The Alpha's Daydream

The cool night air was like fire, burning his throat and scorching his lungs whenever he sucked in a breath.

Malachi closed his eyes and bit back the scream that threatened to break free from his throat. His cells felt like they were being razed and melted down before reshaping into something new, his whole body being turned inside out as each minute passed. As the night drew on, as the moon climbed higher to its zenith, and as the earth’s shadow fully eclipsed the lunar face, he could only pray that this wouldn’t all end badly.

His death would be the best outcome.

His soul forging into one of eternal darkness would be the worst.

But none of this made sense. His mother had promised that he would get better, that he would get through this period of deadly urges to kill. She’d said he wasn’t a demon, just a full-blooded Alpha male with dominant genes that were maturing and fighting to establish his position at the top of the pack.

She’d told him not to worry, that tonight all would be well and he would be free of the curse-like rages that took over his body.

But it was only getting worse. Seneca was pushing him, prodding him, smiling like she wanted his darkest and most dangerous tendencies to break free and control his body forever.

Yet he kept resisting with all his strength, refusing to embrace the demonic killer that he knew lurked beneath his skin.

He could feel himself slipping, growing weaker and giving in to the terrible pain that consumed him. Then Ariella had burst out of the forest and changed everything.

Her presence made him even more desperate to stop this transformation before it destroyed him forever. He hated that she was here watching, that she could see him so helpless and bound to the legacy of darkness that flowed in his veins. He’d rather she stayed away, heartbroken from his rejection. But instead she’d come back, determined to hang on to their bond even though he was a lost cause.

He could never be her mate.

He could never love her the way she deserved. He realised now with such a deep sense of hopeless finality that he would never be the Alpha this pack needed, nor could he lead them to a bright future of health and prosperity when he himself was dark, jaded, murderous, and bonded to evil.

He would become a demon, and there was nothing more he could do to stop it.

Looking around him with sadness, he saw his faithful Beta Hamilton, brother and friend, down on his knees with rogues holding their claws to his throat. He saw Rahul, his new Head Guard, also arrested in place. He saw his other warriors, each bonded to him in the way of the pack, each looking to him with no hope of getting out of this mess alive.

The Alpha had blocked the mind link, not wishing to hear from them how much he’d failed them. He knew this was all on him for not reading the signs earlier, for not confronting his mother about his heritage sooner, and it was now killing him inside that he could do nothing to prevent this tragedy to his pack.

He also saw his father’s former Beta, Knight, stalking in the shadows, watching intensely, untouched by the enemies that surrounded them. So he really was working with them to take down the pack, and Malachi cursed himself for not listening to Ariella earlier when she told him of Knight’s treachery.

He hadn’t wanted to believe that Knight could do that to them all, but he realised now if he had taken her seriously, it might have prevented some of this devastation. Knight just kept an eye on things, letting Seneca run the show yet always doing her bidding when needed. Malachi wondered how Seneca had managed to convince him to work alongside her, and to befriend Ariella before turning against them all. Hadn’t Knight been loyal to Dennison, and therefore to Malachi as the new Alpha? But all these years, it seemed Seneca had been whispering her lies and promises in his ear and gaining his loyalty to her demented cause.

It sickened Malachi, and he pulled in great drafts of air to soothe his pounding chest and roiling stomach.

“Malachi, what’s going on?” Ariella’s soft voice, stained with confusion and etched with desperation, reached him over the dozen yards of leaf-littered forest floor. A few demons sulked between them, Seneca paced deep in thought, and Ariella looked like she wanted to take them all out.

He held her gaze, her large brown eyes wide in fear, and pleaded with his own for her to leave. “Ariella, you need to get out of here. I don’t think I can hold off any longer,” he grunted and squeezed his eyes shut again as another wave of pain like sharpened knives raked over his skin.

“I’m not leaving you!” she whimpered, and it broke his heart even more. The bond between them was still tangible, tying him to her, sending her breath like a gentle caress over his skin even though they were metres apart.

He could feel her heart racing in her chest, her hands clenched in anger as she watched him closely, and he railed against the injustice of this. He’d only ever wanted her gone, out of this darkness and misery, free to live a beautiful and innocent life away from him. But the ties were too strong. Their emotions were already entwined, and it was all because he’d marked her and ruined any chance of happiness for her.

