Marked by the Alpha's Curse

Chapter 1

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My arms ached by the time I got Timothy back to the bookstore. He was heavier than he looked, and the glow from his scars made me feel like I was carrying a living furnace. Nimbus trotted ahead of us, tail swishing, completely unbothered by the events that had just unfolded.

“Of course you’re fine,” I muttered, glaring at the cat as I shoved the door open with my shoulder. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess.”

Timothy grunted, half-conscious. His weight sagged against me, and I had to tighten my grip to stop him from collapsing.

“Okay, big guy,” I said, struggling to maneuver him toward the worn couch in the back of the shop. “You’re going to sit here, not die, and explain to me what in the actual hell just happened out there.”

I dropped him onto the cushions, and he let out a low groan. His head lolled back, but his amber eyes cracked open, flickering between alertness and exhaustion.

“You… shouldn’t have brought me here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

I crossed my arms. “Yeah, well, you can yell at me about it after you stop bleeding all over my couch.”

His lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “There are… consequences for this.”

“Consequences?” I snapped, grabbing the first-aid kit from behind the counter. “I dragged your half-dead ass out of the woods, and you’re worried about consequences?”

He didn’t answer. His head tilted to the side, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he’d passed out completely. But his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

“Great,” I muttered, kneeling beside him. “You’re cryptic and unconscious. Perfect.”

I peeled back the torn fabric of his shirt, grimacing at the jagged wounds slashing across his torso. The glowing scars were brighter now, the patterns shifting faintly like they had a mind of their own.

“What even are you?” I whispered.

He stirred, his hand weakly catching my wrist. His skin was hot—unnaturally so—and his touch sent a strange jolt up my arm.

“I’m… not your problem,” he murmured, his amber eyes meeting mine.

“Too late for that,” I shot back, pulling free from his grip. “Now shut up and let me help you.”

He didn’t argue, which I took as a small victory. Nimbus jumped onto the counter, watching intently as I cleaned and bandaged the wounds that weren’t glowing. The rest… I had no idea what to do with.

“You’re not normal,” I said, more to myself than him.

“No,” he agreed, his voice barely audible.

“Great. Care to elaborate?”

His eyes closed, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost missed it, he said, “They’ll come for me.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“The wolves,” he said, his words slurring. “And… worse.”

I sat back on my heels, staring at him. The rational part of me wanted to call the cops or, hell, even an ambulance. But something told me neither would know what to do with a man covered in glowing scars who fought off supernatural wolves.

“Look,” I said, shaking his shoulder lightly. “I’m not in the habit of harboring cryptic strangers, so you’re going to have to give me more to work with here.”

He didn’t respond.

“Timothy?”

His breathing slowed, his body going limp.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” I hissed, panic rising in my chest.

Nimbus meowed, leaping down from the counter and curling up beside Timothy like he’d decided the man was his new best friend.

“Real helpful, Nimbus,” I muttered.

I sat there for a long moment, my mind racing. The woods. The wolves. The glowing scars. None of it made sense, but the evidence was right in front of me, bleeding all over my couch.

Finally, I stood and grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. Who was I even supposed to call? The cops wouldn’t believe me. The hospital would ask too many questions. And there was no one else in Evermoor I trusted.

I glanced back at Timothy. He was still breathing, the rise and fall of his chest steady but shallow.

“Fine,” I said to no one in particular. “You get one night. But if you’re still cryptic and bleeding tomorrow, I’m kicking you out.”

Nimbus meowed again, as if to say, Yeah, right.

I grabbed a blanket from the closet and draped it over Timothy, trying not to think about how normal he looked when he wasn’t glowing or fighting wolves.

“Who are you?” I whispered, more to myself than him.

The fog pressed against the windows, and for the first time in my life, it felt like something was watching me.

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To be continued...