The Alpha's Stolen Secrets

In the beginning, when mankind was still young, God placed many of His helpers over the creatures of the earth. To one, he entrusted the birds of the sky. To another, the creatures beneath the sea. And over the wolves, He placed the Moon Goddess. She loved them from the beginning. She loved their loyalty to their packs, their devotion to their young, and the wildness that could never truly be tamed. She watched them race beneath her moon and listened to their howls rise toward the heavens. But then she fell in love with something she had never expected. A human man. She knew she could not remain with him forever. He was mortal, while she would never grow old. Still, she loved him enough to leave the heavens for a time and live beside him on earth. And because she loved both the man and the wolves entrusted to her care, she joined the two. Her husband became the first Werewolf. He could walk beneath the sun as a man and run beneath the moon as a wolf. Their children inherited his gift, and through them a new race was born. But the Moon Goddess quickly discovered that a gift given too early could become a curse. Young children fought. They wrestled. They became angry over toys and teased their brothers and sisters. Such things were harmless among human children. They were not harmless when those children possessed fangs and claws. So the Moon Goddess placed a limit upon her descendants. Their wolves would sleep during childhood, awakening only when they were old enough to begin controlling them. For many years, she remained on earth with her husband and children. But while her face remained young, her husband's began to wrinkle. While her body remained strong, his weakened with age. Eventually, the mortal man she loved died. The Moon Goddess knew she could no longer remain among humans without revealing what she was. She never aged, and mankind would eventually notice. So with a broken heart, she returned to the heavens. From there, she watched her children. And she saw that they were lonely. Humans feared them when they learned what they were. Wolves recognized something familiar within them, but they were still animals and could never truly be their mates. Her children belonged completely to neither world. So the Moon Goddess created more Werewolves. Their numbers grew. Families became packs, and packs spread across the land. But with their growing numbers came another problem. The wolf was a creature of instinct. Males sometimes fought viciously over the same female. Rivalries became blood feuds, and blood feuds sometimes became wars. The Moon Goddess could not remove their freedom. Nor did she wish to. Instead, she gave them another gift. The mate bond. Every wolf would possess a perfect match—a soul whose scent, spirit, and nature called uniquely to their own. They would recognize one another instinctively. The bond would guide them. It would not command them. The Moon Goddess had been given authority over the wolves, but she would not take away the freedom God had given them. A wolf could accept the mate chosen for them or reject the bond and choose another. They were free to choose love for themselves. But freedom did not mean freedom from consequences. A rejected bond could bring pain. A chosen mate could bring happiness. And sometimes the choices her children made would change more lives than their own. Still, the choice remained theirs. Centuries passed. The Moon Goddess continued watching her children. Some packs remained hidden deep within forests and mountains, avoiding humans whenever possible. Others built settlements of their own. Still others quietly entered human towns and cities. And something unexpected happened. The more her children lived among humans, the more they learned from them. They studied. They planned. They built. Their packs became organized societies. Alphas rose to lead them, Betas served beneath them, warriors protected their territories, and councils were formed to settle disputes and establish laws. Yet living among humans came with danger. When a town or city discovered what they were, fear could quickly turn into violence. Werewolves were hunted. Families were killed. Entire packs sometimes disappeared because frightened humans believed anything different must be dangerous. The Moon Goddess watched all of it. She saw the strength of the wolf. She also saw the intelligence and ingenuity her children developed through their human side. And she wondered what might happen if those qualities were joined more completely. So she created something new. Not another Werewolf. Something more. The Lycan. Lycans possessed the strength and instincts of the wolf, but their human minds were more strategic and capable of greater control over their supernatural nature. Their senses were sharper. Their bodies were larger. Their abilities were stronger. But greater power brought greater danger. The Moon Goddess knew a child could not safely control everything she had placed inside a Lycan, so their abilities would awaken gradually. At sixteen and a half years old, a Lycan could freely shift between human and wolf. But another form remained hidden inside them. A form neither completely human nor completely wolf. It stood upright like a man, yet possessed the claws, fangs, strength, and ferocity of the wolf. This was their true Lycan form. And it could be dangerous. Before a young Lycan could possess such power, human reason and wolf instinct had to learn to exist together. Otherwise, when the two finally merged, the wolf could overwhelm the human. So the final Lycan form remained locked away until the young Lycan accepted their mate bond... Or reached twenty years of age. Whichever came first. By then, they were expected to have learned enough control to become one with the wolf instead of being consumed by it. But not every Werewolf or Lycan was born exactly the same. Every generation produced a rare few who possessed abilities beyond the heightened strength, speed, hearing, and senses common to their kind. Some could see glimpses of the future. Some could sense danger before it arrived. Others possessed unusual abilities involving the mind. Werewolves and Lycans could communicate through a mindlink, allowing members of a pack to speak to one another without saying a word aloud. It was an invaluable ability. But it was not a secure one. Rare individuals were born with