A bite from an Alpha King

Chapter Three

Octavia

Quietly standing over the body of a border patrol wolf, I began dressing, watching for any signs that I had been noticed. With the ability to mind-link and sense disturbances through the pack bond, it wouldn’t be long before they realized one of them was no longer responding, but I only needed minutes.

As I pulled on my top and holstered the silver knife behind my back, I saw headlights in the distance. Brief flashes of light between the trees followed, mixed with the engines roaring by. Reaching up, I wiped the blood from my mouth, a low growl curling my lips as I followed the cars’ trail.

The gravel path was long, and I had to run to keep up. My bag bounced with my movements, knocking against me. When the lights of a mansion began shining through the trees, I slowed down. Finding a nearby bush, I crouched low and slipped off my bag. Making sure once more that the knife was secured on my body, I looked ahead, watching the men exit the cars. My eyes scanned the group of powerful warriors. Their bodies alone indicated they were trained fighters, but I knew it was the blood running through their veins that truly made them dangerous. Trying to locate my target, I heard the voice of Alpha Michael and saw him descending the stairs to greet one of the men.

That’s when my eyes finally locked onto my target—the largest among them, dark-haired and dressed in a black coat. A sick satisfaction spread through me as my mind began calculating. I would have to be incredibly fast and strike before they entered. At the moment, the king’s trusted group was barely keeping watch, most likely assuming security was the responsibility of the territory’s alpha. The king stood with his back to me.

Now or never.

Summoning my power, reaching into the beast within me, I felt my muscles tighten and my senses sharpen even further as I lowered myself, ready to launch forward. But just as I was about to take my chance and sprint across the open space, I froze, noticing something peculiar.

“What’s he doing?” I whispered.

Suddenly, the king left his men behind and stepped into the open area in front of the mansion, where a large fountain shot water into the air, moving closer to me. His behavior was strange. He walked farther from his men, sniffing the air. A cool breeze brushed past me, lifting loose strands of hair from my braid. Again, the king acted oddly, glancing around as if sensing something.

Can he smell me? I wondered.

But he didn’t seem on high alert, not like someone preparing for a fight. He glanced back at his men as though they were fools, as if they didn’t understand what was happening. They simply stood there, staring at him in confusion. That’s when I saw the golden opportunity unfold before me. This was my chance. I sprinted as fast as I could, digging my heels into the ground to propel myself forward.

Just before reaching him, I pulled out the knife. I leapt toward him, the blade raised. But in an impossibly fast motion, the king turned—as if he had known I was coming—and his hand wrapped around my throat, cutting off most of my air. His arm was long, too long for me to get the knife anywhere near him. I growled in frustration, but it quickly turned into a soft whimper as I looked into his eyes, shining brighter than anything else in the night.

Mate!

The moment my wolf uttered the word, leaping with excitement at the sight of her chosen one, my body went limp, my fingers barely holding onto the knife. All I could focus on was the strong, steady beat of his heart and the feeling of his warm touch. But something stood out even more: his eyes. They were such a deep yellow-gold that the only word I could use to describe them was beautiful.

But as I stared into those yellow orbs, anger struck me.

Yellow.

The eye color of royals. A title he had stolen from my father, a man I had loved so dearly, my protector. I hated the man in front of me, my blood boiling with rage. There was no way he could be my mate. I refused to accept it. I refused him. My wolf whimpered and stirred angrily inside me at the thought, but I was in control, not letting her free.

I heard the leather of the king’s jacket strain as his powerful body expanded, leaving little room within the fabric. He was suddenly closer, leaning in and taking a deep breath. He growled in satisfaction as he inhaled my scent. When he pulled back, his eyes held a dark, dangerous glow, and I felt my body tremble for reasons I couldn’t explain.

What is happening to me?

“So, little one,” he rumbled in a husky, deep voice, “care to explain why my own mate is trying to kill me?”

Suddenly, I became hyper-aware of myself under his gaze. Something about the way he looked at me sent shivers down my spine, though I wasn’t sure if they were from fear or something else. I glanced down quickly, momentarily doubting whether I was even wearing clothes. I was—dressed in tight black pants, combat boots, and a sleeveless, tight top. Reassured that I was clothed, I looked back at the king. Yet his eyes still held that hungry, predatory look, and I couldn’t fathom why.

“Are you not going to answer me?” he demanded, his tone almost threatening as he tightened his grip around my throat.

I gasped, realizing I couldn’t breathe. He was so strong. I had fought countless rogues—powerful male rogues—and boys from my old pack. I had always come out on top. But now, faced with this man, I was utterly powerless.

“L-L…” I tried to speak, but nothing came out. His grip was too tight, and I grew weaker by the second.

The king leaned closer, clearly curious, as if trying to hear what I was attempting to say. In that moment, I saw my opening. With all the strength I had left, I pulled back the silver knife and drove it into his chest. He gasped, looking down at the blade in disbelief. His eyes then shifted to mine, filled with horror.

“Long live my father,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His grip loosened, and he collapsed to his knees, dragging me down with him. I fell to the ground, gasping for air as precious oxygen flooded back into my lungs. Violent coughs wracked my body while voices shouted all around me, but I paid them no attention. I focused only on breathing.

When I finally steadied myself, I glanced over at the king. His eyes were dimming, losing their light. His men gathered around him, shouting frantically as they looked from him to each other, but he only had eyes for me. I smiled just before he toppled over. His men caught him before he hit the ground, but their panic only intensified as his body went limp. As I stared at the king’s lifeless form, a dark shadow loomed over me. A familiar figure. His two-colored eyes—one yellow, one green—glared down at me in fury. Without warning, he grabbed the collar of my top and pulled his arm back.