THE ALPHA'S EXILE

EPISODE 2: GHOST OF THE PAST

Kieran stood firm, rooted where he was, feet planted in place.

The syrupy, overpowering smell of Elara's perfume waltzed around him. All these years he'd raged with anger at the memory, telling himself it was all a cynical illusion, some product of his broken mind. She lived. A power hummed the air to tighten his clenched fist.

His eyes followed her into the blackness of the cabin, her shuddering form wracked with some emotion he could not even begin to grasp. Her hair, golden brown, set about a face that he had kept in mind all these years, but something was amiss. Her eyes.

Where once they had been inviting and open, now shut tight, guarded, as if barricaded from the world beyond.

"Elara?" His voice cracked, jagged, tentative.

She flinched as if the pain was his presence. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered hardly above her breath.

Kieran's fingers clenched in fists at the callousness of it all churning within his belly. "I shouldn't be here? I was thrown out. You…" His voice caught in his throat. How was he supposed to explain the mess of feeling stirred inside him?

She spoke softly, doubt that sliced through him. "I thought you were dead."

Bitter laughter ripped from his throat, a mixture of pain and struggle to lift his head. He inched toward her, words labored through the grit of anger years built up. "No, Elara. I lived every day believing my mate was stolen from me." His voice broke on the last word, raw evidence of ripped feelings.

Her hands trembled at her hip, a broad open face of the tempest raging within her. "I don't… I don't remember it all."

Kieran's wolf growled in his belly, a bestial reaction to her words. There was something wrong.

His voice dropped to an icy, coarse warning, each word heavy with accusation. "You're telling me, you don't remember?"

She backed away, her eyes sparkling wildly across the room as though she'd been making for that door the instant opportunity struck. "Lucian said—"

Growls seized control of the body at the sound of that man's laughter.

He pushed himself between them in an instant, his hand wrapping around her wrist, the grip tight enough to hold her firm should she try to flee.

Her mouth opened, but before she could say more than two words, a blinding crash outside caused her face to spasm with terror.

"They followed me." She'd gotten no farther than that when the cabin door burst open, a hail of splintered wood.

Kieran reacted on instinct alone, shoving Elara out of the way as splinters fell around her, his wolf surging to the surface, claws tearing for battle.

Three men charged in, their movement artificially slow, smooth, and much too practised. Bloodmoon warriors.

Lucian's warriors.

Kieran's eyes bulged, their marks drinking deep, the emblem a verification of his worst terror. His anger burned fiercely, a wildfire which robbed his breath from his chest.

Behind him, Elara's breath caught, her voice shaking in horror. "Please don't"

But already past redemption.

The lead warrior moved forward, claws ripping upward to Kieran's neck.

Mistake.

Kieran moved to the side, sliding past with greasy ease, caught the warrior's wrist and whirled. There was a greasy crunch in the tight cabin air. The man shrieked with agony before Kieran slammed him into the wall.

Another warrior produced a dagger, the blade shining obscenely in the darkness. Kieran moved to the side, punched the attacker in the ribs, and backed away.

But the third one was quicker. A harsh hump sent Kieran tumbling to the floor, and he landed on the wooden floor with a thud.

Agony lanced through his back, a searing reminder of survival at all costs. The warrior pushed down, claws in the shoulder, mass unmovable. Kieran gritted his jaws and pushed his feet deep into the earth to find purchase.

Feral power forced their positions, knee the man in the ribs, each movement fueled by adrenalin and the need to protect Elara.

A knife on the ground. His. Now.

Kieran reached for the knife and pushed it against the warrior's thigh in one motion.

The warrior screamed out, the cries resounding through the cabin that had been pillaged.

Kieran did not afford them a chance to shock themselves, his body driving him on, driving him to act, to get Elara away from there. He reached out to her, his hand grasping hers, all movement guided by necessity. "We need to leave. Now."

She stood, her eyes sweeping the bodies of men, her face numb.

"Elara!" His crude, commanding tone snapped her out of it.

She nodded, her eyes round with determination, and they ran, their footsteps pounding the earth.

Footsteps followed, harder and closer, on the verge of catching them.

Kieran led her out the back door, into the night, his brain only: to protect her.

The bitter wind hit them like a slap, a harsh reminder that they were alive.

The wood stretched out before them dark, broad, and unyielding.

Elara stumbled, fatigue washing over her suddenly. Kieran swept her into his arms, holding her close with his massive arms. "Walk," he said, his voice gruff with gentle command.

She glared at him, eyes a bitter blend of fear and something else. "Where are we going?"

His jaw tightened as he worked out their chances. "Somewhere Lucian can't track us." He was able to hold eyes with her. "And then. You're going to tell me everything. Everything he did."

The wind screamed through the trees, a cry of desperation hollering out of their path of destruction. The branches snapped underfoot, the scent of damp ground and lingering metallic bite of blood mingling.

