Alpha King's Broken Mate

Unwelcome

BRISEIS

I woke in his bed.

Not because of what had happened between us, but because I’d collapsed the night before, half-wolf, half-girl, too tired to move. My limbs still ached. My skin felt stretched. I could feel her, deep in my bones now, pacing.

Not speaking.

But there.

Watching.

Waiting.

The sheets were warm, thick, and smelled like him—cedar, firewood, something darker. But I didn’t stay in them.

I got up the moment I was alone.

I washed quickly. Dressed even faster. Not in the soft gray tunic Thalia left me before. I chose something darker, one of the simpler black sets Orion had stocked in the wardrobes. Unmarked. Plain. Unseen.

Because I didn’t want eyes on me.

Not today.

But I got them anyway.

Everywhere I went.

When I stepped into the halls, the servants hushed mid conversation.

When I passed two female wolves polishing weapons, they went stiff, their gazes lingering too long.

When I crossed the courtyard near the barracks, a younger warrior actually backed away like I was about to bite him.

I kept walking.

But my stomach twisted tighter with every step.

The whispering was louder now. I could feel it like a fog.

That’s her.

The cursed girl.

She nearly shifted in his rooms—

What if she’s unstable?

What if the Goddess made a mistake?

I tried to keep my head down.

But the fear inside me was turning into something else.

Anger.

Not rage, not yet, but a low heat. The same heat I felt last night. My wolf didn’t like being stared at like a threat.

She was still tired.

But not ashamed.

“Briseis.”

I turned at the voice.

Thalia.

Her expression was tight. Concerned. “Come with me,” she said quietly. “Now.”

I didn’t ask questions.

I followed.

She led me through a different corridor this time, stone with silver inlays, tall windows that let in the cold light of morning.

When we reached the antechamber, I saw Orion already standing inside.

So did the council.

And they were not quiet.

“We warned you this would happen,” one of the advisors said, voice sharp. “The pack is restless. You’ve brought someone unstable into our inner court...”

“She’s not unstable,” Orion growled.

“She nearly shifted in your chambers without warning,”

“Because she’s finally waking up. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A mate with a wolf?”

“She’s not ready.” Thane’s voice now, hard and slow. “And she’s not trusted.”

Orion’s body stiffened. “She doesn’t need your trust.”

“Then whose does she need?” another snapped. “The people don’t want her. They fear her. They speak of omens, Orion. This bond of yours, some believe it’s unnatural.”

I stopped just inside the arch.

They didn’t see me at first.

But when they did...

Silence.

Like a slap.

I should’ve turned around.

But I stepped forward.

“I never asked for your approval,” I said. My voice didn’t tremble this time. “And I don’t want your throne.”

All eyes snapped to me.

“But if I’m going to stay here,” I said, steady now, “you will not talk about me like I’m a curse. I lived my whole life under real curses. You are not one of them.”

Orion didn’t move.

Didn’t interrupt.

He just stared at me like I’d put a crown on my own head without even realizing it.

Thane’s lips thinned. “You’re too bold for someone who hasn’t earned her place.”

“Then let me earn it,” I said. “Challenge me. Test me. But stop whispering in the corners like cowards. If you want me gone, say it to my face.”

The room was stunned silent.

And then, slowly, Orion turned.

“My mate has spoken,” he said. “If any of you would like to question her place beside me—do so now.”

No one moved.

Not even Thane.

After a pause, Orion added, voice like thunder, “Good. Because I’m done entertaining insults hidden behind etiquette.”

He turned to me fully now, his eyes locked on mine.

“You asked me once why I chose you,” he said. “It wasn’t out of pity.”

I didn’t speak.

Because I didn’t need to.

Something in my chest felt… stronger. Clearer. Not healed, but harder to break.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was just surviving.

I felt like I was beginning to live.

The moment I stepped out of the chamber, the mask slipped.

My breathing grew shallow. My hands trembled.

I didn’t wait for Orion to catch up.

I didn’t want him to see me unravel.

Again.

So I turned left instead of right, deeper into the keep, past the eastern wing, where Lyra’s scent always lingered faintly in the air. Soft like sugared tea and lavender soap.

I knocked once on the carved wooden door before slipping inside.

The room was sunlit and cozy, toys scattered across thick rugs, pillows piled in every corner. Someone had painted a little moon above her headboard, silver, with tiny stars branching from it like vines.

Lyra sat on the floor in the middle of it all, humming quietly to herself.

She looked up when she saw me, and her whole face lit up.

“You came back!” she shouted, springing to her feet. “I was going to send a wolf to look for you!”

I laughed softly despite myself.

“You have wolves working for you now?” I asked, stepping closer.

She nodded seriously. “Four. But one’s missing a leg.”

“Well. You’ll have to promote the fastest one, then.”

Lyra reached for my hand without hesitation and dragged me down onto the floor beside her.

“I saved your spot,” she said, pointing to a thick pillow and the line of wooden wolves still standing in formation. “This one’s yours.”

The small one with the chipped ear and crooked tail.

Still standing tall.

I blinked and lowered myself onto the cushion.

“You okay?” she asked, tilting her head like she was reading me.

Children always asked the hardest questions.

“I think so.”

“You don’t look okay.”

I exhaled. “People don’t like me here.”

