Mated to the Alpha

Chapter II

As I swung open the front door of my house, a jolt of tension coursed through my body. The distinct scent of our visitors immediately hit my nostrils, blending the refined aroma of aged parchment with the elegance of fine wine that embodied Ilya. However, her guards brought an overwhelming stench that permeated the entire house—an unpleasant mix of boiling pitch and burnt hair.

“Sera.” Ilya's voice dripped with a honeyed tone as she called out my name. I recoiled, attempting to regain my composure before stepping into the kitchen, my lips pressed tightly together. I had no desire to taste these creatures on top of smelling them.

Seated at the table across from my father, Ilya remained motionless, displaying impeccable posture. Her chocolate tresses were neatly styled in a chignon at the nape of her neck, while her usual immaculate ebony suit and crisp high-collared white shirt adorned her figure. Two shadow-like wraiths hovered menacingly behind her slender shoulders.

To resist the urge to bare my teeth at the bodyguards, I sucked in my cheeks and bit the insides—an action that kept me from succumbing to my impulses.

"Take a seat, my dear," Ilya gestured towards a chair. Ilya is one of the Keepers of Silverclaw. And I may be the daughter of the Alpha, it still didn’t change the fact that I needed to ‘follow’ their orders.

I dragged the chair closer to my father, crouching instead of fully settling into it. The presence of the wraiths prevented me from relaxing.

Does she already know about the violation? Is she here to order my execution?

"Only a little over a month of waiting remains, my lovely girl," Ilya murmured. "Are you eagerly anticipating your union?"

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Sure," I replied.

Ilya brought the tips of her fingers together, forming a contemplative gesture in front of her face.

"Is that the only sentiment you have to offer regarding your promising future?" she inquired.

My father chuckled. "Sera isn't as sentimental as her mother, Mistress."

Though his tone remained confident, his gaze settled on me. I ran my tongue along my sharpening canines, nestled within my mouth.

"I understand," Ilya remarked, her eyes scanning my body.

I crossed my arms protectively over my chest.

"Darric, perhaps you could teach her better etiquette. I expect my alpha females to embody grace. Grecia has always exuded the utmost elegance in her role." Referring to my mother who’s the current Luna of Silverclaw.

She continued to observe me, preventing me from baring my teeth at her as I wished.

Gracefulness, my ass. I am a warrior, not your child bride.

She said, “I thought you might be pleased with the match, my dear. You possess an exquisite alpha beauty. And there has never been a Blackthorne male quite like Theron before. Even Lucius acknowledges that. The union holds great promise for all of us. You should feel grateful to have such a partner'"

I tightened my jaw, but maintained unwavering eye contact with her.

"I hold Theron in high regard. He is a friend. We will manage well together."

A friend... to some extent. Theron sees me as if I were a jar of cookies he wouldn't mind being caught with. However, he wouldn't bear the consequences of a theft. Though burdened with the obligations of our betrothal from day one, I hadn't anticipated that policing our relationship would be this challenging. Theron, however, had no affinity for playing by the rules. He possessed just enough temptation to make me contemplate whether indulging him might be worth the risk.

"Manage well?" Ilya echoed. "But do you truly desire the boy? Lucius would be furious if you showed any disregard for his heir." She tapped her fingers on the table.

I stared at the floor, cursing the flames that flushed my cheeks. How does desire matter when I am forbidden from acting upon it? In that moment, I despised her.

My father cleared his throat. "My lady, the union was decided upon since the children's birth. The Silverclaw and Blackthorne packs remain committed to it, as do my daughter and Lucius' son."

"As I said, we will manage," I whispered, a growl seeping into my words.

Ilya's tinkling laughter drew my attention back to her. Her smile held a patronizing air as she observed my discomfort. I glared at her, no longer able to contain my anger.

"Indeed," she remarked, shifting her gaze to my father. "The ceremony must proceed without interruption or delay. Under any circumstances."

She stood up and extended her hand. My father briefly kissed her pale fingers. Then she turned to me. Reluctantly, I took her delicate, vellum-like skin in my own hand, struggling to ignore the urge to bite her.

"All worthy females possess finesse, my dear," she said, grazing my cheek with her nails enough to make me flinch.

My stomach churned.

Her stiletto heels struck the tiles with a sharp staccato as she departed from the kitchen. The wraiths followed her, their silence more unsettling than the disconcerting rhythm of her steps. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my cheek against them. It wasn't until I heard the front door close that I finally breathed again.

"You seem incredibly tense," my father remarked. "Did something happen during patrol?"

I shook my head. "You know I detest wraiths."

"We all despise them."

I shrugged. "But why was she here in the first place?"

"To discuss the union."

"You've got to be kidding me." I frowned. "Just Theron and me?"

