The alpha's chosen mate

_A New Beginning Soina had always believed that certain places were meant to be found rather than chosen. For her, that place was a quiet, unassuming town nestled comfortably between rolling hills and a vast, dense stretch of ancient woodland. It wasn't a completely isolated village. The town had everything she needed—independent high-street shops, cozy cafés, a chemist, local schools, and a bustling market square where cars passed quietly throughout the day. In the evenings, residents gathered near the town fountain, filling the cool air with low, familiar chatter. Yet, unlike the frantic pace of London she had left behind, life here moved with a deliberate, unhurried grace. Neighbors greeted one another by name on pavement crossings, shopkeepers memorized their regulars' tea orders, and children rode their bikes down quiet lanes after school. In a community this close-knit, news traveled faster than the autumn wind, and people often knew your business before you had even processed it yourself. While that level of intrusion might have annoyed someone else, Soina found it strangely comforting. Having lived here for nearly three months, she had yet to grow tired of waking up to the gentle chorus of morning birds instead of the harsh screech of the Underground. Her grandmother’s cottage sat near the northern edge of town—close enough that Soina could easily walk down to the high street, but secluded enough that the thick wall of pine and oak behind the garden felt almost endless. On the morning she first arrived, suitcase resting against her ankles, she had stood on the gravel driveway and stared into those shadowy woods, thinking to herself, I'm actually going to like it here. Time had proven her right. “Are you planning to stand there all morning, or are you just admiring the damp?” Soina turned at the sound of the dry, familiar voice. Her grandmother stood at the back door, framed by the warm light of the kitchen, cradling a steaming mug of Builder’s tea in her hands. “I was just admiring the view,” Soina said, offering a soft smile. “You’ve been staring at the exact same oak tree for ten minutes, darling,” her grandmother replied smoothly. “It’s a very nice oak tree, Grandma.” “It’s bark and leaves, Soina.” Soina let out a light laugh, shaking her head. “You really have a talent for ruining a peaceful moment.” Her grandmother gave a faint smile over the rim of her mug before disappearing back inside. At twenty-five, Soina had already learned that true contentment came from life's simpler pleasures. She had never cared for crowded clubs or pretentious city bars; instead, she preferred rich food, good books, slow mornings, and deep conversations that drifted comfortably past midnight. Her striking appearance often drew unwanted attention wherever she went. Naturally thick, soft dark hair fell well past her shoulders, usually worn loose or tossed into a casual, effortless clip. Her warm brown complexion radiated beneath the soft morning light, and her deep, dark eyes held an intense, expressive quality that left people wondering whether she was observing them with utter seriousness or subtle amusement. With defined brows, sweeping lashes, full lips, and high cheekbones, her features were delicate yet undeniably commanding. Tall and gracefully proportioned, she carried herself with an easy, innate confidence. She didn't dress to impress anyone. Most days, she favoured effortless comfort—simple dresses, well-fitted trousers, soft knitted jumpers, and practical trainers. Yet, even dressed for a casual stroll, she was difficult to ignore. During her first week in town, she had walked into the local corner shop wearing an oversized jumper and jeans with her hair tied up. The young girl behind the till had stared at her for so long that Soina eventually paused, asking, “Is there something on my nose?” The girl had blinked, snapping out of her daze. “No. Sorry.” “Then why the intense gaze?” Soina asked, amused. “You’re new around here,” the girl blurted out. Soina had chuckled softly. “Is it really that obvious?” “Proper obvious.” Being the new face in a countryside town meant existing under a gentle microscope, but Soina didn't mind the attention. She had moved here with a clear purpose: the local kids. Back in the city, she had spent her free weekends volunteering to tutor struggling students with their reading and maths. Teaching came naturally to her, especially when helping kids who lacked confidence in their studies. When she discovered that several families in her grandmother’s area were searching for extra educational support, her decision to relocate had been simple. She started small with two students. Then three more joined. Within a month, her grandmother’s cozy sitting room had transformed into a lively, improvised classroom after school hours. “Miss Soina!” A little girl burst through the front door one afternoon, her school bag bouncing wildly against her coat. Soina looked up from the worksheets scattered across the dining table, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you charging in like a herd of elephants, Maya?” The girl stopped instantly, pulling her shoulders back. “I wasn't running.” “You definitely were.” “I was walking with extreme purpose.” Soina narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion, prompting an innocent, toothy grin from the girl. “Where's your homework folder?” The smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of sudden horror. Soina couldn't help but laugh. “That’s what I thought.” Within minutes, the sitting room filled with the lively chatter of local children. Some squeezed around the wooden table, while others sprawled out across the rug with their notebooks. Near the window, a young boy lay flat on his stomach, dangling his legs in the air while staring intently at an inverted textbook. “Daniel,” Soina called out gently. The boy froze. “Yes, Miss Soina?” “Why are you upside down?” “My brain processes maths better against gravity,” he stated with complete conviction. “Your brain can't read upside down,” she countered. He quickly flipped the book around with a guilty grin, setting off a chorus of giggles throughout the room. Soina shook her head affectionately, adjusting her papers. “You lot are going to give me grey hair long before I turn thirty.” “You haven't got any grey hair yet,” one of the girls offered constructively. “Thank you, Lily.” “Which means it'll all come at once when you're old!” Soina stared at her in a mock offense, holding the silence until the entire room burst into helpless laughter. Moments like these made every effort worthwhile; she wasn't just teaching these children—she was sinking deep roots into the heart of this community. Beyond her work with the children, Soina had grown unexpectedly fascinated by another element of