Bride Of The Vengeful Alpha

When I was a girl, I dreamed. I dreamed of stars, the sky, balloons, and darkness wrapped in him. I didn't realize the dreams I had were far from ordinary; they echoed with promised retribution. You see, it wasn't bad to dream, but to dream of him was an omen of dark days to come. Days that will rip off the mask of my quiet unsuspecting town. My name is Claire, and I am the bride of a vengeful alpha.

My hometown, Rhoede, pronounced REE-ODE, was a simple but ruthless one. It was home to the greatest werewolves to walk the earth, almost entirely cut off from the rest of the world by the ocean on three sides. It was self-sustaining, thriving, and utilitarian. I was born here, to the largest and strongest pack known to man and others; the Blackthorne wolves. Volatile, powerful, ruthless with signature eyes of grey and gold that shone in the most heightened emotions. I was small compared to the rest of my clan, barely 5'5", and weighed next to nothing. As a she-wolf, I was already disappointing, and I had just begun. There are several packs within Rhoede other than mine we have, O'Connoers, McMasters, the Rune, Beaumont, Belgrave, Greyson, the Rivers, Nightlad, and the Savonts. The leaders of each pack form a council of wolves spearheaded by Alpha Declan Rivers; they deliberate and make decisions to protect our home and interests.

The dreams I speak of are not fantasy, and not ordinary in the least. To dream as a young she-wolf is a necessity; it is the only way to find our true mates. Once one is of age, eighteen, the dreams begin to unfold, giving little details here and there until the full picture of him is complete and you unlock his name, scent, and aura. Some dream of wolves not within the pack and must find him along with the help of the pack druids, masters of magic who assist also in mating rituals, bond severance, and funerals. They also throw a mean birthday party. It is not uncommon to have dreams earlier than 18. The youngest record was about 15; Natalie Greyson. She dreamt of some New York wolf and spent the next 2 summers yapping on and on about him and how she couldn't wait to leave. She did, and we gave thanks. I never understood her desire to upend all she's ever known in the blink of an eye without looking back. I've always felt grounded here, like all I need and am meant to have is here. Now don't get me wrong, I love the occasional vacation but there is no place like home.

There's just something picturesque about here, with its rolling acres of uncultivated land, most wolfs owned ranches and farms, and just great property with enough nature and space to allow our wolves room to run free and a semblance of peace. There are schools; kindergarten, middle schools, community college, and quite recently a University that accepts wolves and humans, that idea was met with a whole of pushback but the council made it work. There are restaurants, boutiques, and shopping centers. Everything is well thought out for convenience and ease. But as modern and well-structured as my home is, it wasn't always like that. Weirdly no one seems to be able to give a clear account of the history of our town. All there is are records from two hundred years prior. Anything beyond that simply doesn't exist or is lost in translation. Many texts allude that we've been here for over four hundred years if not more. So what happened to nearly 300 years of history is anyone's guess. There are whispered stories of war, of great werewolves who could perform rituals the way druids do, who could enter minds and enslave their victims like vampires. Who drew strength and life force from the moon to truly live forever. Myths and crazy stories are what it is because our kind of werewolf barely makes it to a hundred years, can't do magic for anything, and cannot enter minds. Save the full moon transformation and heightened smell hearing and healing, we are human-ish. There has been a gross dilution of our 'other' blood thanks to Weres who mated with humans. Do that too many times in too many generations and you'll have what we are right now. To mate with humans is a personal choice it was mostly Were's who lost their mates to wars back in the day. They find humans and settle down with them for want of companionship. The proper way to secure a mate remains the 'mated dream'.

The mated dream is supposed to be sweet, like a cool breeze on your skin on a summer day, leave you feeling all warm and tingly and wake you up with a sharp sense of focus so no matter how little the detail revealed is, you would be able to write it down and recognize it when the full picture comes. It's also one of the reasons it happens at 18, young female pups have a hard time connecting what's real from their active imagination. It's a way to ensure certainty.

This is why when I jerked violently from bed at the young age of 16, drenched in sweat with a roar in my ears followed by a sinister laugh, I knew something was wrong.

When I was 9 years old, I met my best friend, Ally Savont. I was bullied and laughed at for being different by members of my pack and others. It's not easy being a 5'3" petite wolf when the average she-wolf height was about 5'9" to 6 foot, leggy, and built. They made fun of my curly copper-red hair with streaks of white. Someone said I looked like Frankenstein's wife. Kids were mean, very mean to the shy little wolf with golden eyes, pale skin, a dusting of freckles across my button nose bridge, and a full, pouty pink lip. I was adorable; I didn't understand why.