the ability to penetrate mindlinks that did not belong to them. Some could catch fragments of another conversation. Others could listen without the wolves communicating, ever realizing they were there. Because of this, the Werewolves and Lycans learned an important lesson. A mindlink might be silent, but silent does not mean private. Top-secret conversations involving war, the crown, hidden alliances, or military plans were discussed face-to-face, behind guarded doors. There was always the possibility that someone else possessed a gift no one knew about. Someone could be listening. As the centuries passed, the Lycans prospered. They built cities and developed governments and laws while preserving the ancient hierarchy inherited from their Werewolf ancestors. But the growing Lycan cities needed someone capable of uniting them all. And so they came under the rule of one leader. The Lycan King. For a time, Werewolves and Lycans lived beside one another. But peace between siblings is not always permanent. The Werewolves knew they had come first. The Lycans knew they had been created later. Stronger. Larger. More powerful. More controlled. To some Werewolves, the Lycans didn't represent progress. They represented replacement. Jealousy grew. Some Werewolf packs became increasingly feral, rejecting the laws and order other packs had adopted. Ambitious Alphas fought over territory, power, and influence. And many began asking the same question. Why should the Moon Goddess's newer children possess so much more power than those she had created first? Resentment became hatred. Hatred became rebellion. And rebellion became war. As hatred grew, so did the obsession with blood. Some believed Werewolves should remain with Werewolves and Lycans with Lycans. To cross those lines was considered shameful by the most rigid among them. Love didn't always obey those rules. Neither did blood. Over the centuries, Werewolves and Lycans fought again and again. There were periods of peace, sometimes lasting generations. But eventually something would happen. A territory would be challenged. Someone important would be killed. A Werewolf would blame a Lycan. A Lycan would blame a Werewolf. Sometimes there was proof. Sometimes there wasn't. It rarely mattered. Old hatred had a way of surviving long after those who started it were dead. Then, forty years ago, everything changed. Another war began. But this one was different. It spread from pack to pack until Werewolves and Lycans were fighting across territories. Families were destroyed. Entire packs were devastated. Lycans died. Werewolves died. By the time the Lycans finally won, neither side could truly call it a victory. Too many graves had been filled. The Lycan King refused to allow another war to destroy both peoples. So the leaders of the surviving Werewolf packs and the Lycans gathered together. And they created what became known simply as the Pact. The Werewolves would remain Werewolves. Their packs would remain intact, and their Alphas would continue governing their own territories. Twice each year, the Werewolf Council of Alphas would meet with the Lycan Council of Alphas under the authority of the Lycan King. Disputes between the two races could be addressed before they became another war. The Lycan King would not govern the daily affairs of every Werewolf pack, but when an Alpha endangered the peace between their peoples, the King had the authority to intervene. The purpose of the Pact was not to erase the Werewolf way of life. It was meant to prevent another bloodbath. For forty years, it worked. Mostly. Because a Pact could end a war. It could not end hatred. Whenever a Werewolf disappeared or died under mysterious circumstances, the whispers returned. The Lycans did it. Sometimes there was evidence. Other times there was only suspicion. But to those who already hated the Lycans, suspicion was enough. Every unexplained death became another story. Every story became another reason to hate. And every generation inherited a little of the anger of the one before it. Now that anger was being given a purpose. Alpha Damien was recruiting. Not openly. Not yet. He reached quietly beyond his own territory and into other packs. He found Werewolves who hated the Pact. Warriors who resented answering to a Lycan King. Families who blamed the Lycans for loved ones they had lost. Alphas who wanted more power than the Pact allowed them. Even the twice-yearly joint councils gave Damien opportunities. He listened to complaints. He learned old grudges. He discovered who hated the Lycans and who might be willing to stand against them. All while sitting across the table from the very Lycan Alphas he intended to overthrow. One wolf became ten. Ten became dozens. And dozens could become an army. Damien wasn't simply questioning the authority of the Lycan King. He was preparing to overthrow him. And almost no one knew. Certainly not two nearly sixteen-year-old teenagers who had spent their lives believing their greatest problem was that neither of them had a wolf. Jaylynn Thorne and her cousin Jax knew nothing about the army quietly forming around them. They knew nothing about the secrets buried within their own families. They didn't know why Jaylynn possessed strength she shouldn't have. They didn't know why both of them could hear things no ordinary wolfless teenager should be able to hear. They didn't know what had been stolen nearly sixteen years ago. But they were about to find out. Because secrets buried for nearly sixteen years don't stay buried forever. Neither does blood. The last Lycan-Werewolf war had ended forty years ago with the Pact. Now an Alpha was quietly building an army to break it. And somewhere between two people who had hated one another for generations stood Jaylynn and Jax. Two teenagers without wolves. Two cousins who had spent their entire lives believing they knew where they belonged. Neither knew the truth about the blood running through their veins. Neither knew that the secrets surrounding their births could change the future of both races. But for Jaylynn, discovering the truth would only be the beginning. Because knowing where you came from doesn't tell you who you're supposed to become. And before it was over, Jaylynn would be forced to answer a question she was nowhere near prepared to face. How do you choose a side... When you don't yet know which side you belong to?