The Alpha's invisible Mate

Chapter 1: The Girl Without a Scent In the heart of Erelaya Pack, under a moonlit sky tangled with smoky clouds, Maya crouched at the edge of the gathering circle, hidden by shadows. The Festival of First Scent was in full swing ...bonfires crackled, drums thumped, and teenage wolves swirled into their first shift, their scents blooming into the night like a parade of flowers. Everyone found their scent at eighteen. Everyone but her. At twenty-three, Maya still had none. Not the earthy spice of a strong she-wolf, not the crisp sweetness of submission, not even the raw musk of dominance. She was scentless ...an anomaly, a disgrace. No one said it to her face anymore. They didn't need to. Their silence screamed louder than insults. From her hiding spot, she watched the newly-shifted wolves dance with joy, families crying and hugging as if their children had been born again. The scentless were cursed by the Moon Goddess, or so the elders said. It meant no mate could ever smell you. No pull. No bond. No belonging. Maya’s fingers dug into the earth. Her wolf paced restlessly inside her, angry and embarrassed. “They don’t see us,” she whispered to it. “Not really.” Her wolf growled low, but didn’t respond. It rarely did anymore. A sharp voice cracked the celebration. “Silence!” Alpha Ekon stood tall atop the flat stone, his voice cutting through the night. Silver hair gleamed against his dark skin, and his eyes — once warm — were now like cold stones when they landed on Maya’s side of the circle. She stepped back, knowing her presence was barely tolerated. “Tonight,” he declared, “we celebrate the bond of scent, the thread that ties us to our true mates. Let none among us forget the sacred laws of the Moon.” Maya turned away. She had no bond. No thread. No place here. The path back to her cabin was steep and silent, lined with tall iroko trees that seemed to lean in, whispering things she didn’t want to hear. She walked quickly, arms wrapped around herself, eyes cast down. “Maya!” The voice stopped her cold. She turned slowly. Behind her, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows — *Sena*, the Alpha’s daughter, glowing in a gold silk wrap and barefoot like the night couldn’t hurt her. “I thought I saw you skulking in the trees,” Sena said, smiling sweetly, too sweetly. “I wasn’t skulking,” Maya muttered. “Oh?” Sena stepped closer. “Still hoping for your scent to come in late? Maybe the Moon Goddess just forgot you.” Maya clenched her jaw but didn’t answer. She was used to this. The pity disguised as cruelty. Or maybe it was the other way around. Sena sniffed the air dramatically and frowned. “Still nothing. Honestly, it’s exhausting trying to find where you belong.” “I wasn’t talking to you,” Maya said, stepping past her. “Of course not. No one ever is.” Sena laughed softly behind her. Maya didn’t stop walking By the time she reached her small cabin, tucked deep in the forest’s edge, her feet were sore and her head heavy with shame. She leaned against the door and exhaled shakily. “You’re stronger than this,” she whispered to herself. But she didn’t believe it. Not tonight. Not when she still couldn’t even smell herself. She fell asleep clutching a notebook filled with unsent letters, one addressed to Alpha Kade, the man she’d never met but had dreamed of for years. The firstborn of the neighboring Aremu Pack, rumored to be powerful, merciful, and terrifying. And the only wolf she’d ever heard of… who was born without a scent too. The knock came just before dawn. Maya sat up, heart thudding. Nobody ever came to her cabin. Not at that hour. Not ever. She pulled on a wrap and opened the door slowly. A tall man stood there, back straight, eyes sharp. His hair was cropped low, his skin a smooth, deep brown. He wore a travel-stained cloak and bore the mark of an Alpha on his neck, a silver crescent tattooed just below his jaw. Maya froze. “Can I help you?” The man studied her quietly. Then, in a calm, steady voice, he said, “I’ve been looking for someone like you.” She blinked. “What?” “I’m from Aremu Pack,” he said. “My Alpha sent me. You’re Maya, right?” She hesitated. “Who wants to know?” “My name is Ayo. I serve Alpha Kade.” The name landed like thunder. She gripped the door tighter. “What does he want with me?” “You’ll need to come with me,” Ayo said. “There’s something you need to see. Something only you can understand.” She stepped back. “No. I’m not... I don’t know anything about it” “You were born without a scent,” he said, calmly. “So was he. And something is happening. Something dangerous. He believes you're part of it.” Maya stared at him, heart racing. “You can stay here,” Ayo said. “But whatever’s coming… it won’t leave scentless wolves like us alone.” Maya didn’t speak right away. Her mind spun