Fated To The Exiled Alphas

Chapter 3

Caramel's Pov

"This is absurd, Orion! Absolutely absurd!" Leandre's voice sliced through the ringing in my ears. "You can't just—"

Orion didn't even spare him a glance. He just scooped me up, careful of my throbbing ankle, holding me against his chest like I weighed nothing.

My head swam, a dizzy mix of pain, fear, and that weird, electric hum that still thrummed between us. My brain, still half-fried from the beating and the fire, tried to process that.

Mate...right. Because I'm totally a wolf. A human, ankle-broken, blood-soaked, freshly-murdered-my-uncle, on-the-run human. Yeah, definitely mate material for a giant, gold-eyed… whatever he was,my stomach did a flip but not from the pain, just the sheer absurdity.

"Are you actually taking her to the mansion?" Leandre demanded, stopping dead in his tracks.

Orion just kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead, past Leandre, past the alley, towards the dark mouth of the forest. "Yes." He said like he was talking to a particularly annoying gnat.

Orion paused at the edge of the trees, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Buckle up, Caramel."

Buckle up? What was I supposed to buckle to? Then he started... changing... every bone in his body decided to rearrange itself with a series of sickening pops and cracks. His clothes just shredded to fur.

Everywhere. And then, poof, where Orion the giant man was, now stood a giant, majestic, white wolf. Like something out of a fantasy novel, only way more terrifying and less sparkly.

I just clung to his fur, which was surprisingly soft for something that had just ripped through a shirt. My face was buried in his neck, trying not to inhale too much 'wild animal' smell. Then we were flying. Seriously, the trees were just green smears.

My ankle ached so bad but my brain was too busy screaming, 'Don't fall off the giant werewolf!' Leandre, the grumpy one, was somehow keeping up behind us.

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding on for dear life. The wind whipped past, colder, stronger, threatening to tear me from his back. My grip almost slipped, a pathetic whimper catching in my throat. Just as I thought I couldn't hold on any longer, the speed abruptly lessened and I dared to open my eyes.

We stopped and then I saw it...a freaking mansion. It was white, huge, like something a movie star would own, only hidden in the middle of nowhere. My jaw probably hit the floor. So much for roughing it in the woods, huh?

Leandre, now standing beside us, gave me a withering stink eye before pushing open the massive front doors and disappearing inside. Clearly, my awe was offensive.

Orion shifted back and then he was just... naked standing there. Like it was Tuesday. My face went hot. Seriously, Caramel? Now? With a broken ankle and a dead uncle? But he didn't even blink. Just picked me up again, still naked, like I was a sack of potatoes, and carried me through the grand entrance, past Leandre who was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, still glaring.

Orion walked straight to a plush couch and gently placed me down. My ankle screamed in protest, but the pain was a distant hum compared to the shock of everything else.

Then, he turned and walked over to Leandre. Who was still glaring, by the way, grabbed him, pulled him in, and then they were kissing. Like, really kissing, rough. Leandre's arms went around Orion, pulling him even closer as moans...actual moans escaped their lips. Right there in front of me.

My jaw probably dislocated.

My brain, which had just survived a murder, a fire, wolves, thugs, and a werewolf ride, finally short-circuited. Mate? Oh. Oh. Not me. Them. They were mates. And I was just... the human baggage.

They pulled apart, eventually with Leandre's lips swollen, Orion, still naked, just looked at Leandre, a soft, possessive look on his face that made my stomach clench. Not from hunger, but from… something else. Envy? No. Just… a profound sense of being utterly, completely out of place. Like I'd stumbled into someone else's very private, very intense, very naked moment.

"Right," Orion finally said, his voice a little rougher than before, like he'd just run a marathon. Or kissed one. He finally seemed to remember I existed. "Leandre, get her some clothes. And a first-aid kit. Her ankle's broken."

Leandre just grunted, pushing off the wall. He didn't look happy about it.

I just sat there, on the couch, feeling the cold seeping into my bones, the throbbing in my ankle a dull roar now. So, this was my rescue. Saved from thugs, only to be dropped into a mansion with two ridiculously powerful, ridiculously attractive, and ridiculously mated werewolves. And one of them was naked. Still. My life was officially a rom-com gone horribly, horribly wrong. Or maybe just a horror movie with a very confusing plot twist.

Orion finally turned his attention fully to me. He wasn't smiling just… assessing. Like I was a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. "You said you killed your uncle," he stated, not a question.

My throat went dry. The brief reprieve from the horror of my own actions vanished. "He… he hurt me," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "He wouldn't stop. I… I didn't mean to. Not really. But he wouldn't stop." The tears started again. "They'll kill me—"

He just watched me, it was almost worse than anger. "Your pack," he repeated, a strange inflection in his voice. "And you're an Omega."

I sniffled. "Yeah no not really, I have no wolf." The words felt like a brand.

He took a step closer, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch me. But he just knelt down, his gaze fixed on my swollen, purple ankle. "We'll see about that." His voice was low, almost a growl. "First, we fix this."

He reached for my ankle, his large hand surprisingly gentle. I flinched, but he didn't stop. His fingers, warm and strong, probed around the swollen bone. It hurt like hell, but there was something else too, a strange warmth spreading from his touch, dulling the sharp edges of the pain. My brain, ever the comedian, thought, Well, at least he's good with his hands. Maybe he's a doctor-werewolf?

"Leandre said you guys were exiled," I blurted out, mostly to distract myself from the pain and the weird tingling. "What's that even mean?"

Orion just grunted, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It means we're here." He didn't elaborate.

Just then Léandre's voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the mansion. "Orion! I need to talk to you. Now." Sounded pissed. Again.

Orion sighed shaking his head, not at me, but at the unseen Leandre. "My decision about Caramel staying is final."

"It's not about the human girl!" Leandre snapped back, closer now. "We've got more pressing matters to attend to."

Orion's jaw tightened. He gave my ankle one last, gentle squeeze, and the pain, miraculously, had dulled to a throb. "Stay here," he commanded, eyes locking with mine. "Don't move."

He stood up, and then strode off, disappearing down the same hallway Leandre had taken.

Don't move...right. Because I'm just going to sit here, broken ankle and all, in a mansion full of naked werewolves and their secrets. I pushed myself up, wincing, but determined. My ankle still hurt, but it was manageable. Barely.

The hall was huge, filled with dark wood and expensive-looking paintings. I limped, dragging my foot, touching the cold, polished frames as I went. Each step was a gamble, but the silence was too heavy, too unsettling. I needed to know what "more pressing matters" meant. And what kind of mansion had a grumpy werewolf and a naked one as its only inhabitants?

I passed several closed doors, each one looking equally imposing. Then I saw a door, slightly ajar, tucked away in a shadowed alcove. Curiosity, that stupid, self-destructive trait, tugged at me. Just a peek, Caramel. What's the worst that could happen?

I pushed it open, slowly, the hinges groaning softly.

My breath hitched and my heart stopped literally.

Inside were people tied up. Ropes binding their wrists and ankles, gagged, eyes wide with terror. They were bruised, dirty and human. Just like me.

A gasp escaped my lips as my legs gave out, and I tumbled to the floor, my ankle screaming in protest.

Their eyes were desperate and pleading, locked onto mine. They started to stir, to strain against their bonds, muffled sounds escaping their gags, their hands reached out towards me begging. "Help us. Please. Help us.”