Surrogate Bride To The Alpha Stand-in

Today marked another Blood Moon Festival without Giselle being found. She knew now that either the witches had caught a glimpse of what she carried in her belly, or the pack leaders would discover she was the traitor king's daughter. Either outcome would place her in danger. There was no rescue waiting for her.

Giselle had refused to tell her husband about the one who appeared last night and the message it brought.

Giselle, Luna of the Shadow Fang Pack, was a witch with the power of ice. The Moon Goddess had prophesied that her child would bear the Threefold Gift. But such a gift was tied to the dynasties flowing through her veins.

Her lineage came from the ancient royal family of the Werewolves, once called the Wolf Men. Her mother was a witch. But where did the Lycan blood come from? How could one child carry the three most powerful bloodlines and still survive in this cruel world?

Centuries ago, the pack leaders conspired with the Ancient one to invade the Lycan kingdom and wipe out every beast in the bloodline. The Lycans had been stronger than the Werewolves, and that strength made them targets. In the betrayal, the royal family was slaughtered-including her father. They had called him a traitor for siding with the beasts. No one knew he had left behind a daughter, born of a witch.

That secret had been hers alone, shared only with her mate, Alaric.

But if she gave birth to this child, everything would be exposed. The witches would see the prophecy as soon as the child took its first breath.

Alpha Alaric burst into his chambers, the door slamming shut behind him. Within, his mate stood by the arched window, her gaze fixed upon the heavens. The full moon hung heavy in the sky, soon to be cloaked in red. One hand rested gently upon her swelling belly, the other tracing slow, soothing circles as if to calm the life stirring within her.

"Gather your things," Alaric said, voice low but urgent. "You must leave at once."

Giselle turned sharply. Her breath caught in her throat. "Leave? Why? What has happened?"

"They have uncovered your secret," Alaric said grimly.

Giselle went rigid. "That is not possible. No one knew."

"There is no time for protest," he snapped, already seizing a woolen shawl from the foot of the bed. With fierce urgency, he swept her few possessions into it, hands moving like a man chased by fate itself.

"No." She rushed to him, grasping his arm. "We leave together. I shall not flee without you."

Alaric stilled, his gaze locking with hers. His jaw tightened and for a fleeting moment, a softness flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly extinguished beneath the cold mask of an Alpha.

"You must go,"His voice was ironbound and unyielding.

"Not without you," she cried, voice trembling, torn from the depths of her soul. "We can still escape if we leave now. Before they-"

"Giselle."

The single word stopped her cold. It was not a plea, but a command. A summons forged from his alpha tone. It rooted her to the stone floor and stole the breath from her lungs.

"Please," she whispered.

Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes.

Alaric reached for her, cradling her face in both hands, calloused thumbs brushing the tears from her cheeks. "I will find you," he murmured. "By the moon above, I swear it. But if they find you here, they will not spare you. Nor the child you carry."

Before she could answer, the door flew open with a crash. A maid, young Miriam, burst inside, eyes wide with terror, her breath coming in gasps.

"The ritual has begun. The pack leaders are gathering by the fire."

Alaric's head snapped toward her. "Take this," he said swiftly, thrusting the bundled shawl into the maid's arms without hesitation.

Then he turned back to Giselle.

His hands trembled as they cupped her face, his touch achingly gentle, his eyes burning with the weight of all he dared not say.

"I will find you," he said again, his voice hoarse. "On my soul, I vow it."

He kissed her then, desperate. The kind of kiss that clung like a memory. Giselle sobbed, holding him as if she could stop this from happening.

"Go," Alaric whispered, his lips lingering against hers, his voice breaking. "Please."

Miriam stepped forward and tugged lightly at Giselle's arm.

No sooner had they set foot in the garden than Giselle doubled over. A sharp cry tore from her lips as pain lanced through her abdomen.

"Luna, by the gods," Miriam cried, darting to her side to steady her faltering frame.

"The child... it comes," Giselle gasped, clutching her belly as her breath came in ragged bursts.

"Breathe, my lady. Breathe," Miriam urged, voice tight with fear. "Hold fast. We are near the cave." With a firm grip on her mistress's arm, she half-dragged, half-guided her across the gravel path and into the waiting darkness beyond.