I made reports to several teachers, but no one wants to believe they are bullies, much less that a Moore wolf would let herself be bullied. Coming from the toughest clan had its demerits, and this was one of them. I tried my best to avoid confrontation and only spoke if spoken to, which was barely if ever. It hurt my mom so much to see me retreat into myself. I got more quiet as the school year ran through. Cressida Moore was an iron lady with a soft core. At the age of 21, she wed my father, Alistair Blackthorne, a young and upcoming wolf who would later become the fourth Official Beta of our clan.

My mother has soft auburn hair, the greenest eyes to reveal all pastures, pale, who I took after and stood at 5'8". My father and I share the same fiery hair, with his being a shade darker and tinged with grey. He had the typical grey eyes and bronze skin and stood at a good 6'2". It's obvious where I got my most distinct features; my eyes and size were a mystery. Dad was barely ever home. As an official beta, he handled pack matters, transported treaties, sat in council meetings, and settled minimal disputes that were within his power to do so. He worked long hours and took trips quite often. It was usually just me and Mommy, but when he was around, we had a blast. He'd take us shopping, to amusement parks, to the beach; we'd cook together, sing together, play the piano quite well, and when we could afford it, he bought one and taught me to play. He and Mommy would sit by the fire with steaming cups of cocoa in hand and regale each other of their days in soft tones, touches, and quiet laughter. When it was me and mom, we had a much simpler home. She'd go to work as an accountant at the local bank. She'd pick me up from school, and we'd go to our usual restaurant, Delia's, for a quick lunch while she answered emails, and then we were off home to cook dinner and talk by the fire; I'd play her a few notes or a new song I'd learned, and we'd head to bed once the clock struck nine. To be up again by 5:30 AM to rinse and repeat. It was by that fire she'd encourage me to stand up to the bullies, to take charge of my wolf, and call her to help me when I was distressed. But try as I might, she was as quiet as a graveyard and not stirred one bit by my situation. I think that was also a source of disappointment for her. My wolf didn't show itself when I was nine, ten, eleven, till sixteen when young pups were tapping into their wolves and transforming before the age of six. I was truly an aberration. She had a beautiful wolf, with hair as dark as midnight and haunting green eyes she was enchanting. Father's was red with grey eyes and huge. I'd seen both when they changed to attend the full moon and solstice events-leaving me home with Luna Opal, an old and wise woman who couldn't join the festivities anymore. She was almost ninety years old and loved to tease me.

Being the butt of jokes by wolves bigger than me was tough, and the fact I was a loner made it even worse. It was pretty basic, really; they'd corner me at my table in the cafeteria, talk smack, push my food around a bit, call me Franky, flash their wolf eyes at me, snap their teeth and claws to frighten me, crack loud vulgar jokes about how nobody wants me, and leave. I'd always hear an echo of laughter from the rest of the school, and I'd get up and leave. Rinse and repeat. It was on one of the usual days that I'd left to wander around school till the break was over. With my hoodie drawn up and my shoulders slouched, I didn't notice I was being followed. Once I reached the front school steps and took a seat, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a young girl with tan skin, striking blue eyes, and straight brown hair. She was slightly taller than me, so I guessed around 5'5". Her head cocked to the side as she regarded with a curious look. "Can I help you?" I whispered. She didn't utter a word, just reached for the lunch pack she was holding that I just noticed and pulled out two huge beef sandwiches wrapped in clear film. She stretches her hand and offers me one. "Oh no, I couldn't," I say, scooting back a little. She proceeds to dump the sandwich on my lap and then climbs down the steps to where I'm seated. She plops down, opens hers, and begins to eat. I tentatively reach for mine and unwrap it; the yummy smell of well-seasoned meat and toasted bread hits me, and my mouth waters. I take a bite, and it's heavenly. I look at her and smile, "Thanks." She smiles as well, and we sit in silence and munch away. I made a friend that day, and every day after that was bearable; the bullies left me alone mainly because Ally was a Savont, one of the richest packs in Rheode with government affiliations. Her father was the Beta of their pack, so that gave her a high status in the werewolf community. A lot of people wondered why she would hang out with someone like me, but it turns out Ally's just as quiet as I am and curious; she rarely talks, but when she does, it's in a soft, calm voice with a bit of steel behind it, so you know she means business. We bonded as friends and pseudo-packmates. Werewolves form bonds/friendships with other werewolves regardless of the pack and form their close-knit group. The bullies did that as well; joy.

It all started when I turned 16. For weeks, I'd anticipated my birthday. Mom bought me an emerald dress, and Dad was coming home for a week break just to celebrate with me. It was going to be the best birthday yet. I didn't put any thought into mating or being mated or the fated dream. I was just a girl looking forward to her birthday. Besides, I was told I wouldn't have the dream for years yet, considering my 'disabilities'. I paid it no mind.

