Alpha king and his cursed mate

Scentless Mystery

1. Mara’s Awakening

Mara Evans woke to a strange, haunting silence. The room was dim, unfamiliar. The thick curtains shut out the morning light, but enough filtered in for her to see the elegant furnishings, the oversized bed... and the crumpled sheets beside her.

Empty.

She was alone.

And she had no idea where she was.

Her body throbbed with aches—deep, intimate aches that reminded her of the night before. Heat rushed to her cheeks as vivid images flared to life in her mind: the Alpha King’s piercing golden eyes, his breath hot against her skin, his trembling hands that had both cradled and claimed her.

It hadn’t been rough, nor cruel.

No, that was what confused her most.

He had touched her like she mattered. Like she was something sacred. But how could that be? She was just a maid. Cursed, scentless, hidden from the world.

And yet… last night, under the cloak of moonlight and shadows, she had felt—no, *known*—that something powerful had passed between them.

Her first time.

And it had been with the Alpha King.

The pain between her thighs was a dull reminder of the intensity they had shared. She pushed the sheet off her, winced as she stood, and shuffled toward the nearby washroom. The mirror didn’t lie.

She looked ruined.

Hair tangled, lips bruised and swollen, her neck littered with love bites. Her uniform lay on the floor like the forgotten shell of a girl who’d stepped into a world she had no right entering.

**2. Panic and Flight**

Fear clawed at her throat. *What have I done?*

This couldn’t be known. No one could know.

She stumbled into her clothes, each movement sharp and raw, her breathing uneven. If someone found her here, if anyone suspected—

A knock startled her. Not loud. Not urgent. But she flinched like a deer sensing the hunter’s arrow.

She had to get out.

Gripping the doorframe for support, she slipped into the hallway. It was quiet. Too quiet. Her breath caught as she navigated the unfamiliar corridors. She didn’t belong in the Alpha’s private wing. If someone saw her—

"Lady Bess," she gasped, breathless, when she finally reached the older woman’s door.

The head maid blinked, then rushed forward. “Mara? What on earth—?”

Bess took one look at her and pulled her inside.

“My goddess, child. What happened to you?”

Mara could barely speak. Her lips trembled. She wanted to tell her. She *needed* to. But the words wouldn’t come.

Lady Bess examined her closely. Her eyes sharpened. “You’re still scentless. But you look like you’ve just been through a war.”

“I need to leave the packhouse,” Mara whispered. “Please. Somewhere far. Somewhere no one will ask questions.”

Bess didn’t argue. Her old eyes softened. “The pack hospital. It’s near the border, quiet, isolated. I’ll transfer you myself.”

Relief broke through Mara’s panic. She collapsed into the older woman’s arms and sobbed.

**3. The Alpha’s Confusion**

Elsewhere, Alpha Malcolm Rodgers stood shirtless in front of his shattered mirror, shards scattered across the marble floor. His fist bled from the impact, crimson streaking down his wrist.

He was losing his mind.

One night.

One girl.

No name. No scent. No trace.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dreaming of her. Every detail felt burned into his soul—the tremble in her breath, the heat of her skin, the way her body had molded to his like she belonged there.

His Lycan stirred restlessly inside him.

*Find her. She is ours. Ours!*

But how? She had no scent.

Only peace.

A peace that calmed the storm inside him for the first time in centuries.

He hadn't touched a woman the same way in 450 years. Not even Katrina, who threw herself at him in every subtle—and not-so-subtle—way.

This girl had undone him. Without a name. Without a trace.

He mindlinked his Beta.

*Michael. Now.*

**4. The Search Begins**

Michael Berg arrived minutes later, looking rough from a night of drinking. “What’s the emergency?”

Malcolm paced like a caged animal. “I found her. I found my mate.”

Michael froze. “What?”

“I don’t have proof. No scent. But I *know* it was her.”

Michael blinked. “But you said there was no scent—”

“I know what I felt, Mike. My Lycan... he purred. *Purred*. I’ve never—”

Michael held up a hand. “Okay. Okay. I believe you. What do you remember?”

Malcolm closed his eyes, recalling every sensation. “She was small. Warm. Terrified. But brave. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. But she held on. Like she didn’t want to let go either.”

“And you didn’t recognize her?”

“No.”