With a tired gesture, my father rubbed his eyes. "Sera, it would be beneficial if you didn't treat the union as a mere obstacle. There's much more at stake than just your relationship with Theron. The formation of a new pack hasn't happened in decades, and the Keepers are highly anxious."

"I apologise," I replied insincerely.

"Don't apologise, be serious," he emphasised.

I sat up attentively.

"Lucius visited earlier today," he said with a grimace.

"What?!" I exclaimed, shocked. "Why?"

I couldn't fathom a civil conversation between Lucius Barrett, his rival alpha.

My father's tone turned cold. "For the same reason as Ilya."

Embarrassed once again, I buried my face in my hands, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Sera?" he called out.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said, swallowing my embarrassment. "It's just that Theron and I are getting along fine. We're friends, in a way. We've known about the union for a long time, and I don't see any issues with it. If Theron has concerns, it's news to me. But this whole process would be much easier if everyone backed off. The pressure isn't helping."

He nodded. "Welcome to your life as an alpha. Pressure never helps, and it never goes away."

"Great," I sighed, getting up from my chair. "I have homework."

"Goodnight, then," he said quietly.

"Goodnight."

"And Sera?"

"Yeah?" I paused at the bottom of the staircase.

"Be gentle with your mother."

I frowned and continued up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom door, I let out a shriek. Clothes were scattered everywhere—on my bed, the floor, hanging from the nightstand and lamp.

"This is unacceptable!" My mother pointed an accusing finger at me.

"Mom!"

She clutched one of my cherished vintage T-shirts from a Pixies tour in the 1980s tightly in her hands.

"Do you possess anything that's aesthetically pleasing?" She shook the offensive T-shirt in my direction.

"Can you define what you mean by beautiful?" I retorted.

Suppressing a groan, I searched for any garments I particularly wanted to safeguard and perched on top of my Republicans for Voldemort hoodie.

"Lace? Silk? Cashmere?" Grecia inquired. "Anything other than denim or cotton?"

She twisted the Pixies shirt in her grip, causing me to cringe.

"Did you know that Lucius was here today?" Her eyes scanned the pile of clothes on the bed.

"My dad mentioned it," I responded softly, though internally I was screaming.

I ran my fingers along the strand of hair draping over my shoulder, lifted the end, and secured it between my teeth.

My mother pursed her lips and let go of the T-shirt to disentangle my fingers from the tangled hair. Then she sighed, took a seat on the bed just behind me, and removed the elastic from the end of the braid.

"And this hair," she combed out the waves with her fingers. "Why do you always tie it up? I don't understand."

"There's just too much of it," I explained. "It gets in the way."

I could hear the jingle of my mother's chandelier earrings as she shook her head. "My lovely daughter, you can't conceal your attributes anymore. You're a woman now."

With a disgusted grunt, I rolled away from her, out of her reach.

"I'm not a delicate flower," I declared, pushing the curtain of hair behind my shoulders. Unbound, it felt burdensome and heavy.

"But you are, Sera," she smiled. "My beautiful daughter."

"Mom," I began to gather my clothes.

"That is who you are," her voice carried a warning tone. "Stop doing that. It's unnecessary."

My fingers became numb as they gripped the T-shirt I had picked up. Patiently, she waited until I carefully returned the partially folded shirt onto the bedspread. I opened my mouth to say something, but my mother raised a hand to silence me.

"The new pack will form next month, and you'll be the alpha female," she stated.

"I'm well aware of that," I struggled to resist the urge to hurl dirty socks at her. "I've known since I was five."

"Now it's time for you to start behaving accordingly," she continued. "Ilya is concerned."

"Yeah, I know. Gracefulness. She wants me to be graceful," I couldn't help but feel disgusted.

"And Lucius is worried about Theron's desires," she added.

"What Theron wants?" I winced at the high pitch of my voice.

My mother picked up one of my bras from the bed, a plain white cotton one, the only kind I owned.

"We need to think about preparations. Do you own any decent lingerie?"

The burning sensation in my cheeks flared up once again. I wondered if excessive blushing could lead to permanent discoloration.

"I don't want to discuss this."

Ignoring my protests, she muttered to herself while sorting my belongings into piles, which I assumed were "acceptable" and "to be discarded" since she had forbidden me from folding them.

"He's an alpha male and the most popular boy in your school, or so I've heard," her voice turned nostalgic. "I'm sure he's used to certain attention from girls. When your time comes, you must be ready to please him."

I swallowed the sour bile in my throat before speaking up.

"Mom, I'm an alpha too, remember?" I said. "Theron needs me to be a pack leader, a warrior, not the captain of the cheerleading squad."

"Theron needs you to act like a mate. Just because you're a warrior doesn't mean you can't be enticing," her sharp tone cut through me.

