Marked By The Alpha

I'd always realized I was different. Not the special kind of different. Just… wrong different. The other customers at Foxglove Books never knew. I was just another reservedly smiling girl with dark hair, happy to recommend the best fantasy or swoon novel to them. My domain was these books, my people the thousands I guarded and paired with enthused readers. But the books were aware of my secret. They reminded me in whispers during the still hours just before closing when the shop grew still. You don't belong here, Lina. You're something else. "Excuse me, do you have the new novel by Briggs?" A woman sporting well-highlighted hair rapped manicured nails on the countertop, jolting me out of my reverie. "Of course." I moved out from behind the counter and guided her to the new-release shelf. "Team Adam or Team Charles?" Her eyes lit up at the mention of the hit werewolf drama. "Adam, always. There's something about an Alpha male who's in charge that just." She fanned herself extravagantly. I smiled graciously, but something in my chest pinched. Fanciful werewolves were all very well sexy, watchful, and dangerous. But the actual wolves that roamed the mountains around our tiny town of Ravenwood? The ones the people whispered about before bed? They were the monsters of nightmare stories. Stay out of the north woods at night. Never hike alone during the full moon. Don't gaze too long if you notice eyes looking out from the trees. Ravenwood was in this odd bubble of knowing and not knowing. Everybody feigned the periodic howls were just ordinary wolves. Everybody avoided the clusters of overly beautiful, overly strong women and men who were alone on the outskirts of town and kept to themselves. Everybody turned the other way when the odd lost hiker vanished. I'd looked the other way for twenty-four years of my life. "Will that be all?" I inquired, coming back to the cash register with the customer's items. "Yes, thank you." She stopped and examined my face with newfound intensity. "Your eyes are the most unusual I've ever seen. Almost amber-colored in light." My smile halted. "Brown. Lighting trick." I quickly finished her transaction, relieved when the bell on the door announced her exit. I faced the old mirror on the wall behind the counter, a peculiar gift from Mrs. Henderson, the shop's eighty-something proprietor who'd left me to watch the store while on a vacation in Florida. My face was normal, heart-shaped, with my dark brown hair tied into its typical messy bun and pale skin that never seemed to tan no matter how hard I tried. But my eyes. For an instant, they did seem different. They were lighter. More gold-colored instead of brown. "I'm not getting enough sleep, Carter," I grumbled to myself, massaging my temples where I could feel a dull headache building all day. The reality was, I hadn't slept well in weeks. The dreams had begun on the previous full moon, they were horrible, clear visions of running through black woods, of being chased, of chasing. I'd wake up gasping, sweat-drenched, my heart pounding so hard I was sure Aunt Meredith would be able to hear it through the thin walls of our small home. My aunt was the sole member of my family when my parents passed away in what I'd always heard had been a car accident when I was three. She'd raised me with a quiet dedication but kept me at arm’s length from the world, homeschooled through grade school, off-limits to certain areas of town, still enforcing strict curfews as an adult. "Just watching out for you, little owl," she'd always say whenever I complained about her being overly cautious. The bell jangled once more. I looked up to find Ella, my relief for the night, coming in with her typical whirlwind enthusiasm. "You'd never believe the day I've had," she said, setting her purse on the counter. "First, my car didn't start, then that creepy north side guy was hovering around the coffee shop all day, just. Sniffing at everyone. Good grief, I think the town is getting crazier and crazier." I nodded distractedly, collecting my things. "Mrs. Henderson phoned. She needs us to take inventory this weekend." "Great," Ella moaned. "There goes my Saturday night." I didn't complain. Saturday evenings were my usual ritual of a cup of tea, an interesting book, and an effort to suppress the empty pain of loneliness that no novel could ever satisfy. "Are you all right, Lina? You look pale." Ella's forehead creased with worry. "I'm just exhausted. I've not slept well." "Nightmares again?" I nodded, and she moved closer to me. "You do realize what happens to repeating dreams, don't you? They're trying to tell you something." If that were the case, I did not care to know what my dreams meant. Outside, the twilight had spread across Ravenwood, tingeing the mountains with deepening purples. I pulled my cardigan around me. Even on the mild spring day, I couldn't shake off the cold that had haunted me all week. My path home followed the outskirts of town, the final streetlights leading to where civilization yielded to the wild. I normally rushed along the stretch, my gaze on the sidewalk. Tonight, something compelled me to pause. The forest called to me, its curtain of pines swaying gently in the breeze. I was pulled, somehow, an unseen cord tugging at my middle. The wind changed, carrying the smells I'd never realized were there, sap, earthy and damp, something feral and smoky that made me catch my breath. A branch snapped in the blackness beyond the treeline. I stilled, trying to peer into the shadows. For one instant, I thought I caught sight of eyes shining with the distant streetlamp's light, silvery, feral, watching. I shivered, and the eerie feeling stopped. I turned and half-walked and half-ran the last few blocks to the small craftsman home I shared with my aunt. "Aunt Meredith?" I called, approaching the kitchen from the living area. "Yep," I replied, hanging my bag on its normal hook. The sweet aroma of rosemary potatoes and herb-roasted chicken greeted me as I entered the house, but my stomach churned with unexpected nausea. "Dinner is ready," she greeted me as I entered the kitchen. She turned from the stove, her smile dropping as she examined my face. "What is the matter?" "Absolutely nothing. I just thought I glimpsed something in the forest on my walk home." Her wooden spoon hit the floor with a clatter. "What did you see?" "I don't know. Just a deer or something." I stooped to pick up the spoon, shocked by her response. She appeared to catch herself, shoulders relaxing with clear effort. "No reason. You know how much I worry." She faced the stove again, but not before I noticed the tension around her mouth. "Wash up for dinner." I twisted about in my bed that night, unable to sleep despite my fatigue. Every time I closed my eyes, my vision was full of silver eyes watching out of the forest. I finally succumbed to sleep at midnight. The dream started at once, now more vivid than ever. I'm sprinting, but not in terror. I'm running in joy, in liberty. The ground beneath me is elastic under my feet. No… not my feet. My paws. The night is full of smells and sounds beyond the notice of man. I felt powerful, fast, and feral. Suddenly, I'm no longer alone. A presence follows me through the forest. Larger than me, menacing, male. I should run, but instead, I'm attracted to him. His smell summons something primal within me. A glade opens up in the distance, illuminated by moonlight. In the middle of it is a man—no, not quite a man. Eyes shining silver in the blackness, body tense with coiled, strength. He extends an outstretched hand, shaping his lips to form words I could not understand. A pain shoots through my body as the contact is made, flames through my blood. Bones readjusting. Flesh stretching. "Time," the man whispers, his voice as hard as stones and as loud as thunder. I sat bolt upright with an audible gasp, my body hot as though with fever. I was disoriented and stumbled from the bed to the bathroom, switching on the harsh fluorescent lights. My appearance shocked me into stillness. My hair was glued to my forehead with sweat, and my eyes were so wide and dilated that my irises looked black. My face flushed, it seemed to glow. That's when I saw it, a mark on the inside of my right wrist that I hadn't noticed before. A crescent moon shape, small but clear, shining very slightly with a silvery glow. I blinked and rubbed at it. It did not smudge. "What the hell?" I breathed, tracing the shape with shaky fingers. And as though in response, the mark pulsed with light, shooting a jolt of sensation along my arm. I felt something deep within my blood stirred at its summons—something that had lain dormant all my life, now awakening. And I knew deep in my bones that there was no going back.