Marked by the rutherless alpha

The forest at night had always unnerved me, but tonight it felt… alive. The branches swayed even though there was barely any wind, their skeletal fingers reaching toward me like they wanted to hold me still. Every step I took cracked through the silence like a warning I wasn’t listening to. I shouldn’t have been here. I knew it. I’d known it from the moment I crossed the rusted old fence at the edge of town. Everyone in Silverpine whispered the same thing: Don’t go past the fence after dark. Don’t wander into the Alpha’s land. But I couldn’t stay home. Not tonight. Not after the fight with my aunt — her voice still echoing in my skull, the way she’d looked at me like I was a burden she’d never asked for. I told myself I just needed to clear my head, to breathe air that wasn’t laced with disappointment. I didn’t expect the air here to taste like danger. Somewhere far off, a howl split the night. Not a coyote’s high-pitched cry or the bark of a stray dog — this was deeper, older, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. My stomach tightened. I froze. That’s when I heard it: a branch snapping behind me. I spun, my eyes darting between the shadows. The moon hung low, spilling silver light across the undergrowth, but nothing moved. Still… the air had shifted. “Hello?” My voice wavered despite my best attempt to sound firm. No answer. Another crunch of leaves. Closer. My pulse slammed in my ears as I stepped back. “Who’s there?” Something emerged from the darkness — not rushing me, not threatening… but moving with the kind of confidence that made my skin prickle. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black from his boots to the leather jacket stretched across his chest. His hair was dark, catching glints of moonlight, but it was his eyes that rooted me to the spot. Amber. Not hazel, not brown — amber, glowing faintly like molten metal. They weren’t human eyes. My throat went dry. “You’re trespassing,” I blurted, because I had no idea what else to say. The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t amusement. “Am I?” His voice was deep, smooth, and dangerous — the kind of voice that could lure you closer without you realizing you’d moved. I swallowed. “This is private land.” He took a step closer, and the shadows seemed to follow him. “You’re the one trespassing, little one.” I stepped back instinctively. “I’m leaving.” “You won’t.” The certainty in his tone hit me like a hand on my arm. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice quieter now. His gaze didn’t leave mine. “You.” The word was so simple, so final, that I almost laughed — but something in my chest knew he wasn’t joking. I tried to move again, but the ground beneath my feet felt unsteady. He was closer now, his scent curling into my senses — pine, rain, and something wild I couldn’t place. “Who are you?” I demanded. He tilted his head, studying me. “Kael. Alpha of this land. And you…” His eyes darkened, “…you’re mine.” Before I could argue, before I could even breathe, his hand was at the back of my neck. The heat from his palm seared into my skin, and a sudden surge of energy shot through me. My knees weakened, my vision blurring as something — someone — whispered inside my mind. It wasn’t a voice I recognized, but it felt like it had always been there. Mate. “No—” My protest was barely a sound. “Yes,” Kael murmured, his lips close to my ear. “You feel it. You can’t fight it.” The forest seemed to close in around us, the sounds of the night growing distant except for one — a chorus of howls in the distance, rising and falling in unison. My body was trembling, not from fear but from something far more dangerous. Something I didn’t understand. Kael pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing over the place on my neck where heat still pulsed. “You’re marked,” he said, like he’d just written my fate in blood. I stumbled back, clutching my neck, my breath uneven. “You can’t just—” “I can. And I have.” The moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw as he turned his head, listening to something I couldn’t hear. Then he looked back at me, and for a moment, I thought he might let me go. But he didn’t. Instead, he smiled — slow, predatory, inevitable. “Welcome to my world, Lira.