The Alpha's forbidden mate

(Because My Life is So Unfortunate)

Present Day

Alpha Cyrus leaned back, arms crossed, looking at me as if I were a moldy piece of bread someone had left out in the sun too long.

Then, with a grin that made me want to knock his teeth down his throat, he said, "You? As my mate? Please. I've had women nearly throwing themselves at me for the opportunity."

He snorted, eyeing me up and down like a man chiding a particularly sad garage sale find. "You're weak. My wolf would never turn out this way."

Oh wow. Charming. Where'd this guy get his customer service training?

I slow-clapped him sarcastically. "Congratulations. Congratulations, you just won Biggest Ego in the Room. And believe me, that's a stiff contest."

His smirk faded just a little. "This isn't a joke."

I grinned, tilting my head. "But how do you sound like one?"

His jaw twitched. Oh, did I touch a nerve? Excellent.

"I don't have time for you and your childish antics," he growled, his voice thick with condescension.

"And I don't have time for whatever it is you've got going on here with this overcompensating macho act, but here we are," I shot back.

His eyes darkened. "You have no idea what you're signing up for."

"Oh, I think I do," I replied, crossing my arms. "I've been dragged into this against my will, insulted before breakfast, and now I have to stand here while you set about impressing yourself with the how superior you are." Did I miss anything?"

His lip curled. "You wouldn't survive one day in my pack.

I gave him my cheesiest, phoniest grin. "Oh no! Whatever will I do? How am I going to live without the legendary Alpha Cyrus breathing down my fucking neck 24/7?"

His patience was wearing thin, and quite frankly? Good. Because mine had long since evaporated.

Three Days Earlier

"You want her? Take her. She's yours."

The words had barely escaped my stepfather's mouth when my stomach plummeted like a terrible rollercoaster ride.

I blinked. Wait. He was serious?

I looked at my mother, silently pleading for her to tell me that this was some terrible misunderstanding. That she'd laugh and say, "Oh sweetheart, of course we're not selling you like a goat at the market!"

But no.

Instead, she huffed, massaging her temples as if I were giving her the headache. "Agnes, don't complicate this."

Difficult? Oh, I was sorry - was my reluctant involvement in human trafficking upsetting to her?

I made a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, my bad. "I figured next time I'm being placed in the care of a stranger I'll say 'thank you' before anything else."

My mother's jaw tightened. "Enough with the attitude."

"Enough with the-" I swallowed my own disbelief. "Mother, you're literally allowing this to happen!"

She shut her eyes as if she were calling forth patience from a magical plane. "It's for the pack's best interest."

Ah yes, the old 'good of the pack' excuse. Isn't it funny how that always meant something bad for me.

"And 'the pack' of course means you and stepdaddy dearest?" I asked, arms folding. "Because let's be honest, no one else here is getting auctioned off like a prize cow."

"Watch your tone," my stepfather barked, contorting his face into a scowl. "You should be grateful. Alpha Cyrus is powerful. He could do worse."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You want a medal for your generosity? I snapped. "Or perhaps a plaque that reads, 'World's Okayest Human Trafficker'?"

My mother sucked in her breath, as if trying not to slap me. "You think you're being clever... here is your reality, Agnes. You shall accompany Alpha Cyrus, and you shall do as it is expected of you.

My heart racing, I stared at her. "Are you really okay with this? You're all right with trading me like some medieval bargaining chip?"

She hesitated. Hesitated.

That was as much of an answer as I needed.

I shook my head, laughter coming up out of me, only it wasn't the funny kind. It was the 'I'm a nervous breakdown away from torching this whole place' type.

"Wow. You know, I always thought that, if I got kidnapped or something, my mom would at least fake some concern. It turns out, you'd likely say that you'd pack my bags."

My stepfather growled. "Enough! You'll do as you're told."

I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly stuck. "Or what? You'll ground me? SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY IN YOUR ROOM WITH NO DINNER? Oh wait, I won't have a room, because I'll be too busy being handed out like a party favor at the Alpha's annual self-aggrandizing contest!

A knock at the door sliced through the tension like a knife.

