The Alpha’s Rogue

Cold November wind snaps across my ankles, sending a chill jolting across my bare skin. A waning moon is slowly clawing its way into the sky, bathing everything in a warm glow. Nerves flicker and fray inside my ribs so I cut my eyes to where my best friend, Annabel, stands just off to my right.

She gives me a reassuring smile and flashes a dorky two thumbs up. The gesture is so goofy I can’t stop the terrified laugh that bubbles up my throat and past my lips.

It’s ridiculous to be nervous - everyone receives their wolf form on their 18th birthday. It’s 11:57pm according to my watch - three minutes left before November 5th. Three minutes until my life finally starts again.

When my parents died, it was so easy to give up. Curl up into a 13 year old ball and just melt into the earth. It was a risk warriors accepted when they volunteered to serve the pack, but that didn’t make my dad dying any better. And a wolf without their mate was never going to live long alone, which is why my mom followed shortly after their bond snapped. They hadn’t even brought his body back from where the rogues had slain him yet.

A sudden tidal wave of nausea snapped me from my thoughts. I whipped my head toward Annabel, my gray-green eyes widening. Is this it? Am I shifting?

She nodded in encouragement, quickly signing at me to relax. Don’t fight it, O.

I tried to nod, inhaling deeply to soothe my panic, but then my bones started to snap and shift. Terror and pain and dizziness lashed my body, everywhere and all-consuming. My mouth opened to scream, but the sound was a braying howl.

My body shuddered, sandy brown fur sprouting through my skin. My face elongated into a muzzle, fingers and hands become claws and paws, my ears rearranged and shot up.

Momentarily I was frozen, stunned by the change. As a human I’d already had enhanced senses being a wolf shifter, far better than a normal human. But now everything was amplified tenfold. I could hear the creek that ran through the pack lands miles away, trickling away as though it were just through the trees. Sounds of the harvest festival behind me, once slightly muted, were clear as day.

Suddenly clapping jolted me from my wonderment; I turned to Annabel, who was smiling so wide it looked like it would split her face in two. When I turned she stopped and began signing again.

Well? As good as you were hoping for?

In response I began to lollop around, yipping and yapping. She bent over at my antics, exaggerating her laughter. Rolling my eyes before closing them I breathed in, focusing on the change like the pack teachers had taught me.

Normally family would attend a wolf’s first shift, but Annabel was the closest and only thing I had. She was an orphan in the pack shelter with me; her mom died giving birth to her brother, who was four years younger than us. Her dad fought hard to be present for his children after his mate died, but their house had caught fire and killed him when Annabel was only 10. It’s what had damaged her vocal cords and prevented her from speaking. Thankfully her brother had escaped unharmed.

At least she had grown up in this pack. She knew most everyone, and had grown up playing games and attending school with betas like her boyfriend and the alpha’s son. I was shuttled around from pack to pack until this one, the Appalachian Mountain Pack, finally took me in permanently when I was 16.

It had been a year and a half and I still barely knew anyone, and I was too intimidated to hang out with Annabel when Griffin was around, mostly because it usually meant other high-ranked wolves were sure to be near.

I was born a delta - not exactly an omega, but not a gamma like Annabel. I also didn’t officially have a rank since I couldn’t share my parents and I didn’t have a wolf to establish my own.

Finally human again, I held out my hands as Annabel tossed the spare clothes I’d brought with me. Definitely a downside of being a wolf - shifting completely obliterated whatever you were wearing during the change. Probably a good thing since wolves couldn’t wear skinny jeans well.

Once I was dressed, I cast my eyes to the woods at my back. I had wanted to run, but I promised Annabel I wouldn’t be a total recluse and would go to the festival with her. Her hands began to flash in my periphery; with one last forlorn stare at the treeline I turned and trudged over to her before swatting her hands.

“You know I don’t understand when you talk that fast,” I grumbled, raking my fingers through my shoulder-length dirty blonde waves.

She smirked, her almond-shaped brown eyes lighting up. I said that you’ll never meet your mate holed up in your room.

I just shook my head, not dignifying that with a response. She’d always called me pretty, but I suspected it was more her loyalty as a friend than fact. She was petite, 5’4”, but with a willowy, model-like body and naturally straight black hair and ivory skin. I looked like a freak next to her, towering at 6’0” flat with a mostly oval face (even though Annabel insisted it had heart-shaped features), a lean, rectangular body, and medium olive skin. Which was a nice way of saying I had a B cup with a good bra and a small butt and basically no curves.

Octavia, she signed, her round face becoming serious and slightly miffed. Please don’t make that face.

Rather than hash this tired argument again I stuck out my tongue before snatching her hand and dragging her forward. “Then let’s socialize,” I said, laughing again as she beamed back at me.

* * * * * * * *

The festival was packed. Wolves of every age, from little toddling children to elders parked in a loose circle around a paved pavilion. Carnival rides and stalls dotted the main thoroughfare, with amber and scarlet and taupe streamers wound throughout. There was every kind of food imaginable, from French fries to fresh pastries that members of the pack had put on display.

At the far end, though, in a large clearing, was the main event - the tournament. It was held yearly, mostly for bragging rights, but there was another prize: you could have a chance to fight the alpha. Annabel made a beeline for it, knowing Griffin would likely be participating as the beta.

I knew she hoped that once she shifted in February that he’d be her mate, and I hoped she was right. From the little that I had talked to him, I already liked him. He was easy-going, with a wicked sense of sarcasm.

When a whistle sounded, the kind someone made with their fingers, my arm was about wrenched out of its socket as Annabel began to tow me harder toward a cadre of tents. Griffin had his head popped out of one, gray eyes sparkling when Annabel and I came into view.

He whistled again, low this time, before raising his eyebrows. “You got Octavia to come out in public? What’s the occasion, Annie?”

I grimaced, but Annabel was already swiftly moving her hands before I could take a snipe at him. She’s 18 now, asshole.

Even though it was a rude way to speak to a beta, she smiled easily as she told him, making it clear she was being playful.

“No shit. Congrats, O. How was it?” He asked, cutting his eyes to me.

I shrugged, but I couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “Pretty fucking awesome. I can’t wait to go for a run later.”

He laughed immediately, snaking an arm around Annabel’s waist. “You can go now if you want. Sorry Annie made you escort her here on your changing day.” The end turned into a mumble as he began nuzzling into her neck.

Heat prickled up my neck, envy and sadness jelling together as I watched their easy affection. I wanted that - I did, desperately - but finding a mate wasn’t as simple as just running into one. Some wolves looked their whole lives and never met their other half. It would be ridiculous to think I’d find mine my first day as a full shifter.

“Yeah… I think I’m going to. See you later, Annabel?” I asked, already turning away. The way she was twisting her body around Griffin’s, I doubted she’d even heard me.

Sighing, I picked my way through the village of tents again to find the main drag. I’d just located the cotton candy stall I knew we’d passed on our way in when something slammed into my chest, hot and fluttering and insistent.

My body tensed up as I began to look around, immediately panicked, before I literally ran into someone. My hands flew up to steady myself, latching onto their forearms. The same fluttering heat pooled under my fingers where they curled around bare skin.

Just as my eyes cut back to the person I was clinging to, three things clicked into place. First was the eyes, gray like storming clouds, locked onto my own with calm assessment.

Second was the face. His hair was dark, enough to look almost black in the dim light, with carefully tamed curls begging to be raked through. His jaw was strong, void of anything even remotely boyish.

Last was his voice, smooth and deep and controlled, with a touch of delight.

“It looks like I’ve won more than a tournament, mate. And what a prize you are.”