Stolen by the Alpha

The icy morning air bit into Georgia's bare fingers as she swept the large inner courtyard of the estate. The coarse twig broom scraped across the stone-hard paving stones, leaving barely visible lines in the thin layer of frost that had formed overnight. She kept her head down, as she always did. A wrong glance, an accidental meeting of eyes with one of the guards, or even with a high-ranking pack member could quickly end in blows, or worse. Georgia had learned to be invisible. At nineteen, she bore the heaviest mark her people knew: none at all. No silver crescent moon graced the spot over her left shoulder blade, no sacred sign of the Moon Goddess to mark her as worthy, as pure-blooded, as valuable. Instead, she was the silent result of a forbidden night. Her father, Alpha Reginald, had once dallied with a human maid, who vanished without a trace afterwards. Georgia remained a living blemish, a bastard daughter who was tolerated because she was useful, but never acknowledged. Inside the magnificent main house, the buzz of activity had already begun. Today was no ordinary day. Today, the feared heir of the powerful Blackwood pack arrived. Fredrick Blackwood. The name alone was enough to make even the bravest warriors curse under their breath. Stories told of him ripping his first challenger to pieces in a duel at sixteen, that his eyes were the color of an approaching storm, that he never smiled and knew no mercy. An Alpha through and through, cold as the winter wind and dangerous as a hungry shadow wolf. And he was coming to choose a mate. Of course, the choice would not fall on Georgia. Brenda was the chosen one. Brenda, the perfect half-sister, was born with the radiant crescent moon mark that shone like liquid silver on her delicate skin. Brenda, who had been instructed since her earliest childhood in everything a future Luna needed to know: the ancient mating rituals, the subtle rules of pack leadership, the elegant handling of power, and the art of keeping an Alpha at her side. Brenda was breathtakingly beautiful, with long, shimmering golden hair, emerald green eyes, and a natural grace that softened even the hardest warriors. Georgia had always liked Brenda. Perhaps that had been the only warmth she had ever felt. As little girls, they had secretly played together, far from the stern eyes of the adults. Brenda had stealthily slipped her sweets, given her a pretty hair ribbon, or simply held her hand when Georgia had been punished yet again for some transgression. Brenda had never spoken condescendingly. She had never made Georgia feel like she was just a servant, a nobody. Those small gestures had carried Georgia through the darkest years. But now, everything was on a knife-edge. Georgia heard the hoofbeats first, then the deep, warning growls of the escort wolves. She drew deeper into the shadow of the stable wall and watched as the heavy double doors of the main house swung open. Alpha Reginald stepped out, his chest puffed with pride, a broad, self-satisfied grin on his face. Directly beside him stood Brenda in a beautiful dress of deep midnight blue. The fabric hugged her slender figure, and through the thin cut-out at her shoulder, the sacred mark shimmered like a living jewel. Then, he stepped out of the black carriage. Fredrick Blackwood was taller than the rumors had described. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his arms muscular beneath the long, pitch-black coat. His hair fell, deep black and untamed, across his forehead. But it was his face that stole one's breath: hard-cut, with sharp cheekbones and a long scar running from his right temple down to his jaw. And those eyes. Storm grey. Cold. Piercing like blades of ice. He moved with the deadly elegance of a predator who knew nothing in this world could be a threat to him. Every step radiated pure, unrestrained power. The air itself seemed to grow heavier the moment he entered the courtyard. Reginald stretched out his hand. "Welcome, Fredrick. It is a great honor." Fredrick took the offered hand only briefly, almost reluctantly. His voice was deep, rough, and utterly emotionless. "Alpha Reginald. I am not here for pleasantries. Show me the daughter." Reginald laughed nervously. "Of course, of course. Brenda, darling, come here." Brenda stepped forward, lowering her gaze in perfect deference, but Georgia noticed the faint trembling of her fingers. Brenda was afraid. Of course, she was afraid. Who wouldn't be afraid of Fredrick Blackwood? Fredrick surveyed Brenda slowly, from head to toe. Not a spark of warmth or interest was in his gaze. Only cool calculation. "She bears the Mark. That's good. My pack will accept it." Reginald beamed with relief. "She is the best we have. Pure, strong, obedient. The perfect Luna for you and your mighty pack." Fredrick gave a curt nod. "The mating ritual takes place in three days. I expect everything to be prepared." Then he turned away, as if the matter were already settled. But precisely at that moment, something unexpected happened. A sudden gust of wind swept across the courtyard and carried Georgia's scent directly to him. Fredrick froze mid-motion. His head jerked around. Those storm-grey eyes found her instantly, even though she was half-hidden behind a thick wooden pillar. For a tiny moment, their gazes met. Something exploded in Georgia's chest. It was no ordinary feeling. It was hot, wild, primal. As if an invisible chain she had worn all her life suddenly snapped. