Mated with my alpha shif.., p.1
Mated with My Alpha Shifter, page 1
Mated to my Alpha Shifter
Edythe Lorde
Copyright © 2024 by Edythe Lorde
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Introduction
2. Fenwulf
3. Willow
4. Fenwulf
5. Elowyn
6. Fenwulf
7. Willow
8. Fenwulf
9. Young Elowyn
10. Young Aidan
11. Fenwulf
12. Aidan
13. Dominique
14. Aidan
15. Dominique
16. Elowyn
17. Aidan
18. Willow
19. Dominique
20. Willow
21. Dominique
22. Willow
23. Dominique
24. Willow
25. Dominique
26. Willow
27. Dominique
28. Willow
29. Dominique
30. Aric
31. Willow
32. Dominique
33. Books by Edythe Lorde
Introduction
Uncertainty tightens its grip as I ponder my arranged marriage to secure a peace treaty between my pack and an enemy werewolf clan.
But I’m not traditional wife material.
I have been training hard to be the first female Beta of my clan.
And then there is Dominique,
Kidnapped from his pack as a baby and raised in an enemy clan.
He escapes and returns like a Dark Lord, casting a captivating aura.
Sunlight captures his features, revealing dark, dangerous eyes that send shivers down my spine.
His curious gaze is fixed on me, stirring a magnetic pull that leaves me entranced.
Our eyes lock, and an electrical current weaves its way through the air.
And his scent…I gasp softly as he takes a step toward me.
Dominique is part witch and part werewolf,
And I am powerless in his presence.
As we navigate the treacherous path of our growing connection, we uncover long-buried secrets, ancient rivalries, and a looming supernatural threat that could endanger the very foundations of werewolf society.
Perhaps a warrior wife is precisely what Dominique needs.
Fenwulf
“Fenwulf!” Lyra’s voice comes impatiently from the direction of my front door which is now open ajar. “For a guy, you sure take a long time getting dressed.”
“Don’t you think you need to sleep in more often, maybe it would tame your restless spirit?” I retort with a fond smile at my best friend and sister, Lyra. She is small and petite with a flair for dangerous adventures, her red hair billows around her shoulders and glows in the reflection of the sun this morning. She wears a short blue gown that lightly accentuates her petite frame.
"Hey there, sleepyhead!" she calls out with a wide grin before proceeding to jump on my bed. Her eyes dancing with mischief, she nudges my shoulder playfully. With infectious laughter, she's a burst of energy that brightens even the gloomiest of days.
“Tell me,” I begin with a tone of resignation. “What sort of extreme adventure do you have lined up for us today?”
Lyra’s eyes twinkle with excitement and she can barely hold the wide grin that fills her cheeks.
“You won’t believe this one,” she cackles.
I sit up to lean against my bed frame, studying her in mock seriousness. “Try me.”
The first rays of dawn filter through my bedroom window, casting a warm, golden hue across the wooden floor. I stretch and yawn, my muscles protesting the abrupt departure from my realm of dreams. I woke up earlier to the gentle rustling of leaves outside my window, the cool breeze carrying whispers of the world beyond. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet meet the familiar warmth of the woven animal fur beneath. With another sleepy yawn, I rub my eyes and gaze out at the breathtaking landscape of the Darkhowl Clan’s territory.
A familiar golden hue of the sun shines across treetops that stretch as far as the eye can see. The forest is coming alive with a symphony of chirping birds and distant animal calls, a harmonious melody that is both soothing and invigorating. It's a new day, and with it comes the promise of adventure and untold stories waiting to unravel.
Thanks to Lyra’s abundant ideas of extreme sports, our days together are well occupied. I have yet to meet another soul as adventurous as Lyra; she has this perpetual buzz of anticipation that never seems to settle. She is always on the lookout for the next daring plan or challenge.
It's an endearing trait, but it can be exhausting as well.
She winks, her mischievous grin widening. "Oh, you know me too well. Today, I thought we could explore the Whispering Glen. I discovered this incredible waterfall there, near the Cave of Skulls; it grants wishes…Fenwulf,” she exclaims with shining eyes, “it was so beautiful and breathtaking, I didn’t want to leave.”
“But you know we’re not supposed to be found near the Cave of Skulls,” I say disapprovingly.
“Who cares about such a silly rule? Where’s the fun in that?”
I grin unwillingly. This, among other things, is what makes Lyra easily my favorite person - her blatant disregard for rules and customs.
“So, are you coming or not?” she demands impatiently. I know she will leave without me, or worse, get herself into some sort of trouble. It's always pretty predictable with Lyra and thankfully I am always around to bail her out.
“I don’t really have much choice, do I?” I say, grinning as she flicks my hair. I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "A waterfall that grants wishes? Sounds like something from a fairy tale."
"Exactly!" Lyra exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And who's to say fairy tales aren't real? Come on, let's make today an adventure to remember!"
