The Rogue Alpha and The Mute Omega

Chapter 6

~DARIUS~

I was adept at tracking the biggest game the northern forests had to offer.

Deer, elk, moose, and the great boars that rooted beneath the ancient oaks. They were all nothing more than mathematical equations of scent, broken twigs, and disturbed earth to me.

It was a prolific, lethal use of my skills, honed through nine grueling years of relentless training since the day I had turned eighteen.

With each passing cycle of the seasons, my senses had grown steadily stronger, sharper, and more refined.

It had eventually reached a stage of apex development where I could effortlessly detect, stalk, and run down my prey without even needing the raw assistance of my full wolf form.

My human eyes could see the invisible paths in the mud. My human nose could categorize a mile of wilderness in a single inhalation.

But yet, at this precise moment, as I stalked across the dense woods, I did not know why the hunt was proving so maddeningly difficult for me.

Separating the delicate scents of the local fauna from the overwhelming aroma of damp moss, wet pine needles, and blooming flora was strangely proving to be a monumental obstacle.

No matter how much I flared my nostrils and sniffed the crisp morning air, every trail seemed to bleed together into a singular, confusing haze.

The wilderness was speaking to me, but I was failing to interpret its tongue.

'Your mind wanders,' my wolf spoke. 'It is her, is it not? The quiet little bird in our nest.'

'You are mistaken,' I bared my teeth in return, a silent snarling pulling at the corner of my lips as my sharp gaze searched beyond the thick brambles and ferns. 'I am focusing on the tracks. Nothing more.'

'Am I truly mistaken?' My inner beast made a low, rumbling growl that vibrated against my ribs. 'Because visions of her bare body from the long hours of the last night are clouding your focus. They are wrapping around your senses like vines, hindering the very instincts that make us a predator.'

My fists clenched hard at my sides, the leather of my bow-grip groaning under the pressure, and I shut my eyes tight for a brief, frustrating second, trying with all my willpower to drive the intruding memory away.

But the memory refused to be broken.

It was the memory of the woman I had held last night in my arms, sharing the heat of my flesh to keep her from freezing to death on the stone floor.

Her skin had been as soft as spun wool, completely unmarred by the typical calluses of a warrior.

Her breasts were so remarkably large and full that I knew, with a sudden ache in my chest, I could take hold of one with my two hands and still find more of her spilling over my fingers.

And as the dark hours of the night had slowly crawled by, the maddening temptation to do exactly that had grown until it was a physical weight in my blood.

I had fought the relentless urge to release my arms from their rigid, protective position around her slender waist, to slide my hands upward and grab hold of that magnificent flesh just to feel how soft and heavy she truly was against my palms.

The intoxicating scent of crushed leaves, rain water, and sweet womanhood radiating from her body had not helped my resolve. And the tiny, delicate sounds of her soft, rhythmic snores against my shoulder had tempted my wolf to break his restraint entirely.

But the temptation had not only crawled into the cave when she slept so helplessly in my arms.

It had been violently present the moment I had stripped completely bare before her by the fire.

When she believed I was looking away, I had caught the reflection of her wide, dark eyes in the stone walls.

Her gaze had roamed all over my body like a starving miner looking for a vein of gold in the dark.

The memory of the way her full, crimson lips had parted in a silent gasp, and the unreadable, fiery spark that had shone in her eyes when they wandered down past my abdomen to my groin.

It had taken a staggeringly strong willpower from me not to let that part of my body spring instantly to life.

It had taken everything I possessed to keep my wolf from surfacing and seizing total control of my limbs.

I had been forced to fight the primal compulsion to turn around, pin her to the fur bedding beneath us, and claim her right there while the storm thrashed the world outside.

It would have been a delectable, delicious thing to hear her soft, breathless moans echoing against the cavern walls as I drove myself deep inside her. To feel her long legs wrapping tightly around my lower back, her fingers digging into my shoulders, while my lips sucked gently on those big, heavy breasts of hers until she shook with pleasure.

'Do you see it now?' my wolf spoke again, interrupting my thoughts. His tone was slightly mocking, laced with a bit of dark, feral humor. 'I am right. You are hunting for meat, but you are starving for her.'

'Be silent,' I ordered him, a cold sweat breaking out across my brow despite the morning chill.

Despite how incredibly seductive that young woman's quiet beauty had been, I lived by a strict, ancient law of my own making.

I was not to touch a woman intimately unless she was given to me by the Moon Goddess as my fated mate.

Not all the members of my former pack had followed that kind of sacred restriction, but it was that very law that I believed kept me on the right path.

It was a necessary, brutal discipline.

And she, I reminded myself, was just like all the rest. She was likely one of the numerous beauties that some distant pack had been blessed with, a girl who had wandered too far or been discarded for some petty tribal grievance.

And when she had finally gotten her fill of the breakfast I was currently tracking—my very last act of generic generosity toward her—she was to depart on her own journey, just as I had explicitly told her.

I needed no beautiful obstacles trailing behind me on a road that was already soaked in blood.

My fists slowly unclenched, and I forced a long, deep breath into my lungs, steadying my erratic pulse. Yet, despite my logic, a few nagging questions still lingered stubbornly in my mind. Unanswered questions that demanded satisfaction.

What could have possibly happened in her home pack that would drive a woman so fair and fragile out into the deep woods alone, directly into the horrific danger of almost being defiled and sold by those wretched border traders?

And why had she yet to utter a single word since her awakening into the land of the conscious at the cave? Was she broken by fear, or was there something more sinister at play?

By her scent alone, I knew she was a werewolf—the familiar, metallic tang of the moon-blood was unmistakable.

But because my nose had been trained by the best trackers in the northern territories, I also knew her exact social standing.

