Marked By The Alpha

I never thought a forest could feel alive in the way people talk about cities being alive—with eyes everywhere and whispers in the corners—but this one did. Every step I took along the narrow dirt trail, the crunch of leaves under my boots sounded too loud, like I was announcing my presence to everything that hid in the shadows. I had come here for research—birds, small mammals, maybe the odd fox or deer—but the moment I stepped into this forest, I realized I wasn’t just surrounded by wildlife. I was being watched. Not by people. Not yet. I shook my head, trying to laugh off the shiver crawling up my spine. Get a grip, you’re a scientist. Observing. Measuring. Cataloging. Not being hunted. And yet, instinct screamed at me, the kind of instinct you only get when something is… off. Something too big, too quiet, and too aware. I paused, squinting into the dim light filtered through the tall pines. The wind shifted, carrying a scent I didn’t recognize—earthy, metallic, and sharp. It made my stomach clench. My pulse spiked. Then I saw him. He was standing just beyond a copse of trees, framed by the last golden light of the afternoon. Tall. Broad. His presence seemed to push the shadows aside and command the space around him. My heart lurched, not from fear—at least, not entirely—but from something else. Something magnetic. I blinked. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched. And the moment our eyes met, something inside me twisted—a pull so primal, so immediate, that I stumbled backward. My rational mind yelled at me. He’s just a man. Probably a hunter, a local, maybe even someone dangerous. But my body betrayed me. My knees weakened, my palms went slick, and every nerve ending in me screamed recognition. He tilted his head, almost casually, but there was power in the way he did it—the kind of quiet, controlled power that made you want to obey without question. My breath hitched. “I shouldn’t be here,” I muttered to myself, louder than intended. He smiled then, faintly, and it wasn’t warm. It was knowing. Dangerous. Full of secrets. “I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and commanding. I swallowed, my throat dry. Did he just speak to me? Out loud? My logical mind struggled to process it. Maybe I imagined it. But then he stepped closer, each movement measured, deliberate. And with every step, I felt that pull again—the unexplainable tension that made my heart thrum and my mind reel. “You—” I began, but he cut me off. “You shouldn’t wander here alone,” he said. “The forest isn’t kind to strangers.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a stranger. I wanted to tell him I had every right to be here, that I wasn’t afraid of anything in the woods. But the words died in my throat. Because I wasn’t sure I wasn’t afraid. He stopped a few feet away, tall and impossible. His eyes—sharp, piercing, almost glowing in the shadows—locked onto mine. And in that instant, I knew. I was out of my depth. Not because he was threatening. But because he existed on a level I didn’t understand. He wasn’t human in the way I was. I could feel it in my bones. Something ancient. Something dangerous. Something… primal. The wind shifted again, and I caught the scent of him clearly this time—wild, intoxicating, overpowering. My stomach fluttered with a mix of awe and fear. “I’m Kael,” he said finally. “And you’re trespassing.” I froze. Trespassing? I had no idea what he meant. On public land? On private property? Or… something else? “I—I’m just here for research,” I managed, voice trembling slightly, betraying my own nerves. “I’m studying the wildlife… birds, mammals, things like that.” Kael’s eyes narrowed, assessing me. He stepped closer still, and I took an involuntary step back, even though part of me wanted to stay. His presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, like standing too close to fire. “I see,” he said slowly. “And yet, something tells me you’re not here for the animals alone.” My cheeks heated. What does that even mean? I opened my mouth to respond, but he tilted his head, gaze unwavering. “You’re curious. Dangerous. Reckless.” He paused, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Just like me.” I swallowed hard. That hit harder than I expected. Like him? Dangerous like him? What the hell does that even mean? The wind rustled the trees, and a distant howl echoed through the forest. My heart jumped into my throat. Kael’s gaze flicked toward the sound, his jaw tightening. His hand twitched near his side, as if ready to spring into action. I realized then just how little I understood. And yet… I didn’t move. “You shouldn’t be here after dark,” he said. “The forest doesn’t forgive mistakes.” I nodded mutely, my curiosity warring with fear. I shouldn’t be afraid. But I am. “Why?” I asked, daring to voice the question despite the pounding of my heart. “Why does it feel like… there’s more to this forest than I know?” Kael’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “Because you’re starting to see it.” A thrill ran through me—fear, yes, but also excitement. Something ancient and wild stirred in the air, and I felt it stir inside me too. Then, before I could process it, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the trees with a speed and silence that made my head spin. I blinked, disoriented, alone again in the forest. The scent of him lingered, overpowering and intoxicating. My pulse was racing, my hands trembling. I knew, without a doubt, that my life had just changed. And I wasn’t even sure why. Because something in me had recognized him. Something in me wanted him. Something in me feared him. And yet… I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not even for a second.