with questions, but none of them settled long enough to say out loud. Instead, she stepped back from the door and motioned Ayo inside. The cabin was modest, just a single room with a narrow bed, a wooden chair, and a small shelf stacked with worn books. The fire had gone out hours ago, so the space was cold and dim. Still, Ayo entered without hesitation, his steps quiet and measured. She crossed her arms. "If this is a trick, I’ll know." "It isn’t," he replied. "Alpha Kade has been searching for others like him. He only found your name a few weeks ago. Hidden in an old council record. You’re the only one on this side of the territory." She watched him carefully. "So, what happens if I go with you?" "You get answers. Maybe even a reason why the Moon never marked you." That stung more than she expected. She sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, pressing her palms to her knees. "I gave up on answers years ago." Ayo nodded but didn’t argue. He simply waited. After a long silence, Maya looked up. "How far is your pack?" "Two days on foot. One, if we use the northern ridge." "And if I don’t come?" "Then I go alone, and tell him you said no. But I don’t think you want that." Maya sighed. She didn’t. Not really. By midday, Maya had packed a small bag. Not much — just a faded cloak, her notebook, and a pendant that once belonged to her mother. She didn’t tell anyone she was leaving. No one would ask. No one would care. They left through the forest trail, silent for a long time. Birds sang overhead, and the wind carried the scent of wild leaves and damp earth. Ayo didn’t press her with conversation. He moved confidently, his steps light but purposeful. After an hour, Maya finally asked, "What’s he like? Kade?" Ayo glanced at her. "Quiet. Strong. Watches more than he speaks." She nodded. That matched the few stories she’d heard. A born leader, they said. A rare Alpha who could control his wolf without shifting. "He doesn’t… mind being scentless?" Ayo gave a small smile. "He minds. But he doesn’t let it define him." Maya looked ahead, eyes narrowed on the winding path. "I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone like that." "You will soon." They walked until dusk. As the sun dipped below the hills, they made camp near a small stream. Ayo built a fire while Maya sat nearby, turning her pendant over in her hand. "I used to think I was broken," she said quietly. "Like the Moon forgot to finish me." Ayo didn’t look at her, but his voice was calm. "You weren’t forgotten. You were made different. There’s a reason for that." She wanted to believe him. For the first time in years, she almost did. They reached the outskirts of Aremu Pack the next evening. Maya noticed the difference instantly. The air felt heavier. The trees older. And there were fewer wolves on patrol, but those who appeared watched them carefully, their eyes sharp and unreadable. No greetings. No smiles. Just long, silent stares. “They don’t trust outsiders?” Maya asked as they passed through a narrow path lined with tall, silent trees. “They don’t trust anyone,” Ayo replied. “Especially now.” “Why?” “You’ll understand soon.” They walked through a wooden gate carved with old symbols. Maya’s eyes flicked over them. Crescent moons. Wolves with eyes of flame. Symbols older than any she had seen in Erelaya. Inside, the village was quiet. No drums, no children playing. Smoke curled from the tops of clay houses. Wolves glanced out from behind curtains and doorways but didn’t step forward. Ayo led her to a stone building at the center of the village. It was older than the others, covered in ivy and worn from years of weather. He paused at the door. “He’s inside. Waiting.” Maya took a breath. Everything in her wanted to turn back. But something deeper ... her wolf sense, was alert now. Watching. Not afraid, but cautious. She stepped into the room. It was dim, lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. And at the far end stood a tall figure, half-turned away, facing a long window that overlooked the trees. He spoke without turning. “So. You finally came.” Maya stood still, unsure if she should answer. His voice was deeper than she expected ...calm, steady, like water flowing over stone. He turned around slowly. Alpha Kade. He was taller than she imagined. His skin was dark and smooth, his build lean but powerful. His eyes — the most unsettling part — were pale grey, almost silver. No emotion flickered across his face as he looked at her. Just silence. “You don’t smell like anything,” he said. Neither accusation nor compliment. Just fact. “Neither do you,” she replied. A pause. Then the corner of his mouth lifted, slightly. “I’m glad Ayo found you,” he said. “Though I wasn’t sure he would.” Maya raised her chin. “I wasn’t sure I’d come.” “I figured. But you