She was an Omega wolf. The lowest tier of our kind.

Not only had my skills in tracking game by scent grown exponentially along the grueling years, but I had also developed the rare, dangerous ability to detect the rank and lineage of a Lycanthrope by that same olfactory sense.

I could smell the submissive, gentle nature of her wolf, but I could also sense the dormant power within her—and how potentially dangerous a wolf could be if pushed to the brink.

It was a rare, powerful trait that few high-born Alpha wolves possessed, a gift from my own twisted bloodline.

The sudden, sharp sound of a heavy twig snapping came from my immediate right, shattering my introspection.

I glanced sharply toward the sound just as a massive, broad-shouldered stag charged wildly out from the thick bushes, rushing past my position with the speed of the winter wind, its hooves throwing up clods of wet earth.

"Alas!" I cried out, my instincts taking over in a fraction of a second as I reached back into my quiver and pulled an arrow.

The thoughts of the silent woman in the cave could wait. The carnal distractions would have to fade. I would see her again soon enough. After all, she was the very reason I was out here hunting in the frozen dampness in the first place.

I dashed headlong into the thick, thorny bushes after the retreating beast, my boots biting into the mud as I tracked its bounding form through the trees.

I spotted it a hundred paces ahead, standing momentarily frozen by the roots of a large, ancient oak tree. Its large, dark eyes locked onto mine for a small, fleeting fraction of a second. That single moment of hesitation was all the time I needed to raise my bow, draw the string to my ear, and shoot.

However, just as I released the tension, my foot slipped slightly on a wet root.

The arrow hissed through the air, grazing the stag's wide antlers with a sharp clack, startling the beast enough to make it take off into the deep valley once again.

"By the devil's rotting rear!" I cursed viciously under my breath, resetting my stance.

I took off after it in a dead sprint, abandoning all attempts at stealth. This particular deer seemed faster and more intelligent than all the prey I had chased in recent months. It turned and doubled back through the dense thickets, mimicking my speed and utilizing the rugged terrain with a strange agility.

And I did not understand why my body was failing to close the distance.

'You are still losing focus!' my wolf bellowed within my head, his voice booming with frustration. 'Your heart is still in the cave with the girl! Stay on the track and put your mind on course!'

I was about to roar back a contrasting statement, to defend my honor against my own beast, when I failed to see the low-hanging bough of a massive pine tree directly in front of me.

The solid, rough bark struck the left side of my shoulder with the force of a battering ram.

My teeth clenched instantly as a strange, familiar taste flooded my tongue. It was a taste I had come to be far too familiar with of recent days.

The hot taste of my own blood.

I halted, my breathing heavy, and glanced down at my left shoulder. A thick, jagged piece of ancient pine bark was embedded deeply into the muscle.

Cursing under my breath, I gripped the wood and pulled it out in one sharp motion, completely ignoring the thick, crimson liquid that immediately began to flow out of the wound, staining the dark fabric. I had no time to tend to a scratch.

I resumed my chase, my boots tearing through the ferns.

The stag seemed to finally tire from my relentless, unyielding pursuit. As we broke into a small, sunlit clearing, I could hear its heavy, wet panting as its stride slowed to a lumbering gait.

I pulled another arrow from my back, drew the string with a cold, steady hand, and let it fly.

This time, the steel found its mark, burying itself deep into the side of the animal's powerful neck.

The great stag fell heavily to the forest floor, its massive body writhing and twisting in its final, agonizing cries of pain. It's sharp hooves kicked dirt, wet leaves, and dust high into the morning air as it fought the oncoming dark.

Finally, with one last, long exhale, it became perfectly still.

Standing over the massive carcass, a slight, unfamiliar wave of pity took over my chest as I stared down into its glazing, empty eyes. It had fought well.

Then, my face hardened into a cold, ruthless glare.

This was the brutal reality of nature, the old law of the wild. The prey were always at the bottom of the food chain, meant to sustain the strong. That was their part to play in the grand design of the Moon Goddess.

I hoisted the heavy animal over my good shoulder, ignoring the strain on my injured flesh, and began the long trek back.

By the time I finally reached the hidden path leading back to the cavern, the sun had climbed high, reaching the absolute apex of the bright sky. The forest had fully awakened; birds were visible in the high branches of the birches, calling out to one another in a dozen different melodies.

"Hours must have gone by while I chased that wretched beast," I muttered to myself, adjusting my tight hold on the heavy carcass across my shoulders.

The sweet, unique scent of the woman grew rapidly stronger as I neared the stone entrance, signifying to my relief that she had chosen to stay put rather than wander out into the dangerous wilds alone.

As I stepped over the threshold, my ears were instantly greeted by the delicate, rapid rush of footsteps from within.

Soon, she appeared at the mouth of the cave, her bright smile breaking through the shadows like the very sun above us.

But at that exact moment, as the light hit her form, I froze. I noticed she was dressed in the exact same manner as the previous night.

She was wearing absolutely nothing, having abandoned her ruined rags.

Dismissing the voice of my wolf suggesting a dozen filthy ideas, and fighting the temptation to gaze too long at those large breasts and those seductive hips, I cleared my throat loudly, looking up at the stone ceiling.

"Did I tarry too long?" I asked, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

The girl paused, her small finger resting thoughtfully under her chin while her other hand came to rest flat against her hip as she looked up toward the sky, seemingly calculating the hours I had been gone.

Then, her dark gaze returned to me, and she gave a firm nod.

Then, in a fraction of a second, her bright smile vanished entirely, replaced by a look of pure terror. She raised a trembling hand and pointed.

My eyes followed the direction of her finger...

Down to the thick streams of crimson blood that were currently pouring out of my torn shoulder.