“She could’ve been a maid. A nurse. Someone from the border?”

Malcolm nodded. “Possibly.”

Michael sighed. “I’ll investigate. Discreetly. But scentless girls? That’s like hunting a ghost.”

Malcolm’s eyes darkened. “Then become a ghost hunter.”

**5. New Life, New Fear**

Two weeks passed. At the remote hospital, Mara tried to find rhythm in routine. Cleaning. Washing. Checking vitals.

She hadn’t shifted. Her wolf still slept.

And she still had no scent.

But something else was changing.

She hadn’t had her monthly bleed.

And the nausea…

The head nurse handed her a small paper bag one morning. “A visitor dropped this for you. No name.”

Mara opened it to find a pregnancy test.

Her hands shook as she took it into the small restroom.

Minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror again, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Two lines.

Clear. Bold. Unmistakable.

She was pregnant.

The Alpha King’s child grew inside her.

She slid down the wall, weeping silently.

**6. The Scent of Rain**

Elsewhere, Malcolm sat beneath the rising sun, sipping black coffee. It had become a ritual. He watched the eastern wind, *waiting*.

Then it came.

So faint. But unmistakable.

Rain.

His Lycan roared inside him.

He dropped the cup and shifted mid-stride, black fur exploding from his skin. Massive paws thundered across the field.

He didn’t know where he was going—but the Lycan did.

He followed the scent.

And then he saw her.

She stood outside the pack hospital, pale blue robes around her, holding a baby wrapped in cream.

His breath caught.

Her eyes widened as he approached.

“Mara,” he breathed.

Her lips parted. “Alpha...”

“You... it’s you.”

She nodded.

He stepped forward slowly. “Why did you leave?”

“I was cursed. A dark witch. She made me scentless so my mate would never find me.”

“And now?”

“When I gave birth... the curse broke.”

He looked at the child. Something in him *clicked*. This tiny boy—he *knew* him. Every cell in his body sang with it.

“He’s mine.”

She nodded.

He looked at her, voice low and reverent. “So are you.”

Mara Evans kept her head down at the pack hospital.

Days turned into weeks.

She blended into the rhythm of the remote infirmary. Most days were quiet. She cleaned linens, fetched herbs, organized medicine shelves, and stayed out of sight.

No one asked questions.

That suited her just fine.

She hadn’t seen the Alpha King since that night. She didn’t expect to. He had probably forgotten her entirely—or worse, remembered and regretted it.

The thought stung more than she cared to admit.

She wrapped her arms around herself one evening after her shift and sat on the hospital’s back porch, gazing out into the forest.

The wind rustled the trees.

Her belly twisted again.

Lately, she’d been nauseous. Morning. Afternoon. Night. The scent of blood made her gag. Even the healing teas they brewed for patients turned her stomach.

At first, she thought it was a virus.

But now… her hand instinctively went to her belly.

She knew.

She just hadn’t let herself say it aloud.

That night, after lights out, she crept into the infirmary supply closet and found a hidden drawer behind the medicine cabinet. It was locked, but she picked it open with a bobby pin.

Inside were pregnancy tests. Standard issue. For female warriors and healers who’d sometimes missed heat cycles after dangerous missions.

She took one.

And waited.

The seconds ticked by like years.

When the results appeared, she dropped the stick and stumbled backward.

Positive.

The tiny pink plus sign stared back at her like a thunderclap.

She was pregnant.

She was pregnant with the Alpha King’s child.

---

In the dead of night, Mara sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, tears streaming down her face.

She wanted to scream. Laugh. Run. Collapse.

She felt everything. And nothing.

This wasn’t just a complication. It was a death sentence.

She was scentless. A cursed maid with no wolf. No status. No name. No protection.

And now she carried royal blood.

Even if Malcolm remembered her—what then? He’d reject her. Deny the child. Accuse her of deceit. Or worse… claim her out of duty. That would be worse than rejection.

She didn’t want to be a prisoner.

She didn’t want to be a secret.

But most of all—she didn’t want her child to be hunted.

So she made a decision.

She would leave.

Before she showed.

Before it was too late.

---

Back in the capital, Malcolm Rodgers stood in the open courtyard, bare-chested and restless as ever. The wind picked up, brushing his face with the soft scent of pine and rain. His Lycan stirred, growling low.