I quickly get dressed in a simple gray tunic and comfortable pants. Leaving my dwelling, we make our way to the heart of the tribe where the daily bustle is already going on. The scent of cooking fires mixes with the earthy aroma of the surrounding woods, creating a comforting blend that fills the air. Tribe members scurry about, going about their tasks with a sense of purpose. I was about to grab a small bite of roasted meat when I heard a voice call out to me.
"Fenwulf!" I look around sharply. It's Father and he has a disapproving look on his face.
I swallow, feeling the telltale sign of nervousness that usually accompanies me when I speak to him.
"Father," I say in response, walking toward him where he sits in his stall displaying his wares.
His mouth tightens further as I approach him. "Where are you off to this morning?"
"Uh… Lyra and I have something to do in the forest today."
"Are you up to your silly adventures again? When will you stop being a boy and begin taking on pack responsibilities?"
I sigh mentally.
Here we go again.
"You spend too much time disappearing into the woods and you forget you're a wolf and a warrior. You need to leave the little games with Lyra and begin to move in the company of the other wolves in the pack."
I feel resentment shoot up my chest. I enjoy the company of the other wolves but not like I do Lyra's. Besides, I don't really feel fully accepted into the pack. They regard me as a wimp because I prefer to eat home grown meals than hunt with them. We also think differently about the way things are run in the tribe and they are always hasty to fight over petty squabbles. That kind of lifestyle exhausts me, but it's the way every young wolf in Darkhowl lives. It's the way Father expects me to live but I know I can't. There's something within me that rebels against that; it feels unsettling.
There's no way I can explain my feelings to my father without sounding like the disappointment he thinks I've become. I am not like my older brother, Yoot, who is every inch a purebred wolf - and a chauvinistic one at that. Lyra can barely tolerate him but Father thinks he's the one with the strongest inclination to become the next Beta of our clan and, for Father, that is more than enough to qualify Yoot as his golden son.
I am the embarrassment.
"Do you know what Yoot has been doing since he woke up this morning?"
I study Father's face with a blank expression; there's no need to respond. Sooner or later he will provide the answer himself.
Just as expected, he reveals the answer with a proud look. "Training! He knows what is expected of him and he does it. He easily tops the other wolves in our clan in strength and speed but you…," he trails away with a disgusted look.
I sigh again inwardly. Father’s brown eyes glow with irritation and his thick black brows knit up in a cranky look framing his perpetually pursed and upturned lips of disapproval. Frown lines deepen on his face etching his weathered features profoundly. He is tall and lanky, but what he lacks in build, he makes up for in strength.
I have no words to say to him. It's the same litany every day and I have grown quite tired of defending myself.
Lyra springs to my defense and stares at Father with streaks of anger on her face. "Why do you always do this, Father? Yoot is a big oaf with an over-bloated ego and I'm glad Fenwulf is nothing like him." She is the outspoken one among us, the one who is never afraid to challenge Father. He knows that, too, and always backs down because he has a soft spot for her.
"Come on, Fenwulf." Lyra grabs my arm dragging me in the direction of our morning journey. "Let's go or we'll never get to the glen in time."
Lyra drags me and I let her, even though my heart is heavy after Father's words. I've always had the feeling that I don't fit in. But Father's words have the capacity to drive it home fully, making me feel completely worthless.
"Ignore Father," Lyra's bright voice chirps, interrupting my thoughts. "He's just resentful because he can't place you in a box like he does with Yoot. Frankly, I like you this way. Please don't change."
The woods seem to welcome us, the trees swaying gently as if inviting us to explore their secrets. With every step, I feel a connection to the land, a resonance that goes beyond mere familiarity. I can sense a deeper meaning in the songs of the birds; the touch of the wind on my cheeks feels like a soft caress. There’s a vibrant magnetic energy field, breathing and pulsing gently. As we venture further, Lyra's infectious enthusiasm spreads to me, casting aside my doubts and filling me with a sense of childlike wonder.
My feeling of being at home only happens in the forest. It's never quite the same for me back in the clan; I can never shake off the feeling of being different, of standing apart from the others, no matter how hard I try. It's not just that I look different, with darker hair and eyes, there's something deeper, an intangible sense of uniqueness that lingers at the edges of my consciousness.
Hours pass as we wander toward the Whispering Glen, our laughter mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant gurgle of a hidden stream. The air grows slightly cooler and begins to fill with the scent of wildflowers and a pungent fragrance from moss-covered rocks. Eventually, we stumble upon a clearing, and there it is - the waterfall Lyra mentioned earlier.
The water cascades down in shimmering sheets, catching the sunlight and creating a mesmerizing display of color. I can't help but be captivated by its beauty, by the way the droplets seem to dance with joy before merging with the pool below.
"Make a wish," Lyra whispered, her voice soft with reverence. "You never know what might happen."
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and let my mind drift. What will I wish for? In that moment, as the sunlight filters through my closed eyelids, the answer comes as if whispered by the wind. Opening my eyes, I glance at Lyra and grin. "Done. Now, let's see if this waterfall works its magic."
