To Rule the Alpha's Heart

1. The Wedding

Calla Voronín knew the legends. Since girlhood, she'd heard whispers of great warriors from the North– relentless beasts who conquered civility in search of gold and ruby, crop and livestock, women and children. These northern tyrants went by varying names. Skinwalkers. Shifters. Moon Blessed. Werewolves.

    The legends claimed that shifters roamed the cold, unforgiving lands of Nortend. They were men and women capable of transforming their bodies into devastatingly powerful beasts– wolves. Feral hounds as large as any horse, with an appetite for power. It was enough to make a shiver run down any sane human's back.

However, having reached her twentieth year without witnessing any shred of evidence to prove the existence of such monsters, Calla was content to believe that these legends were simply that– legends. Stories crafted by village elders to frighten the children of Berlyne into behaving.

Once, Calla naively believed in the existence of shifters. But now, she'd long-since tucked away her nightmares of massive wolves infiltrating her little coastal village, Berlyne. Now, she had far more pressing matters to occupy her thoughts and haunt her dreams...

"Mama, that's too tight!" Calla complained, hunched over her childhood wardrobe to offer her mother better access to the strings of her bodice.

Ember Voronín clucked, only pulling tighter on the satin strings that twined up the spine of her daughter's wedding dress. "Only a bit more, my dear. You want to impress your betrothed, yes?"

Calla winced, half-convinced that her ribs would snap in half if her mother pulled any harder. "I also want to breathe!"

Thank the gods, her mother ceased her tugging and began tying the ribbon into a bow. Calla took the opportunity to stand straighter, pressing her hands against the white silk of her skirts. The fabric was exquisite. No expenses had been spared.

"There," Ember murmured. Calla felt her mother take a step back, offering enough space for her to turn around to face the mirror for the first time since slipping into the dress. Calla's breath caught in her throat at the young woman who stared back at her from the glass.

"You will be the most beautiful bride, my daughter," Ember whispered, emotion thickening her words.

Calla scarcely heard her mother's compliment due to the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her fingers began to tremble as they stroked the silk of her skirts once more, although she couldn't tear her bright blue eyes from the lace that adorned the wedding dress' bodice. It was beautiful. She looked beautiful.

Her mother had pulled her white-blonde hair back into an intricate braid, leaving tendrils of waves to frame her cheeks and jaw. She'd smudged a hint of rouge across Calla's cheeks, giving the illusion of a feminine blush. Without the artificial coloring, Calla knew that her cheeks would be pale as death.

She certainly looked like a bride, but the idea of becoming a wife had haunted Calla's nightmares for the better part of a month.

    Despite her reservations, Calla did not dare to voice her doubts. She had reached maturity long ago, and most women in Berlyne took husbands by the age of eighteen. Calla was twenty. She'd been given two years of freedom by her parents while they searched for the most suitable match. Calla was the village's future Seer, after all. And her husband would be the next Regent, the leader and lord of Berlyne.

    Calla gripped the fabric of her skirt in a feeble effort to stop her fingers' shaking. "It's a lovely dress," she managed, forcing a smile on her lips as she finally turned away from the mirror.

    "How are you feeling, darling?" Ember took a step closer once more, taking both of Calla's hands in her own.

    Terrified. Calla did not allow the words to slip off of her tongue. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I'm ready to fulfill my destiny as Seer of Berlyne."