Through a veil of agony and blurred vision, Giselle allowed herself to be led down the narrow passage. The scent of damp earth filled her lungs. The walls pressed close. At the passage's end, Miriam came to a jarring halt.

There stood Lydia Voss. Her best friend.

Giselle's heart surged. "Lydia," she breathed, a flicker of hope piercing the haze of pain.

She took a trembling step forward, then stopped.

Something was amiss.

Lydia did not move. Her eyes, once warm with friendship, were now distant and glacial. She stared without warmth or recognition. From the gloom behind her, wolves emerged. Silent, watchful, their eyes gleamed with menace.

A cold dread curled in her stomach. "Lydia?" she whispered.

The woman she had once called sister tilted her head ever so slightly. The gesture was more predator than friend.

"Please... you need not do this," Giselle said, her voice trembling. "Think of the child."

Lydia's lips parted into a smile. It was bitter and devoid of warmth.

"If you wish to avoid harm, or ensure the child survives, you shall come with us," she said coolly, as though delivering a decree rather than a betrayal.

Giselle stared, disbelieving. This could not be the same woman who had once stood beside her at her crowning, who had sworn fealty under moon and oath.

Then, from Giselle's side, Miriam stepped forward. Her voice cut like a blade through the tension.

"How dare you bar the Luna's path?" she cried. "Stand aside, traitor."

Lydia laughed.

"After tonight," she said, her voice like ice, "she shall be no such thing."

Giselle's chest constricted. "Why?" she breathed. "Why are you doing this? We were friends. You..."

"Hold, Giselle. You are mistaken." Lydia's smile twisted cruelly, "I was never your friend."

The words struck like a blade to the heart. Swift, precise, and without mercy.

Giselle staggered back, her breath catching. "That cannot be," she whispered, eyes shining with disbelief. "Tell me this is a falsehood. Tell me there is still a scrap of truth between us."

But Lydia's eyes glinted like steel beneath the moonlight.

"In our world, my dear," Lydia started, "we do not wait for fate to favor us. We seize it. I was promised to Alaric. He was mine by every right, until you came and beguiled him."

Giselle's lips parted, but no sound came.

"So," Lydia continued, stepping forward, "I forged a swifter path to the future I was denied. By offering you to the pack leaders, I have ensured my place in the new order. Through you, my destiny shall be fulfilled."

A hush fell, heavy and terrible.

"Now," Lydia said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "do not make this more difficult than it must be. Comply, or bleed here where you stand."

The world tilted beneath Giselle's feet. Her knees buckled as another contraction seized her, but she clenched her jaw and held fast, summoning what strength she could muster.

She had known. Lydia had known everything. And now, nothing would stay her hand.

Lydia stepped forward.

Giselle recoiled, nearly stumbling upon the uneven stone. "Keep back," she said, her voice low, trembling.

Lydia's eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "Do not resist, dear sister," she murmured. "It shall go the harder for you if you do."

Before Giselle could speak again, Miriam placed herself between them, her small frame taut with defiance. "You shall not touch her," she said coldly. "Not while I draw breath."

Lydia's smile twisted, feral. "As you wish."

With a flick of her wrist, her fingers morphed nails lengthening into curved talons gleaming in the cave's dim light.

There was scarcely time to gasp. Lydia struck her. Miriam's cry was cut short as claws hit her chest, the blow casting her against the cavern wall with sickening force. She collapsed without a sound.

"No!" Giselle's screamed.

Lydia turned to her once more. With a silent gesture, she summoned the wolves.

But her powers stirred within Giselle, a force as old as frost on stone. Her power, born of winter's breath, surged forth, cold. With a cry that tore from the depths of her soul, she flung her arms wide.

A blast of frigid air exploded from her, laced with shards of ice and rimed with frost. The wolves were cast aside like rag dolls, crashing against the cave walls with howls of pain. The ground trembled, and frost spidered across the stones, reaching like fingers splattered on the wall.

Dust fell. The air turned brittle.

Yet Lydia stood untouched amid the storm. Her smile did not falter.