Watching her fight against the demons who had captured her, he felt some pride at the beautiful way she fought. She was strong, skillful, and determined. Yet still no match for the unnatural strength of demons. She, along with everyone from his pack here tonight, was condemned to a brutal death unless Seneca had a change of heart and rained down sunshine and blessings on them all.

A twist as unlikely as him growing wings and flying away from this fate.

“That thing can kill you, as you’ve already witnessed,” Ariella said boldly, her voice trembling and her wrists once more bound by the strange element that even now sapped his own strength. Her eyes were on Seneca, and Malachi shivered when he saw the red moonlight reflected in the sharp blade in her hands.

“I know,” Seneca responded, her lips lifted in a sly way. The expression made him run cold with dread. “That’s what makes this so delightful,” she then turned to him, her obsidian eyes colliding with his own, and this time, when she approached and ran the flat of the blade over his chest, he shivered with delight.

It was magnetic, this ancient dagger that seemed to vibrate with the energy of the dark Prince, and Malachi felt honoured to have it pressed against his skin. He felt the power strumming through his veins, bringing life to every cell, and he needed more. He craved more, and when he looked up at the eclipsed moon, he knew every year of his life had prepared him for this moment.

This moment where he would finally shed this weak skin and become the powerful being he had always wanted to be.

Seneca trailed her fingers lovingly over his face and down his neck, the motherly bond pulsing and soothing, then she said loudly for all to hear, “This mortal body shall inhibit you no more, my dear Malachi. You will be free to serve our Prince, the giver of true power and destiny.”

He’d heard the rhetoric, the stories of this demon Prince who had led the rebellion against the King, but he had never believed it much less thought he would be involved in it. Yet here was his mother, whispering words in an ancient tongue, so wild and wonderful that he felt them reverberate in his very heart. He wanted this power, and he wanted it to wash through his trembling body and erase every weakness and flaw. He couldn’t wait to feel true freedom.

“Just do it. I’m ready!” He roared, his voice deep and rough, vibrating with tightly-wound tension as it echoed around them. Looking to his right, he saw a tear sliding down Ariella’s cheek, her face crumpled with defeat, and he winked at her. Soon, she would see just what kind of mate she belonged to. She was his, and anything stupid he’d said to her, he would make up for it.

He would show her exactly how much he loved her.

Malachi looked back to his mother and watched as she lifted her arms, the knife poised precisely in line with his heart, and braced himself for the moment it would pierce his skin. It would slice through this earthly chest and transform his heart into a spiritual being that would last forever. He would rule this territory with all the strength and passion his father never had, and he would never ever let anyone take it away from him. Every wolf in the region would bow to him, and there would be no stopping his dominance.

The sky seemed to blanket them with more darkness as Seneca’s hands came down, the dagger arching silently through the air.

“Stop! Don’t do this, I’m begging you,” Ariella screamed, and Seneca whirled around with irritation burning in her eyes.

“Shut up!”

“I won’t!

“Ariella, go! Get out of here,” Malachi growled, his mind suddenly clear again. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he fight against his mother and this disgusting ritual meant to turn him into a spirit of the night? This wasn’t what he wanted… But every time he resisted, pain like razor blades sliced down his spine, radiating out to each nerve ending. His teeth clenched and every muscle bunched with the strain. His control was slipping again.

“I’m not leaving you, Malachi, just hold on. We can fight this, I know it!” Ariella cried again, and he could see tears glistening down her cheeks, trails of salty tears reflecting the orange glow of fire and mirroring the shattering of his heart.

“Of course, Ariella dearest, stay. Just don’t interrupt me again!” Seneca commanded, and Ariella stiffened, her face going pale. Malachi realised his mother was holding her with some special power, her body paralysed against her will. He could see she was struggling, the strain on her face as her body remained unresponsive to her mind. Seneca smirked at her futile attempts to shake free. “Stay and watch your precious mate reach his full potential. Watch him meet his destiny.”

