The Rogue Alpha and The Mute Omega

Chapter 3

The touch of a strange warmth creeping across my bare skin gradually drew me away from the heavy dark of slumber.

I stirred, my eyelashes fluttering against the crust of dried tears, as the dawning reality of my surroundings forced itself upon my waking mind.

I was inside a cave.

'Goddess!' I thought, my inner voice gasping as I instinctively placed a trembling hand over the center of my chest.

The comforting warmth I had felt upon waking was provided by a fire, built a few feet from where I lay.

Underneath my body was a thick, fragrant bedding made from heavily layered winter pelts.

My gaze strayed across the flickering shadows of the cave.

Not far from the hearth sat a collection of sparse traveler's gear: a well-worn leather satchel, a hunter’s recurve bow paired with a bristling quiver of arrows, a heavy stone jar filled to the brim with clear water, and a neatly folded pile of fresh clothing consisting of a sleeveless tunic of cured fur and a pair of leather braies.

But as my gaze drifted past the hearth toward the dark recess to my far right, my heart nearly dropped to the pit of me stomach.

There, glinting in the firelight, lay a pile of white bones.

'Bones!' my inner voice cried.

The grim sight shattered my fragile sense of safety.

'Surely the beast intends to make me its next meal,' I thought, a cold sweat breaking out across my neck.

It did not rescue me out of mercy. It merely brought me to its den to hoard its flesh for later.

Before the panic could paralyze me, a series of loud, heavy footsteps thundered outside.

I jumped, my muscles locking in terror. The vibrations grew rapidly louder, announcing an immense closeness to the mouth of the cavern.

Driven by pure survival instinct, I swiftly returned to my prone position, pulling the heavy furs over my shoulders and keeping just one eye cracked open a mere sliver.

The moon light filtering through the cave’s entrance was suddenly and completely blocked out by a massive form.

As the shadow drew nearer into the firelight, its true shape was revealed to me.

It was not the devil, as those men in the woods had screamed in their final moments. Nor was it a mindless abomination born of the dark.

It was a werewolf.

It was as black as the midnight sky, his thick fur bristling against the damp mountain wind that howled outside. It's eyes, a pair of gold orbs, burned with a terrifying intelligence as they swept across my seemingly sleeping form.

It paused and it's snout lifted to sniff the air, before approaching my direction.

I lay entirely still under the pelts, holding my breath, keeping my single eye cracked open in such a precise way that he wouldn't notice my vigilance.

Yet, as the massive animal loomed over me, I wondered with mounting dread if he could hear the thundering of my heart within my ribs.

With a low huff, the werewolf strode past my makeshift bed toward the far corner where the hunter's gear lay. Halting before the stone wall, the great beast executed a violent shudder, shaking the residual dirt, dried blood, and morning dew from his dark coat.

And then, the magic of the old world unfolded before me.

The beast began to dwindle in size. It's massive shoulders compressed and its thick fur vanished into the flesh.

With it's s back turned completely to me, I watched in a daze as the monstrous form vanished entirely, replaced in seconds by the striking silhouette of a man.

A completely naked man.

Despite the residual terror clutching my throat, a sudden, traitorous rush of fierce heat rose directly to my cheeks.

He was magnificent. The length of his ink-black hair reached his broad shoulders in damp, wild waves. Heavy, dense muscles decorated his body like a masterpiece of marble crafted by the very best sculptors of the southern kingdoms—stretching down his spine, across his lower back, and tapering into his powerful calves.

For a moment, profane thoughts and forbidden whispers echoed in my mind, begging him to turn around so I could see what features lay at his front. My treacherous eyes traced the contours of his frame, finding the view far more delectable than the bare posterior displayed so casually before me.

'Anora, you have lost your mind,' came the sharp, chiding tone of my inner conscience, snapping me back to reality. 'He is a monster who snaps bones, and you are ogling him like a tavern wench.'

A low, guttural grunt broke from the man’s throat as he reached down, picking up the rugged garments. He pulled the leather braies over his thighs and shrugged into the fur tunic.

The moment he began to turn around, I squeezed my eyes shut, holding myself perfectly still.

A short, suffocating silence filled the cavern, the only sound being the crackle of the flames.

"I know you are awake," he spoke suddenly.

The sheer, gravelly roughness of his voice was sufficient to shatter my resolve.

I sat up swiftly, the furs slipping to my waist as I looked him dead in the eye, a nervous, jittery smile playing helplessly at the edges of my lips.

He did not smile in return.

His eyes, which had been gold in his beast form, were now a piercing, stormy grey—as dark and turbulent as the clouds that brought a torrential rain.

He stared deeply into me, his gaze tracking the line of my throat as if looking directly into my soul. His strong jaw, surrounded by a thick, well-kept beard, ground tightly together.

"How long did you pretend to sleep?" he asked, his tone flat and demanding.

I looked down at my trembling fingers, then risked a glance back up at his imposing frame, shaking my head in a silent plea.

