Resisting the Rival Alpha

Chapter Three: Terrible Fate

KAELYN

Finding your mate is supposed to be the best day of your life. A day that some werewolves never get to experience. Honestly? I think most werewolves end up never finding their mate. In fact, my parents were the only true, mated pairs I've known personally. Mom died when I was little, and he always talked about his "other half," like she was still here. Father made it clear that the joy of finding her was well worth the agony of losing her.

"When that happens for you, Kaelyn," Father once told me, "not only will it be the happiest day in your life; it will be the happiest day in mine."

And because of that, in this rare moment, I'm glad he's not here anymore.

This day that I have been dreaming of since I was a cub, a day that I honestly wasn't sure would ever come, has become the absolute worst day of my life.

My mate, the werewolf who is supposed to be the "other half of my heart," is Lex Steele, the absolutely bloodthirsty monster who is Alpha of the savage Shadowclaw Pack.

Kaelyn, this is him, my wolf howls. He's the one. The one we've been waiting for. Please, Kaelyn, please.

Lex is sitting back on his knees, head in his hands, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths. He leapt off of me when our eyes locked and we imprinted, and honestly, I don't know how he's able to resist looking at me.

I can't stop looking at him.

Even before we imprinted, I couldn't help but notice every perfectly, sculpted muscle on his naked body. As werewolves, you get pretty used to seeing your packmates naked when you shift.

I don't know if I could ever get used to Lex Steele's marble-chiseled abs or the way the long bangs of his black hair sweep across his forehead.

I sit up from my lying position in the dirt, and I keep my legs closed as tightly as I can. My core feels like a furnace, and I'm pretty sure the fever of my heat has raised about ten degrees. It's a cold night, I'm naked, and I can feel sweat beading my brow.

The wind shifts, and I'm slammed with Lex's scent.

My mate smells like moon-aged driftwood on a lonely beach. He smells like whiskey and leather and bourbon, and it takes everything in me to stop myself from burying my face into his neck right then and there.

"This is wrong. This isn't supposed to happen." Lex's voice is lower and rougher than before. It goes straight to the apex of my thighs. My wolf is whining just from his voice alone.

"You think...you think I'm thrilled about this either, asshole?" It's supposed to come out sharp and angry, but I'm panting, and so it sounds needy and pleading.

I guess Lex's wolf likes my voice too, because his head snaps up from his hands, and I can barely see the blue of his eyes for how wide his pupils are blown. Lex opens his mouth to say something else, but his eyes fall to my lips.

I'm so fevered that I'm lightheaded. Sweat's running down my naked body in little rivulets. Lex's eyes catch a drop that's sliding down my throat. I can feel it painting a little path down to my right breast, running down to the edge of my rosy areola.

Lex doesn't blink. Or move. But when it reaches the stiff, aching peak of my nipple, Lex's hand shoots out to cup my breast.

I gasp, but before I can do much more, he brings a gentle thumb to press the droplet to my skin. I suppress a whimper at the tingling spark that happens when we touch. His ink-black hair hangs in front of his eyes as he meets my gaze, his face dark and intense. Slowly, he swirls a thumb to trace the blushing edge of my areola, to graze the tip of my hardened bud.