Elara faltered, her lungs seared, her reserves dwindling. "Kieran, wait"

He did not wait, danger propelling him forward. "We have no time to stay. They will be on our tail."

"But where…" She stumbled over a concealed root and lurched forward, most likely to plunge headfirst into the damp, cold earth.

Kieran held her once more, his grip tight but not unkind. His sharp eyes met hers, a wordless question passing between the two.

"You have to trust me."

Elara's gentle voice, barely above a whisper, overpowered his untamed mind. "Why did you come back?"

Kieran was taken aback at first, the way too big to have words on his lips, his head in confusion.

Revenge. Redemption. The bridge impassable that had stood.

"Because I had to," he finally said, his voice heavy with resolve.

Elara's hold on his hand grew a bit tighter, half need, half fear.

And then—a scream rent the darkness, shattering quiet, and echoing their peril.

She remained immobile, her muscles bracing. "They've seen our trail."

Kieran cursed, the brutality of their plight closing in on him. He'd wanted to be ahead of them by so much when they were discovered, to have them that much in arrears.

"They will never catch up with us," he swore, his voice full of mental determination, leading her to a distant ridge.

The incline grew steeper still, and Elara pressed her heels into the earth. She gripped a battered breath, supporting herself on his arm as she leaned out.

Kieran's keen vision scanned around him, his head reeling. He detected the scent of fresh water on the breeze between the trees—a river.

If they might get across it, they could shake the warriors of Bloodmoon at their heels, blowing the wind of superiority they so dearly craved.

He scowled at Elara, pinning her eyes. "We need to cross the river."

Her face twisted in horror, eyes squinting in shock, but stubbornness was there as well. "You're kidding. It's freezing."

"It's that, or washed up."

She swallowed hard, resolve being forced within her, and nodded once more, determination afresh. "Fine. Let's go."

They walked down the hill, pouring water around them, endless. The river shone beneath moonlit landscapes, serene, but Kieran had her guard about.

He splashed first into the frigid current, ice water nipping at his skin, a sharp reminder of the horrors to come. He stared at them, easing somewhat as he motioned with his hand. "Come on."

Elara stood rigid with fear for a moment, her muscles tensed, and then she seized his hand and leapt into the water. A wave of shivering cold washed over her legs, and she took a hard gasp of air.

"Pick it up," he coaxed, his voice a rumbling purr.

Halfway to the far shore, a second scream cut through the stillness, nearer this time, a frigid warning.

Elara gasped, clutching Kieran's arm, terror alive. "They're close."

Kieran's keen sight picked up the line of trees, their followers now black silhouettes racing between trees. The warriors were there, their mission at its peak.

"Run," he urged her along, his speed now swift, desperate, to get them into cover.

They reached the beach, trembling and dripping, the adrenalin struggling to catch up.

Kieran stood across the river, his back to them, his eyes on theirs. Bloodmoon warriors were fairly naked to moonlight now.

There was a second of immediate silent waiting, full of immediate silence.

Then one of them growled, the silence crashing, and took a calculated step forward, a hard face of intent.

Elara's hand curved around Kieran's arm, her voice little more than a whisper. "They won't leave us alone."

His jaw clenched, the determination cutting its path across his face. There was now but one path to follow and that was the path of destruction.

They vanished into the trees, the rest of them lagging behind their backs— at least for the moment.

Icicled water encrusted their clothing, every step burdened by the added weight. Kieran didn't flinch, his gaze on the trail ahead. The trees were closer together, offering some cover, but he knew it would be inadequate. Bloodmoon warriors did not fail.

Elara fought with him, struggling for breath. "We can't keep running from this."

"We can't," Kieran snarled, glancing about him. He had to come up with a plan in his mind fast. They needed a gap, but not deep but deep enough so the warriors would move out of their path.

There was a scent, a hint of something in the air—smoke, very, very far away but indistinguishable. There was a cabin nearby. He hadn't time to think before he moved.

"This way," he'd told her, taking Elara along a path barely visible.

She didn't say anything, allowing him to guide her further into darkness. The shadows clung around, step by step towards fleeting safety.

And then Kieran felt it.

The shifting mood. The too-familiarity which could not be denied.

He did not stir.

"Elara—"

A peculiar sound far in their wake. A growl.

Low and indistinct, but irrevocable.

Elara let out a strained breath. "They followed us home."

Kieran spun about, senses coiling. A figure emerged into the darkness, his golden eyes shimmering in moonlight.

Lucian Drax.

The Alpha's lips curved into a languid smile. "Did you think you could steal what is mine and escape me, Kieran?"

Elara stood at his shoulder. Kieran curled his fists, his wolf yowling in his veins.

Lucian took a step forward. "Let's get this over with."

Kieran stood facing him, his heart boiling like angry waves cursing the

gods of the night . Before he could process what was behind Lucian's confidence in matching up to him.

Like lightning on an emergency mission, warriors emerged from the forest. They were surrounded.