Mated To The Cruel Alpha's Hot Son

It was getting dark. I looked outside the window, hoping to check to make sure. I could hear the cricket chirping and the owl hooting a couple of miles away. There was no one for miles. The child on the mat was sleeping quite peacefully. I walked to where she lay and knelt by her, running my hands over the soft curls, my baby, my little starlight. We didn't have time; the men who were after me would not allow us that luxury, which meant I had to be fast if I wanted her to survive. I couldn't afford him catching us again. I went back to the window and looked outside one last time; it was even darker, which meant we had the cover of darkness. I took her in my arms, cradling her, patting her back when she stirred, almost crying. I grabbed the bag on the bed, strolled to the door, opened it with a soft click, eased through the c***k on the door, and rushed out into the forest. It was cold, with a tiny mist of rain dotting the air. I reached for the branch cracking it, and then I went west. I walked the rest of the way clutching my child to me; leaving her with her father was the best thing, but somehow I wasn't sure how to get there or to get my daughter to him before the enemies we had got to me, so west I went. If I was lucky, we could hide there for a while until it all settled down, and then we could go back. I tried not to stumble on the sticks, roots, roots, and rocks that lay blocking the roads, but sometimes I still stumbled on a stray one. I clutched the baby tightly in my arms and moved on. I could hear the sound of the forest, the little birds that stayed up late at night, the bats in their caves batting their wings, and then there were the occasional howls, they frightened me most were there real howls of werewolves or just wolves hunting for the night, it was not hard to tell but with how paranoid I felt everything seemed like what I feared the most, I tried not to let it bother me, he had no idea I was gone and before he realized it I'd be far from his territory, as I walked further the night became darker, but a cloud shifted slightly and a sliver of moonlight burst through, I froze that was not good this meant I had to walk faster and holding a six-year-old, in my arms with a bag did not make for conducive moving. Then I heard it—the snapping of twigs on the forest floor and then the scent of a werewolf. I stiffened. This was not good timing. Darting into one of the trees, I leaned against, a cherry tree. I hoped it would cover my scent and hide me from the superior nose of whatever werewolf was out there. After a while, I moved out into the path and began to trace my steps, but for every step I made, he gained on me. Soon I was running, the baby in my arm jostling against me. I couldn't make it. My heart beat faster, my chest sweat breaking out over my forehead. I was flushed and exhausted, but I could see the light ahead. If I could just get there, then I would make it. It jumped on me hard. I collapsed onto the ground, hissing. When the branches on the floor scratched at my arm, wounding me, I rolled sideways to avoid hitting the baby. Then I stood almost immediately, running to the light. I just had to make it. The snaring wolf bit at me, and I cut out of its path. My baby stirred, eyes opening wide like it could feel the change in the air, the changes that were coming for us. The pack was quiet, the Blood Moon pack was made of maybe a hundred to two hundred people, it was a small community, and news rarely ever traveled through. I ran into the clearing looking for a home that seemed good enough. I scented the alpha's home before I saw it, and dashing through the light snow that had somehow begun to fall, I put my baby to the ground, taking her face in my hand. I smiled softly. "I'll be back," she said as she looked at me, her blue eyes blown wide with childish worry even as she chewed her lip. The snarling seemed so much closer. I kissed her cheek, tears filling my eyes, and I pulled away. I waved at her, she waved back, and I ran, praying that someday I could come back for her. The little girl, abandoned by the door, stared at it. ******** It was a red door with a shiny gold knob. I tried to reach it, but it was too far up, and I was too far down. Frowning and sighing, I gave up. Pulling my bag, I walked down the stairs and into the snow. I looked to the forest, but my mother wasn't there; maybe she had gone the other way. I shivered and dragged myself away, my bag in hand, part of it trailing along the floor. I saw children playing on the swing. I waved, but they ignored me. I pulled my bag even further across the snow ground, and I hobbled forward, reaching them. "I want to play," I muttered, and they all turned to me, wrinkling their noses. "Who are you?" one of the girls asked, her face and lips poking out in annoyance. "Emery," I replied, dropping the hand of my bag. I walked to the swing and reached for it. I was about to settle when someone tossed me onto the floor. I screamed as I dropped, hitting my head on the table below me. It sounded like a loud c***k, my head throbbing like I'd hit myself with a rock. Tears filled my eyes, falling in small drops. I reached for a hand, but no one handed me one. That was the beginning of my bullying. Over the next few months, none of the girls liked me; they pushed me away when it was time to play, and they refused to let me join them while eating. I did everything on my own. Then one day, an alpha, a tall and broad-shouldered man, walked into the play hall. I was on the floor, and I noticed him while my head was on the ground and stuck in the mud. He walked to me with a small smile and gave me his hand. I looked at him suspiciously, but all he did was smile, so I reached for him and took it. He pulled me up and bent to meet my eyes. "You have beautiful eyes, he said, and I grinned. He laughed, hugging me. He took me home that day, and I became the ward of Alpha Rozan. His daughter Isabelle didn't seem fond of me; she was my age mate, but while I had brown curls and bright sky-blue eyes, Isabelle was blond with brown eyes. She would hate them so much the older we grew. As the days turned to weeks, she slowly began to like me, and soon it was both of us against the world and nothing could stop us, but then we grew older, summers passed, and winters came. Fall leaves dropped, and we were changing. And then all the happy times were over. We turned fifteen, and Isabelle turned on me. My best friend became e the one who used her words to hurt me.