Alpha's Christmas Mate

Echoes in the Snow

The storm had not let up. Outside, the pines were bowed beneath heavy snow, wind howling through the branches and sending a flurry of white against the cabin windows. Inside, the fire crackled, warming the small space, yet Holly felt an odd tension in the air—something just beyond her understanding, brushing against the edges of her instincts.

She glanced toward the treeline. The rogue wolf was still there, lying low in the snow, her gray-and-white coat almost blending with the storm. She hadn’t approached the cabin, but there was an unmistakable awareness in the way she shifted her weight, ears flicking toward every sound from within.

Holly’s fingers traced the leather binding of her grandmother’s notebook. She had spent the last hours pouring over it, reading entries that hinted at wolves, dormant spirits, and bonds that transcended human understanding. The further she read, the more she felt… connected. Something deep and unnamable stirred in her chest.

Rowan stood near the door, silent and vigilant, green eyes flicking to the rogue every few seconds. Asher’s influence pulsed just beneath his skin, urging him to be more forceful, to claim, to protect. Rowan clenched his jaw, forcing control.

“She’s still out there,” Holly murmured, almost to herself.

“Yes,” Rowan said quietly. “And she’s different. Not aggressive. But freshly shifted. Very young… probably just turned eighteen.”

Holly’s brow furrowed. “Freshly shifted?”

Rowan nodded, eyes never leaving the wolf. “That’s how I can tell. She moves cautiously, learning the bounds of her new form. Still figuring out pack dynamics. That instinct… it’s raw, but not feral.”

Holly felt an odd flutter in her chest. Something about the way Rowan described the rogue’s unfamiliarity—hesitation, learning, curiosity—stirred a strange resonance inside her. She shook it off. “So… she’s not dangerous?”

Rowan exhaled, muscles tense. “Not yet. But she’s unfamiliar with human boundaries. Stay inside.”

Holly nodded, but curiosity gnawed at her. She watched the wolf through the frosted window. The creature’s amber eyes seemed to sweep over the cabin, scanning, calculating, yet never aggressive. And then, fleetingly, she lifted her head, and Holly felt something stir deep inside her—a whisper of recognition, a pulse of something ancient and familiar.

Holly blinked. “Rowan…”

“Yes?” His voice was careful, controlled, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the strength of Asher’s urging.

“I… I think she knows me.”

Rowan’s eyes widened slightly, and he moved instinctively to stand between her and the window. Asher growled softly beneath the surface, nudging Rowan to assert his presence.

“She doesn’t know you,” Rowan said cautiously. “But there’s something… unusual about her. Something familiar. I can’t place it yet.”

Holly pressed the notebook to her chest, thoughts racing. The entries she had read spoke of bonds, dormant spirits, and the awakening of wolves at eighteen. Her grandmother had written of humans who carried wolf spirits, unaware of them until the shift.

Her heartbeat quickened. Could this wolf… somehow be connected to her?

Rowan’s gaze softened slightly at the expression on her face. He cleared his throat. “Whatever it is… we’ll figure it out. But right now, the storm makes her stay put. She won’t approach unless she’s desperate.”

Holly nodded, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—the pull, the familiarity in the rogue’s amber eyes, the instinctive empathy that welled up inside her chest. She shivered, but not from the cold.

She turned the notebook, scanning another entry:

Entry, December 25th:

"Some humans carry the wolf spirit dormant within them. They appear ordinary, unaware, yet the scent and call of the pack will awaken it. When the time is right, the bond will be revealed—not only to the mate but to the spirit itself. Watch for those who respond to the bond unknowingly. They may hold more than they realize."

Holly froze. Her fingers tightened around the page. “Rowan… this… this sounds like me.”

He turned his head slowly, carefully. “You’re… unlike any human I’ve encountered,” he said softly, carefully choosing each word. “And that’s… part of why I’m cautious. You might not understand what you’re feeling, yet. But the bond…” His eyes flickered gold for just a moment. “It’s real. And it’s already stirring.”

Holly’s pulse raced. She glanced toward the window again. The rogue wolf had lifted her head once more, ears twitching, eyes scanning the cabin. The subtle sway of her stance, the alertness in every muscle—it was as if she too recognized something, a thread reaching across the snow and ice toward Holly.

“Rowan…” Holly whispered. “Do you think she… knows me?”

Rowan’s jaw flexed. “I don’t know yet. But there’s a chance. Something about her… it’s unusual. She’s young, inexperienced, but she’s not feral. That… usually means the scent, or the instinct… something drew her here.”

Holly swallowed hard. The wind howled outside, and she felt the brush of something inside herself, like a thread of awareness stirring from a deep sleep.

“You’re… she’s connected to me somehow,” she said, more a statement than a question.

Rowan’s gaze softened, a flicker of caution and understanding mingled with the possessive heat he radiated. “Maybe,” he said carefully. “Or maybe it’s just instinct. We’ll know soon enough.”

The rogue wolf shifted in the snow, pawing lightly at the ground, scanning the cabin with a mixture of curiosity and weariness. Holly felt an unexpected flutter of empathy, an instinctual need to understand, to comfort. She knelt near the window, careful, and whispered softly, “It’s okay… you can wait. You’re safe here.”

Rowan stiffened slightly at her words. “Holly, step back,” he murmured. “Don’t go outside. She may be inexperienced, but she’s still a wolf. I can’t… I can’t take any risks with you.”

Holly glanced at him, meeting the gold flecks in his eyes. “I’m not afraid,” she said softly. “And neither is she, I think.”

He exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension ease, though Asher hummed insistently beneath the surface, a constant reminder of his need to protect, to claim, to ensure nothing happens to his mate.

The rogue wolf lay down in the snow, curling slightly but keeping her eyes on the cabin. Holly sensed the strange familiarity again—a pull in her chest, warmth spreading from her core, instinctive recognition she couldn’t explain.

Rowan stepped closer, silently wrapping a protective presence around her. “Whatever she is,” he murmured, voice low, “she isn’t a threat. But that doesn’t mean we let our guard down. Wolves, bonds, instincts… they are complicated. And this one… she’s new to it all.”

Holly nodded, notebook pressed to her chest. “New… like me,” she whispered.

Rowan’s eyes softened, but his posture remained rigid, guarding her even as the storm raged outside. Asher nudged insistently beneath the surface, making Rowan’s protective instincts flare, urging him to mark the boundaries and keep Holly safe.

The rogue wolf shifted once more, settling a little closer to the cabin, amber eyes flicking to Holly. The faintest recognition lingered in her gaze, something primal and unspoken. Holly shivered. She didn’t yet know why, but part of her knew, deep down, that this wolf—newly awakened, inexperienced, and alone—was tied to her in ways she couldn’t yet understand.

And as the storm pressed against the cabin walls, Holly felt it: the threads of destiny beginning to pull tight, weaving her life inexorably toward Rowan, the bond, and the awakening of something she had never known she carried inside her.

The snowstorm would rage for hours. But inside, the cabin had never felt more alive—or more dangerous.