Fae-ted To The Alpha

Malrik’s POV The hum of the welding torch in my hands drowned out the rest of the world, just the way I liked it. Sparks flew in bursts, lighting up the steel frame of the new ship. It was an intricate design, a prototype for a high-capacity cargo shuttle intended to travel to the outer colonies. And, it was my baby for the next six months. No room for errors. No room for distractions. But, of course, my phone buzzed in my pocket, the sharp vibration cutting through my focus. My gut tightened. No one called me during work hours unless it was urgent. And only my Beta is allowed this privilege. [I can bet who it is] This is Raven, my wolf. He speaks to me as another person would, but sometimes, he refers to me and him as one, and I do the same. We. But he is mostly silent. Like a conscience with a different voice if you will. Reluctantly, I switched off the torch, flipped up my visor, and fumbled for the phone, only removing one glove from my hand. “Liz,” I muttered as her name lit up the screen. “Of course.” She is not privileged but plows her way around with me. Clenching my jaw, I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stared at the display, debating if I could justify ignoring my daughter this time. Another werewolf might have hesitated to reject their pup’s call, but Liz was no pup. She is an entire adult, twenty-one, living away from home but still within the pack’s community. She didn’t need me to pick up her whimsical calls, and while I love her, my wolf is usually irritated by her. But, if I didn’t answer, she’d only call again. And again. And again. Gesturing that I was taking the call at the man next to me, I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear after removing my helmet. “What is it, Liz? I’m busy.” My daughter knows this better than anyone. A Christmas song is heard in her background a few seconds before her voice comes through, bright and sharp. “Wow, Dad. Nice to hear from you too.” Liz, ever the needy child. She was my one and only child, but I swear, the trouble of three. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the grime from the workshop settle into my furrowed skin. “I’m at work. You know that. What do you need?” “You forgot lunch.” A huff follows. Any normal parent would feel a certain hurt that they were irritated with their child for calling and their child only wanted to ensure they ate but this is no ordinary child. This is Liz. She is selfish. I froze, waiting for her to remind me of what I ‘forgot’. “Lunch?” “Yes. Lunch. Remember? You promised to come by the café and meet Jordan before Christmas.” Right. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Jordan. The boyfriend. The latest in a line of boys, Liz paraded around like trophies and one she wanted to invite home to the packhouse for Christmas dinner. I guess I should be grateful Thanksgiving wasn’t a big deal, or I would be meeting him in three weeks from now. I hadn’t met him yet, and, truth be told, I wasn’t in a rush because it would be a waste of my time and my time is very limited. My job takes up most of my spare time from being the alpha of our pack. “I didn’t promise anything,” I said. “I said I’d try. And, as you can see, I’m trying to keep actual promises, like getting this ship ready before launch day.” “Ugh, Dad. You’re impossible!” My wolf whines inside my head. He dislikes this tantrum she throws even though he is conscious of my fatherly love for her, he does not have the same bond as me. “And you’re dramatic, and there is no need to meet this boy when you will forget he exists in a few months,” I shot back, though I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Silence stretched between us, heavy and prickly. I sighed and leaned against the workbench, feeling the familiar ache of guilt creep in. Holding the phone between my cheek and raised shoulder, I passed my non-gloved hand through my thick ivy league-styled haircut. “Liz,” I said, softening my tone, “I’ll make it up to you. But today isn’t the day.” Then, as an afterthought, I added, though I couldn’t care a bit about him, “Tell Jordan I’m sorry.” “You’re always sorry,” she said quietly, her usual fire dimmed, in true Liz fashion. Before I could respond, she hung up. Releasing a heavy breath, I stared at the phone for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking into me. I hated the way she always seemed to make me feel guilty. I hated how every time I tried to do something for myself, she was always needing something else from me, as if she refused to grow up. This child-like attitude she has is my doing. She lived with me, since her mother, Roselie, and I separated, and she had remarried and had kids with Liz’s stepfather, who is Roselie’s fated mate. My daughter never grew up from that hurt phase at nine with me