The Alpha's Sun-Blessed Mate

The door to Albert’s bedroom wasn’t fully closed. I noticed that first. The gap of maybe two inches, the low light spilling out, and the sounds coming from inside. Heavy breathing. A woman’s moan. The rhythmic creak of bedsprings. My hand froze on the doorknob. My brain tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. Maybe it was a movie. Maybe Albert had his laptop open and fell asleep to some action film. Maybe if I just turned around and went back downstairs, I could keep pretending the past six months hadn’t felt slightly off. But the text on my phone was still glowing. Albert’s name. Meet me in my room. Thirty minutes ago. I pushed the door open. Albert’s bare back. Broad through the shoulders, muscles flexing with each movement, his dark hair falling across the back of his neck. He had his father’s build. The tall, athletic frame that made every girl in the pack look twice when he crossed the training yard. A woman was beneath him, dark curly hair fanned across his pillows. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her nails digging into his shoulders. And then her face turned toward the door. Mira. My best friend. The sound that came out of me was barely human. Something between a gasp and a scream, stuck halfway in my throat. Albert’s head whipped around. Those blue eyes, the same shade as his father’s, went from heavy-lidded to horrified in a split second. He scrambled off her, grabbing for the sheets, tripping, catching himself on the nightstand. “Annabelle! I thought you were sleeping. You didn't respond to my text ... wait, listen, this isn’t...” “Isn’t what?!” My voice came out shrill enough to crack glass. “Isn’t you screwing my best friend in your bed?!” Mira sat up clutching the sheet to her chest. Her face was flushed, her dark curls wild around her shoulders, and she had the nerve to look guilty. Like she’d accidentally stepped on my foot instead of sleeping with my fiancé behind my back. “Ann, I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean for you to find out like this.” Like this. As if there was a good way to find out your best friend had been riding your fiancé. “How long?” My voice dropped. My wolf was pressing against my ribs, snarling, begging me to shift. “How long has this been going on?” Albert yanked on his jeans, his movements jerky and graceless. “Annabelle, please. Just let me explain.” “HOW LONG?!” Mira flinched. “Six months.” Six months. Half a year of sitting beside me at pack dinners. Half a year of helping me pick out dresses for Albert, listening to me talk about our future, holding my hand when I was nervous about the mating ceremony. Half a year of looking me in the eyes and lying to my face while she spread her legs for the man I was supposed to marry. I couldn’t feel my hands. “I love her,” Albert said quietly. Three words. That was all it took to demolish everything I thought I knew about my life. “I’m sorry, but I love her. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t marry someone I don’t love.” Tears blurred my vision but I blinked them back. I was not going to cry in front of them. Not here. Not standing in a room that reeked of their s*x with my caramel hair still curled from the effort I’d put in because my fiancé had texted me to come up. I’d actually checked myself in the hallway mirror on the way up. Smoothed my hair. Pinched my cheeks for color. Like an i***t. “Then you should have told me!” My voice cracked despite everything. “You should have been honest instead of making a fool out of me!” “You’re right. I know. I’m sorry.” “Sorry?” I laughed, but the sound was ugly. Broken. “You’re SORRY? You were engaged to me, Albert! Our mating ceremony is in three weeks!” “Was,” Mira whispered. “Was engaged to you.” I stared at her. My best friend since we were seven years old. The girl I’d shared every secret with, every fear, every stupid dream about the future. And she was correcting my grammar while sitting naked in my fiancé’s bed. My wolf surged forward. My bones cracked, my skin rippling with fur trying to break through. “Ann, don’t!” Albert held up his hands. “Please, don’t shift. Not here. Not like this.” I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in. The scent of them together was coating the inside of my throat and I was going to be sick. So I ran. Down the stairs, nearly falling, catching myself on the banister hard enough that pain shot up my wrist. Through the pack house common room where a dozen faces turned to stare at the girl with the wild mint green eyes and the mascara starting to run. I saw recognition on every face. They knew. Either they’d heard the shouting or the gossip had already started spreading through the pack link. Either way, they knew, and I was the last person in this building to find out. The humiliation hit harder than the betrayal in that moment. Walking past people who had watched me plan my mating ceremony for months. People who had congratulated me, hugged me, told me how lucky I was. Had any of them known? Had they whispered about poor Annabelle behind my back while smiling to my face? Down the hallway. My footsteps pounding against the hardwood. Past the framed photos on the wall, Albert and me at fourteen, at sixteen, at eighteen. Every milestone documented. Every lie framed and hung where the whole pack could see it. Out the front door into the late afternoon sun. Albert was behind me, pulling on a shirt, chasing after me. “Annabelle! Wait! Please!” I shifted mid-stride. My wolf exploded forward, shredding my clothes. On four legs I was faster. The forest swallowed me whole and I let it, running until my lungs burned, until the pack house was a speck behind me, until the only sound was my paws hitting dirt and the frantic hammering of my own heart. But even the wind couldn’t carry away Albert’s last words, shouted after me with panic dripping from every syllable: “Wait! My father can’t know about this yet! He needs to hear it from me..." His voice trailed off as I ran out of hearing.