The Replacement Aplha

Alpha Ben

My heart dropped. It couldn’t be. I would have known, somehow felt it when he passed. 

Or… would I have? 

Although I had rejected him as my mate, and any tight mate bonds had been severed, I had still sensed him occasionally in the few months after I left. Sensed his rage, his anger.

Then one day, those sensations suddenly stopped. I remember it was the same day that I had a big wolf anatomy examination. I had just attributed it to my stress. But the feelings never returned. It felt as if any remaining connective strands that we had shared between the two of us had been abruptly snipped. 

“Did he die the first November after I left?” I asked coldly, hardly sounding like myself. 

“Yes. He went… a little… crazy,” Dad said, carefully choosing his words.

“You mean crazier than he already was?” I asked. This seemed to upset Dad. He looked away and sighed.

“Yes. After you rejected him, he got worse. It was like he finally snapped. The pain of being rejected, it was excruciating. Some pack-members claimed they had heard his screams from inside the Alpha mansion.”

“Yes Dad, I’m aware. Just because I was the one who did the rejecting, didn’t make it any less painful for me,” I reminded him.

“I’m so sorry, Scar. I know - I wish, I wish you hadn’t left so suddenly so I could have taken care of you or looked out for…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Dad was a smart man. He knew that he wouldn’t have been strong enough to look after me in such a desperate time.

“Goddess…  apparently they didn’t sound even like screams,” he finally continued, “more like… howls. Human or wolf, no one really could figure out.”

I remained quiet, folding my hands in my lap. I was trying to find the proper emotional response. I should be feeling despair, grief. I should be. Instead...

“Anyway, I guess it was all too much for him. That day in November, rumour has it, he attacked his father after the Alpha tried to make one last attempt to reason with him. Ben left his father no choice, Alpha Damien had to kill him." 

“What?” I exclaimed.

“He didn’t want too…” Dad rubbed the side of his head as if this was all giving him a migraine, “but Ben wouldn’t stop. He just kept attacking. So, he finally put an end to his own son.”

My mouth was dry. I needed a cup of water.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I know we aren’t allowed phones at the College, but you could've written to me.”

“I admit, it was for a selfish reason,” said Dad, “I wanted you to come home. I didn’t want this news to stop you. I… needed you.”

 He looked up at me with desolate, apologetic eyes.

Although as much as I wanted to be angry, I couldn’t.

I loved him too much. Even though he was a shell of the man he once was. 

Besides, I was much too… relieved.

That was the word I had been looking for. That’s how I felt. I was not psychotic enough to feel happy about the death of my previous mate, but I had an overwhelming sense of comfort that I would never have to see him again.

 “Thanks for telling me all of this Dad. But I need some time to process everything you just dropped on me. Also, if I don’t get going, I’m going to be late for my first shift.”

Dad nodded and stood up. Without another word, he disappeared out of my bedroom.

Finally, I let out a long breath. And almost smiled.

I didn’t want Dad to see me like this. I think he was hoping I would break down, cry, sob, bash my head against the wall - something along those lines.

Was I cruel? Was I such a monster to not mourn the death of my mate?

I stood up and looked in the mirror. I had a small pimple under my nose, and dark purple bags under my eyes indicative of only receiving six hours of sleep in the last two days.

Still, despite my haggard appearance, the resemblance to Mom was uncanny. I was stunning, and I hated myself for it.

My good looks had brought me nothing but despair over the years.

Quinn, my best friend up until 9th grade, had repeatedly told me that she ‘would’ve killed for my tan skin and my honey blonde hair.’

Quinn. My heart ached. How I missed her. Our friendship took a bitter turn in the 9h grade when the rest of the girls in my class finally convinced her to give me to the cold shoulder. 

Quinn. With her round, happy face full of freckles. Her hair was so ironically fiery red as she was far from fierce. Instead, she was so gentle and kind she wouldn't be able to kill even a pesky mosquito. 

Even after she shunned me, she never spoke an ill word to me. I remember I would occasionally catch her staring from afar in school, looking at me with a longing expression.

It probably didn’t help that she had started dating the Beta-to-be Oliver. That guy was such a jerk. 

These looks alienated me from other girls my age, making me a social pariah.

The only male attention that my attractiveness gave me was unwanted. The hungry looks my male classmates would give me in the hallways. They would carefully undress me with their eyes, as if wondering ‘is she that tanned everywhere?’

I could literally sense the boys smelling me, as if I was a piece of delicious looking meat.

The only reason none of the boys had even considered laying a finger on me was because of my mate, and Alpha-to-be, Ben.

In the Rocky Mountain Pack, mates were not solidified until both were of age, which was 18. Ben was four years older than me, so I was just 14 when he shifted. Although it was not completely certain that we were each other’s mates, Ben had claimed he felt a strong pull towards be after he turned.

Even at the tender age of 14, I had already started to develop my womanly shape. My breasts were well on their way, and my long legs were thin but graceful. I was almost relieved that Ben had made this claim on me. Whether it was true or not that I actually was his mate, at least it subsided the unnerving attention I had started to receive in the last year.

At 13, it started off innocent enough. Men in the pack would mention how much I resembled my lovely, departed mother. Boys my age would beam at me, hold the door open for me. Girls would roll their eyes and make underhanded, nasty comments about me under their breath.

When I really started to blossom at 14, the glances had turned to physical touch. Boys always wanted to hold my hand. A couple of them had even been so bold to grab a handful of my small but shapely butt.

After Ben made it known to the entire pack that I was off limits, the boys backed off. The comments and touching turned into lustful, but thankfully distant, stares.

At first, I thought my luck had finally turned. That it was a blessing that I would be Ben’s mate.

Oh, how wrong I was.

How. f*****g. Wrong. 

SR