Hated By The Alpha Bound To Me

This was never supposed to be hers. The thought pressed through Elara as she smoothed trembling hands over the dark red fabric clinging to her body. The dress felt too heavy, the deep crimson unfamiliar against her skin. She never would have chosen the colour for herself, but tonight had nothing to do with choice. Draegon colours. Draegon expectations. Everything about this night felt borrowed. Her gaze lingered on the mirror in front of her, catching on the stranger staring back. The girl reflected there looked composed beneath the dim candlelight spilling across the room, almost untouchable in a way Elara had never been, yet fear remained impossible to hide completely. It lingered in the stiffness of her shoulders and the tension tightening her mouth every time she tried to breathe normally. This should have been Lyria. The realization came again, a wave of dread threatening to overwhelm her. If Elara had refused the council’s demands, her younger sister would have been sent in her place. Valamere and Draegon had spent generations tearing into each other across borders soaked in blood, and now the council expected a forced bond to accomplish what years of violence never had. Elara already knew what would happen to Lyria inside Draegon territory. Her sister had too much softness in her, too much kindness left untouched by war, and wolves like these would tear through that weakness within days. A faint sound behind her pulled her attention away from the mirror. Nyra stood near the doorway, quiet enough that Elara had not heard her enter. Dark hair framed features made colder by the low torchlight spilling through the room, while sharp blue eyes swept carefully across every corner before finally settling on Elara with the same alert focus she carried everywhere. Always watching. Always aware. “Don’t worry,” Nyra said softly. “We’re in this together.” The reassurance failed to calm the pounding in Elara’s chest, though relief still eased some of the pressure tightening beneath her ribs. Back in Valamere, Nyra had become many things at once. Protector. Shadow. Friend. Most wolves relied on brute force and dominance, but Nyra operated differently. She moved through places unseen, erased trails that should have remained obvious, and masked her scent so completely it bordered on unnatural. Elara had once watched one of Valamere’s strongest Alphas lose Nyra’s trail in fresh snow while Nyra remained hidden less than twenty feet away, barely containing her amusement. Even now, after years of knowing her, Elara sometimes felt there were parts of Nyra no one fully understood. “You can still leave,” Nyra said quietly. Her tone remained calm, although both of them knew Elara would never run. Elara looked back toward the mirror, toward the future waiting beyond those walls. “If I leave,” she murmured, “Lyria takes my place.” A shadow crossed Nyra’s expression before disappearing again, but it lasted long enough for Elara to understand exactly what she was thinking. Lyria would not survive here. A hard knock shattered the silence before either of them could continue. “The council is waiting.” Impatience rang clearly through the door. Elara’s stomach twisted painfully. This was real now. No more arguments between elders. No more desperate discussions inside Valamere territory about sacrifice and survival. Within the hour, she would stand beside the most feared Alpha in Draegon. Thorne. Even his name left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had only seen him once years earlier during a council gathering near the borderlands. While the other Alphas pushed against one another like wolves fighting over scraps, Thorne had remained apart from the chaos, silent and unreadable as he watched the room slowly unravel around him. That stillness had unsettled her more than the shouting ever could. Nyra stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly. “If something feels wrong,” she said, “look for me.” Elara frowned faintly. “You shouldn’t even be allowed near the circle.” A small smile touched Nyra’s mouth. “Probably not.” Despite everything pressing down on her, the response managed to pull the weakest hint of amusement from Elara before anxiety swallowed it again. Nyra lifted the hood of her dark cloak as the chamber doors opened, and within seconds she disappeared backward into the corridor shadows so naturally it barely looked real. Elara stared after her briefly before forcing herself forward. Torchlight flickered across the stone corridor as she walked toward the mating grounds, each step tightening the pressure building inside her chest. The closer she moved, the louder the distant sounds became until individual voices blurred together beneath the crackling of fire and the restless shifting of wolves gathering outside. By the time the clearing opened before her, the full force of attention crashed into her hard enough to steal part of her breath. Hundreds of eyes followed her instantly. Some openly hostile. Others curious. A few looked almost disappointed, as though they had expected someone stronger. The ancient mating circle stretched across the center of the clearing, carved symbols glowing faintly beneath the firelight. Time had worn the edges smooth, yet the markings remained deep enough to remind everyone standing there how many wolves had bled across those stones before tonight. And at the center of it stood Thorne. He looked exactly like the rumours whispered across every territory. Tall enough to tower over most wolves nearby, broad shoulders wrapped in black ceremonial fabric threaded with silver that caught the firelight whenever he moved. A pale scar cut across his jaw, drawing attention to the severity of his features instead of diminishing them. Nothing about him appeared welcoming. Power radiated from him so naturally that several wolves standing closest to him avoided direct eye contact altogether, but it was not his size or reputation that unsettled Elara most. It was the way he remained completely unmoved while everything around him shifted with tension. Wolves murmured beside him. Torches snapped in the cold night air. Council members exchanged low words near the outer edges of the clearing. Through all of it, Thorne remained perfectly still. His grey eyes lifted toward her slowly, and the instant they met hers, something twisted violently inside Elara’s chest. The pressure of so many eyes suddenly felt suffocating. Her breathing caught hard enough that her steps nearly faltered. The faint narrowing of Thorne’s gaze told her that he had seen it.