her new life: the surrounding ancient woods, and her grandmother's connection to them. Her grandmother knew the vast forest better than anyone in the county. She understood the hidden language of the flora—which leaves eased fevers, which roots subdued inflammation, which blossoms caused severe rashes, and which rare herbs had to be gathered under specific moon phases. Townspeople frequently made the trek up the lane to their doorstep seeking natural remedies. While many revered the old woman as a gifted herbalist, others kept a cautious distance, whispering rumours that she practiced dark folk magic or old witchcraft. Her grandmother was entirely unbothered by the gossip. Whenever the rumours came up, she would merely sip her tea and remark, “People are always quick to fear what they refuse to understand, mind you.” Soina wasn't sure what to believe about the old countryside tales, but she respected her grandmother's profound knowledge. Over the past few weeks, she had eagerly joined her on foraging trips, keen to learn the craft. Later that afternoon, the two of them set off toward the treeline, carrying woven baskets. Soina wore a simple white top beneath a dark cardigan, comfortable trousers, sturdy leather boots, and her dark hair secured in a low, loose ponytail. Her grandmother cast a critical side-glance at her attire as they crossed the back lawn. “You could have put on something you wouldn't mind ruining.” Soina looked down at her clothes. “Why? We're just gathering plants.” “We are entering the woods, love. It's muddy.” “It’s just dirt, Grandma. It washes out.” The old woman let out a dramatic sigh. “City girls.” Soina laughed, brushing a stray bramble aside as they stepped onto the earth path. “You raised me, remember?” “I tried my best. Clearly, I missed a few bits.” They walked deeper into the forest, where the low hum of the town gradually faded behind them. The distant rumble of afternoon traffic dissolved, replaced by the soft rustle of canopy leaves overhead and the crunch of damp soil beneath their boots. The air grew cooler, rich with the damp, earthy scent of moss, wet bark, and pine needles. Her grandmother paused beside a cluster of low-lying green shrubs with serrated leaves. “Look here,” she instructed, gesturing down. Soina crouched beside her. “What are these?” “A remedy for stubborn fevers,” her grandmother explained, watching as Soina reached out. “Remember: never strip the stem bare. Take only what you need so the plant survives.” Soina carefully pinched off a few choice leaves, placing them gently in her basket. “And the blue flowering stem over there? What’s that for?” “Eases stomach pain when brewed properly.” “What about that dark vine creeping up the oak tree?” Soina asked, pointing toward a thick, strange plant with pale, star-shaped markings. Her grandmother’s warm tone vanished instantly. Her face hardened into a sharp, unyielding mask. “That one, you do not touch. Ever.” Soina blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Why? Is it poisonous?” “Because I told you not to touch it,” her grandmother said sharply, turning away. “Grandma, that isn't a proper explanation.” “It is all the explanation you require from me,” the old woman replied, resuming her walk down the trail without looking back. Soina rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to follow. “You always do this—give me half a warning and expect me not to be curious.” “Perhaps one day you will learn that curiosity without caution is dangerous,” her grandmother called over her shoulder. They ventured deeper into the dense timberland, where the pale sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy above, casting long, twisting shadows across their path. The woods felt increasingly heavy, silent, and ancient. Soina adjusted the basket on her arm, scanning the undergrowth. Then, without warning, a sharp snap echoed from the shadows behind them—the distinct sound of a heavy branch breaking under deliberate pressure. Soina stopped dead in her tracks. Her grandmother took two more steps before realizing Soina was no longer beside her. She froze, turning slowly. “What is it?” “Did you hear that?” Soina whispered, her voice barely carrying over the autumn breeze. “Hear what?” “That crunch.” They stood frozen in the dim light, listening intently. Silence descended over the clearing, thick and unbroken. Soina let out a long, careful breath, attempting to laugh off her sudden spike of anxiety. “It was probably just a deer or a fox...” She trailed off as she looked at her grandmother. The older woman wasn't acting casually. She was standing rigid, her eyes fixed on the dark tree line behind them, watching the shadows with a fierce, calculating intensity—as if she knew exactly what was hiding within them. “Grandma?” Soina asked softly, her heart beginning to thump against her ribs. “What's wrong?” “Stay close to me, Soina,” her grandmother commanded, her voice dangerously quiet. “I am close—” “Closer.” The sheer urgency in her grandmother's command instantly wiped the remaining lightheartedness from Soina's mind. She closed the distance between them, her eyes darting across the tangled brush. They resumed walking at a faster pace, but the peaceful sanctuary of the forest was gone. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a step; every shifting shadow felt like an approaching figure. Soina kept glancing over her shoulder, searching the depth of the trees, but seeing only bark and foliage. As they reached the edge of a small, mossy clearing, a sudden, ice-cold chill washed over Soina's skin. She halted abruptly, her breath catching in her throat. Her grandmother turned back immediately. “Soina, keep moving.” “Wait,” Soina whispered, staring straight ahead into the darkness of the inner woods. “What is it?” She couldn't articulate the feeling, but it was overwhelming, prickling at the back of her neck with terrifying certainty. Someone—or something—was watching her. It wasn't a passing glance; it was a heavy, predatory gaze locking onto her from deep within the treeline. She strained her eyes, searching the dense shadows between two massive cedar trees. Then, breaking through the silence of the forest, came a sound that made the hair on her arms stand up—a low, deep, guttural growl that vibrated through the very ground beneath her boots. Soina’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in sheer shock. “Grandma...” Her grandmother reached out, her hand clamping around Soina’s wrist with a grip like iron. “Don't move,” her grandmother whispered. Soina looked at her, and her blood ran cold. For the first time in her life, she saw raw, unadulterated fear staring back at her from her grandmother's eyes. And in that terrifying second, the quiet, safe little countryside town Soina had come to love suddenly felt very far away.