The Alpha’s Forbidden Human Mate

My grandmother used to say there were three things I should never do after sunset.

Never leave the windows open.

Never answer the door after midnight.

And never—under any circumstances—follow the sound of wolves into the forest.

I had always assumed she was being dramatic.

Standing alone in her house twenty years later, with something howling beyond the trees, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

I lowered the cardboard box in my arms and stared through the kitchen window.

Nothing.

Just trees.

Hundreds of them.

They surrounded the old Evermont house like an army, their branches twisting together beneath a moon bright enough to turn the September fog silver.

Another howl rolled through the forest.

Closer this time.

“Absolutely not.”

I pulled the curtain shut.

Moving to Blackwood Falls had already made the list of questionable decisions I’d made this year. Investigating mysterious wolves in the middle of the night wasn’t going to join it.

I turned back toward the disaster that was now apparently my home.

Boxes covered most of the kitchen floor. The electricity worked when it felt like it. My phone had exactly one bar of service, and somewhere upstairs a pipe had been making a tapping noise for the last forty minutes.

Grandma would’ve loved this.

The thought made my chest tighten.

Six weeks.

She had been gone for six weeks, and somehow my brain still expected her to walk through the doorway wearing one of her ridiculous floral robes and complaining that I’d made the tea incorrectly.

Instead, she’d left me a house.

Not money.

Not jewelry.

A two-hundred-year-old house in a town I’d visited only a handful of times as a child.

And a letter.

I glanced toward my purse.

I hadn’t opened it yet.

Her attorney had handed it to me after the funeral.

“She specifically requested that you read this once you’re inside the house.”

I’d been inside for seven hours.

Apparently grief made procrastination surprisingly easy.

Another howl sounded.

Then another answered.

I froze.

That one was definitely closer.

“Okay.”

I crossed the kitchen and checked the lock on the back door for the third time.

Locked.

Perfect.

Wolves stayed outside.

Humans stayed inside.

Everyone respected boundaries.

I grabbed my purse and pulled out the envelope.

My name was written across the front in my grandmother’s elegant handwriting.

Elara Aveline Evermont.

She was the only person who ever used my middle name.

I slid my finger beneath the seal.

The paper inside smelled faintly of lavender.

Of her.

For a moment, I couldn’t unfold it.

Then I did.

My dearest Elara,

If you’re reading this, then you’ve returned to Blackwood Falls.

Returned.

The word bothered me.

I’d never lived here.

At least, not that I remembered.

I continued.

There are things about our family I should have told you long ago. Things I convinced myself you would never need to know if I kept you far enough away.

My stomach tightened.

That sounded considerably more ominous than anything I’d expected from a dead grandmother.

I was wrong.

A sound came from outside.

Not a howl.

A branch snapping.

I looked toward the window.

Silence.

I read faster.

You will hear stories about the Evermont family. Some will call them legends. Others will call them lies.

Believe neither.

Find the truth yourself.

“Grandma, what the hell?”

The next line made me stop.

And Elara—whatever happens, do not trust a Vaelthorne.

I stared at the name.

Vaelthorne.

I whispered it once.

Nothing.

I’d never heard it before.

At least I didn’t think I had.

I continued reading.

But there was only one final sentence.

The forest remembers our blood.

A violent crash came from behind me.

I screamed.

The letter fell from my hands.

Something had struck the kitchen window.

I stumbled backward, heart hammering.

For several seconds, I couldn’t move.

Then I forced myself closer.

Slowly.

“Please be a bird.”

I reached for the curtain.

My fingers closed around the fabric.

Don’t.

Every reasonable part of my brain told me not to look.

Naturally, I looked.

I pulled the curtain aside.

Nothing stood at the window.

I exhaled.

“See? You’re losing your—”

Two golden eyes opened in the darkness.

I jumped backward so hard my hip struck the counter.

A wolf stood on the other side of the glass.

Except wolf didn’t seem like the right word.

It was enormous.

Its shoulders nearly reached the bottom of the window, black fur disappearing into the darkness around it.

But its eyes—

God.

Its eyes were watching me.

Not looking.

Watching.

There was intelligence behind them.

The animal stepped closer.

My body should have told me to run.

Instead, something strange happened.

The fear disappeared.

Not completely.

But beneath it came something else.

A pull.

Warm.

Deep.

Almost familiar.

My hand rose toward the glass before I realized what I was doing.

The wolf’s head tilted.

My fingertips touched the window.

The animal moved closer until its nose nearly touched the opposite side.

And for one impossible second, something inside my chest seemed to answer it.

Then the wolf jerked backward.

Its ears flattened.

A growl tore from its throat.

But it wasn’t growling at me.

It was staring behind me.

I turned.

The kitchen was empty.

When I looked back, the wolf was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.

By nine the next morning, I had convinced myself that exhaustion had exaggerated everything.

It had been a wolf.

A very large wolf.

That was all.

There was nothing supernatural about it.

And my grandmother’s cryptic letter?

Grief.

Maybe illness.

