She has her own set of golden translucent wings, and she saves herself.

Before the darkness below can accept her as a morbid sacrifice, she unfurls her wings like an avenging angel, and burns the shadowy demons away with her own righteous fury.

I sleep easy after coming to these conclusions, and awake feeling refreshed and ready to take on the pack as leader.

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, tugging my hair from its braid, when my eyes land on a piece of paper on the bedside table.

The handwriting that graces it is not at all familiar. It isn’t Malachi’s, which I’ve seen on numerous notes and reports in his office. I doubt it is Seneca’s, as the curls and lines of the plain script don’t match her otherworldly demeanour.

There aren’t many other people who have access to the Alpha’s mansion, and I doubt Hamilton or Knight would sneak in to my room while I sleep to deliver a message.

I pick it up and read the words carefully, my heart beginning to hammer and my lungs constricting.

“Meet me under the shade of the liquidambar tree. You know which one.”