She responds with a brighter grin and falls backwards into the pool of water with an excited shriek. I stare at her in alarm but she smiles back at me from the water, jumping up and down in reckless abandon and splashing big droplets on me. I veer back instinctively when the icy cold water hits my skin. Swimming is top on the list of things that I tend to avoid; water has never appealed to me like that. It has to be my wolf genes talking but it has no effect on Lyra who is attracted to every stream like bees to honey.
Sometimes I wonder where she inherited her sense of adventure; she's like a powerhouse whenever she discovers something new. I turn around to take off my wet shirt and a huge splash of water comes flying over my head. I dodge it with reflexes so fast that Father would have been proud.
I turn a slightly forbidding look towards Lyra hoping she will get the message and desist from provoking me with the water, but she is nowhere to be found. I shake my head dumbly - I am sure Lyra is just being her typical prankster self. I stand on the bank and cross my arms in front of my chest watching the water patiently. I expect her to pop up suddenly and shout, “Fooled you!”
However, another minute later and my grin changes into a look of alarm. Lyra has not come up since she plunged under the water.
“Lyra?” I shout, my heart beating rapidly against my ribs in fear.
No response. No mocking laughter.
I look into the water piercingly, searching for movement, any movement to indicate where she is exactly.
A slight ripple rises above where she submerged, barely noticeable, but I catch it immediately with my acute vision. Without a moment's hesitation, I hold my breath and jump into the freezing water.
At that moment I realize there’s a relentless current under the surface. I can see Lyra slowly getting sucked down and pulled toward the waterfall, struggling weakly against it. My instincts kick in and I push through the current, swimming with powerful strokes, reaching for her. I can't think or feel, just automatically consumed with a single goal to save Lyra.
I finally manage to get to her and I reach out. She sees me and, with trembling hands, clings to my arm tightly.
Together, we surface. At first we allow the current to pull us toward the cascade; we need to rest from the water’s grip. Soon, panic claws at my chest, and I begin to fight against the water. Lyra struggles too, her gasps for life growing desperate. Every stroke feels like a battle against nature. With every ounce of strength we finally break free and I pull her toward the edge where the water is calmer.
We climb out of the water and collapse onto the rocky shore. Lyra coughs and takes deep, shuddering breaths. We're safe.
I kneel beside her, my concern evident. "Lyra, are you okay?"
She can’t answer for several minutes, racked by a terrible cough as she struggles to throw up the water she swallowed. I roll over to her and pat her back gently until she ejects the remaining water from her lungs.
She nods weakly, her voice hoarse. "I…I think so."
Relief washes over me, but fear still grips my heart. "That was too close, Lyra. What on earth were you thinking? I thought I lost you." The words rush out of my mouth in quick succession without any break in between fuelled by a mixture of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My heart is still pounding loudly in my ears.
She manages a feeble attempt at humor, her voice shaky. "Well, you know me, always keeping you on your toes."
“Don’t try anything like that ever again, I almost had a heart attack. And look, you made me all wet,” I say while shooting her an irritated look.
“Sorry,” she giggles but one look at my face is enough to sober her up. “Alright, I’m sorry, okay? I was just trying to see how long I could hold my breath underwater but I swam too close to the waterfall and cramps from the cold suddenly attacked my legs. I should have been more careful. I won’t try anything so risky again, I promise.”
“Really?” I look at her doubtfully. Knowing Lyra as well as I do, I bet a day’s hunt that as soon as tomorrow, she will be looking for the next dangerous thing to explore.
“Pinky promise,” she says looking at me with an expression that I always find difficult to resist. I sigh and carry her wet limp form in my arms as I stand on my feet without breaking a sweat.
“Let’s get you dried off and back home.”
As I walk back through the forest, the chirping sounds of cicadas become louder. A mocking jay raises a cry somewhere causing the rest of his friends to respond with equally loud chirps. The forest seems alive with the sounds of nature and the swooshing effect of the leaves, as they sway to the afternoon air, is beginning to calm me. I feel a sense of belonging so profound that it pierces my heart. For a moment, I'm almost transported to another world which seems achingly familiar.
Not for the first time, the thought that this feeling of belonging will vanish when I return home sits like a rock in my stomach.
Willow
The moon hangs low in the ink-black sky, casting an ethereal glow upon the dense forest. I crouch low, my senses attuned to every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the night. This is my world, my domain, and tonight, I am the hunter.
The scent of the forest surrounds me, a heady mix of pine, earth, and the tantalizing musk of my prey. My wolf senses heighten, and I can feel the forest pulse with life. My tawny white fur bristles in anticipation as I track a scent - following the path of an unsuspecting deer.
With every step, the earth beneath my paws seems to come alive, breathing and shifting. The forest floor is carpeted with fallen leaves, their dry, brittle texture offering little resistance to my silent passage. Moonlight dapples through the canopy, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.
I spot her - a doe, her coat a rich chestnut, her delicate ears twitching as she nibbles on a patch of dew kissed grass. My heart quickens, and my eyes narrow as I creep closer, my agile form moving with the purpose and grace of my ancestors before me. I can hear the delicate drum of her heartbeat and it feeds my hunger to a frenzy. But, I don’t let it cloud my vision. I have to be focused on my prey or risk letting it escape.
