Alpha's Third Chance Mate

Chapter 2

Elijah POV

Shadows danced at the edge of my vision as I strode through the winding catacomb passages. Even to my enhanced sight, this cursed labyrinth was nearly lightless, the air heavy with the mineral tang of stone and ancient magic both sacred and profane. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, incensed at willingly setting foot in a domain ruled by lesser beasts.

I was Alpha Elijah Valkner of the Crescent Pack, Sentinel Pack of the city of Shadow Falls—the apex of strength and power since my ascension fifty years ago. Yet now sickness ate relentlessly at that hard-won strength. The only hope of a cure lay somewhere in this maze of darkness, and I despised that necessity with every fiber of my soul.

None but the Pack Priestess and my Beta, Luca, knew the full extent of my failing health. By day, I maintained the illusion of invincibility, leading the formidable Crescent wolves who dominated Shadow Falls. None could ever suspect weakness in their Alpha. Yet every moonrise, the sacred light I normally reveled in seared through my veins like liquid fire, crippling my power.

Something or someone was stealing my connection to Selene, the Goddess of the Moon, whom I had faithfully served all my long years. Without it, my wolf spirit would waste away to eventual death. No mundane cure halted the relentless decay. Tonight’s sacred blood moon was my last chance. After this blood moon, I only had five months to live.

If the Midnight Whispers did indeed possess magic potent enough to reverse my curse, as legend claimed, I had no choice but to bargain for it, no matter how the prospect galled me.

These pathetic tunnels should be buried forever with the vermin who occupied them. Instead, necessity forced me here to plead for scraps from their table like a starving mongrel. Even now, my gums throbbed as I fought back the urge to tear out the throat of a passing wolf guard who had the audacity to glare suspicion toward my hooded figure. Cowardly curs! They knew nothing of what true power meant.

A resonant howl announced my arrival at the concealed inner sanctum. The Midnight Pack Alpha emerged from behind a curtained alcove to greet me, his posture wary. Even under the heavy cloak masking my features, she clearly anticipated deceit.

Alpha Zeta's ruthless ambition was well known in the city’s political circles. While the Crescent Pack prospered freely under the moon, she bitterly drove her cursed brood toward insurgency from the shadows. It was only the threat of outright war that kept my hand from wiping out this infestation permanently. And perhaps lingering ancient oaths of alliance tempered wholesale s*******r, though the Midnight's growing boldness increasingly tested those bonds.

“To what do we owe the high honor of a visit from Elijah Valkner, esteemed Crescent Alpha?” Zeta's tone held mocking notes of false reverence under the smooth welcome. Up close, her slightly angular features and coal-black eyes revealed evidence of dark bargain magics better left unexplored—likely the source of whatever curse now stole my vitality if rumor proved true.

I inclined my head in perfunctory respect. She was barely older than an adolescent to my ancient gaze, despite leading her pack of damned souls for nearly a century.

“Even an Alpha is not above seeking a mutual alliance; should necessity demand it?" I answered cryptically.

Zeta's scarlet lips curled in cool assessment. “You speak in riddles, Elijah. But I scent sickness on you beneath the posturing.” Her chin lifted in satisfaction. “The mighty Crescents were brought low by mere rumor. What do you really want with my so-called cursed rabble?”

Too perceptive, by far. This risk galled my pride deeper than her taunting ever could. Yet I had come too far to retreat now without a cure.

“I seek a truth long hidden. You possess ancient magic born of this place.” I swept a hand toward the intricately carved walls, which were so unlike Crescent architecture. Runes and wards of protection melded into depictions of she-wolves dancing under swirling moons. Even deserted, the sanctum thrummed with subtle power drawn lovingly up from the living earth. How such beauty lingered amidst the decay of banishment confounded me.

“Legends hint that your archives contain lost knowledge. I would assess the veracity of claims that you harbor gifts of healing potent enough to cleanse even gods.”

Zeta searched my shadowed face closely, clearly intrigued. Her shoulders finally lifted in capitulation. “You have heard correctly. The midnight lore runs as deeply in our blood as these stone bones around us."

One hand raised, elegant claws gesturing expectantly for me to follow toward a darkened aperture draped in heavy pelts at the far end of the chamber. “See for yourself if our curse extends to concealing magic your vaunted towers have long forsaken.”

I tensed instinctively as she turned away. Generations of enmity honed my response to expecting an attack from their kind. But she only smiled coolly, ducking through the curtains. Swallowing back the snarls rumbling in my chest, I trailed in her wake.

The space beyond was smaller, likely once used for healing rituals by the lingering scent of herbs, old blood, and the low thrum of brandy magic. Candles cast the room in a muted glow. Ancient tomes plated in precious metals, bone scroll tubes, jars of rare spell ingredients—all bespoke generations of arcane knowledge preserved against the ravages of time and persecution.

My breath caught in genuine awe. A lifetime of exploring the magical arts had never uncovered such richness, even in the most exclusive Crescent archives. Jealously warred with wonder that this communal pack possessed spiritual treasures my own kindred had squandered.

“Magnificent, yes?” Zeta watched me closely, her red eyes alight with satisfaction at my transparent reaction. “Solenna provides well for Her faithful children despite those like you who labeled us damned.”

I opened my mouth to retort, only to freeze at the voice that spoke softly behind me.

“Alpha Zeta, are we expecting company tonight?”