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure everyone in the courtyard must hear it. Her skin prickled as if a thousand tiny sparks were dancing across it. Deep within her, something awoke. Something Ancient. Something Demanding. The Bond. Impossible. She was unmarked. She was unworthy. She was nothing. And yet Fredrick stared at her as if she were the only thing that existed in that moment. Then the moment broke. He blinked, shook his head almost imperceptibly, and turned back to Reginald. "I want to see the estate. Alone." Reginald nodded eagerly. "Naturally. Brenda, you stay here and prepare." Brenda shot Georgia a brief, confused look before obediently lowering her head again. Fredrick walked past Georgia without looking at her again. But she felt it. His nearness brushed against her like an electric shock. She had to lean against the stable wall to keep from sinking to the ground. Later that evening, when the sun had long since set and the great house was wrapped in deep silence, Georgia crept through the narrow servant passages. She just wanted to fetch a jug of water, but muted voices made her pause. She recognized Fredrick's deep voice immediately. "...the marked sister is useful for the ceremony. But I need an heir. A strong one. If she doesn't conceive quickly enough, I'll have to take another." Reginald laughed softly and slickly. "Always direct, Fredrick. Brenda is fertile. The healer confirmed it." "Packs lie when it suits the Alpha." Fredrick's tone was icy. "I will take her, mount her, fill her. And if she doesn't give me a son, I will cast her out. Or kill her. It makes no difference. But I need a faster solution." Georgia pressed herself tighter against the cold stone wall. Her heart raced. Fredrick continued. "There are rumors about another. An unmarked one. The bastard daughter." Reginald snorted contemptuously. "Georgia? She's worthless. No Mark, no status. Just a servant who scrubs the floors." "And yet she smells..." Fredrick broke off. His voice grew quieter, almost thoughtful. "Forget it. I will take Brenda. But should she fail, I will use the other one. As a backup. Impregnate her, take the child, dispose of her afterwards. No one will dare stop me." Georgia felt the floor begin to spin beneath her. He wanted to use Brenda. Like breeding stock. And if that didn't work, he wanted to take her, Georgia. Like a spare part. Like a thing without a soul. Tears burned in her eyes, but she swallowed them down. Brenda didn't deserve this. Brenda was good. Brenda was the only one who had ever shown her real kindness. She wouldn't allow it. She had to protect Brenda. But right at that moment, she heard footsteps. Fredrick stepped out of the room. Georgia froze. He stopped. Just a few meters away. His nostrils flared slightly. He smelled her. Slowly, he turned around. Their eyes met again. This time, there was no hiding. The air crackled with tension. Fredrick took a step toward her. Georgia retreated until her back hit the wall hard. He came closer. Tall. Threatening. And yet there was something new in his eyes. Not just coldness. But Hunger. Raw, unveiled hunger. "You were eavesdropping," he said softly, almost gently. Georgia couldn't utter a word. Her throat felt constricted. He reached out and gripped her chin. Forced her to look at him. His fingers burned on her skin like fire. "What is your name?" "Georgia," she whispered, barely audible. "Georgia." He repeated the name slowly, as if tasting it. "You bear no Mark." "No." "And yet..." He leaned forward until his mouth almost touched her ear. His breath stroked hotly over her skin. "You smell of me. Of my wolf. Of my desire." Georgia trembled all over. "That's impossible," she breathed. "Is it?" His voice was a deep, vibrating growl. "The moon does not always follow our rules." He released her chin and took a step back. But the look he gave her promised more. Much more. Promised chaos. Promised passion. Promised ruin. "Go now," he ordered roughly. "Before I forget who I am and what I'm supposed to do." Georgia fled as fast as her legs could carry her. But inside her raged a storm that would not fall silent again. The Bond had awakened. And it would not let her go. She knew it. He knew it. And Brenda stood between them, unaware, in the middle of a war that had only just begun. The night was still young. And fate had just laid its deadliest cards on the table.