Page 1 of Alpha Bride

Prologue - Emily

I have always been an outsider. Too human for witches, too witch for humans. Isolated with no magic and raised in a coven that sees power as everything. As the very essence of our ability to survive and thrive. It will never matter how hard I work, how many potions or runes I perfect through study, or how many times I have to swallow my pride—without practical magic, I’m nothing to them; just an obligation.

So, when Cassie, the healer, sends me out alone to gather herbs near the shifter borders, I’m not going to argue. It’s easier this way. Easier to be ignored than to be reminded, yet again, that I don’t belong while they complete another initiation ceremony that doesn’t involve me.

But now, as I crouch in the undergrowth, fingers deep in the damp mossy earth, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. With several low, guttural growls rumbling through the trees, I realize that my inability to be an actual witch is going to be my rather obvious downfall. I’m as defenseless and pathetic as they all say I am.

I crouch lower and hold my breath, hoping whoever is out there is only passing by and not as threatening as they seem. I may not have any practical magic, but my rune-binding skills are second to none. I reach into my bag and feel for the smoothed black rune I always carry with me for protection. The ridges feel reassuring under my fingertips as I sink further into the soft moss.

The growling stops for a moment.

I exhale a shaky breath, fingers still clenched around the rune. The silence stretches on like an unraveling coil of yarn. Slowly, so as not to rustle the leaves and give away my position,I begin to stand slightly, intending to make my way down the ravine to find more cover amongst the trees.

However, before I can even get to my feet, a hand closes over my mouth, and a muscled arm hauls me backward into a crushing hold.

“What do we have here?” a voice with rancid breath laughs against my ear. He sniffs my hair, making my stomach twist, and turns me around to face his friends emerging from the shadows. “No wolf…a witch, maybe.”

“Nah,” one with long, dirty hair and a scar on his face mutters, “there’s no magic on her.”

Considering the seriousness of my situation, the comment shouldn’t even register, and yet it still stings. The shifters glance at one another, and my blood runs cold.

“She could still be fun,” the first one growls, leering at me.

I know without a doubt that I'm not leaving this forest alive if I can’t get away from them. From the looks of it, they’re rogues completely unbound by a moral code or an alpha—dangerous. Everyone knows the island has been in turmoil since the old alpha died, and the pack was split into three, with each of his sons becoming an alpha in their own right.

Marian, our high priestess, keeps saying all will be well when the shifters settle. Personally, I think that’s taking too long. Ralph may have been a cruel leader, but he respected the witches—or rather, he feared them, which was good enough. With the packs in flux and these new alphas seemingly struggling to get a grip on the new power dynamics, the rogues have gone, well…more rogue.

There have been more attacks and more violence, and, as usual, the witches are the target. I briefly consider that it isprobably why they sent me out here today. Am I simply more expendable?

But now isn’t the time for self-pity or recriminations. I need to get out of here.

Darkness will be creeping in soon, and I’m no match for shifters at the best of times. I close my eyes and channel everything I have into my one chance—the rune in my hand. It warms against my skin as I picture a distraction, anything to buy me time. The rune activates just as it’s supposed to, with a zap of electricity that doesn’t affect me but sends the hulking shifter stumbling back. His grip loosens just enough for me to break free, and when the others step back in surprise, I don't hesitate.

I bolt through the trees, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum as twigs snap and leaves crunch under my feet, betraying my every move. I keep the rune in my hand, knowing it won’t work again for a little while, but I need it ready just in case. Behind me, the shifters' growls fill the air; they’re closing in fast. My lungs burn as panic begins to set in, adrenaline-fueled fear propelling me forward.

Just as I start to think I can't run any more, a root catches me off guard and sends me tumbling to the ground. I crack my head on something hard as I fall and lie there, winded and dazed. I know it's over. There's nowhere left to run, and I’ve no more energy left to give. The rune in my hand is still lifeless, and as I see the first shifter come into view, I feel oddly resigned to my fate; I close my eyes and wait for the end to come.

Even when I hear shouting and then a crash of bodies, I still don’t open my eyes.Are they fighting over who gets to kill me first?

Dying here in the cold, dark forest seems oddly fitting. Alone, like I always have been.

But as I wait for the inevitable, I realize something else is happening. There’s more shouting, and then someone grabs my shoulders and pulls me upright. I whimper as pain shoots through my body, but when I open my eyes, I see someone unexpected. Not one of the rogues from before, not a rogue at all by the looks of him—a massive figure blocking out the early twilight with his broad frame. He looks at me with concern etched into every line of his face, his deep brown eyes scanning me up and down, apparently taking in every cut and bruise.

Before I can speak or even react, he growls in the direction of the rogues who attacked me. They hesitate for a moment before grabbing their injured friend and backing off. Witnessing this stranger’s power over them, It's then that I realize he's not just any shifter; he's an alpha. My stomach drops to my feet as I wonder which one. My coven exists on the boundary of the new western and mountain packs, but I don’t know much about the new alphas. Only that they’re inexperienced and trying to rule differently from Ralph’s reign of terror. No one mentioned they were also incredibly handsome.

He looks at me again, taking in my shaking form and the rune gripped in my hand, before finally speaking. "You’re hurt," he says simply, his voice deep and rough like gravel against skin.

"I-I..." I stammer.

He looks at the rune again, and something like disgust flashes across his face before he lifts his piercing gaze, seeming to study me more closely. “I don’t sense any magic,” he mutters almost accusingly before adding, “so why the rune?”

“Protection,” I reply, lifting my chin. “It worked a treat.”

We stare at each other for a moment before I notice his lips smirk slightly and then break into a smile that transforms his entire face.

It's like a light has been switched on in the darkness of his expression. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a small, warm, rich chuckle, and I find myself smiling back in spite of everything.

"Well then," he says, looking around before turning back to me. "I guess I owe that entire victory to you, then."

---