Every night since the encounter, he had dreamed of her.

Not her face.

Her presence.

Her warmth.

Each time, he reached for her—but woke up empty.

Michael’s search had turned up nothing. No one had seen a new face. No servant had vanished. No female warriors had been off-routine. It was like she had never existed.

But he knew.

He could feel the tether between them.

It wasn’t imagination.

It was real.

His Lycan clawed at his mind again. *Find her. Find her. Ours.*

He closed his eyes and let his instincts lead.

And then—like a whisper on the wind—he felt something shift.

A breeze carried something new.

Faint.

But unmistakable.

Her.

He shifted before he could think.

His Lycan burst forth, massive and black-furred, glowing eyes locked toward the east.

He ran. Fast. Wild. Past the guards. Past the walls.

Into the woods.

Toward her.

Mara barely slept.

She sat awake on the thin hospital mattress, one hand curled around her belly, the other clutching a worn piece of paper. It was a scribbled map—one drawn for her by Lady Bess herself.

“There’s an old border cottage beyond the mistwood trail,” the old maid had whispered two nights ago when Mara finally confessed. “My sister lives there. She’ll take you in. Just until you figure things out.”

Mara had nodded, trembling. Lady Bess was the only person who knew everything—her curse, the night with the Alpha, the baby.

“You must go soon,” Lady Bess had warned. “The Alpha's eyes are everywhere. And if the Elders catch wind of this…”

Mara didn’t need the rest spelled out.

She glanced toward the moonlit window. Her time here was running out.

Tomorrow night, she would leave.

Tonight would be her last.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

To the baby.

To the Alpha.

To herself.

---

The wind howled through the trees.

Malcolm’s Lycan paws pounded the earth, thudding like war drums.

He followed the scent—faint but persistent—until it led him toward the mistwood trail. The same one his father used to tell stories about. A place where the wild wolves hid and witches whispered.

His ears twitched.

A whisper.

A voice.

Not words. Just warmth.

She was close.

Closer than she had ever been.

His Lycan form growled in triumph. *Mate. Ours. There.*

He slowed his pace, muscles taut. He shifted back to his human form, crouching behind thick underbrush, barely breathing.

There.

Across the clearing.

A girl with a satchel and a cloak, slipping out the back of the hospital. Moving like a shadow.

His breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

It had to be.

He took a step forward—then froze.

Because suddenly, another figure emerged from the trees.

A cloaked man. Hooded. Tall.

And he was heading straight for her.

---

Mara didn’t see him at first.

She was halfway to the river crossing when she sensed the shift in the air.

Someone was behind her.

She turned slowly, heart hammering.

The man stepped into view.

Not a pack guard. Not a hospital staffer.

She recognized him instantly. The amulet around his neck glowed faint green—the color of the coven that had cursed her.

Her blood ran cold.

“You,” she whispered. “You’re one of hers.”

The man smiled. “The Mistress wants what belongs to her.”

Mara’s hands trembled. She took a step back. “I have nothing for her. The curse was payment enough.”

“She doesn’t want your scentless soul,” the man sneered. “She wants the child.”

Mara gasped.

“No—”

He lunged.

But something black and fast slammed into him before he could reach her.

A beast. A shadow. A Lycan.

Malcolm.

He shifted mid-air, pinning the attacker to the ground, claws to throat.

His voice was pure rage.

“Touch her, and I’ll rip your spine out.”

---

Mara couldn’t move.

Malcolm’s body stood between her and the assassin like a wall of fury.

The man struggled, gurgled something in a strange tongue—and vanished in a puff of dark smoke.

Magic.

Malcolm staggered back, shielding Mara instinctively.

She stared up at him, her lips parting.

“You found me,” she whispered.

He stared at her, breathless.

“You ran.”

“I had to.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said, gaze dropping to her belly.

Her breath hitched. “You… can tell?”

His voice broke slightly. “Our child.”

Her knees buckled, and he caught her before she hit the ground.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” he murmured.

“I do,” she whispered. “There’s more. The curse. The witch—she’ll come again. She marked me when I was born. This child—he’s... he’s more than just a baby. He’s part of a prophecy.”

Malcolm’s blood froze. “What prophecy?”