So when I jerked awake, drenched in a cold sweat, a deafening roar in my ear, and a sinister laugh with the smell of cardamom and sandalwood lingering in my room, I knew something was wrong. Gasping for breath, I tear out of bed and race down to the kitchen where my mother is bringing out freshly baked buttermilk cookies.

"There you are, my birthday girl! Happy birthday, sweetheart," she says with a smile and drops the tray amongst the rest of the treats she had made. It looked like she'd been baking all night. The whole countertop was laden with brownies, cookies of different shapes, donuts, and beignets covered in powdered sugar. It was pastry heaven.

"I had the dream!" I exclaim.

"What dream, honey?" Mom says while taking off the oven mitts she had on.

"The fated dream, I dreamt of him, my mate."

My mother snorts with derision and leans down to my height.

"You're only 16, Claire, that's not possible."

"But I did dream of him, I swear. I know what he smells like."

"Oh? And what does he smell like?" she says, cocking her hip against the counter with arms folded.

"Sandalwood and Cardamom."

She laughs at my words and with a shake of her head brings out two jars with the same labeling.

"This is what you smelled, Claire. I was filling up the diffuser and wanted to try out new scents I think your father might like."

"But, I'm not lying, I felt him," I countered, growing increasingly frustrated when I realized that my mom was being dismissive.

"I know you want to belong just like the rest of the wolves at school, but this is not the way to do it," she says and starts walking away.

"But-"

"ENOUGH, CLAIRE! It didn't happen, and that's the last I want to hear about it."

"Now go on and get dressed, there's a lot to do."

I kept shut and stomped back upstairs to do as told and spent the rest of the day in a funk. Needless to say, I kinda ruined my birthday. Even Dad noticed my mood and made no comments. I'm sure Mommy filled him in. With the day's festivities well and truly done, my gifts opened, and thank yous said to my parents and Ally who came over a while later. She and I lounged by the porch, and I filled her in on what's happened. I barely finished speaking when she reached into her bag, stood up, and shoved a library card at me.

"What's this? We should go to the library?"

"We are going to the library," she replies and starts walking out the gate and onto the street. I scurry after her, and we make our way there. The library is a massive building with long pillars, carved out of white marble. It has cobbled steps that lead to the massive ornate, steel door with silver embellishments. The insignia of the Savonts and the emblem of the town are carved on it. The Savonts are keepers of knowledge. Too bad they couldn't keep our town's history well. We scan our school IDs and say hello to the librarian in charge, Mary Savont. She is Ally's aunt-in-law.

We head to the history section and find books on wolf packs and scents unique to them because all packs have scents. The Blackthorne wolves have the distinct smell of jasmine. I have that too with a touch of lilies thanks to my 'condition'. I flip to the page indicated for cardamom and find it's been ripped out completely. Someone tore it out. I'm confused and concerned. Ally takes note, nods her head, and gets up from the floor with a pile of books around us.

"Come on," she says and starts walking through the library, down a long hallway, two flights of stairs going down until we get to a small door. She takes out a necklace she wears with a key pendant and unlocks the door.

"What?" I exclaim.

"Shhhh," she makes a silent gesture with her hands to her lips.

"How do you have a key?" I ask, and she waves it off.

She steps through the door, and I follow cautiously after her. It's a small office of sorts, with bookshelves, showcases, and boxes all around, like the chief librarian's office. Ally moves with purpose, like she's been here a thousand times, and unlocks the drawer of the mahogany desk. She lifts a heavy book out. It's a bigger volume of pack scents. She sets it on the table, and we flip to the cardamom scent. There are no pages on it except one. The others seemingly missing just like the one upstairs. I read through the information praying that somehow I was right and that I did have my fated mate dream and it wasn't my mom playing with diffuser scents. It says, "Cardamom and Sandalwood, powerful scents belonging to the great clan of Lycaon. Lead by Lord Invar Lycaon the terrible, his son.......... the page cuts off.

"What, that's it? Where's the rest of it?"

"That's all there is," Ally replies looking as confused as I felt.

"It's like someone went through great trouble to wipe them out of history books but why?" I asked, throwing my hands up in defeat.

"Well, you won't know if it's his son unless you have the dream again," Ally says, packing up, and we leave the way we came.

"Yes, all I have to do is have the dream again and then I'll know, easy," I say, feeling hopeful.

"Maybe you'll have it tonight, don't you worry," Ally suggests, patting me on the shoulder as we exit the library and walk home.

"Yeah, you're right, tonight."

I bid her farewell and head home; she goes the opposite way. I wash up early, put on my best PJs, and get some sleep. I don't have the dream that night or any night after. He comes in the flesh years later.