And there he was.

Alpha Cyrus stood in the doorway, a picture of the arrogant wolf prince he seemed so convinced he was. Black hair, sharp jaw, and a smirk that could curdle milk.

"Hey," he drawled, eyeing me up and down. "Aren't you just adorable?"

I folded my arms. "And what are you if not the walking embodiment of misplaced confidence?"

His smirk widened. "Feisty. This should be fun."

Oh yeah. A blast.

My mother's jaw tightened. "Enough with the attitude."

"Let's just pretend that -" I sputtered with my own disbelief. "Mother, you are literally allowing this to happen!"

She flinched but said nothing.

The man in the corner finally said something. "His voice was deep, smooth, arrogant.

"If you've done wasting my time, take your shit. I don't like waiting."

Oh. So it not only felt as if I was being sold off - I was being sold to an impatient jackass. Fantastic.

I looked back at my mother one last time, hoping - praying - for a miracle.

She wouldn't even look at me.

Something inside me snapped.

I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, and sneered at my so-called 'buyer.' "You're in a hurry? Wow. Desperate much?"

His green eyes sparkled dangerously. "Watch your mouth."

I grinned wider. "Or what? You'll return me?"

His lips twisted into something between a smile and a scowl. "You wish."

Saying Goodbye (Sort of. But Not Really.)

I slang my bag over my shoulder and walked into my small room for the final time.

Gertrude and Edwin were waiting for me, worry in their faces.

"Are you really leaving?" Gertrude, her big eyes glistening, said through her tears.

I smiled with difficulty, swallowing the lump welling up in my throat. "Nah. Taking a little trip to Hell. Be back soon."

Edwin frowned, his small face narrowing in disapproval. "Mother says you're going to work for that man.

I snorted, moving my bag on my shoulder. "Yeah, you could say that." Or: 'passed around like a white elephant gift.' "

Gertrude grabbed my arm, her little fingers biting into my sleeve. "But what if he's mean?"

I barked a low laugh, rumpling her hair. "Oh, he is mean," I told her. "But don't worry. I plan to be way meaner."

Edwin squinted in concentration and crossed his arms, as if a little general planning a battle. "You need to sock him in the shins and run."

I grinned, glancing at him. "Tempting. But he likely has better reflexes than I do. Not to mention, a pack of wolves at his command."

Edwin puffed out his chest. "Then kick him twice and run faster."

Gertrude gasped, scandalized. "You can't just kick an Alpha, Edwin!"

He shrugged. "Why not? If he deserves it."

I snorted, covering my mouth. "You know what? That's solid advice. I'll use it as a backup plan.'"

Gertrude sniffed and rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. "Who's gonna braid my hair now?"

I knelt in front of her, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear. "You are. Time to learn, little one."

Her lower lip wobbled. "But I suck at it!"

"Then you'll suck at it with confidence." I grasped her hands in mine, squeezing lightly. "And I'd better not come back to find out you gave up. "If I do, then I'm gonna get Edwin to do your hair."

Edwin's eyes grew wide with horror. "No way! She'll be looking like a birds nest!"

Gertrude sniffled and giggled at the same time. "Fine. "But if I do end up looking ridiculous, I'm still blaming you."

I stood, patting her cheek. "Deal. Just don't hack it all off in frustration. Trust me, I've been there."

She gasped. "You have?"

I smirked. "Let's just say I had a tragic accident with a pair of kitchen scissors when I was seven."

Edwin shook his head, frustrated. "You're weird."

"And you love me for it," I teased, hugging both of them quickly and then stepping back. "Now behave while I'm gone. And, of course, if everything else fails - "

Edwin grinned. "Kick twice and run."

I winked. "That's my boy."

He laughed through his tears, and for a moment I almost forgot the hellscape I was entering.

Almost.

And Then...

In the living room my new 'owner' stood behind my stepfather, looking as bored as ever.

Then all of a sudden he took out a dagger-

-and slit my stepfather's throat open.

I gasped. My mother screamed. Blood sprayed on the wooden floor.

My stepfather gurgled, his hands clawing at his neck, and then his body collapsed.