“That’s because they’re boring,” she said immediately. “And they smell like dusty chairs.”

I choked on a laugh.

Lyra wrinkled her nose. “You smell like trees. And thunder. Like my papa.”

I went still.

She smiled. “Don’t worry. That’s a good thing.”

We sat in silence for a while after that, her lining up wolves for a pretend battle, me watching her small fingers move with perfect confidence.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been touched without flinching.

And yet here she was, grabbing my hand, braiding a strand of my hair, curling up in my lap without fear or hesitation.

“I think my wolf likes you,” I said softly.

Lyra’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“She probably likes wooden wolves too.”

“She does.”

“Then you have to name yours,” she said firmly. “That’s the rule.”

I picked up the crooked-tailed warrior.

Thought for a moment.

Then smiled.

“Her name’s Ash.”

Lyra beamed.

“That’s a perfect name for a warrior.”

And for the first time since I’d stepped into this place…

I believed her.

Lyra leaned into me without hesitation, her small hands playing with the hem of my sleeve as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you know how to braid?” she asked, already pulling her brush from under a pillow.

I blinked, surprised. “I used to… a long time ago.”

She turned around and plopped herself down between my legs, her back to my chest.

“Well,” she declared, “you have to practice now.”

I stared down at the golden curls spilling over her shoulders.

She smelled like wildflowers and warm milk.

I swallowed hard and picked up the brush.

Each stroke felt like a whisper across something broken in me. Familiar, but distant. Like a memory from someone else’s life.

“I used to brush my sister’s hair,” I said quietly. “She was little, like you.”

Lyra tilted her head. “Where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Oh,” she said, voice gentler now. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Lyra didn’t press. She just hummed softly, leaning into the rhythm of the brush.

“Do you miss her?”

I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Every day.”

“Then you must love her a lot.”

“I did,” I whispered. “I still do.”

She looked over her shoulder, a small frown puckering her brow. “You can love me too, if you want.”

The breath I took in cracked like glass.

“Only if you want,” she added, as if she could feel the tremor in my fingers. “But I think you’d be good at it.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes.

“I don’t know if I remember how.”

Lyra turned fully around this time, her little face so serious it hurt.

“It’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

I smiled, choking on emotion. “Oh? And how does one learn to love Lyra?”

She ticked off on her fingers. “You have to listen to me ramble. And braid my hair when I don’t want to sleep. And you have to eat snacks with me on the roof. That’s the best part.”

“On the roof?”

She nodded eagerly. “Papa lets me sometimes. Especially when the stars are out.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed on the roof,” I said with mock seriousness.

“You are now,” she said, as if that settled everything.

Then she reached into a small wooden box near her bed and pulled out a crumpled paper crown. Bits of glitter still clung to the edges.

“This is for you,” she said, placing it gently on my head. “You’re officially a Moon Queen.”

I laughed. It was hoarse and wet and full of something I didn’t recognize.

Hope, maybe.

Love, even.

She crawled into my lap and curled up like a pup, cheek pressed against my chest, one hand gripping my braid.

“You smell better than my old nanny,” she mumbled sleepily. “And your heartbeat is soft. Like drums in the forest.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I just held her.

One arm around her small body, the other stroking her hair.

And for the first time in years, the silence in my head didn’t feel empty.

It felt like peace.

The door creaked softly.

I didn’t move.

Lyra had drifted off completely, her cheek still resting against my chest, breath slow and warm against my tunic. Her little hand clung to the end of my braid like it tethered her to sleep.

I didn’t need to look to know it was him.

Orion's presence didn’t need sound.

It filled the room like smoke, warm, heavy, consuming.

I felt his gaze on us before he said a word.

He stood in the doorway, not stepping in, just watching.

And for a long time, neither of us spoke.

He didn’t ask why I was there. Didn’t demand an explanation. Didn’t remind me of the whispers in the halls or the tension still tightening the council chamber.

He just looked at me...

Then at her.

And then back at me.

Like his world had finally aligned.

Like some part of him had just taken a deep, full breath for the first time in years.

The man who ruled a kingdom with iron and war softened before my eyes.

His shoulders lowered.

His jaw unclenched.

And in the flickering glow of the evening light spilling through the window, I saw it:

Not the Alpha King.

Not the warrior.

Not even the mate.

Just a father.

And a man.

Looking at the two people who now held his heart in their hands.

I adjusted Lyra gently in my arms, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“She asked if I could love her,” I said quietly. “I told her I didn’t remember how.”

He stepped inside finally, silent, slow, careful not to wake her.

“She’s teaching me.”

Orion crouched beside us, one large hand resting on Lyra’s foot where it peeked from under the blanket she’d pulled over herself.

His voice was barely a whisper.

“She’s good at that.”

“She made me a crown,” I said, trying to keep my smile from shaking.

“I see that.” His lips twitched.

I lowered my gaze to his hand.

Strong. Steady. Just barely brushing her skin.

“She loves you,” I said.

He looked up at me then.

“And you will too,” he said simply. Not a command. Not a wish. Just a truth waiting to bloom.

The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was full.

Full of things we hadn’t said, and things we didn’t need to.

His eyes lingered on me like I was something rare.

Something sacred.

I tightened my arms around Lyra.

And for the first time…

I believed I might stay.