The Dark Alpha

Chapter 3: Master

It's wrong to doubt the Moon Goddess, but as I make my way to the pack house, I can't help but question her purpose for mating me and Theo.

The rogue I was locked up with was right; the Alpha does not give punishments lightly, and I fear my hesitations with our bond are deserved. Even so, the pull in my heart isn't deterred. Somewhere far inside of me—mind, body, and soul—his claim has been etched, and it coaxes my admiration.

The front door is still unlocked when I arrive back, so I let myself in and shut it behind me. I step out of my shoes and go directly upstairs, but my attention snags on the master's double doors, and I swing around the railing post towards them. I stop and stare and simultaneously listen for Maude in the kitchen; she must be drinking tea because I don't hear anyone working.

Lily was right when she said there were reasons we can't venture past the border freely; horrible things are rumored to occupy the world beyond Rowan's territory. As a child, I imagined unclaimed land to be ridden with beasts worst that the most vicious rogue, giant shadows that loom over the fiercest warriors, and landscapes so harsh not even the strongest of wolves can traverse them.

At school, children loved to whisper about unclaimed land, insisting it had no moon, or daring each other to run onto it, even for a second.

But I found none of those things to be true. What I did find is Alpha Draven, and perhaps Alpha Rowan's reason for securing his border isn't to protect us from dubious monsters; it's to protect us from leaders like Draven. And that—behind two measly doors—is his bedroom.

And I am his mate.

I reach for one of the handles and open the door slightly, creating just enough space to call, "Theo?"

No one is inside.

It seems masochistic to do so, but I push the door further until I see most of the room. My fingers pick at one another, so I ball them into fists. His scent wafts out and wraps around me, and I let it reel me in, trespassing again. My steps are short and cautious at first—my adrenaline spikes and my heart thunders—but my fear gradually soothes, and I reckon the soothing is an effect of Theo's scent. How ironic, I think.

His bedroom is masculine in its color palette yet soft and comfortable in its textures. I run my fingertips along the end of the bed as though they're dipping into a pool of water. It feels like everywhere I go, I shouldn't be there, but I should belong in my mate's bedroom. I want to belong with my mate in his pack, yet Theo seems far from loving, and I feel no more welcome here than I did the night I left home. The women who work in the pack house are kind, but it's obvious I'm an outsider.

As expected, our bond persists within me. But what if my surge of new feelings isn't returned? Does he feel our bond as strongly as I do?

I'm afraid he doesn't. By the way my cellmate described him, I should be surprised he even has a heart for mine to link to.

Conflicted, I stride to one of the elegantly framed windows and gaze out at the forest, yearning for clarity as I sneak about like a mouse on a trap-ridden floor.

Footsteps ascending the stairs drive my heart into my throat. Submerging myself in his scent rendered me blind to his return, but my realization comes too late. I hurry to the bedroom doors on the balls of my feet and draw the open door closed behind me, but it's pointless. When the door latches into place, and I look at the stairs, Theo is there staring like a judge of the dead. I release the door handle as my arms cover with goosebumps.

"I'm sorry," I breathe.

"Are you?"

"Yes, I-I shouldn't have gone in."