wanting to shield her hurt and jealousy by overcompensating for everything. I used to be more patient with her. When she was younger, I’d walk around on eggshells to make sure she had everything she wanted. But those days were long gone. I had been barely seventeen when I found out Liz was on the way. Teen pregnancy wasn’t unheard of in our world, but it wasn’t exactly celebrated either, especially for me, as an alpha-in-line. The pack elders were not kind in their assessment of my situation. They saw it as a sign of carelessness, of someone unfit to lead. There was not much my father, who was alpha then, could have done for me in that scenario to defend me. But I had been determined, even back then, that I would make it work. And I did. I had to grow up fast, but I refused to let the elders define me. One of them, a graying old bastard named Harwick, had scowled at me and said, “What kind of leader gets himself into this kind of mess?” in the middle of an important pack meeting. But things worked out better for me then, because I had retorted, looking him squarely in the eyes, my jaw clenched, and answered, “Someone who makes mistakes and takes responsibility for them. That’s a great leader.” It shut him up, and I gained respect by my powerful answer, though it didn’t stop the whispers that followed me everywhere, until my ascension as alpha, at twenty-six, when my father, Kendrick, decided it was time he retired. But I didn’t care. I had Liz, and no one could take that away. Now, standing here in the workshop, the weight of fatherhood and leadership still rested heavily on my shoulders. I was thirty-eight, six-foot-three, and built like someone who worked with his hands. I wasn’t one of those gym-heads with bulging muscles and protein shakes, but I had strength, lean and powerful, from years of physical labor. My body wasn’t built for show, it was built for function. And women threw themselves at me. Whether it was my status as their leader- or in the regular human world where they could sense my leadership aura or my sea-green eyes. They weren’t the brightest green, but they held an odd depth. Sometimes people would stare at them for too long, trying to make sense of what people saw. I never understood why. I didn’t give a damn about how I looked. What mattered was the work I put into my life. And so, I remained a bachelor. The torch in my hand felt natural, like an extension of my arm, and when I worked on these ships, I could forget about everything else. The constant responsibility. The constant pressure to lead. And Liz and the fact that Christmas is a lonely time for me, despite my house- which is used at the main house for our pack meetings and thus also is used as the party house for all holidays- would be crowded to capacity. Everyone would be cozied up with someone. Everyone but me. Even my daughter. She was twenty-one now, no longer a child. In the life of wolves, it’s normal to move out once they reach eighteen, she took it upon herself to do just that, but living within the pack's community and close enough to get under my skin but far enough that I didn’t have to see her every day. To see what mischief she was up to is what I believed was the drive for her to not want to live with me, her father. Sometimes, I think about the old days when she was younger and still needed me. It hadn’t been easy, raising a daughter at seventeen. But I had stepped up. Hell, I had to. I was going to be an alpha someday, and I needed to show the pack that I could handle more than just leading a pack in battle. I could lead a family, too. I faltered when Roselie, her mother, found her moon mate because I figured we had lost our chances. Moon mates are usually paired between the ages of when you become a wolf to the age of twenty-five. I did not fall, but the blow affected me a bit ... but I pulled through. And though I didn’t always succeed as a parent... See, Liz had a temper, a trait I blamed on her mother’s side. She had inherited her mother's spoiled nature, something I had tried to correct with tough love. I’d tried to be strict. I’d tried to teach her responsibility. But it wasn’t always enough and with her mother finding her mate and starting a family... The result being; I spoiled Liz rotten. Glancing at my phone again, which had now gone blank, I took a long breath, the scent of hot metal and smoke filling my nostrils then I stuffed it back in my pocket. Liz didn’t get it. She couldn’t. She didn’t understand what it was like to have the world’s expectations on your shoulders, to always be the one people looked to for answers. And sometimes, I wondered if she ever would. Maybe when she is granted her fated mate, she will sort herself out. The tickets! I could make it up to her, by agreeing to go on this cruise I had tickets for, that she wanted to go on.