Maybe she’d become paranoid near the end and no one had told me.

All perfectly reasonable explanations.

I repeated them while driving into town.

Blackwood Falls looked exactly like the kind of place where everyone knew your business before you did.

One main street.

A diner.

A pharmacy.

A tiny grocery store.

A bookstore that looked older than electricity.

And forests everywhere.

People stared as I drove past.

Not casually.

They stared.

At the grocery store, an elderly woman dropped a jar when she heard my last name.

“Evermont?”

Her face went pale.

“Yes.”

She took one step away from me.

I frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

She bent to retrieve the jar.

“You should speak to the Alpha.”

I blinked.

“The what?”

She froze.

A younger woman standing beside her immediately interrupted.

“She means mayor.”

The older woman looked at her.

The younger woman looked back.

Something silent passed between them.

I slowly placed my basket on the counter.

“Right.”

This town was insane.

I paid and left.

Outside, the morning air felt colder than it had ten minutes earlier.

I had made it halfway across the parking lot when every conversation around me suddenly stopped.

Literally every one.

A truck had pulled into the lot.

Black.

Large.

Nothing particularly remarkable about it.

Until the driver’s door opened.

The man who stepped out was tall enough that my first thought was unnecessarily tall.

My second thought was considerably less intelligent.

Because—

Wow.

Dark hair.

Broad shoulders.

Black shirt with the sleeves pushed to his forearms.

He moved with the kind of quiet confidence that suggested the world usually moved out of his way.

And apparently it did.

People lowered their heads as he passed.

Not everyone.

But enough that I noticed.

He didn’t seem to notice me.

Good.

I adjusted the grocery bag against my hip and headed toward my car.

Then the wind changed.

The man stopped.

Completely.

I don’t know why I stopped too.

But I did.

His back was still toward me.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then his head turned slightly.

He inhaled.

The grocery bag nearly slipped from my hands when his gaze found mine.

His eyes were gray.

Not ordinary gray.

Storm gray.

And something about the way he looked at me sent the same impossible warmth from last night rushing through my chest.

His expression changed.

Shock.

Then disbelief.

Then something so intense I instinctively stepped backward.

The man started walking toward me.

People were watching now.

All of them.

I should have gotten into my car.

Instead, I stood there like an idiot while a complete stranger approached me as though he’d spent his entire life looking for me.

He stopped only a few feet away.

His jaw was tight.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep and controlled.

I frowned.

“You walked over here. Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

Something almost resembling amusement crossed his face.

Almost.

Then his gaze dropped briefly to my neck.

A shiver ran down my spine.

“Your name.”

Definitely not a request.

I lifted my chin.

“Elara.”

His breathing changed.

“Elara what?”

For reasons I couldn’t explain, every instinct suddenly screamed at me not to answer.

But I did.

“Evermont.”

The entire parking lot seemed to go silent.

His face lost all color.

Behind him, someone whispered something I couldn’t understand.

The stranger stared at me.

“No.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty sure I know my own last name.”

He stepped closer.

The warmth inside my chest became almost painful.

And then—

A growl.

Low.

Animal.

Impossible.

It came from him.

I stopped breathing.

His gray eyes flashed gold.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

I know I saw it.

He closed his eyes as if fighting something inside himself.

When he opened them again, they were gray.

“What the hell are you?” I whispered.

He stared at me for a long moment.

Then his gaze moved to something behind me.

Fear entered his expression.

Not fear for himself.

Fear for me.

“Get in your car, Elara.”

“What?”

“Now.”

A howl erupted from the forest surrounding the town.

Then another.

And another.

The man’s attention snapped toward the trees.

People began moving.

Fast.

Doors locked.

Shopkeepers pulled customers inside.

Within seconds, the street was nearly empty.

I stared around in disbelief.

“What is happening?”

The stranger grabbed my wrist.

The instant his skin touched mine, pain exploded through my body.

Not ordinary pain.

Heat.

Light.

Something ancient and furious tore through my chest.

I screamed.

He released me immediately.

But it was too late.

A symbol had appeared on the inside of my wrist.

A thin silver crescent surrounded by twisting black lines.

The stranger stared at it.

For the first time, the terrifyingly composed man looked genuinely afraid.

“That’s impossible.”

“What did you do to me?”

His eyes lifted to mine.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Another howl came from the forest.

Closer.

His expression hardened.

“My name is Lucian.”

He looked down at the mark again.

“Lucian Alaric Vaelthorne.”

My blood turned cold.

Vaelthorne.

Grandma’s letter.

Whatever happens, do not trust a Vaelthorne.

I pulled away from him.

Lucian’s eyes flashed gold again.

And this time, when he spoke, his voice didn’t sound entirely human.

“You need to come with me.”

“Why?”

His next words changed everything.

“Because you’re my mate.”

I stared at him.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Lucian looked toward the forest.

His jaw clenched.

“But they do.”

Something moved between the trees.

Then another.

And another.

Dozens of golden eyes appeared in the darkness.

All of them were looking at me.