Claimed By The Winter Alpha

His mansion

~Snow~

“I’ll stay,” I said finally after thinking about it for a while. It was a miracle he saved me just when I was at death’s door. I wasn’t about to put my life at risk again.

“Until the blizzard passes,” I added, meeting his silver-grey eyes.

He nodded, something like relief flickering across his face. “Good. I’ll have someone prepare a room for you at the mansion.”

“The mansion?” I repeated.

“This is just the pack clinic,” Storm explained, gesturing around. “My home is about a mile from here. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

He was right. The clinic wasn’t well-ventilated and the cold seeped through easily. I was human and far more vulnerable to the cold than werewolves. They were built for weather like this.

“Okay.” I exhaled. “So… how do we get there?”

Part of me wondered if he planned to shift and carry me all the way.

Silly thought.

“A car’s waiting for us outside,” he replied.

“Are we going to drive through the blizzard?”

“No,” he said with a small shake of his head. “The storm has eased for the meantime, so we can drive safely.”

I nodded and tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through my arm.

“Shit.” I winced, my face tightening.

“Easy.” He rushed over and helped me to my feet, one hand steady around my waist while the other supported my elbow carefully—like I was the most delicate thing in the world.

Minutes later, we stepped outside the clinic. it was still night time.

Dr. Celeste waited by the entrance. She gave me instructions for my wound and handed me pain medication.

I smiled gratefully before Storm helped me into a sleek black SUV that looked far too expensive.

“Can you manage?” he asked as I struggled with the seatbelt.

“I’ve got it,” I muttered, still fumbling—until he leaned in and clicked it into place. I rolled my eyes and relaxed against the headrest.

“You don’t have to help me all the time. My arm’s injured, not cut off.”

“You’re still injured,” he said simply. “Until you’re better, I’ll help however I can.”

He closed the door gently, then walked around to the driver’s side.

As we drove through pack territory, I stared out the window in awe. It was still dark, but the moon cast a soft grey glow over everything. Combined with the snow, it looked like a winter wonderland—tall pines heavy with white, warm cabin lights glowing, and wolves running freely through the snow like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured as a grey wolf sprinted beside the SUV before vanishing into the forest.

“Pack members,” Storm said. “They prefer their wolf forms, especially during winter.”

I nodded, still mesmerized. I’d always known werewolves had integrated into human society decades ago and this was my second time of being inside pack territory. The first was Jackson's.

The SUV rounded a bend, and suddenly the mansion came into view.

My breath caught. The enormous three-storey building of dark stone and timber stood like something out of an old fairytale, its massive windows glowing warmly against the snow.

“You live here?” I asked, unable to hide my shock.

“For the past decade,” Storm replied, pulling to a stop at the entrance. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

He got out and came around to help me out. This time, I didn’t argue. My legs felt unsteady—whether from blood loss or the overwhelming grandeur around me, I wasn’t sure.

Inside was even more breathtaking. We walked through massive wooden doors into a foyer with soaring ceilings. A crystal chandelier sparkled overhead, catching the firelight from a massive hearth.

Dark polished floors, antique rugs, oil paintings, marble sculptures—everywhere I looked, something beautiful.

“This is…” I trailed off.

“A lot,” Storm finished with a faint smile. “I know.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said honestly. “I’m an architect. I notice these things. The craftsmanship…the details… whoever designed this was a master.”

“My great-great-grandfather,” Storm said. “He built it as a wedding gift for his mate.”

Mate. I had heard that word from Jackson like a thousand times. It seemed to carry so much weight in werewolf culture.

“Come in,” Storm said, gesturing toward a grand staircase. “Your room is on the second floor.”

I followed him up, my uninjured hand trailing along the smooth wooden bannister.

The second floor was impressive with a long hallway and more paintings with small tables with flowers that looked fresh despite the winter storm raging outside.

Storm stopped at a door near the middle of the hallway and pushed it open.

“This is the guest suite,” he said, stepping aside to let me enter

I walked in and immediately felt like I had stepped into a luxury hotel. There was a four poster bed with silk sheets and armchairs arranged around the fireplace. The tall windows draped with thick curtains and there was a door that I assumed led to a private bathroom.

“There's a closet through there,” Storm pointed. “Someone will bring you clothes. If you need anything adjusted, size, style, whatever, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” I said thankfully

He nodded slightly and moved towards the door. I thought he was leaving but he paused and turned back.

“The bathroom is stocked with everything you should need. If it's not, there's a phone on the nightstand. Just pick it up and someone will help you.”

“You have staff?” I asked.

“A few. Mostly pack members who help maintain the estate.” He crossed back toward me and recahed past me to adjust the curtain that was letting in a draft from the window.

We were suddenly very close. I could smell him, pine and winter air and something distinctly masculine that made my heart quicken. His arm brushed against mine as he tugged the curtain into place and I felt a jolt of something electric shoot through me.

Our eyes met and for a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged with something I couldn't name. I found myself leaning slightly toward him, drawn by some invisible force I didn't understand.

What was happening to me?

Storm's eyes darkened and his jaw tightened like he was fighting something internal. His hand lifted slightly, like he wanted to touch my face.

I looked at his hand, then back at his face. Why was I feeling so different? Even being with Jackson, I had never felt that way before.

Then, a howl echoed through the night.

Storm's entire body went rigid and his eyes flashed gold. In an instant, the man who had been gentle and controlled was gone.

“Stay here,” he ordered, already moving toward the door. “Lock it behind me and don't open for anyone but me.”

“What's happening?” I asked as fear crept into my voice.

"Just stay here. I'll be back." He said and disappeared into the hallway, the sound of his transformation echoing as he shifted—bones cracking, a deep growl rumbling through the walls. I stood frozen in the doorway, listening to howls in the distance, my hand trembling as I locked the door.

The way he left meant something was definitely not right.

What if it was Jackson? What if he'd found me?