"Sera is right, Mom," my brother chimed in. "Theron doesn't want a cheerleader. He's already dated them all for the past four years. He's probably bored to death. At least big sis will keep him on his toes."

I turned to see Pierce leaning against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room.

"Whoa, Hurricane Grecia strikes, leaving no survivors."

“Pierce,” my mother snapped, hands on her hips. “Please give your sister and me some privacy.

"I apologise, Mom," Pierce replied, maintaining his grin. "But Voss and Hellen are downstairs, waiting for you to join them on night patrol."

Surprised, her eyelids fluttered. "Is it really that late already?"

Pierce shrugged and winked at me when she turned away. Trying to conceal my smile, I covered my mouth.

She sighed, emphasising her seriousness. "Sera, I expect you to start wearing the new clothes I placed in your closet."

I was about to voice my objections, but she interrupted me.

"Starting tomorrow, you need to wear the new clothes, or else I'll get rid of all your T-shirts and ripped jeans. No further discussion."

She stood up and gracefully left the room, her skirt swaying around her calves as she moved. Hearing her footsteps on the staircase, I groaned and flipped over on the bed. The mound of T-shirts provided a convenient place to bury my head. I was tempted to transform into a wolf and tear the bed apart, but that would surely get me grounded. Besides, I liked my bed, and currently, it was one of the few things my mother wasn't threatening to discard.

As I pushed open the heavy front door of our house, a surge of tension instantly rippled through my body. The air was thick with a peculiar blend of scents that immediately assailed my nostrils, signaling the arrival of our visitors. The refined fragrance of aged parchment intertwined with the elegance of fine wine, characteristic of Ilya. However, the guards accompanying her brought a repugnant stench that pervaded the entire house—a nauseating amalgamation of boiling pitch and singed hair.

"Sera," Ilya's voice oozed with a honeyed tone as she called my name. I instinctively recoiled, striving to regain my composure before stepping into the kitchen. I pressed my lips tightly together, determined not to let their repulsive presence invade my taste buds.

Seated at the table opposite my father, Ilya sat motionless, displaying impeccable poise. Her rich chocolate tresses were meticulously arranged in a chignon at the nape of her neck, while her usual immaculate ebony suit and crisp high-collared white shirt adorned her figure. Two shadowy figures hovered menacingly behind her slender shoulders.

To suppress the urge to bare my teeth at the bodyguards, I sucked in my cheeks and bit the insides, a self-restraining action that helped me resist my impulses.

"Take a seat, my dear," Ilya gestured towards a chair. Ilya was one of the Keepers of Silverclaw, and even though I was the Alpha's daughter, it didn't change the fact that I had to "follow" their commands.

Dragging the chair closer to my father, I crouched instead of fully settling into it. The presence of the shadowy figures prevented me from relaxing.

Does she already know about the violation? Is she here to order my execution?

"Only a little over a month of waiting remains, my lovely girl," Ilya murmured. "Are you eagerly anticipating your union?"

Unbeknownst to me, I released a breath I had been holding.

"Sure," I replied.

Ilya brought the tips of her fingers together, assuming a contemplative gesture in front of her face.

"Is that the only sentiment you have to offer regarding your promising future?" she inquired.

My father chuckled. "Sera isn't as sentimental as her mother, Mistress."

Although his tone remained confident, his gaze lingered on me. I ran my tongue along my sharpening canines, nestled within my mouth.

"I understand," Ilya remarked, her eyes scanning my body.

Instinctively, I crossed my arms protectively over my chest.

"Darric, it seems you have the task of refining her manners. I expect our alpha females to embody grace. Grecia, my mother and the current Luna of Silverclaw, has always exuded the utmost elegance in her role," she suggested, her gaze fixed on me, preventing me from showing my frustration. Gracefulness, what a joke. I am a warrior, not a young bride.

She continued, "I thought you would be pleased with the match, my dear. You possess a remarkable alpha beauty. And there has never been a Blackthorne male quite like Theron before. Even Lucius acknowledges that. The union holds great promise for all of us. You should feel grateful to have such a partner."

I clenched my jaw, but maintained unwavering eye contact with her.

"I hold Theron in high regard. He is a friend. We will manage well together."

A friend... to some extent. Theron sees me as if I were a jar of cookies he wouldn't mind being caught with. But he wouldn't bear the consequences of his indulgence. Although burdened with the obligations of our betrothal from day one, I hadn't anticipated that policing our relationship would be this challenging. Theron, however, had no inclination to play by the rules. He possessed just enough temptation to make me contemplate whether indulging him might be worth the risk.

"Manage well?" Ilya echoed. "But do you truly desire the boy? Lucius would be furious if you showed any disregard for his heir." She tapped her fingers on the table.