"Speak!" he bellowed, the sheer power of his voice bouncing violently along the stone walls of the cave.

I recoiled, flinching backward into the pelts as if I had been struck. I raised a trembling hand, pointing a finger directly to my mute lips, and shook my head with frantic emphasis.

The stranger observed me for a long while. I watched as the fiery anger slowly dissipated from his grey eyes, replaced by a calculating comprehension.

"Perhaps the trauma of what you faced in the woods has stolen your voice for the moment," he muttered, his voice dropping to a lower tone. "The mind plays fragile games when the flesh is hunted."

I lifted a finger into the air, intending to correct him—to show him that my silence was an ancient curse, not a recent fright—but I stopped myself.

What did it matter to a stranger? Dropping my hand back to my side, I simply gave a resigned nod.

His broad chest rose and fell with a heavy, exhausted heave. He stepped toward the hearth, picking up a thick pine branch and casting it into the center of the fire. The flames roared to life in response, throwing a different, much brighter amber light across the cave.

For a long moment, his gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames, his jaw grinding as if he were seeking a silent battle within the embers. A deep, primal hum rumbled from somewhere within his chest.

"You are a werewolf, are you not?" he asked, his gaze breaking away from the fire to lock onto my face. "I smell the lineage on you. Though it is faint."

I nodded slowly.

"Then it is indeed strange how a daughter of the moon could not defend herself against common mortal men." A heavy, disapproving frown marred his handsome features.

A defensive frown came to my own face in response. I looked down at my fingernails—those same nails that had been so carefully tended to just hours ago for my sacred proclamation night.

They were now chipped, torn, and heavily soiled with the dark dirt of the soil from the woods.

He knew nothing of my rejection. He knew nothing of the magic that had been ripped from me.

"But you should thank your good fortune," the stranger spoke again, drawing my eyes back up. "Because I happened to be roaming along that specific woods to pull your life from the dark."

The embers reflected like dying stars in his grey eyes as he leaned against his long bow.

"Those men you encountered were w***e-traders," he resumed. "Flesh mongers from the border towns. I have come across their vile kind several times in my travels. They track the borders, picking up unsuspecting women, mostly young maidens, and sell them off to the pleasure houses of the south. But these traders seemed even more depraved than the rest."

A tight knot formed in my chest, the horror of what almost happened threatening to choke me.

The man’s grip tightened on the wood in his hand.

"They were going to perform the unthinkable on you," he growled low.

The thick branch snapped clean in half from the sheer, unbridled force of his grip. I jumped at the sharp crack, my shoulders tensing.

Taking immediate notice of my fright, the stranger visibly forced himself to calm down. He exhaled a long breath and cast the ruined pieces of the stick into the fire.

"I suppose it might be too much of me to ask what a lone wolf was doing wandering the deep wilds without a pack or a protector," he murmured, his eyes searching mine for an answer I could not give.

The edges of my lips tightened into a hard line, and I swiftly avoided his gaze, looking back down at the fur blankets.

"Nonetheless," he said, rising to his full, intimidating height and patting the stone dust off his leather trousers. "I have done my part to save your life. One wolf to another. The debt to the Goddess is paid."

He turned his head, gazing out toward the entrance of the cave. "But this is where we must part ways."

My lips parted instinctively to form a desperate protest, but the sudden emptiness in my throat reminded me of my curse. Panic flared anew.

Why was he departing so soon? Why was he leaving me alone?

As if reading the desperation written plainly across my face, his gaze locked back onto mine.

"I prefer to travel alone, as you can see," he said. "My path is not one of peace. It is a road I must follow in solitude. A perilous journey. And I cannot allow a defenseless companion to compromise it."

Seeing the shadow fall over my face, his features softened by a fraction. "I can only pray that whatever darkness drove you into those woods will not be encountered again. Keep to the high paths, fair maiden. Avoid trouble."

He turned his back to me, reaching for his leather satchel and his quiver, completely missing the silent, agonizing plea written across my features.

"Farewell."

At that exact moment, a colossal crack of thunder shook the very foundations of the mountain sky. The shockwave rattled the stone walls of the cavern, causing a shower of pebbles to rain down near the entrance.

The man jumped back immediately.

"By the Moon Goddess!" he exclaimed, staring out into the sudden gloom. "What is the meaning of this?"

A sudden downburst of torrential rainfall answered his question. Within mere moments, the steady downpour became a deafening roar, flooding the mountain paths outside with sheets of heavy water.

Grumbling an ancient curse under his breath, he retreated further back into the safety of the cave, clenching his fists in sheer frustration.

He shot a sharp, suspicious glance at me, and I quickly averted my eyes, staring intently at the dirt floors.

"It seems my journey will have to be delayed," he muttered, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his gear back onto the stone shelf. "The routes will be pure mud. I might be stuck here for the night."

I did not know why or how it happened...

But as my gaze remained fixed on the ground, away from his brooding stare, a small, genuine smile graced my lips.