Alpha Of Ashes

The Night He Finally Told The Truth

Selene stood at the tree line in her white dress, phone recording my fire, my Phoenix shift that only Zane was supposed to see. My ash and flame wolf, huge and terrible and beautiful, turned its sun eyes on her, and she took one step back, but she did not run. She smiled, because she knew a recording of a live female Alpha is worth more than a dead one to her father, to Blood Stone.

Zane moved faster than I have ever seen him move, even faster than when he buried me alive three years ago. He was between me and Selene in one second, barefoot in snow, shirtless, his own wolf finally howling alive after three years of being dead, silver and white and huge, standing over my Phoenix to shield me, not to fight me, not to bury me again.

"Delete it," he said to Selene, his Alpha voice that makes Betas kneel, that makes omegas bow, but Selene did not kneel, she laughed, because she is Victor Kane's daughter and she thinks that name makes her untouchable, even in front of a Phoenix.

"Delete what, darling?" she said sweetly, holding up her phone, the screen glowing with my fire, with my ash wings, with proof. "My proof that your mute maid is Kira Storm, Alpha of Ash, the Phoenix your father in law wants to drink to become immortal? Do you think Father will make you King of the North if you give him a live Phoenix, or will he kill you too for hiding her for four days?"

My Phoenix growled, and the snow for twenty feet melted, and green shoots that had been dead since my pack burned pushed up through ash, through frozen river, through grave dirt. Selene finally looked scared, just a little, because she had never seen a wolf made of fire that grows things instead of only burning.

"Give me the phone, Selene," Zane said, quieter now, which is more dangerous than shouting, which every Alpha knows, "or I will take it and break your wrist to do it."

She looked at him, at me, at the fire wolf that used to be a mute maid who scrubbed her floors and cleaned her Luna suite, and she calculated, quick and cold like her father taught her since birth. She dropped the phone in the snow, stomped it with her white heel, grinding it into slush and mud until screen cracked, until recording died, and then turned and ran, white dress flashing, back to the packhouse to tell Victor by mouth instead of video.

Zane did not chase her, because chasing would leave me alone, burning, naked, newborn Phoenix. He turned back to me, his wolf fading, his human hands reaching for my flaming face, and I shifted back, because I was exhausted, because being Phoenix for the first time in three years takes everything, takes three years of grief and ash and mute act and burns it all at once.

I fell into his arms as human, naked, scar glowing white hot like a star, ash in my hair, smoke coming off my skin, my legs giving out like I was twenty one again and first shifted. He caught me, wrapped his own shirt around me, the one he took off before, smelling like winter and pine and grave dirt and now like my fire, like our fire together.

"You shifted," he whispered, carrying me like I weighed nothing, like he used to when we were twenty one and he would carry me over thresholds as a joke, before the m******e, before the dagger, before dirt. "After three years, Ember came back, you are Phoenix, you are alive, you are Ash Queen."

I could not speak, my throat burned from howling fire, but I nodded against his chest, listening to his heart, which was beating too fast, too guilty, too alive, too much like a boy who thought he was a monster.

He carried me not to the packhouse, where Selene would be telling Victor that the mute maid is alive and Phoenix, but to the old hunter cabin by the frozen river, the same cabin where he buried his mother's grimoire, where the prophecy was written that said Ash must die to awaken, die as my Luna so you can live as my revenge. He kicked the door open, laid me on the one bed that smelled of dust and old hunter and old prophecy, and lit a fire with shaking hands.

For ten minutes, we said nothing, just breathing, his hands trying to cover my scar, my hands trying to keep his shirt around me, both of us shaking from cold and fire and three years of things unsaid, of empty grave visits and mute maid acts and guilt.

Then he knelt beside the bed, just like he knelt in the kitchen when I told him you buried me alive on my wedding day, and he finally confessed, not as Alpha of Winter Fang, not as cruel mate who killed his Luna, but as husband, as boy who made a terrible choice at twenty one and lived with it for three years.

"I found you dying," he started, his voice hoarse, looking at the fire not at me, because he cannot look at me when he says this, because silver eyes would break. "Your pack was burning, your mother dead over you, your father dead at the gate, you had a knife wound already, Victor's men had stabbed you and left you for dead, and you were whispering my name, Kira, you were whispering Zane, save them, save them, not me."

