Lighting the fireplace, I watch the flames burst from the tinder. Dim orange light flickers on the walls, parting the darkness like the Red Sea. I sit cross legged on the floor, staring into the fire as if it would somehow bring peace. My eyes go out of focus, the colors of the room blurring together.
The Exiled Alpha: so famous, yet so unknown. So feared and hated, yet simultaneously respected. He toppled an entire pack single handedly. He cut them off from the world and kept it that way for three years until they finally exiled him.
"How did he do it?" Is what every werewolf across the globe has asked at least once. I'm mated to him and even I still don't know. Although I have some theories.
Having witnessed his rampage through the pack of Khopeski, the terrible screams are still stuck in my ears. Never have I felt the same terror and dread as I do when catching glimpse of those ruby red eyes.
A dire descendent. That's the biggest mystery about him. There's no doubt that it ties closely into his personality; his impulsivity, the reasoning behind what makes him tick.
What does make him tick?
He was born a rogue and remains one at heart. Rebellion is in his blood as much as his feral ancestors are. Any type of control is a massive set off just asking for a consequence, the only question being how many.
So what drove him to overtake a pack if he hates them so much?
The answer is simple: because he could. He felt controlled in Khopeski, judged and suffocated. He felt betrayed by his family for taking him out of the woods and throwing him into a cesspool of rules and laws and expecting him to lie down. So that was his statement: he makes the rules.
Two legs wrap around mine from either side, joined by a pair of arms wrapping around my torso from behind. My back is pulled close against a solid chest, fitting into the contour of another body.
My skin prickles at the warming sensation of his touch and the inviting sense of his embrace.
Riot's forehead comes to lay on my shoulder, his nose nuzzling into my neck. The hot breath and scolding mouth make me shiver as if it were the dead of winter.
I lean into him, dreading the thought of running damage control for the nth time.
"Is your wolf coming up again?" I ask with a tone that's trained for the occasion, sweet-tempered but firm. A flare-up is the last thing I need right now. I'm too exhausted to put up with another episode from him and his wolf. If only he would stop fighting.
"No," he murmurs into my neck.
Realization hits like a cold mist. He stopped resisting his instincts a long time ago. There are no more tormented fits or internal turmoil. It must be something about being back in this house that made my mind go back to before.
I remember the first time I met Riot— when he crashed a narcissist's plans for a blackmailed wedding— and how awfully we got along. A pang of giddiness shoots through me at realizing how different it is now. How he's draped over me like a protective blanket instead of tying me up like a prisoner.
Life does get better.
Hot tears spring to my eyes. I quickly blink them away, silently laughing at myself for being so absurdly sappy. I'm so ecstatic that pressure is building in my chest, ready to burst into a laughing hysteria any moment.
YOU ARE READING
The Exiled Alpha | ✓
Werewolf"It's like he's a different breed of werewolf. Something... beyond us." • • • Adrienne Gage has spent her entire life being shunned and punished for her mouthy attitude, and being loyal to a pack which doesn't deserve her loyalty. It's been a year...