From the folds of her skirt, she withdrew a crystal, pulsing faintly with a cold, alien light.

"Do not squander what little strength remains, sweet Giselle," she murmured. "It shall end soon enough."

The crystal flared, white and sharp.

Giselle screamed as the searing light pierced her mind. The cold within her was ripped away, not gently but by force, as if every thread of her being were unravelled and torn. Her body gave way.

She collapsed to her knees, her breath shallow.

Her limbs numbed. The frost that had once obeyed her now fled.

Darkness gathered at the edges of her sight.

The last thing she beheld was Miriam's broken form, lying motionless, and Lydia's smile....triumphant, merciless.

Then all faded into silence.

Three Hundred Years Later

-Crimson Moon Pack

Magdalena, a servant bound to the Crimson Moon Pack, had been tasked with delivering refreshments to the chamber where Kara Voss, daughter of Beta Lydia, received her guests. The women had gathered to assist her in selecting a wedding gown fit for the coming day of her wedding to their alpha.

She stood in silence before the carved double doors, the tray steady in her hands. Within, voices flitted like birds through the air.

"Do you favor this one?"

"No, the other pleases me more."

Lena swallowed, her throat dry. Kara's companions were known for their sharp tongues and sharper eyes, ever quick to cast scorn upon her.

Summoning what poise she could muster, she pressed open the doors and stepped into the chamber. The room fell quiet.

She moved with care, head bowed, bearing a tray of honeyed figs, almonds laced with spice, and goblets filled with dark, glistening wine.

The laughter ceased. All eyes turned upon her.

The ladies lounged upon plush cushions, their gowns of fine silk flowing like rivers of gold and rose. Their gazes followed Lena with veiled disdain and something else. Everyone could see the envy in their eyes.

"How absurd," murmured Lady Valeria, her finger idly circling the rim of her cup. "That such a face should belong to a servant."

Lena kept her eyes fixed on the ground, her grip tightening around the tray.

"Indeed," said Selena with a lazy smile. "One might take her for a noblewoman... if one were blind to her rags."

"What a waste," Valeria sighed, affecting a look of sorrow. "A face like that should be adorned with emeralds, not coarse linen."

Lena reached the table and began to pour the wine, her movements deliberate and precise, each gesture rehearsed through years of silent endurance.

She felt their gaze upon her-sharp, prying, like invisible hands creeping across her skin, searching for flaws to mock.

"Perhaps we ought to remedy the matter," Valeria murmured, her voice honeyed with malice.

Selena laughed, light and cruel. "And how would we manage that? Scar her pretty face? A pity, truly. Beauty is wasted on such creatures."

Lena placed the final goblet upon the table and turned, her heart quickening. One step. Then another. The threshold was near.

The great doors creaked open behind her.

The air shifted, like a held breath.

All voices fell into silence.

Kara Voss had entered.

Lena did not need to lift her head to feel the shift in power. The crisp strike of Kara's heels against the polished stone floor rang through the hushed chamber like a warning bell.

Kara's gaze swept the room, before settling upon Lena with quiet authority.

"What is going on here?"

Her voice was smooth, almost indulgent, but Lena knew well the edge beneath that silk. Kara's words, though soft, had weight.

Valeria and Selena exchanged glances, their smiles laced with mischief and malice.

Valeria rose with feigned concern. "Oh, nothing of import, Kara. Merely your servant, Lena. She has been most insolent toward us."

Lena's stomach coiled tighter.

Kara lifted a sculpted brow. "Is that so?" Her eyes lingered on Lena, sharp and unreadable. "Well then. Speak."

Lena opened her mouth, but her voice betrayed her. The words tangled with fear, choked back by the injustice she could not name.

"Answer me."

Selena leaned forward, her tone laced with syrup and venom. "She mocked you, Kara. Said you were nothing. That as long as she remained more beautiful, you would never be worthy of the Alpha's attention."

The lie struck like a lash.

Lena stiffened, her breath caught and shallow. Denial trembled on her lips, but she bit it back. She knew better. No amount of protest would sway Kara. She would not be believed.

Kara studied her in silence, her gaze suffocating, before exhaling a sharp, cutting breath.

