Her Alphaness

Raya

Renar scurried away from Kael and into his chambers, right before he shifted back into Raya. She stood up from the nude as she came to earth. Things had gotten a little weird lately, it was almost impossible to control Renar. He was getting too powerful, at the expense of her own weakness. He was draining her essence. She submerged herself in the spring that took rise from the rock behind her chambers, letting the coldness of it wash away the scent of sweat, blood and manliness. Her maid brought her essentials, styled her hair into two braids, and made her up.

"You look exhausted yet charming, my Lady," Clara said as she helped her get into a blue gown.

"Thank you, Clara," she responded, adjusting her tiara. "Who are we expecting today?"

"Prince Orion, ruler of the Alchemic Wolves, my Lady. Whispers hold that he seeks to have you as his queen," Clara answered, bowing her head.

"Thanks, Clara, you may leave now." She said, walking to her balcony that overlooks the kingdom.

The palace was restless with new banners, crimson and gold draped across the stone walls like veins of fire. Courtiers whispered of Prince Orion’s arrival, of treaties and alliances, of marriage as salvation. But Araya heard only the echo of her own heartbeat, steady and secretive, as she sat cloistered in her chamber.

Kael was posted outside her door, as always. His presence was a constant shadow; loyal, silent, unyielding. Yet lately, silence had grown heavy between them, charged with something neither dared name.

When she passed him in the corridor, his eyes lingered too long. When he bowed, his voice trembled faintly, as though reverence had become something more dangerous. And when their hands brushed accidentally, fleeting, the touch burned longer than it should.

Araya told herself it was nothing. She told herself Renar’s dominance demanded Kael’s loyalty, not his desire. But in the quiet hours, when she shed the wolf’s skin and returned to her fragile human form, she remembered the way Kael’s gaze softened, as though he saw her, not the mask.

The garden became her refuge. Moonlight spilled across the roses, silvering their thorns. Kael found her there one evening, his armor set aside, his expression unreadable. He did not speak at first. He simply stood, the night air thick between them, until finally he said:

“Your Highness… you carry too much alone.”

The words were simple, but they pierced deeper than any blade. Araya’s breath caught. She wanted to answer, to confess, to let him see the truth, but Renar stirred within her, snarling, reminding her that secrets were survival.

She turned away, fingers brushing the roses, their thorns biting into her skin. “Some burdens are not meant to be shared,” she whispered.

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he did not press. He only stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, close enough that silence became its own confession.

The next morning, Prince Orion arrived. His smile was polished, his words honeyed, his presence a storm wrapped in silk. He bowed before Queen Lysandra, then let his gaze rest on Araya.

“Princess,” he said, voice smooth as velvet, “our kingdoms have bled too long. Let us bind them in peace. Let us bind ourselves,” he said, straight to the point.

The council erupted in approval. The banners seemed to pulse with triumph. But Araya’s heart faltered. Behind her, Kael stood rigid, his wolf bristling, his silence louder than any protest.

She felt the weight of the wolf within, threatening to erase her existence, the council’s demand for an alliance, binding her to Orion and Kael, her silent shadow, whose devotion was becoming something far more dangerous pressing down her heart.

“Where is Alpha Renar? I would like a word with.” Rion asked, and the chamber went silent.

“He is out hunting,” Princess Araya answered sharply, trying to suppress Renar’s growl within her.

“Oh, the king thinks of the prince of the alchemic wolves with such little importance that he goes hunting on the day of a diplomatic visit.” He sneered

“The queen shall attend to your matters. The Alpha only makes his appearance at night,” Kael stepped forward, sensing the disregard for the queen in his voice.

Prince Orion ruled the alchemic wolves of the north, where female leaders held very little or no importance in royal matters. A Cold War has existed between the two kingdoms for ages.

“Then I shall wait for his return, your highness,” Orion said, bowing to the queen. The council dispersed, leaving the prince, Araya, and the queen. Kael stood a few meters away, with his gaze set on Araya as if trying to pry into her soul.

“Walk the prince to the royal garden my dear, the maids will attend to him while he waits.” The queen said to Araya and walked away.

“Yes mother,” she replied, tensed by Renar’s demand for control. The stroll to the garden was brief yet heavy, with Kael following closely behind. He clearly didn’t trust the prince, or he didn’t like the fact that he was getting close to Araya.

The royal garden breathed with shadows. Lanterns glowed faintly along the marble paths, their flames bending in the night wind. Roses bowed heavily with dew, their thorns glistening like tiny blades. The air smelled of damp earth and iron, as though the soil itself remembered centuries of blood spilled for crowns. Prince Orion walked with the elegance of a predator disguised as a diplomat. His cloak, crimson lined with gold, caught the lantern light like fire. His pale amber eyes gleamed with calculation, lingering on Araya with a weight that made her skin prickle. He moved as though the garden already belonged to him, each step a silent claim.

Kael followed a few paces behind, his boots soundless against the stone. His wolf stirred uneasily, bristling at Orion’s proximity. Every time the prince leaned closer to Araya, Kael’s jaw tightened, his hand flexed against the hilt of his blade. He told himself it was duty, but the truth burned hotter: jealousy, protectiveness, a devotion he dared not name.

Orion’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and sharp.

“So the mighty Alpha Renar only appears at night? Curious. A king who hides in darkness, perhaps afraid daylight will reveal too much.”

The words dripped with condescension.

Araya stiffened. Renar surged within her, a growl escaping her throat before she could stop it. The sound was low, feral, unmistakably male. Her eyes flashed silver for a heartbeat, betraying the beast beneath her skin.

She pressed a hand to her chest, fighting to suppress him. But the effort drained her. Her knees buckled, the world tilting, roses and lanterns blurring into shadow.

Kael moved before he thought. He caught her in his arms, strong and steady, his touch grounding her like stone against storm. His heart thundered fear, fury, and something softer tangled together. He cradled her as though she were both sovereign and fragile, his breath sharp with the terror of losing her.

Araya felt the warmth of him through the haze, the steadiness of his hold. For a moment, Renar’s rage receded, soothed by Kael’s presence. She wanted to speak, to thank him, to confess the truth that burned inside her, but weakness stole her voice. Her head fell against his chest, her body surrendering to his strength.

Kael’s eyes met Orion’s across the garden. No words passed, but the message was clear: she was his to protect.

Orion only smiled thin, knowing, venom wrapped in silk. He stepped closer, his cloak whispering against the marble.

“Princess,” he said softly, though his words carried poison, “You suffer because of the beast within you. Kill it. Become fully human. Marry me, and I will make you queen. Together, we will rule the forest wolves. Your secret will be safe… and your bloodline will endure.”

The offer hung in the air like a blade.

Araya’s eyes fluttered, too weak to answer. Her silence was not consent, but exhaustion. She collapsed fully into Kael’s arms, her body limp, her breath shallow.

Kael did not speak. He did not dignify Orion’s words with a reply. He simply turned, carrying Araya toward the palace, his grip firm, his steps unyielding. His desire stirred beneath duty, hidden in silence, waiting for the moment it would ignite.

Orion watched them go, his smile faltering. He had expected shock, hesitation, perhaps even temptation. Instead, he was left with disappointment, his suspicion unconfirmed, his offer unanswered. Yet his ambition did not waver. His eyes gleamed with cold calculation.

"If she did not yield now, she would yield later," he thought. "And when she does, the forest wolves will be mine to rule."

The roses trembled in the night breeze, as though they too sensed the storm gathering.