Page 15 of The Alpha Wolf's Bullied Bride

“Cynthia…?” I look up, horrified, when I notice how delighted he seems, a smile on his face.

“She is your choice, isn’t she?” The smile slips off his face and he frowns.

“I—” I’m unable to voice my reluctance, afraid that I’ll disappoint my father. Living in Finch’s shadow, I’ve learned not to question any decisions made on my behalf.

That’s why I’m surprised when Father sighs and steeples his fingers on the desk, leaning closer. He doesn't appear disappointed like I thought he would be. He seems concerned, his brows furrowed.

“Look, son,” he begins, “I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do. Especially not when it comes to your choice of mate.”

“Really?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yes,” he nods briskly. “The mating rite remains the most sacred event in a werewolf’s life. It’s a decision you must make not only for the pack but for yourself. The Luna of this pack must be someone you trust, someone who will lead beside you and strengthen your reign.”

I nod slowly, considering his advice while simultaneously weighing my options. It should feel like a privilege to have options, especially for an Alpha in our pack. Unlike Finch, I’m not pressured to find my fated mate—a mate ordained to me by the Moon Goddess Herself.

I’m not the firstborn in the Lycoan family. With a lineage as strong and unique as ours, the firstborn of a true-blooded Lycoan Alpha is usually in line to find his fated mate, something so extraordinarily powerful that a special power is gifted to the chosen Alpha. Usually, it’s the gift of telepathy that extends further than their own pack, a mind link that can be shared with other packs. Or, it’s the gift of visions, a strong sense of clairvoyance that allows the Alpha to use his senses to have visions of any impending threats.

The mystical gift has skipped two generations already. Finch grew up with the firm belief that his fated mate was out there, and he would receive the gift that neither Father nor Grandfather received. That’s why he was determined to make friends with the others, in case his fated mate was amongst an enemy pack.

Now that he’s gone, there is no hope for that gift touching my generation. Father hasn’t breathed a word of it, but I knowthat deep down, it fills him with disappointment that a long line of powerful Alphas ended when Finch died. As the second-born son, I don’t have such greatness, and wouldn’t pass the special gift down to the next line of Lycoans.

That’s why it doesn’t matter who I pick as my mate. All that matters is that I rule the Blood Moon Pack with honor, with the inability to live up to Finch.

If Father was content with me picking Cynthia as my mate, he must have very good reason to consider her.

She is, after all, his Delta’s only daughter. It would make sense to pick her as my mate since she knows more about the pack laws and methods than any other she-wolf in the Blood Moon.

Who better to pick as my mate than Cynthia Warren?

Fated mate,my inner wolf voice chimes faintly in my mind, prompting me to frown as I try listening closer. Mentally, I scoff. Of course, a fated mate would have been ideal. But I’m not destined for one. My inner wolf says nothing more, leaving me to mull over its comment before brushing off the notion.

It’s not as though the second son of the Alpha and Luna can form a fated mate-bond. That’s something my brother would have experienced if he was still alive. I, as the second-born child, will never taste something so divinely orchestrated.

“I understand, Father,” I relent with a nod as I push the binder back toward him. “Let us settle on the matter soon, so that I may sign the treaty and fix Blood Moon’s alliance with the others.”

Father nods. “It is settled, then. We will call for a meeting with haste. Though they have allied, the Oklahoma packs haveyet to uncover who or what the threat is. I have faith in you, son, to bring about justice to our kind.”

A moment of deep, introspective silence passes as I stare at my father in disbelief. With his slowly receding hairline and sinking eyes, he’s becoming older and perhaps more compassionate than I knew him to be two years ago. Perhaps he’s becoming more like his father, Grandfather Tomas, than he wishes to believe. Over the years, I’d often picked up on the strained relationship between the two men and figured they had their own share of disagreements when Father took Grandfather’s position as the Alpha of Blood Moon.

I only hope that I can be half the Alpha either of them were, and lead Blood Moon with the reverence and courage they both carry.

That’s why I can’t make any mistakes. That’s why I have to pick my mate with my pack’s safety and well-being in mind.

That’s why I call out to Cynthia through a mind link, only to find out that she’s throwing a party for the soldiers in the woods.

***

“I hope you like this…” Cynthia drawls as she slides her palms up my chest to drape her arms over my shoulders.

A strange sense of repulsion tugs at my heartstrings, prompting me to tense up and lift the beer bottle to my lips in an attempt to distract myself.

“I know the others think the party’s for them, but it’s mostly for you,” she purrs, seductively batting her eyelids at me as she licks her lips. “For us, in fact.”

“U-us?” I almost choke on my beer, the term unsettling.

“Yeah,” she smiles, cupping my cheek and sending a shiver down my spine. “Since we’re gonna be mates, I thought we might as well celebrate it, along with your return to Zafra.”

“Cynthia, I—”

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