The Alpha's Wolfless Mate

Elara’s POV "Elara!" My name rang out so loudly that it pulled me from sleep, and I was awake before my eyes even opened, my heart pounding and my body already tensing for the blow that might follow. "Elara, get down here this instant!" I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor as it dawned on me that I'd overslept. I had spent the whole day doing all the chores and had decided to rest a little only for me to oversleep at the end of it all. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I stumbled down the narrow attic stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet, and burst into the kitchen, Lady Morgana stood by the cold hearth, her arms crossed, her beautiful face twisted with irritation. "You're late," she said coldly. "I'm sorry, my lady. I'll start the fire right away—" "The fire should have been started an hour ago." Her eyes swept over me with barely concealed disgust. "But of course, you were too busy sleeping to remember your duties." My cheeks burned. "It won't happen again." "It never should have happened in the first place." Morgana stepped closer, and I instinctively shrank back. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Or have you forgotten what is happening tonight?” I swallowed hard. "No, my lady. The Alpha's birthday celebration is tonight." "Yes, the Alpha's birthday celebration is tonight," she repeated, mocking my tone. "And just in case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you that it is the most important event of the season. Every noble family in the region will be there. The Alpha’s son, the future Alpha, will also be there." Kael. The name sent a flutter through my chest, but I crushed it before it could take root. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you." I lifted my head, meeting her cold, pale eyes. She was beautiful, my adoptive mother as well as my stepmother—tall and elegant, with the kind of face that made men stop and stare. But there was nothing warm about her. Nothing kind. She had taken me in when I was a baby, raised me under her roof, fed me and clothed me. But she had never loved me. Not at all. To her, I was just another burden whose presence in the Nightshade family was nothing but a mistake. And of course, she wasn’t entirely wrong because tell me, why, out of everyone in the Nightshade family both past and present, I was the only one who was born wolf less? And that has always left me with one question: why me? I knew the story, of course. Everyone did. Lord Aldric had married twice—first to a mysterious woman no one spoke of, then to Lady Morgana after his first wife abandoned him with their newborn daughter. A baby girl born on a cold winter's night, delivered into a world that had no place for her. Since then, no one ever mentioned where she came from or who she was. It was as if she'd never existed at all, erased from history like a stain that needed to be scrubbed away. And sometimes, late at night when I couldn't sleep, I wondered if the reason she had abandoned me was because she was ashamed of giving birth to a wolfless daughter like me. I wondered if she'd looked at me and sensed that something was wrong. That I was broken. That I was different from every other wolf in the Nightshade bloodline. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought. But it clung to me, stubborn and sharp, like a burr beneath my skin. Because deep down, I believed it. I believed that my mother had looked at me and had seen me as a curse and not a blessing to the Nightshade family. I believed that she'd abandoned me, because she couldn't face the disgrace of a daughter who would never shift, never run, and never howl at the moon with the rest of her pack. "Elara." Morgana's voice snapped me back to the present. I blinked, realizing I'd been staring at the floor, lost in my thoughts. Morgana's eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Did you hear anything I just said?" I swallowed hard. "Yes, my lady. The Alpha's son will be attending the Alpha’s birthday tonight." Morgana's expression didn't soften. If anything, it grew colder. "Of course, you weren’t listening. I also said Seraphina's dress needs pressing," she said. "Everything has to be perfect for her tonight. If not, you will wish you were never my stepdaughter.” "I'll see to all of it," I said quickly. "Everything will be ready." "Also, try not to embarrass us tonight," she added. The words hit me like a slap, even though I'd heard them a hundred times before. "I won't," I whispered. "And before I forget...” Morgana paused just as she was about to leave. “ …wear something decent." Her gaze flicked to my patched dress. "I won't have you looking like a beggar at the Alpha's celebration, even if, in reality, you’re not different from one. There's an old dress of Seraphina's in the storage room. It's faded, but it will do. You'll find it." An old dress of Seraphina's. A remnant of my sister's perfection, passed down to me like charity. "Thank you, my lady," I said. Morgana didn't respond. She simply walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone in the cold, dark room. I stood there for a long moment, my hands trembling at my sides. Try not to embarrass us tonight. I'd heard those words before. I'd heard them a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. But they never stopped hurting. They never stopped cutting deep into the wounds that had never healed. I was just about to resume my kitchen duties when Seraphina showed up at the door, Her hair fell in perfect waves past her shoulders, looking undeniably beautiful with diamonds that sparkled at her throat and ears, She was everything I would never be, and even though I felt a bit jealous, I had to deal with it. "Elara!" she called out to me, her voice as disdainful as Lady Morgana’s. "When will you have my dress pressed? The party is barely two hours away!”