I remembered that night, I remembered bleeding, I remembered thinking he would save them, that my mate would save my pack, not bury me and leave them.

"My mother told me the prophecy that morning, before our wedding, before m******e," he continued, tears falling now, silver eyes finally looking at me, at my glowing scar that he made. "The Ash Alpha bloodline must die before it can awaken, must be buried alive, must have its bond broken temporarily, so the wolf goes dormant to survive, so Victor cannot execute it publicly and take its power and become immortal. If you had lived that night as Alpha, Victor would have taken you to Blood Stone and burned you in front of all packs to prove female Alphas die. I could not let him touch you, so I..."

"So you buried me alive," I finished for him, my voice back, hoarse but Alpha, cold but not dead inside anymore, because my wolf is awake and she is angry for me, for my mother, for my pack. "You put a dagger in my hand, pointed it at my heart, whispered die as my Luna so you can live as my revenge, and you pushed dirt over my face while I was still breathing, while I was begging you to save them."

He flinched, because I said his words back exactly, the words that haunted him every night at my empty grave, the words that made him think he was a monster who visits dirt.

"I thought you would understand," he said, broken, kneeling, hands on the bed, not touching me because he knows he lost the right to touch when he buried me. "I thought when you woke up with the healer, you would run, you would become Phoenix, you would come back and kill Victor, and I would be waiting with Winter Fang to help you. I did not think you would become mute, wolfless, a maid, scrubbing my floors while I married Selene to get close to Victor to kill him for you, for us."

He married Selene to get close to Victor to kill him for me? Is that supposed to make it romantic, to make it okay that he let her wear my colors, sit in my Luna suite? Is that supposed to make me forgive him for three years of empty grave visits while I was alive as Mira?

I sat up, shirt falling off one shoulder, scar blazing white hot, and I slapped him, hard, across his beautiful, guilt ridden, exhausted face, the sound cracking louder than my Phoenix howl, louder than my mother's grimoire page turning.

"You do not get to decide if I live or die," I said, each word clear, full stop, no question mark, because this is not a question, this is a law, my law, Alpha law. "You do not get to decide if I am Luna or revenge, if I am Alpha or maid, if I am dead or Phoenix. You do not get to bury me and then mourn me and then marry my enemy's daughter and call it love. Do you understand me, husband who killed me?"

He held his cheek where I slapped him, where the red mark bloomed bright, and he nodded, tears falling freely now, not hiding, not Alpha, just Zane, twenty four, who has been carrying a grave on his back for three years.

"I understand," he whispered. "I am a monster, I know, I have known since I put dirt over your face and felt your heart stop under my hand. I visit your empty grave every night to tell you I am sorry, and now you are not in the grave, you are here, slapping me, alive, Phoenix, and I do not know how to be forgiven, or if I should be."

For a second, I almost forgave him, because his pining is addictive, because everyone thinks he is cruel and only I know he is guilt ridden and visits graves and cries. But forgiveness is not a slap and a confession in a hunter cabin with one bed, is it?

"Good," I said, pulling his shirt back around me, my Phoenix fire dimming to ember, my human body cold again, but my eyes gold and awake. "Stay a monster for a little longer, Zane Crowe. Victor is coming tomorrow morning because Selene will tell him the mute maid is Kira Storm. He will force you to kill me again publicly to prove loyalty to Blood Stone. He will put a dagger in your hand again, just like you put one in mine three years ago. What will you do then, husband who killed me? Will you bury me a second time, or will you stand beside me?"

Outside, the full moon was still high, Selene was running to her father with my secret in her mouth, and Victor Kane was waking up his priest to prepare a silver cage for a Phoenix Wolf that was supposed to be dead and buried.

Inside the cabin, Zane leaned his forehead against my glowing scar, his tears sizzling on my fire, his dead wolf howling alive against my Phoenix, and whispered, "This time, I will not decide for you. This time, we decide together, even if we die together, even if the North burns."

And for the first time since he buried me alive on my wedding day, I believed him, just a little, just enough to let him hold me until dawn, while my Phoenix purred inside me and his wolf finally slept, alive, not dead, against my fire.