Chapter 2: The Bloodfang Alpha
1125 Words
Kallen's POV
The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows across the bloodstained stone walls of my war chamber. The map of the contested territories lay across the war table, but I wasn’t looking at borders. My gaze stayed fixed on the ivory crescent burned into my skin—just above my heart—the cursed mark of the mate bond.
Aelira.
The name was a splinter in my brain.
She wasn’t supposed to exist. Not like this. Not as my mate.
I clenched my jaw and turned away from the map. The chill of the fortress sank into my bones, but I welcomed it. Cold was better than fire. Better than the heat crawling over my skin every time I thought of her.
An Omega. A cursed witch. And now, mine.
My hands tightened on the edge of the table. c***k. The wood splintered under my grip.
“You plan to break your fortress before your enemies do?” General Bastian’s voice echoed through the chamber as he entered, arms crossed.
“Speak or get out,” I muttered.
“She’s arrived.”
I turned slowly.
Bastian smirked. “You want her brought in?”
“She’s not a guest.”
“She’s your mate.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “She’s a weapon.”
He gave a low chuckle, but the look in his eyes changed. He didn’t press further.
“Send her in.”
Moments later, the heavy door creaked open again. And there she stood.
Aelira.
Her silver hair was matted from travel, her clothes torn at the hem. But her chin was high, her stare defiant.
Beautiful in the way moonlight is beautiful—cold, distant, dangerous.
Her scent hit me like wildfire. Lavender. Nightwind. And the faintest trace of blood.
She stepped inside, shoulders straight, though I could hear the quickness of her breath. She was trembling. Not visibly—but I could sense it. Feel it in the mate bond threading between us, tight and volatile.
“You’re Kaelen Nightthorn?” she asked, voice low.
I raised a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
“I expected someone taller.”
A twitch at the corner of my mouth threatened to betray me. I smothered it.
“You expected many things, I imagine. None of them mattered.”
She crossed her arms. “So this is the mighty Bloodfang Alpha. Ruler of ruin. Slayer of innocents. Mate to a girl you plan to kill.”
I circled the table slowly, letting the silence stretch.
“Tell me, Aelira,” I said, “is it bravery or stupidity that makes you speak like that?”
“I’ve been hunted since I was a child. You don’t scare me.”
She was lying. I could feel her heartbeat thudding in her chest, echoing faintly in mine. But she didn’t look away. She held my gaze like a soldier before execution.
“I should kill you now,” I said.
“Then do it.”
The air between us thickened. Her chest rose and fell, quick with fury and fear. My wolf stirred. The bond tightened.
But I didn’t strike. Instead, I stepped forward.
“You think this bond gives you power over me?” I asked.
“I don’t want it.”
“Neither do I.”
We were a breath apart. The pull between us was maddening, like a string yanked tight between two cliffs. One wrong move, and it would snap—or drag us both into the abyss.
My hand reached out before I could stop it.
I touched her arm. Just a brush. But she flinched—then froze.
Her eyes widened. “What…?”
A pulse. Heat. Magic.
It surged between us like lightning through wet stone. My breath caught as the mark on my chest flared with fire. Her skin warmed beneath my fingers. I felt her magic ripple beneath the surface, wild and untamed.
Then she jerked away.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
“Too late.”
We both stood still, breathing hard, as the fire settled into embers.
Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on my sword rack. She wanted to run. Fight. Anything but face what had just happened.
“I’m not your weapon,” she said.
“You are,” I replied. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll survive long enough to accept it.”
A bang sounded outside the chamber.
My eyes flicked to the door.
Bastian burst in, a scroll clenched in his fist.
“Message,” he said, voice tight. “From the eastern watchtower. Intercepted falcon.”
He handed me the scroll. The seal was familiar.
Aelira stiffened. “That’s my father’s.”
I broke the seal. Read. Then again. The words were short and direct.
Eliminate the witch. Secure her magic. Do not trust the Alpha. Our alliance ends at her death.
Rage twisted in my chest.
I looked up slowly. “Your father sent assassins.”
Aelira’s lips parted in disbelief. “No. No, he wouldn’t—”
“He already did.”
I handed her the scroll. She read it. Her fingers trembled now.
“I trusted him,” she whispered.
My voice was low, and calm. “Then you’re more naïve than I thought.”
She crumpled the parchment in her fist. Her eyes shimmered—but she didn’t cry.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why does everyone want me dead?”
I didn’t answer. Because the answer was obvious. Because power invites fear. And fear breeds blood.
Instead, I stepped close again. Closer than before.
“If they come for you,” I said, my voice sharp as a blade, “I will kill them all.”
Her eyes met mine. “Even if they’re my blood?”
“Especially if they’re your blood.”
She swallowed.
I leaned in, my mouth near her ear.
“But not you. Not yet.”
Her breath hitched.
I stepped back.
“Escort her to the east wing,” I told Bastian. “Triple the guards.”
Aelira turned to me, fists clenched. “I’m not your prisoner.”
“You’re not free, either.”
“I won’t stay here willingly.”
I gave her a cold smile. “You don’t have a choice.”
Her eyes burned with hatred. And something else. Something dark and desperate and familiar.
She let the guards lead her away.
When the door closed, I turned back to the war table.
The scroll still lay there, stained by her fingers.
Bastian whistled low. “She’s fire. You sure you’ll be able to kill her when the time comes?”
I didn’t look at him.
I didn’t answer.
Because I wasn’t sure anymore.
Not even close.
- Writer
