Alpha's Christmas Mate

Stormbound Secrets

The snowstorm had grown fiercer overnight. Outside, the world was a blur of white, wind whipping through the pines, covering the forest floor in fresh, drifting snow. Inside the cabin, the fire crackled, giving warmth to the small space. Holly sat near it, the grandmother’s leather-bound notebook open on her lap, reading with growing intensity.

Rowan was close by, leaning against the wall beside the door, his sharp gaze occasionally darting toward the windows. His posture was taut, muscles coiled, and every so often, the fur along his shoulders seemed to ripple, subtle evidence of Asher beneath his control.

Holly noticed him watching her as she read, and the pulse of tension that had been there since yesterday prickled anew. She flipped another page of the notebook, pausing at an entry that made her heart skip.

Entry, December 22nd:

"Wolves are more than flesh and fur. Their minds are tied to the pack, the territory, and to those they bond with. The Alpha senses before he sees, and the mate will always be drawn to the scent of their counterpart. This is a truth few humans understand, and fewer still accept. Prepare her. The bond is patient. The bond is relentless."

Holly’s breath caught. The notebook seemed to thrum with a quiet urgency, like it knew she was reading it. She looked up at Rowan, whose posture had stiffened. His green eyes—flecked with gold—watched her, unreadable.

“I… I think she was talking about the Alpha and mate bond,” Holly said quietly, almost to herself. “I mean… it sounds like she knew what to expect for me.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened, and Asher stirred beneath his skin. She’s beginning to see.

“Yes,” he said carefully, forcing his voice neutral. “Some things… she understood better than most humans could. But not everything.”

Holly nodded slowly, her mind whirling. “I don’t even know half of what I’m supposed to understand. Or… who I’m supposed to trust.”

Before Rowan could respond, a movement outside the window caught both their attention.

A wolf—a female, gray and white with keen amber eyes—stood near the treeline. She wasn’t crouched like a predator, nor did she growl or snarl. Her stance was cautious, wary, and her body language radiated exhaustion more than aggression.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, instincts flaring. Every hair along his spine rose, Asher growling softly inside him. “She’s a rogue,” he said quietly, low enough that only Holly could hear. “Not part of any pack here. But she’s not feral—she’s looking for shelter.”

Holly tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “She… just wants to stay out of the storm?”

Rowan’s jaw flexed. “Yes. But she’s still a wolf. I can’t let her near you yet.”

Holly’s brow furrowed. “Near me? She’s not going to hurt me.”

He glanced at her, amber flecks catching in the firelight. “Instinct tells me not to take chances. Wolves are… territorial. Especially lone wolves.”

Holly pressed the notebook to her chest, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “And you’re… jealous of her.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened slightly. “Protective.”

She laughed softly. “Right. Protective.”

The female wolf shifted again, pawing at the snow. She lifted her head and howled softly—a plaintive, almost apologetic sound that made Holly’s heart ache for the creature.

“See?” Holly said, her voice gentle. “She’s not aggressive. Just… lost.”

Rowan exhaled slowly. “I know.” His voice was quieter now, threaded with something deeper. “But I don’t like leaving you exposed to anything. Even something that seems harmless.”

Holly reached out, tentatively, and rested a hand on his arm. “I’m not a child, Rowan. And I can handle her being here.”

Rowan’s gaze softened—just slightly—but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. Asher growled faintly beneath his control, nudging at his instincts. She belongs to us. Protect her. Ensure she is safe.

Rowan shifted, moving closer to Holly and subtly placing himself between her and the window. “Stay close,” he murmured. “I’ll handle it.”

Holly noticed how unnaturally warm he felt, even through his thick jacket. The pull of something deeper—something in him she couldn’t name—rose again in her chest.

Rowan cleared his throat, trying to maintain control. “Your grandmother… she was careful with her words. Wolves, bonds, territories… she recorded what she knew, but she left gaps. For safety. For… timing.”

Holly glanced down at the notebook. “Timing?”

“Yes.” Rowan’s eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, the flicker of gold surfaced in his green eyes. “The timing for you to know… hasn’t fully come. But you’re close.”

The wolf outside shifted again, moving a few steps closer to the cabin. She wasn’t aggressive, but her eyes scanned the perimeter, clearly calculating whether the cabin could be a temporary refuge.

Holly tilted her head. “I think she just wants to wait out the storm.”

Rowan exhaled, muscles tensing as he scanned her posture. “I’ll allow it. But we’re careful. She doesn’t touch anything, and she doesn’t enter the cabin. If she tries…” His jaw flexed. “I’ll intervene.”

Holly nodded. “Understood.”

The female wolf seemed to settle slightly, lying low in the snow but still alert. Holly could see her chest rise and fall slowly, the exhaustion from traveling through the storm evident in every muscle.

Holly glanced at Rowan. “She’s… lonely,” she whispered. “Like she’s trying to find some kind of home.”

Rowan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moved closer, subtly positioning himself between Holly and the window again. The protective tension radiated off him like a shield. Asher growled softly inside him, nudging at Rowan’s restraint.

Holly felt a shiver of something—fear, desire, curiosity—stir in her chest. The notebook, the rogue wolf, Rowan’s heat and presence—it was all converging, drawing her into a world she hadn’t fully believed in until now.

She closed the notebook and looked up at him. “So… you’re not angry that I read this?”

Rowan shook his head, though his jaw was tight. “No. You need to know some things. Just… not all of them yet.”

Holly smiled faintly. “Fair enough.”

The rogue wolf lifted her head again, howling softly at the wind, a sound that seemed almost apologetic. Rowan’s gaze followed her, alert, careful, but Holly noticed a subtle shift—he was beginning to understand she posed no threat.

Inside the cabin, the fire crackled. Outside, the snowstorm raged on. Holly held the notebook against her chest, Rowan stood protectively beside her, and in the shadows beyond the trees, the rogue wolf watched and waited.

Somewhere deep inside, Holly realized that this storm—this night—would change everything. She didn’t yet know how, but the threads were already pulling tight, weaving her life irrevocably into Rowan’s world.

And for the first time, she didn’t want to pull away.