"You believe yourself more beautiful than I?"

"I... I never-"

Kara raised a single hand. The chamber stilled as if held by a spell.

"Have you lain with the Alpha?"

Lena fell to her knees. The stone bit through her gown. "My lady, I would not dare."

"Would you speak the truth if you had?" Kara's voice turned ice-cold. "If I must delay this meeting, I will. Speak now or I shall carve the truth from your tongue."

Lena's heart thundered in her chest. She and Alpha Ethan had courted in secret, their moments halted when he announced his wedding. But she had never surrendered her virtue. She would not offer herself to a man who had not vowed himself to her in return.

But to say as much was folly. The truth would be her ruin. Kara would never believe it.

Kara's gaze hardened. "You've made your choice." She turned slightly, a gesture like a death knell. "Strip her."

The world tilted.

Rough hands seized Lena's arms.

"No...wait." Panic flared in her chest. She twisted, fought, but the guards held fast.

Kara stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone. Her head tilted, a slow, cruel smile blooming. "Six strokes. One for each of your lies."

Lena's breath caught.

They forced her to her knees. Her strength crumbled as terror took hold. Fabric tore. Cold air lashed her back like a warning from the gods.

Then, a collective gasp broke through the chamber.

All eyes fixed on the back of Lena's neck, where a crystal-shaped mark shimmered faintly, half red and half silver.

"She bears a mark," someone whispered.

Kara's brows drew together in disbelief. "You're a she-wolf?"

Lena looked up, defiant despite her fear. "I am not. I'm human."

"She lies still," Valeria snapped. "That is the Mark of Restraint. Only wolves carry it. It seals their beast."

"No wonder," Selena added, her voice laced with contempt. "No wonder her skin is unblemished."

"Focus," Kara barked. The room fell silent.

"Even if she is one of us," she said coolly, "that mark binds her. She cannot shift. She is no more than a human. A pretty, dangerous human."

A murmur passed through the room as understanding dawned.

"Get on with it," Kara commanded. "She will confess her ties to the Alpha before the sun sets."

Lena had no idea what they were saying.

She was still in thought when the first stroke landed.

White-hot pain slashed across her back. Her hands curled into fists. Don't scream. Don't give them the satisfaction.

The second came sharper. The third, crueler. The fourth, relentless.

Her vision blurred. Copper flooded her mouth. She had bitten the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

The fifth stroke wrenched a strangled sound from her throat.

The sixth-

"Wait."

Kara's voice sliced through the air like a whip. The guards halted at once.

Slowly, she stepped forward and drew a knife from a guard's belt.

A smirk curled her lips. "I know exactly what to do with that face of yours."

"No, Kara. Don't." Lena's voice broke, raw with terror. "Please, not my face."

Laughter rippled through the room, soft, cruel, entertained.

Kara sighed and tilted her head. "I love to see you beg, Lena. You never have before. But now? To save your pretty little face?" She turned the knife in her grip, letting the blade catch the light. "That makes me want to ruin it even more."

She flicked her fingers. "Hold her down."

"No!"

The guards pressed Lena against the cold stone floor.

Kara took a deliberate step forward.

Then.

The doors slammed open.

"Enough."

A voice cut through the brutality, sharp.

The guards stilled.

Even Kara hesitated. Her smirk flickered into something less certain.

Lena's breath came in ragged gasps. She lifted her head just slightly, her vision swimming. A presence that commanded attention.

"It's the Beta," someone whispered.

Silk rustled as the girls bowed in unison.

Lena swallowed hard, keeping her gaze lowered.

The Beta's voice was warm, almost tender, as she approached her daughter. "My darling," she cooed, laying a delicate hand upon Kara's shoulder. "Your wedding to the Alpha is on the morrow. Shouldn't you be at the market, choosing your gown?"

At the mention of her union, Kara's lips curved faintly. Her stance softened for the briefest of moments.

But then her gaze returned to Lena.

The warmth vanished.

"She's ruined my day," Kara hissed, venom lacing every word. "How dare a common, stupid human displease me so thoroughly?"

Lena closed her eyes, bracing for whatever came next.