Mara looked up at him, eyes filled with terror. “A child born of cursed blood and Alpha lineage... will destroy the witch who cursed him. Or fulfill her reign.”

He stared at her.

Then at her belly.

And everything changed.

Malcolm's mind reeled.

A prophecy. A cursed child. A dark witch who still hunted her.

This wasn’t just about fated mates anymore.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice tight, low with anguish. “I would’ve protected you.”

“I didn’t know who you were that night,” Mara said, tears spilling. “I was just a maid. Cursed. Scentless. I didn’t think the Alpha King would—”

“You’re my mate,” he said, his voice rough. “That’s all that matters. I’ve searched for you for centuries.”

He knelt before her, placing both hands gently on her swollen belly. “I don’t care about the prophecy. This child is ours. I’ll protect both of you, no matter what it costs.”

Mara stared at him, lips trembling. “Even if it costs your pack?”

Malcolm looked up at her, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “I’d burn the whole kingdom to the ground for you.”

A wind swept through the clearing. Cold. Bitter.

Mara turned sharply.

The trees were whispering.

A deep voice echoed from the darkness. “Then you’ve chosen your death, Alpha King.”

Malcolm stood, pulling Mara behind him.

A woman emerged from the trees, her eyes glowing green, her long hair floating unnaturally as if carried by an invisible current. Her presence oozed malice.

The dark witch.

The one who had cursed Mara at birth.

And she looked... furious.

---

“Selene,” Mara whispered, her legs weakening beneath her.

The witch smirked. “You remember my name. Good.”

Malcolm stepped forward, his Lycan straining beneath his skin. “You cursed my mate.”

“I marked what was mine,” Selene hissed. “A child born under the eclipse. She belonged to the old coven. But your bloodline interfered.”

“Let her go,” Malcolm growled. “Or I swear—”

“You’ll what?” Selene mocked, arms outstretched. “You’ll bare your fangs? Growl like a pup? You’re 450 years old, Malcolm. Tired. Softened by your court and comfort.”

In an instant, Malcolm shifted—his Lycan form massive, pitch-black, and pulsing with power. The earth trembled beneath his paws.

Selene’s face twisted in annoyance.

“So be it.”

She lifted her hand.

A blast of green fire erupted from her fingers.

Malcolm lunged, intercepting the blast, shielding Mara with his body.

The explosion shook the woods.

Mara screamed.

---

When the smoke cleared, Malcolm lay on the ground, blood trickling from a burn across his ribs.

He growled, already healing—but slowly.

Too slowly.

Mara turned to run—but vines shot from the ground, wrapping around her ankles, dragging her backward.

“No!” she screamed, clutching her belly.

Selene’s voice crackled through the air. “You’ll come with me, girl. Willingly or not. That child belongs to me.”

“Never!” Mara spat, eyes glowing silver for the first time in her life.

Selene paused.

Malcolm blinked.

A rumble echoed from the ground. The vines loosened.

A strange, ancient energy crackled around Mara’s skin. Her wolf—dormant for years—howled from within.

Selene’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible.”

Malcolm climbed to his feet, breathing hard. “She’s awakening.”

Selene looked furious.

“I’ll return,” she snarled, vanishing in a hiss of smoke and shadow.

---

Silence settled.

Mara dropped to her knees, panting.

Malcolm rushed to her side.

“You’re okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

She shook. “I don’t know what happened. I felt… something inside me break open. My wolf—she spoke to me. She called me *Lira.*”

“Lira?”

“That’s not my name,” Mara whispered.

Malcolm stiffened. “Unless it is.”

He turned her gently toward him. “Who are you, Mara?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think… I think she hid me from myself. The witch. My past.”

Malcolm’s eyes glowed. “Then we find out. Together.”

---

Back at the pack’s ancestral archive, hidden beneath layers of enchanted stone and guarded scrolls, Michael tore through books and parchments.

He had seen the blast from the hilltop and rushed back with healers and warlocks. But what he now held chilled his blood.

A page from the oldest prophecy texts.

*When the child of the eclipsed wolf and the ancient Alpha rises, the world will tilt.*

*Fated to rule... or destroy.*

And beside it, an image of a girl.

Silver eyes.

Dark curls.

No scent.

Michael’s hands shook.

“Malcolm,” he whispered, “what have you done?