My entire body seized up at that voice—young, hesitant, and achingly familiar. The tray of pungent medicinal tea in the speaker’s hands rattled faintly before she mastered herself under my too-intense stare. Slender shoulders shrouded in a simple gray cloak were pulled back defensively.

It was only the fact that her wide, solemn eyes shone pale as moonlight instead of summer-sky blue that enabled me to choke back the gasp, which threatened to tear violently from my throat. God, how was this possible? Surely, my sickness has induced hallucinations now. There was no other explanation why this young wolf before me was a mirror image of my long-dead second-chance mate Serena—saved for the white-blonde cascade of waves framing her delicate features instead of molten auburn.

Even the floral scent and aura kindling around her body as uncertainty darkened her gaze tugged at my soul with inexorable familiarity—a silver-teal spirit light calling to my own severed inner radiance like a moth to the flame. Suddenly, my wolf spoke in my head.

“Mate”

No. It could not be! Fate would never permit three mates in one immortal lifetime. Yet twin moon-white lights flared within the girl’s eyes in alarm under my piercing scrutiny. My beast snarled and paced hungrily inside my chest, suddenly ravenous to claim what had been so cruelly stolen two agonizing centuries prior. For one fractured moment, Serena gazed back at me with this orphaned wolf’s gentle expression.

"Forgive me; I should go.” The sweet, nervous stammer broke the spell. This was some young innocent Midnight pup, not my fiery Serena returned from the Fade. She curtsied swiftly to hide her shaking hands, sloshing tea over the sides of the cups.

Zeta stepped forward, a calculated gleam entering her scarlet gaze at the untamed reaction she had undoubtedly witnessed c***k my façade.

“Not at all, dear one. Our honorable guest has newly arrived.” One hand captured the girl’s wrist as she moved to skirt quickly around me. Revulsion curdled my tongue at how effortlessly this devilish witch had already twisted innocent lives here to suit her ambitions. Did she groom all solitary younglings into weapons against their rightful Sentinel Pack, or only those who bore destiny’s cruel stamp?

Forcing back the tide of unwelcome memories, I gentled my tone carefully. None deserved to reap the tempest Serena’s tragic resemblance raised.

“Forgive my poor manners, little one. Curiosity makes my stare too bold.” I offered a small bow of respect, belatedly. “Might I have the honor of your name?”

Some of the anxiety faded from those luminous eyes at the courtesy. Her aura softened into shy curiosity.

“I am called Elara, Alpha.” Another dip of her white-crowned head sent a silken cascade over one shoulder. “Elara Dahlia Lightmane of the Midnight Whispers Pack.” The hint of pride warming her voice was painfully endearing. As if membership in these cursed tunnels bore any true honor.

Elara, a name I felt my heart knew, was recognized by my wolf. But my soul—my soul—shrank back in trepidation. I was not prepared to traverse this road; I had barely begun to sift through the ashes of my previous losses. And yet, the possessive growl of the beast within raged against my emotional retreat, arguing that this was not a trail of embers but a path to reclamation. It did not care for emotional readiness—only that a third chance had been bestowed upon me by the fickle hands of fate.

Anger flared up then, a blistering counterpoint to the mystifying joy that sought to suffuse through my sinew and bone. I was not yet ready to relinquish my grief, the last vestige I held of Serena. And now, here was Elara, unwittingly picking at the scorched braid that bound me to the past.

I schooled my expression to careful neutrality, turning my focus to Zeta. Her knowing look pierced me to the core; she had clearly witnessed my thunderstruck reaction. Now she watched me like a viper, waiting to strike at any perceived weakness.

"My apologies for interrupting your work, Elara," I rumbled politely, inclining my head. Behind my formal tone, questions and suspicions roiled. Why present this innocent pup specifically to me? Zeta undoubtedly plotted layers of deceit and opportunity around us, even now.

As if reading my thoughts, Zeta smiled. "Elara assists our healers frequently. Her gentle presence can be soothing."

My jaw tightened at the implication. This gambit cut deeply, using Serena's memory as a weapon. Elara glanced between us anxiously, no doubt sensing the tension coiling tighter than a hangman's noose.

I reined in the snarls rumbling in my chest. No innocent deserved to be ensnared by my history and Zeta's vile intentions. After raising my tone to gentleness despite the turmoil within, I addressed the girl.

"Your service honors me, Lady Elara. But allow me privacy with your Alpha. I need to discuss affairs of state." I layered persuasion into my voice, watching as she slowly relaxed.

Zeta's lip curled derisively, but she inclined her head. "As you wish, Alpha Valkner. Elara does not involve herself in politics." Her tone held an edge. "She will return shortly with refreshments better suited to diplomacy."

Elara dipped an obedient curtsy and slipped away, her sweet floral aroma trailing after to tease my senses. I stared blindly after she disappeared from sight, my chaotic thoughts mirrored in the flickering candle flames surrounding us. A heavy silence enshrouded the archive chamber.

Finally, I turned to face Zeta fully, my features schooled to impassivity. Our negotiation was still balanced on a knife edge despite her attempts at manipulation. I had no choice but to press forward and uncover what truth lay behind her twisted games.

Lives depended on the answers I found here tonight. Including, perhaps, that of one gentle young she-wolf who had unexpectedly and impossibly captured a heart I believed long frozen over...