The Beta laughed, "Leave her to me," she purred, a cruel glint in her eyes. "By nightfall, she will be a memory. You'll never have to suffer the sight of her again."

Lena's stomach dropped. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, gripping tight as the weight of those words settled deep in her bones.

She knew exactly what it meant.

Kara huffed, tossing the knife aside with a flick of her wrist. "See that you do." She turned on her heel, striding away without a backward glance. Her friends followed, obedient as ever, their laughter echoing like a cruel melody.

Then, silence.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Drawing closer.

Lena kept her gaze down, breath shallow.

A shadow loomed before her. The Beta crouched, one finger tilting Lena's chin upward.

Her gaze flickered with something unreadable.

"Hmm." A soft hum, almost thoughtful. "Good thing your face is still untouched, slave. Such a pretty thing... for now."

A slow, cruel smile curved her lips as she straightened.

"Prepare her to meet Alpha Ethan."

The guards gripped Lena firmly, holding her before the heavy oak door. The head slave emerged, her face a mask of indifference.

"The bath awaits," she stated flatly.

Without warning, one of the guards spun Lena about, handling her like a rag doll. The clink of metal rang through the corridor as they knelt to unlock the chains that had bound her for nearly a decade.

The weight vanished from her ankle. Lena stared, stunned.

They had never removed it, not once in all the years of her bondage.

The cuff had been more than just a restraint; it was a mark of ownership, a symbol of her enslavement. The iron was forged to slow her, to thwart any flight, until a beast could hunt her down.

Yet now, it lay forgotten on the ground.

The absence should have brought relief, but it didn't.

Before she could fully comprehend the shift in her fate, rough hands shoved her forward into the chamber beyond.

The scent of lavender and warm oils hit Lena as she was ushered into the room. Steam rose from the bath, the water glimmering beneath the dim lantern light. Other slaves stood in silence, their eyes unreadable.

Without a word, they stripped her of her tattered clothes. The fabric tore as it fell, forgotten.

Hands shoved her into the water. Warmth enveloped her, washing away the blood, the sweat, the years of filth. She sucked in a breath as rough hands scrubbed her skin, each motion quick, efficient, deliberate.

Then, suddenly, one of the hands hesitated as it shifted her hair.

Fingers brushed her neck, then stopped. They lingered, tracing a faint mark there.

A voice, young and uncertain, broke the stillness. "You are not... fully human."

Lena turned her head slightly. Her voice was quiet and flat. "I am as human as you."

"But... this mark...."

"Ilara," the elder snapped, her voice sharp with warning. "Hold your tongue. Speak no more."

The younger girl flinched and looked away. The room returned to silence.

Lena's thoughts churned behind her eyes. Why did they speak of her birthright as though it made her kin to wolves? That mark, etched into her skin since her earliest days, had always been dismissed by her mother as nothing more than a birthmark. A harmless blemish, meaningless.

Yet now, it stirred whispers and wary glances. It made them question what she was.

Lena did not question it. She had never needed to.

When she stepped from the bath, they dried her carefully, using linens softer than anything she had known in years. Her wounds were tended with silent efficiency. Cool balm eased the sting of the new lashes. Salve darkened her bruises, then vanished into her skin beneath steady hands.

Next came her face.

Fingers...cool, unhurried....glided along her jaw. A tincture of herbs and crushed pearl was smoothed into her skin. Her hair, once tangled and dull, was anointed with oil until it gleamed like burnished copper in the lantern light.

By the time they stepped back, she scarcely knew her own reflection.

She turned toward the silver mirror that had been set upon the wall, and stared.

Not a slave and definately not filthy.

The face that met her gaze was something other. Clean, composed, and unknowably distant.

They were not preparing her for death.

No, this was something else.

Something worse.

A wooden cup was shoved into Lena's hands, sloshing dark liquid against the rim.

"Drink," one of the guards ordered, voice gruff and impatient.

Lena glanced down. The smell was sharp-medicinal and wrong. Her stomach recoiled before her mind could form the question.

"No," she said firmly, her fingers curling tighter around the cup but refusing to lift it. "I won't."