I looked back at the man who had just nonchalantly murdered someone in my home.

He cleaned the blade on my stepfather's shirt and told my stepfather, "I don't tolerate traitors."

Silence.

I blinked. "Well... that escalated quickly."

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

I was half-screaming, half-sputtering when I lunged at Cyrus. Because what else was I going to do?!! He had just cold-blooded killed my stepdad like he was swatting a fly!

Judas lay there gasping, eyes open, blood blackening his shirt, a terrible art piece. The metallic tang was already curling in my nostrils, turning my stomach. I just couldn't process what I had just seen. One minute, he was standing there, saying the same-old, same-old, and the next - dead. Just like that. As if his life hadn't mattered.

Cyrus, the absolute beast, didn't even look the slightest bit affected. He just caught my wrist in mid-air like I was some troublesome cat mid-pounce, whipping me toward the door with comical ease. His grasp was firm but not painful, as if he were cradling something delicate that happened to be extremely annoying.

"We're leaving."

His tone was way too fucking casual, as if we were going on a weekend trip rather than escaping a murder scene.

I dug my heels in, breathing short, panicked bursts. "The hell we are! He has kids! A family!"

Cyrus piqued a brow, his demeanor barely changing. "You mean the man who sold you for a goat? That family?"

Okay, fair point, but STILL.

"That doesn't mean you - you just -" My voice shook. My heart raced so fast it was as if it was trying to burst out of my ribcage. I whipped around to my mom, who I figured would react, break down, scream, act like a person.

Nothing.

She just kind of stood there, staring at Judas's cooling body as if she was waiting for it to get up and apologize. Not a single tear. Not even a gasp of shock.

My stomach curdled. "Mother?"

She blinked at last, as if I'd only now appeared in her field of vision. Her lips opened slightly and she exhaled through her nose, looking - give me a second - tired. Not sad. Not horrified. Just tired. "Agnes... go with him."

That stung. More than it should have. More than I wanted to admit.

I felt my throat constrict as I looked for some flicker of hesitation in her face, some signal that she didn't really mean it. That she was simply in shock and would come out of it any second. Any second now.

But she didn't.

She shifted her eyes between me and Cyrus, her face unreadable. And just like that, she was gone. Like this was already over. Like I was already gone.

My fists balled, nails digging into my palms. "You can't be serious. He just - he just murdered your husband!" And you're just accepting of this?"

Only her shoulders tensed slightly, a hint of any real emotion. "He wasn't a good man."

I emitted a stuttering laugh, half disbelief, half hysteria. "Oh, great. So murder is perfectly okay then, right?"

Cyrus made a low, amusing sound. "See? Mommy dearest agrees. Now let's go before I lose my patience."

His grip tightened. I hardly had a moment to gasp before he all but shoved me toward the carriage waiting outside.

The Carriage Ride of Doom

I folded my arms across my chest and glared daggers at Cyrus.

Hours stretched between us without words. Literally.

At some stage, I fell asleep, which was to become the worst mistake I ever made.

Because I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder.

And-OH DEAR GOD-DROOL.

I sprung up so quickly I nearly catapulted myself out the window. "I-YOU-THIS-"

Cyrus looked down at his very expensive-looking shirt, on which a shiny wet patch of my betrayal glimmered.

Then he looked at me.

I gulped. "We can pretend this never happened."

Cyrus tilted his head; the smirk that crept onto his infuriatingly perfect face was a slow one. Or you can wash it when we get home."

Damn it.

I scowled. "Or, and hear me out - big-brain idea - we get someone else to wash it. Like, I don't know, a servant? A very dedicated raccoon?"

He arched his brow. "Are you comparing yourself to a raccoon?"

"No, I'm saying that a raccoon would be better at this job." They have tiny hands. It's pretty much everything they do."

He hummed as though not impressed at all. "Fascinating. Now, wash it."

I puffed, spinning around to yank the carriage curtains open - and regretted it instantly.

Just blackness and trees, trees, trees.

I blinked. "...Are we in a forest?"

Cyrus reclined, relaxed as ever, as if he hadn't just pulled me into a horror story setting. "Took you a while to notice."

