Chapter 4 Caden's Frustration With Politics And Mate Expectations

I did not meet Alpha Caden Kael, at least never in person. The very recital of the tales sent a shiver through the spine of even the bravest of wolves. A tyrant they called him. An omnipotent ruler who ruled with +0+ iron will, his temper sharp as the edge of his blade. But beyond that, he was said to be not. Unbreakable. Unmated. Unclaimed. And, above all, uninterested.

It was believed that the Moonblade Pack was a castle of cold and calculated strength. Their Alpha was a politician, a warrior, and an enigma all rolled into one. There was always one dissonance in the huge respects that Caden Kael wielded that he could not control: expectations.

There was that murmur.

"Why doesn't he have a mate?"

"He is cursed."

"Maybe he doesn't believe in the bond."

"Or maybe the Moon Goddess did not choose one for him."

Whatever the case, it seemed he might not truly have been that rebuke against believing in mates. What someone else had done was something to tear him asunder: someone who was supposed to care, to stand by him, had instead betrayed him so fully that trust, in a way, ceased to exist for him ever after.

From a distance, I imagined what he must be like-there, tall, dark, and ruthlessly cold. An anger boiling just beneath the surface, ready to boil away like a tempest unrestrained. A man with far too many secrets behind those unnatural, penetrating eyes who would say nothing that could convince me to try unraveling some of them.

At times, I felt swallowed in a land of "What ifs" of having a mate. What if someone looked at me for purpose? To be owned by someone else. Yet that thought was like a cloud; it drifted away as quickly as it came. Who would want anything to do with someone like me? A faceless nameless omega girl without even a say.

But Caden Kael never knew that his name was whispered behind the wind almost as often as in the halls of the high council and that fate was planning something for which neither cue nor preparation was ever to be had.

---

From what I was told, Caden hated politics. Hated meetings. Hated elders, especially those elders who were trying to persuade him to choose a mate on diplomatic grounds. Having the Alpha of a strong Pack meant he had to marry a Luna-not for love, but for strategy.

Most of what I learned was piecemeal-through Zara's gossip or through elders that passed through Nightshade en route to court alliances. Caden was asked to oppose the High Council for months now. They wanted him to form a political alliance with the powerful Eastward Pack by way of marrying one of their highborn daughters.

But he refused.

"You can't run a Pack like a lone wolf" an elder allegedly snapped at him.

"I've done it for nearly a decade," he replied coldly.

He didn't speak much. But when he uttered a word, it was the last. There was no debate with Alpha Caden. He gave orders; he gave no explanations.

With all its force, now comes the pressure.

His warriors were loyal, but even they were starting to question. The unmated Alpha with no heir, no Luna, no one at his side. Rumors were circulating that Caden had grown restless: his frustration would pour out in long absences from the Pack, in battle challenges, and long rides through the northern forests.

I really didn't know how I knew so much about someone I had never met. Maybe it was because of some uncommonly wielded attentiveness. Maybe because, living mostly in the shadows, I learned to listen.

Sometimes, a part of me dreamt of him.

Not in a way that was given to romance. Not quite.

But in a peculiar, indefinable way that makes your soul quiver when something is just afoot-the premonition of a storm, far long before it arrives.

And during my dreams about Caden, I saw bits and pieces: anger flickering behind his eyes, a clenched jaw that looked over his land that said he was carrying the weight of the world alone and trusted no one with it.

I didn't know he was dreaming of me, as well.

-

"What, why do you look like someone has stepped onto your tail?" Zara's voice snapped through my thoughts.

I blinked up at her. We were outside the Packhouse, hanging up the linens for some punishment I hadn't claimed. As usual.

"I'm just tired," I lied.

"You always look tired," she scoffed. "You know, you should try smiling once in a while. Maybe someone will finally notice you exist."

I bit the inside of my cheek. My fists clenched around the damp cloth.

She kept saying, "Did you hear the news? Alpha Caden is sending emissaries to the surrounding Packs. Something about strengthening alliances. Or maybe he's finally ready to pick Luna."

My stomach tightened.

"I bet he'll choose someone from the Silver Fang territory," she would muse, with a dreamy smile gracing her lips. "Those she-wolves are drop-dead gorgeous. I heard they train in combat and etiquette. Total Lunar material."

I didn't reply. I rarely ever did.

"You know," she casually added, "if you're going to keep daydreaming about Alphas, at least do it when you're not dropping the laundry."

The sheet slipped from my hands.

Perfect.

Zara laughed and walked away. I bent down to pick it up; it was already streaked with dirt. I closed my eyes.

What did I care about whom Caden chose? I wasn't a somebody-her name wasn't even stenciled in glaring lights on any of the high walls she owned. I wasn't even a full wolf, according to Pack gossip. Just an unwanted orphan girl.

No way. Caden's world was carved from steel and blood. Mine was held together with silence and scraps. There was no bridge between us.

Or I thought so.

Night came and brought a different dream with it-

I stood in a forest-a forest I did not know by any stretch of the imagination. The trees were tall and ancient, their branches laced with secrets. The moon hung low and blood-red above us. And the man stood in the clearing.

I could not see his face; just the shadow of him. Tall, broad, with long dark hair that shimmered like ink in the moonlight.

He turned.

I felt the air move.

Right before waking, I caught the faint sounds of his voice.

"Soon."

One word.

It flooded me with such fear that I gasped.

I pressed my hand to my chest as if trying to calm that pounding heartbeat under my palm.

Who was he?

Could this... be him?

No. That was just a dream, or rather a nightmare. My mind played tricks on me from Zara's teasing and the nerve-wracking day I had had.

That heavy, anxious feeling sat on my chest: something was coming.

He was coming-

And when he comes... nothing will ever be the same again.