ALPHA BRIAN'S WOLFLESS MATE

The Six-Western Werewolves Council Moon Festival was always filled with excitement. The day's events were always divided into parts, and it began with the lighting of lanterns. Hundreds of them hung from the tree branches leading to the border and beyond, paper glowing amber and gold in the dark. Greg Zealot walked along a path and stopped beside the hidden cedar, his heart racing. Seraphine Voss appeared behind him like a thief, startling him. “Ouch! You almost made me give up the ghost," Greg said, trying to catch his breath. He had panicked because he understood what the night meant to him. The need to be careful under the moon burned against his chest. They had met three months ago at the same spot when Seraphine came with the Voss delegation for the first time on border business, all silk and sweet laughter. Out of more than a hundred wolves presented, she clung to Greg and said, "I chose you, Greg. Be my man. Let's shun our true mates and get married.” Greg was eighteen years old and was so happy to be loved. Nobody had stayed glued to him and insisted she would spend the rest of her life with him since the night his father's pack was razed, when he was fifteen. Some were killed, like his father, and some escaped, but he was hidden in the rubble until a stranger carried him out. Alpha Desmond Sinclair, the Alpha of the Black Fur Pack was the stranger. He gave him a roof, a new name, Greg Zealot and a new rule: never shift in public. In short, no one must see your wolf. According to him, his father's pack had special wolves that were bigger than the wolves of other packs and also the Alpha's wolf and its descendants had a mark that symbolized royalty, strength and power, and the Concord’s hunters could spot it across the valley, even on mountains. Greg understood why he had to keep this rule. For three years, he kept it through every full moon, clenching his teeth to stop his wolf from coming out until his jaw ached. “Sweetie, you’re carrying a whole world in your heart. Care to share it with me?” Seraphine said. "There's nothing." “Those lines on your forehead, what do they mean?” Seraphine asked with curiosity, touching them with a black-gloved fingertip. “Lines like these appear only when secrets linger in the heart. Surely you are hiding something from me.” He caught her hand, gently, the way he always did, and held it against his chest. The noise of the merrymaking turned into music and drifted into his heart. That same evening, they had spent time together. She had fed him with her own fingers and laughed at his every word while he blushed so hard with love. She had asked the very question he was afraid to answer and had been asking for the three months they had been together, “Do you have any secret you’re hiding from me?” His reply was the usual short response, “Nothing." And she had jokingly said “Liar," and kissed his cheek. But tonight, she was looking at him as if he were a thousand miles away. His mind was far away and not with her. And he finally decided to let the cat out of the bag. "Greg isn't my name.” Seraphine's eyes glowed as if her prey had walked into her cage. "What do you mean? Tell me who you are,” she asked. Something glinted at her collar, but he only watched her face. “I am the heir of the Mountain Cathedral Pack," he revealed. For some moments, there was silence except the tiny cry of the night. “But Mountain Cathedral already fell," She said softly. “Yes, it fell, but not entirely." He watched her absorb the news in shock. What he loved about her was the way she listened: still, breathing softly, wasting nothing. Every sense was pointed at him, with concern, not pity. Years later, he would understand that this was how the Concord listened, but right away, he mistook it for gentleness and concern. “Your real name?" she asked. “Brian McCarthy." “Brian, thanks for trusting me," she said with a smile, then rose on her toes and kissed him on the lips. That was the first time in three months they had been dating and it was his first but not her first. He would remember this kiss for all the winters to come. For the rest of the event, his mind wouldn't stop thinking of how soft her lips were and how tenderly she had kissed him softly, and how he never noticed how she had slipped away into the crowd, met two men, talked with them for two minutes, and returned to stand beside him. Alpha Desmond found him at the bridge, leaning on the bridge rail with a cider in his hand. Brian was still lost in the kiss. The old Alpha looked fit for his age. His face was framed by a white beard. He looked at Brian's love-flushed face and at the well-lit pathway where a slender figure in a pink dress was disappearing. “That girl is a Voss, isn't she?" he asked Greg while he folded his arms. “Sure, she is…" “And don't forget their pack holds a top seat in the