"Notice?! We're in the middle of nowhere! Shouldn't we stay at an inn or something?! Or maybe somewhere with, I don't know, beds? Civilization? People who don't go around murdering people?"

"Oh," Cyrus said failing to hide his dramatic sigh, as though I was wearing him out personally. "We don't need an inn. We have a destination."

"Great. Love that for us. And how do we survive being eaten by something with more teeth than a dentist's nightmare?"

As if the cosmos had determined to embrace the very soul of spite, a distant, blood-curdling wail pierced the silence.

I froze.

My blood ran cold.

Gradually, I pivoted to Cyrus, hoping-if only this once-that he would give a little slack measure of concern. Just a little. A fraction would be comforting, even a small one.

Nope.

The bastard looked bored.

"Don't tell me you didn't hear that," I whispered, my voice at the verge of squeaking.

Cyrus sighed and picked at his nails, as if he had better things to do than acknowledge my imminent doom. "You really suck at this whole not panicking stuff."

"NOT PANICKING? WE'RE LITERALLY ABOUT TO BECOME WOLF SNACKS.'

He looked at me slowly, judgmentally. Then deadpanning, he added, "I'd love to see them try."

I blinked. What.

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "Excuse me - do you think you're scarier than whatever just made that noise?"

His smirk widened. "You tell me."

Oh, for the love of-

I threw my hands up. "Fantastic! We've officially crossed into the "Cyrus believes he's an untouchable badass" segment of the evening. You know what? Let's just invite them over! Perhaps they'll value your bravado more than I do!"

There was another howl, nearer this time.

I was on the edge of my seat." "Oh my gods, we are really going to die.

Cyrus stretched, perhaps enjoying my misery. "You really lack faith."

"Faith?! Faith in WHAT? The fact that you possess the survival instincts of a brick?"

He rolled his eyes. "I want to see a brick tear someone's throat out."

I made an indignant noise. "Not the point!"

He looked me over for a moment, then leaned across and gave my head an absent signal.

"Relax. You're with me."

I swatted his hand away. "That is not comforting!"

"It should be."

"Well, it's not!"

His smirk was still there, but with something else mixed in. Something dark. Amused. Dangerous. "Then maybe you aren't as intelligent as you say you are."

I let out a hard breath, squeezing the bridge of my nose. "You know what? Fine. When the wolves come, you can fight 'em, and I'll be over here, screaming and crying like a sane person."

His eyes sparkled in the lowlight. "That's the best thing you said all night."

I sank into my seat and groaned. I was so doomed.

Despite the confusion this caused me, Cyrus dismissed it with a wave and shut his eyes as though prepared to nap.

The moonlight fell through the window, and I was still looking at him-

-And his eyes blazed up through a bloody and violent red.

My breath hitched. My hands went clammy. My stomach dropped.

Cyrus, still completely calm, whispered, "Close the curtains."

I did. IMMEDIATELY.

And that's when it dawned on me - hit me like a damn truck.

"...You're not human, are you?"

Cyrus cracked one eye, a wry smile flitting across his face. "What do you think?"

"I-I don't know! A demon? A witch? A vampire?"

Cyrus scoffed. "Vampires are extinct. Insufferable little bloodsuckers."

I stared. "You are acting like you know them personally."

Cyrus smirked. "Maybe I do."

I gulped.

Oh.

Oh, I was so fucking screwed.

The Arrival - And the Immediate Regret

After two days of agony, we finally reached our destination.

And boy.

It had been a stone fortress-massive, intimidating and shrouded in darkness. It seemed like the sort of place where happy dreams went to die.

I climbed down from the carriage and instantly clutched Cyrus's sleeve.

Why?

Because there were wolves. Everywhere. Huge ones.

And the worst part? There were humans too - laughing, chatting, totally unfazed that literal giant beasts were just chilling outside.

My brain refused to compute.

Then - LIKE THIS DAY COULDN'T GET ANY WORSE - a wolf charged at me.

I let out this ear-piercing scream and I think my soul slipped out of my body.

