Mated to the Beta, Wanted by the Alpha

Chapter 3

-IRIS-

It would be ten long years before Tristan crossed my path again.

And it wasn’t because he didn’t show to the cliffs. No, this time, the blame was entirely mine.

The morning after our kiss, my hair was white as snow again, just like every time I used my powers. I thought I’d have a few hours to fix it with the awful dye my stepmother insisted on buying. But right after lunch, my father arrived at the camp, furious, ready to haul me home.

The supervisors had wasted no time calling my family about my "sudden change in appearance." Dad lectured me the entire ride back on how I should never reveal my upbringing, never use my powers, never draw attention. The same old story.

I was a freak, and he was ashamed.

Years slipped by. I kept searching for any trace of an Alpha named Tristan. His father had been an Alpha, and once he got his wolf, he’d inherit that title too. But no matter where I looked, I found nothing.

Eventually, I left home, and Dad and Susan practically celebrated, especially after I turned eighteen and still couldn’t shift.

University was the best time of my life. Humans didn’t care that I was small; plenty of them were. My white hair was considered fashionable (something about Game of Thrones). I dated a few guys, made some friends.

But my heart never forgot the dark‑haired boy and my first kiss under the moonlight.

After graduation, I decided to return to my old pack. They were still assholes, especially the new Alpha, but I wanted to make a difference for the next generation. Teach them to see beyond appearance, origins, and status.

I had my own money and lived far from my father. But Susan still kept in touch, always trying to mold me to her standards.

Most days, I ignored her. Some days I don’t have the energy.

That day was one of those. The pack was hosting a party, with visiting Alphas and high‑ranking wolves from all over the country. A "golden opportunity to find a mate," as Susan liked to remind me. She poured most of her attention into my stepsister—seven years younger—but somehow still had enough left to bully me.

"Would it kill you to dye your hair? You look like a witch," Susan screeched, narrowing her eyes at the white strands resting on my shoulders.

"She doesn't want to, Mom," my stepsister Natalia answered for me.

She wasn't actually defending me, just sparing me from repeating the same argument. I shrugged. "I like my hair just fine."

When I was a kid, Susan forced me to dye it that awful muddy brown. But I was free from her influence now, and I didn't give two shits about her opinion. I'd put on a nice dress, some makeup, and even high heels. All of it for myself, because the whole idea of snagging a husband the way she snagged my father sat in my stomach like a heavy stone.

"They're coming!" Susan squealed, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

I didn't care about potential mates. My plan was to nurse my wine until I was tipsy enough to hit the dance floor and enjoy my night alone, like always.

"Oh my Goddess, they're so hot," Natalia practically drooled. "I wonder if Alpha Knox is coming. He used to visit a lot of packs but stopped a couple of years ago. People say he's the hottest of them all."

I looked at the double doors of the ballroom and yawned, already regretting my decision to trade an early night with a great book for this. A few people were entering now, mostly men, with a few women clinging to their arms. All of them dressed in fine clothes.

Natalia and Susan’s eyes scanned the group like jackals, pointing and making rude comments. I stepped back, wanting nothing to do with either of them. This was not who I was.

I slipped to the side, searching for a waiter to refill my empty glass.

That’s when I saw him.

Black slacks. A white shirt molded to his muscular frame. Short‑cropped hair, tanned skin, and a gorgeous smile.

His almond‑shaped eyes were locked on me, his strides long and purposeful as he crossed the ballroom toward me.

His scent hit me first—warm and spicy, cardamom and amber, something rich and oriental. It swept across the room before he did, bold and alive, announcing him.

He stopped right in front of me, his smile deepening, onyx eyes glinting. His perfect lips parted, and he spoke in a deep, resonant voice.

"Mate."

People say time freezes when you meet the one meant for you. Your vision narrows, and suddenly that person is all you can see, all you can hear.

All you can feel.

Because the missing piece finally clicks into place. You become whole.

It wasn’t exactly like that. My vision didn't tunnel; my heart didn't pick up.

My heart was still missing something that I didn't know.

But the pull was there.

"Hi," I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips.

I never expected to find my mate. It’s rare enough already, but for someone like me—a hybrid? The odds were practically nonexistent.

Yet here he was. The Moon Goddess had placed a gorgeous man right in front of me.

For the first time in years, happiness felt possible. Love felt possible.

Even though a small, shadowed corner of my heart sank. It wasn’t him.

But my wolf, Chiara, was howling inside my skull, tail wagging. "He's our mate, Iris."

His wolf wouldn't feel her, like the others in our pack also didn't. Something to do with my powers, to do with my mom's nature.

"Can I know your name?"

"Iris. I'm Iris O'Hara, the pack teacher."

He took my hand, sparks racing up my arm. I grinned, warmth blooming in my chest. "I'm—"

"Beta Mark!" Susan screeched, barreling toward us and shoving Natalia between us. "Have you met my daughter Natalia?"

Mark scrunched his face, his smile vanishing. He looked at Susan and Natalia like they were something unpleasant he’d stepped on.

"Who are you?" His tone was icy, all warmth gone.

Susan beamed, her diamond hoops catching the ballroom lights. "I'm Susan O'Hara. We met a few months ago when my husband delivered supplies to the Redclaw pack, remember?"

His eyes narrowed, clearly not remembering—or not wanting to. "O'Hara... Are you related to Iris?" His voice softened again.

Susan’s lips tightened in distaste before she forced a smile. "She's my stepdaughter. But have you met my real daughter, Natalia? She's—"

"…not my mate. Iris is." His interruption was smooth and lethal. "Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get to know the woman the Moon Goddess chose for me. You understand how important that is." He winked, sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me close.

Then he steered me away from them, guiding me toward a quiet corner by the window while the two of them tried to scoop their jaws off the floor.

"So tell me something about you, Iris. Besides the fact that you're a teacher and have an evil stepmother."

I laughed, almost snorting. "She's not evil. She's…" I inhaled. "Someone I don't care for. We don't share values or any real family bond. She's just the woman my dad married after my mom passed away."

He nodded, his expression softening. "I get it. And I'm sorry about your mom."

"It's okay. She died in childbirth." My eyes prickled, like they always did when I thought about the small woman who couldn't carry a werewolf child but chose to keep me anyway. She loved me before I ever took a breath. "What about you, Mark? What's it like being the Beta of the Redclaw pack?"

His smile widened. "It's incredible. I can't wait to show you the territory. And introduce you to my Alpha—my role model."

"Your Alpha?" I tried to remember if I'd ever heard the Redclaw Alpha's name.

"Yeah. Toughest son of a b***h you'll ever meet. He was supposed to come with me, but someone asked for his help." Mark leaned in, lowering his voice. "He's not into this whole pony-and-dog thing."

I nodded, scanning the ballroom. "I totally get it. What's his name?"

"Alpha Knox," he said, and time froze before he added, "Alpha Tristan Knox."