Concord.” Alpha Desmond declared. Brian knew. Even though Seraphine now knew his real identity, she was in love with him and would never hurt him. She was so innocent and pure. Moreover, she hated her father for loving her brother more than her. "She is nothing like her father." He defended her more sharply than he meant to. Alpha Desmond said nothing for a while but only stared at the lovestruck Brian and shook his head. Down the path where Seraphine had taken, drums began to beat. But Alpha Desmond faced Brian, "When I was your age, I mistook many things for kindness," he laid his right palm on Brian’s shoulder. ”Promise me one thing tonight: don't shift. Stay strong and hidden, and you will live." "I promise.” He meant it. But in the face of Seraphine's sweetest smile, would he stand by his promise? At midnight, the festival took its usual final form: the shifting. The young wolves poured into the meadow, laughing, struggling out of their clothes until the full moon appeared. Then came the sound of bones cracking, laughter turning into howls, shoulders rolling, and finally the wolves racing into the woods. Brian hid under the shadow of a tree with his fists shut. Suddenly Seraphine appeared, “Greg!" She called and he answered, trying to hide the pain. “Come, let's go," She beckoned him with her hand stretched forward. Brian moved back, trying to stay away from her. “No, I can't shift." He said, his body trembling. "How will you know if you haven't tried? For three months, I have been eager to meet your wolf, or are you taking me for a fool?" “Not at all," he said, stepping towards her, “I am just afraid things may happen." “What do you think will happen? Nothing is going to happen. Stay positive.” "But my wolf is a Mountain Cathedral giant. The fur is also different…" “Who will notice? No one. Everyone is too busy enjoying the full moon to notice you and your giant wolf. Come, let's go and let me see you shift. I want to touch your wolf." She convinced him. He followed her and his shift came faster than he expected, like a dam giving way. His size, his bone, and his fur were all different from those of other werewolves’ wolves. The night poured over Fierce, his wolf as it howled happily at regaining his freedom in public. He had never been more thrilled than in those three seconds, after three years of holding back his wolf. The whole place fell silent as they marveled at the huge wolf, dancing happily. They surrounded it until a woman screamed from the crowd, "Mountain Cathedral!” The crowd began to disperse. Those who were still in their wolves shifted and rushed back. Greg stared at the crowd and wished the ground would swallow him up since he had no place to hide. His eyes searched for Seraphine and saw her standing in the first row, staring at him as if he were a stranger. Her lips curled into an amused smile, the smile of someone who had won. Men in black coats surrounded Fierce. There were fifty of them. A man with gold hair walked out of the center, stopped in front of Seraphine and took her gloved hand. "Well done, Daughter. You did a real job.” He was Alpha Kinsley Voss, Seraphine’s father. Greg, who had thought they hated each other, realized they had played him with emotion. They had patiently waited for him to fall into their trap for three months. "Greg!” Alpha Desmond roared from the far end as he looked at the wounded Greg who hadn't even managed to shift back to human. Greg turned to see three Concord hunters holding Alpha Desmond down and he lunged out. “Good puppy. Calm down," Seraphine said to him. He didn't know why he obeyed her. He just calmed down and sat on the grass like an obedient dog. Soon, his neck and shoulders, hands and legs were chained. He was forced to shift right there. Everyone saw him. They cursed him, and threw things at him. He was placed in a cage like a criminal and transported into Concord's underground dungeon. For four years they kept him hidden with weekly torment. They hardly fed him and he solely depended on insects and animals. Seraphine never visited him, and he didn't know what happened to Alpha Desmond and his pack. He regretted everything. Several nights, he dreamed of his father, the man who had died innocently. The will to escape kept him alive, for he had promised his father he would take revenge. It seemed his prayer was answered one night. The chain broke and he forced the door open. There seemed to be fewer guards as he took most of them down in a strike. He was lucky to leave Concord behind. He raced in a direction he couldn't remember until he reached a park, where he collapsed. His bones were stiff with hunger. He breathed the air of freedom freely with a half smile. “At least I escaped. Freedom is well deserved." He shut his eyes, hoping to rest before continuing his run. Across the lane, small, hesitant footsteps, coming closer…