“I am his destiny!” Ariella managed to yell, and Malachi wasn’t sure whether to glow with pride at his mate’s fierce loyalty, or cry because she was loyal to a man who could never be what she needed. “I am his mate, we are wolves, and together we are Alpha and Luna of this pack. Malachi was not meant to be a demon or a monster of the night! He is Alpha!”

Malachi felt his heart swell with unfamiliar emotions, but he couldn’t afford to think on them. His body was still fighting, sweat running from every pore as the fire heated him from the inside out, as though reconstructing his DNA into something hideous.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, sweet child. Malachi was always meant to be this. He was destined for this path before he was even conceived. Nothing can stop him from reaching it now,” Seneca stalked towards Ariella where she knelt in the dirt, and looked her straight in the eye. Malachi saw Ariella shiver, yet hold her head up bravely even as Seneca whispered in a steely voice, “Nothing can stop me. Your mother couldn’t. Your grandmother couldn’t. And most certainly, Ariella, you can’t.” Seneca twirled a strand of Ariella’s short hair through her fingers before tucking it behind her ear, and the gesture was intimate and repulsive in a contrary nature.

“My mother?” Ariella questioned in a faint whisper, then she shook her head as though shaking off words meant only to trick her again. She glared at Seneca then spat on the ground, her final way of showing defiance in the face of complete despair. There was no way, he knew, that she would be able to do anything but watch. His path had been set, his life course orchestrated by the demon he called mother, and each one here tonight was helpless under the influence of such mystifying strength.

Why? Why was Seneca doing this and ruining his life and those he cared about most?

Seneca laughed then once more returned to him, taking up her position and muttering something about the lateness of the hour. The syzygy was fully aligned, and it would only be a matter of minutes before the eclipse began receding. A part of Malachi hoped it was already too late for the transformation to take place.

But when Seneca smiled and raised her arms once more, the dagger gleaming between her hands, he knew it was not too late.

His life was over.

She took a deep breath and released it through pursed lips, then brought her arms down hard towards him, the dagger on a straight path towards his heart.

The glint of the steel blade caught his eye, the mirrored surface reflecting the shadows of the forest he loved so much, and he wondered in this fraction of a moment if he would ever feel the soft earth under his feet again, or breathe in the scents of pine and cedar after a fresh rain. Would his skin soak up the kiss of the summer sun, and would his lips taste the sweet honey from a hive that only he knew where to find in the densest tangle of forest?

He wondered, in this tiny second of peace and silence while all his territory held its breath, if anything would be the same?

A scream cut the silence midway through the knife’s arc, yet Malachi tuned it out and closed his eyes, holding his breath in anticipation for the end of this life and the beginning of his next.

Growls and curses filled the air, followed by agonised grunts, and Malachi’s eyes flew open as a heavy weight slammed into his chest.

Brown hair filled his vision, leaves and twigs tangled in the soft locks, and the scent of lavender was overwhelming. Beyond the top of Ariella’s head was Seneca’s face, wild with shock, her mouth agape and black eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. He felt the same confusion and pushed through the haze in his mind, trying to figure out what was happening.

“No… No!” Seneca yelled just as Malachi felt a small prick in his chest. It wasn’t the searing pain he’d been expecting, not the full brunt of the blade that should be planted in his chest.

Looking down, the racing of his heart ground to a stop as he saw the reason for Seneca’s shock.

Ariella was clutching her own chest, her back pressed to him, the hem of her white yet muddied dress brushing against his thighs and legs. She whimpered, her body beginning to sag against him, and he struggled against the chains that bound his arms and hands. He wanted to hold her, to stop her from falling, and with every bit of strength left, he wrenched his hands free and felt the elizenthium bonds snap and fall to the ground.

Immediately his arms went around his mate, catching her and holding her close to his body.

“Malachi,” her voice was weak and faint where she whispered against his ear. “I’m… I’m sorry. I had to save you…”

Red bloomed on her chest around the dagger that lay sunken to its hilt.

“No, Ariella!” he pressed his lips to the side of her face, his hands spread on her cold skin as he clutched her even closer. “Why did you do this?”

Images flashed in his mind, the nightmares of her sitting on his father’s chair with a gaping wound in her chest, her warm blood seeping out and staining her white dress.