The guard's brows rose. "It wasn't a request."

"I don't care," she snapped, lifting her chin. "I'm not swallowing anything you give me. Kill me if you want. Just be done with it."

Another guard stepped forward with a sneer. "Stubborn little beast."

Before she could move, they closed in. One seized her arms, pinning them behind her back, while the other grabbed her jaw, forcing it open.

She thrashed, twisting her body, but a third pair of hands clamped over her nose. Panic surged through her lungs as air fled.

"Swallow, or choke," someone muttered.

The cup tilted. Liquid flooded her mouth.

She sputtered, gagging, but the vile brew slipped down her throat. Bitter. Thick. Tasting of iron and rot.

When they released her, she dropped to her knees, coughing, her chest heaving. The cup clattered beside her, empty.

"You bastards," she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

But they said nothing. One merely stepped forward and hauled her to her feet.

Lena's head spun...not from the potion, but from the words that echoed in her mind. After today, you shall not see her again.

A knot formed in her gut.

What were their plans for her now? Why had she been summoned to see Ethan? Would he kill her himself?

Had the Beta finally uncovered the truth about their relationship?

All of these were confusing to her.

The guards led her swiftly, their grips like iron. The path twisted through unfamiliar corridors, lined with ancient stonework and carvings she had never seen....wolves in battle, flames licking at the edges, a single moon looming overhead.

This was no path to the slave quarters.

Ahead, a towering oak door stood closed, its iron hinges etched with runes too old for her to name.

Her heart pounded as one of the guards reached for the handle.

The door creaked open.

Upon entering, she felt it....the weight of power pressing upon her chest like an invisible hand.

Eyes turned, sharp and discerning.

The leaders of the Crimson Moon Pack.

Their gazes bore into her, assessing with a predator's patience.

Lena swallowed, her throat parched.

"She is keen," one of the elders remarked coolly as he began to circle her, like a huntsman inspecting his catch. "She shall suffice."

The Beta's lips curled into a thin smile of triumph. "I told you as much."

Alpha Ethan remained silent. His eyes, dark as a moonless sky, remained fixed upon Lena....his expression unreadable.

"And how can we be certain she will not speak?" he asked at last. Though his tone was calm, but dangerous.

A chill ran the length of Lena's spine. What dark schemes were they spinning?

The Beta....Lydia....stepped forth with a confidence that chilled the room. "I have seen to that," she replied. "A witch has bound her tongue with spellcraft. She shall speak no truths, nor shall she flee. The matter is settled."

A low murmur stirred among the gathered lords, but Alpha Ethan stood unmoved.

"And do you believe Alpha Darius shall remain blind to this deceit?" he asked, his voice growing darker still. "What if the truth comes to light?" His eyes turned once more to Lena, piercing and unrelenting. "This is not Kara Voss." His voice dropped, iron-hard. "I do not approve of this, Beta Lydia."

A hush fell over the hall.

Lena's mind raced. Kara Voss.

Now it became clear. She was never meant to stand in this place. Kara was. She was merely a substitute.

A body they could afford to lose.

Beta Lydia's breath left her in a slow exhale. Her voice came sharp with quiet defiance. "I give you my word, Lords of the Pack....the witch shall manage all. Alpha Darius will ask no questions."

Before another breath could be drawn, the doors burst open.

Two guards strode in, their steps hurried, their faces set with urgency. "Alpha Darius hath dispatched men from the Shadow Fang Pack!" one declared.

No sooner had the warning fallen than two figures, tall and grim, entered the chamber. Their presence cast long shadows upon the floor.

Lena's heart thundered within her breast.

Without hesitation, Lydia swept off her cloak and cast it over Lena's shoulders. The thick fabric fell heavily upon her, concealing her form, her face, her trembling eyes.

"Is she ready?" one of the Shadow Fang emissaries asked, his voice low.

"She is," Lydia answered, her tone without falter.

"Then the truce is sealed."

Strong hands took hold of Lena. She was pulled back, her path no longer her own.

Yet she did not struggle.

Her thoughts moved swiftly. The moment she reached the Shadow Fang Pack, she would search for escape.

For freedom.

She must.