Cyrus, unflappable as ever, covered my mouth with a hand.

Before I had time to process that I was going to die, it altered in the air;

And just like that - a naked man appeared in front of us.

I CAME SLAP, SLAP, SLEEPING IN MY HANDS OVER MY EYES.

"WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! " I shrieked. "YOU EVER HEARD OF CLOTHING?"

The man, completely unbothered, laughed. "She's loud."

Cyrus smirked. "Very."

I pulled one hand away just far enough to glare at him. "OH, I'M SORRY-AM I THE WEIRD ONE HERE?! "

Cyrus crouched, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. "Welcome to the Ghysen, the Pack of the Northern Wolves.

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then slowly, the realization of my total impending doom settled in.

I had just been sold to a pack of werewolves.

Oh.

Ohhh.

...Welp. I was so freaking dead.

Dream or Nightmare?

Now, there was only one reasonable explanation.

I was either dreaming or living the most fucked up day of my life.

"W-Westwood Wolves?" I repeated because I could not have heard him right, because I had to have misheard.

Cyrus hardly looked at me, radiating supreme unbothered energy. "Yes."

Yes?! That was it? Just yes? Not even a "Surprise! Haha, just kidding, we're really going to a lovely quiet village where no one ever turns into a fucking monster"?

Before I could process the bombshell that I was apparently dragged into werewolf territory, the naked guy- a fucking werewolf- who just shifted in front of me like it fucking wasn't a terrifyingly insane act to perform in front of someone you just practically met turned to Cyrus.

Because, yeah. Totally normal behavior. Nothing weird here at all.

"Theo, has the crisis been addressed?" Cyrus said, sounding as concerned as someone asking if dinner reservations were set.

Theo chuckled low on the line like they were sharing a private joke rather than discussing whatever horrible thing had just happened. "We reached a compromise."

Cyrus mocked with an eye roll. "Took them long enough. Greedy bastards."

I couldn't get past the fact that Theo had literally been a wolf about thirty seconds ago, so honestly, their casual conversation about "crises" and "compromises" were the least of my concerns. But my brain hadn't quite made it past my mouth yet, so I was still standing there - blinking like a broken marionette.

Then, as if he'd just remembered I existed, Theo's penetrating stare turned to me.

"And who is she?"

I gulped.

Cyrus, the absolute beast, wasted no time before delivering what could only be the worst possible introduction of all time.

"My new slave."

He said it so casually. As if he were reporting a weather forecast. Like this was some perfectly acceptable thing to say in public.

My jaw unhinged. "Excuse me?! "

Theo arched his brow and looked at me like I was a stray cat Cyrus had found on the street. "Again? Another human?"

Cyrus merely sneered, an assuring expression as a knife-wielding clown in a dark alley.

Theo sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have an unhealthy obsession, my friend."

"Not an obsession," Cyrus corrected smoothly, "just a preference.

Oh, fantastic. This complete and utter psychopath enjoyed collecting humans the same way some people collected rare coins. I was living the dream.

Theo shifted his gaze back at me, this time giving me a full once over, his piercing eyes consuming me as if calculating just what level of disappointment I was about to be.

"With any luck, this one lives."

I froze.

Excuse me?

My brain screeched to a halt. My soul briefly left my body. It was like my stomach fell so quickly it broke the sound barrier.

"...What do you mean by that?" I asked, voice embarrassingly cracking at the end.

Theo cocked his head to one side, putting on the most obnoxiously innocent expression I'd ever seen, dancing with devilry. "Mean by what?"

Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the part where you just suggested I was past my prime? Maybe expand on that before I begin screaming?

Cyrus snickered, a nasty little sound that dripped sarcasm and came out totally unaffected by the panic that had begun to creep through my bones. "Relax, Agnes. No one's going to kill you."

I narrowed my eyes at him, very suspicious. "You say it like it's optional."

Theo shrugged. "That depends."

I hated that I needed so badly to clarify that sentence.

"Depends on what exactly?" I did, squeezing my own arms tighter as if that could somehow stop the fucking circus I was in the middle of.

Theo and Cyrus shared a look before smirking. "It depends on how much support you are."