The images were now a reality, and his sweet mate was bleeding out from the fatal wound of the dagger meant for him. His heart twisted in his chest, revolting against what was happening before his eyes. He was helpless to stop this now.

“You stupid girl!” Seneca screamed. “You’ve ruined everything!” Her hands lunged forward, her taloned fingers reaching for the dagger that was still in Ariella’s chest, and Malachi had no strength to stagger back. Seneca pulled it out with a sickening motion, the blade further slicing Ariella’s chest open.

Malachi couldn’t bear to watch, instead focusing his anger and rage on his mother. She seemed crazed as she waved the dagger around. Malachi growled and bared his teeth, “How dare you! You promised no one would get hurt!”

He was vaguely aware of the others in the clearing fighting and snapping at each other. It seemed Ariella’s bold and desperate move inspired the others in his pack to rally together against the rogues and demons.

“Your pathetic mate has ruined it all!” Seneca wailed at him, oblivious to the wild clashes going on around them, and even more indifferent to the way Ariella was gasping for her final breath. “I’ll never get this chance again and she took it from me!” Seneca moved as if to swipe her talons across Ariella’s face, but Malachi extended his canines and roared viciously.

And as he did, he felt Ariella shudder against him, then go entirely still. Her body went limp in his arms, and the connection between them became silent.

The awareness of her in his soul vanished.

The invisible threads tying his heart to hers snapped violently.

The warmth of her presence faded and left him feeling cold and lost.

The vacant half of his heart was like a clouded maze, and he was wandering bereft with no hope of ever finding his way out.

He felt as dead as his mate in his arms.

“No! No, no, no, NOOOOO!!!!” Malachi threw his head back and screamed, the anguish burning his lungs and shredding his vocal chords. The sound tore into the night sky, spurring the wolves on his territory to echo his pain and howl with their devastated Alpha. The fighting continued, the wolves emboldened by their true Luna’s sacrifice, and he felt a shift in the atmosphere, a heightening of their aggression. Their strength flared, and he saw them rip through a number of demons and rogues.

But amidst the small victories, he also felt a few connections break, the link tying wolves to their Alpha severed as they lost their lives. The wounds, though not his, cut Malachi just as deeply and he gritted his teeth against the pain, needing to feel it as though it were his own.

Malachi could only hold Ariella’s lifeless body against his chest and weep.

“What’s happening to me?” Seneca continued shrieking, and Malachi wished she would stop. The sound of her thready voice clanged and chimed in his head like discordant cymbals, instruments clattering as though dropped on cold cement. “What did she do?!”

“She died, that’s what!” He roared at Seneca with all the intensity his broken body would allow, for a moment forgetting she was his mother and instead seeing only his mate’s killer. “You killed her!”

But the former Luna didn’t even hear him. She was holding her hand before her face, staring at it in terror as her fingers began turning black and dusty. Sparks traveled up her arm, and the dagger slipped from her grasp and fell silently to the forest floor below.

Seneca screamed again, her voice scratchy and lacking power, as the sparks overtook her body, chewing through her flesh and turning it to blackened ash. Another female demon with raven black hair rushed to her, shrieking and clutching her chest, and when she clasped onto Seneca, she too began disintegrating.

They stared at Ariella even as their faces blistered and charred. Malachi felt his mate’s cold body in his arms begin to grow warm, a soft glow emitting from beneath her skin that seemed to repel the darkness around them. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He just watched as tendrils of light crept from her body and devoured the darkness around them. When the fingers of energy touched Seneca and the other demon, they jerked back and choked on their own screams of pure horror.

Transfixed, Malachi watched as they both fell to the ground, their bodies writhing and crumpling, then fading. The cold wind blew the fine particles of ash away into oblivion, and Malachi felt his mouth become dry like scorched parchment, unearthed from a foreign desert.

The body of his mate lay still in his arms, once more pale and cold, all colour drained from her face so the hue was not unlike her white dress. It clung to her lifeless body, drab and stained with dirt, muddied water, and blood.

So much blood, and even more was seeping into the soil this very moment from numerous bodies that lay dead in the dirt around him.

It was over.

Ariella had died to save him, but Malachi felt as dead as the spirit in his body that had completely deserted him.