did. Which means you’ve started to feel it.” “Feel what?” He walked toward her slowly, each step measured. “The pressure. The restlessness. The way your wolf won’t sleep anymore.” Maya didn’t speak, but the answer showed in her eyes. He nodded. “It started with me too. Around your age. I thought it was just loneliness. But it’s not.” “Then what is it?” Kade looked past her, into the darkening sky. “Something is coming. Something old. And it’s waking the scentless first.” She frowned. “Why us?" “That’s what we’re going to find out.” Maya followed Kade as he led her deeper into the stone building. The halls were narrow, the walls lined with old markings and carved wooden panels. She could feel the history in every step. They stopped at a small chamber lit by flickering lamps. At the center stood a long table, covered in parchment, maps, and what looked like… sketches of wolves. Some had no scent lines drawn beside them. Others were marked with symbols she didn’t recognize. Kade gestured for her to sit. “These are records,” he explained. “Of wolves like us. Scentless ones. Most didn’t live past twenty-five.” Maya stared at the paper. “Why?” “Some were cast out. Others… went mad. A few disappeared without a trace.” Her throat tightened. “Why am I still here then?” Kade met her eyes. “That’s what makes you important.” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze. “You really think something’s hunting us?” “I know it is. And it’s not just a rumor or dream. I’ve seen things.” “What kind of things?” He paused, then pulled a small bundle from a drawer — torn pieces of fur, each stained black around the edges. “This came from a wolf two villages west. No scent. Same signs as you. Disappeared. We found this near the old riverbed.” Maya reached out, but stopped short of touching it. A deep, heavy energy lingered in the fur. Her wolf bristled. She looked up at him. “So what now?” Kade’s voice was low. “Now, we prepare.” That night, Maya stayed in a quiet room near the edge of Kade’s compound. It was simple—stone floor, woven mat, a window that looked out into dense forest—but it was the safest she’d felt in years. Still, she couldn’t sleep. The images from earlier kept flashing in her mind: the black-stained fur, the scentless names on the map, Kade’s unreadable eyes. And the strange energy she’d felt when she stepped into the village—it was like something old had stirred, just beneath her skin. She sat by the window, hugging her knees to her chest. Her wolf was awake now, more alert than ever. Not just pacing. Watching. “Why me?” she whispered. “What makes me different?” A soft knock came at the door. She opened it to find Kade standing there, still dressed, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable. “Can’t sleep?” he asked. She shook her head. “Too much noise in here,” she said, tapping her chest. He gave a slight nod. “Come with me.” They walked through the quiet village together, under a sky heavy with stars. No one else was awake. Kade led her beyond the gates, into the trees, until they reached a stone clearing ringed with old carvings. “This is the place we come to listen,” he said. “To what?” He looked at her. “To the wolves that came before us.” Maya knelt beside him, uncertain. Then the wind shifted. And in that stillness, for the first time in her life… Maya felt something stir deep inside her. Not just her wolf. Something older. Something watching. Maya didn’t speak. Neither did Kade. They sat in silence, surrounded by the soft hum of wind and earth. The forest felt alive in a way she had never noticed before. Not loud, not obvious—but breathing. Listening. Her heartbeat slowed. A cool breeze brushed her skin, and suddenly her senses sharpened. She could hear the flutter of wings in a distant tree. The tiny movement of a beetle beneath the grass. And something else... a low, deep rhythm, like a drum buried beneath the ground. “What is that?” she whispered. Kade’s eyes didn’t leave the trees. “The call. You’re hearing it now.” “I don’t understand.” “You don’t have to—not yet. But your wolf does.” Maya closed her eyes. And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel empty. She felt connected. It was faint, like a thread being tied between her and something else. A pull, not of fear, but of purpose. When she opened her eyes, Kade was watching her. “That’s why I brought you here,” he said. “The ones without scent… we weren’t born wrong. We were born early. For something that hasn’t happened yet.” Maya didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She understood now—something bigger was waking. And whatever it was, it had started with her. As they walked back to the village in silence, one thought stayed with her: This wasn’t the beginning of her story. It was the beginning of the world remembering it.