To Kill An Alpha

Chapter 3- My Mate, The Alpha

Heya, Melinda here. Thanks for reading again. Hope you have enjoyed so far. This chapter I'm planning to focus on Blake, Brookes mate a bit more. If you haven't picked it up yet, Blake, The Alpha, and Brookes mate are all the same person. Favourite character? Please comment any suggestions. And I will give you full credit for suggestions.

Thanks again. Melinda xx

My Mate, The Alpha

I sit in a small office chair. Waiting for an interview with my mate. I feel ridiculous for having to try and impress him. He is forcing me to be the perfect wife and mate. And I will cooperate. But only because it will ensure Charlotte's safety, for now. I tap my toe in the floor, a steady rhythm keeping me sane. My chair is in front of a massive oak desk. On the other side of the desk is a massive black chair, which is empty.

I have finally been giving some clothes, by a small grey haired woman on the way in. She said that he knew that the soldiers have been observing me in the military style bus that brought us here.

The desk has paper strewn across it. I stand up and look towards the door. Making sure I'm alone I peer across the desk and at the paper. I pick up the piece closest to me, it's a map. A map of the wood we recede in. And there are sections outlined with different colours, names of the packs that own that territory. And my eyes fly to my own packs domain. Labeled with our pack name, Harding. As in Alpha Mitchell Harding. My best friends father. Luke's father.

And I feel a fresh pang of guilt and sadness. The guilt, being that tomorrow when he comes to bring us supplies he will find a trashed cabin, with two dead bodies surrounding it. He will be worried sick. And the sadness is a more selfish one. I miss Luke badly. When I told myself last year that if I needed to leave the pack, I would tell Luke first, I knew I wouldn't be able to live without him. I feel a massive whole in my heart.

I drop the piece of paper back in the desk and sink back into my chair. I wait, impatiently playing with my fingers. I figit with a loose end on my grey shirt. I even inspect my pressed jeans, looking at the fibres. All out of complete bordem. I hear the door open and I turn my head in the direction of the noise. In walks Alpha Blake.

His blonde hair styled up with gel. I almost laugh at the sight of the man in front of me. He is wearing low cut jeans and a tight white top. Showing of his chiseled abs and arms. He looks like a doll. All dressed up, it's funny to think I saw him naked all but three hours ago. All part of pack life though. I am no stranger to naked men. And now he is attempting to impress me. Physically, he is perfect. Excellent build, as a man and a Wolf. Strong and broad shouldered. Even face. Perfect smile, or shall I say scowl. Shining brown eyes.

As he walks past me to the other side of his desk I notice the complicated tattoo in his back. Barely visible though his white shirt. I didn't notice it last time though the haziness of my fury. He sits down in the chair and leans back like he owns the place. And he does.

"Brooke." He growls. Soft and low.

"Blake." I growl back, much harsher though.

We both sit in there in silence and study each other. I can feel his eyes raking over my body, and I swallow. Feeling my wolf, begging me to run to him, and let him do what ever he wishes. I feel extremely affectionate for this monster. And I know it's just the magic that makes me wolf in the first place. Our bodies choose our perfect 'mate' to maximise the good breeding. To strengthen our bloodline.

And I have to admit. Any pup from him would be an excellent specimen. Me? Not so much? I am very athletic. But all wolves are built for athleticism. I have never met a clumsy or slow wolf. He must be a great warrior.