Oh. Oh.

Fantastic. Because that wasn't a totally terrifying thing to hear at all.

I was so doomed.

I looked at him, then his still-outheld hand. He hadn't shaken his hand yet? Not happening.

Instead, I gave him a sickly, false smile. "Who am I to shake the hand of someone so... powerful and good? After all, I'm just a lowly, back-Stabbing human."

The smirk disappeared from Cyrus's face at once. He turned his head toward me so quickly I worried about his neck breaking. Uh-oh.

"Agnes," he said slowly, his voice dipping to something dangerously low.

"What?" I blinked innocently. "I'm just being respectful."

"That was sarcasm," he spat.

"Oh, was it?" I feigned surprise.

Theo laughed. "I like this one."

Cyrus, annoyed not even a bit, found my wrist and pinched. "Apologize."

I raised my chin, unwilling to cower. "For what?"

His grip tightened. "Now."

Every bone in my defiant being screamed NO but his eyes? They were glowing red.

I gulped.

"...Fine."

I gestured to Theo, spat through clenched teeth. "My apologies, great and mighty wolf man."

Theo grinned. "Accepted, little human."

I rolled my eyes.

Oh, I hated it here already.

THE TEA DISASTER

"You have got to be kidding me."

Cyrus spit out the seventh cup of tea that I made for him. SEVENTH.

"This is disgusting," he pronounced theatrically, as though I had given him poison.

"You know," I said, deadpan, "normal people just drink tea and continue with their lives."

"I'm not normal," he said without missing a beat.

"No, you are the pain in my ass," I grumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

I gave him an innocent smile. "Nothing, Master."

His eyes narrowed. He didn't believe me.

Cyrus crossed his arms. "Are you telling me you really don't know how to make a simple cup of tea?"

I threw my hands up. "Oh, my deepest apologies! "Oh, I missed the course where they trained me for slave work and sold me like a cheap goat!"

His gaze darkened. "Watch your tone."

"You need to be cautious with your expectations. I wasn't exactly brought up in a 'How to Serve Your Overgrown Wolf Master' type of environment."

He leaned in, voice dipping to some low and dangerous. "You will learn."

I puffed, grabbing the tray off the table. "Oh, your Majesty, allow me to make you another."

But as I trudged to the kitchen, a question nagged in the back of my mind.

Wait... is he actually a king?

Everyone in this place would practically bow when he walked by.

I hesitated, glancing back. "So, like, are you, a literal king?"

Cyrus raised a brow. "I am the Alpha of this pack. So, in a sense... yes."

I snorted. "Weird. Kings are usually old. You're... young."

His scowl could have melted steel. "Tea. Now."

I grinned, turning away. My favorite pastime was officially annoying him.

An Unexpected Ally

Just then a girl strolled in while I was trying to remake the tea.

"Need help?" she asked, with a friendly smile.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"

"Not someone important," she said cryptically. "But I do know how to make tea that won't have you thrown out a window."

That got my attention.

She ambled over, collecting leaves and grinding them up with honey, and then a squirt of lemon. Then she added the mix to hot water, stirred and strained it.

"There. Perfect." She handed me the cup.

I blinked. That was it?

"That's the very same thing I did," I grumbled.

She laughed. "It's all in the technique."

I squinted at her, then sighed. Whatever.

I took the tray and rushed back to Cyrus.

He raised the cup to his nose, then took a gritty sip.

I held my breath.

"Adequate," he finally muttered, draining the rest.

I could have fallen to my knees with relief.

And then - because the universe hates me - his eyes locked on mine.

"You haven't made this tea yourself, have you?"

I swallowed. Busted.

"...Should it matter?"

Cyrus reclined again, folding his arms. "If there is one thing I hate in this world, it's disobeying my orders,"

Oh, for the love of - he got the tea he wanted, didn't he?!

"Well, sorry for making your life easier," I said.

Cyrus's gaze darkened. "I'm warning you, Agnes. Next time, you obey."

His tailcoat had been removed, and his shirt was half unbuttoned.

I turned away so quickly that I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Damn it.

This place was going to kill me.