The Mating Trials: The Alpha

1. EMBER

EMBER

Packing everything you own is easy when you have nothing.

I scan our small, dark cave one last time. The walls sweat with moisture. On humid days like today, the place still reeks of spoiled meat, a lingering reminder of when it served as a storeroom. Not ideal, but better than the wet-dog stench that blankets the main cavern after the rainy season.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The rhythmic tapping of water on damp earth has been our lullaby for five years. A constant in our ever-changing world. We used to have more. A family. A real cave toward the front of the pack’s main cavern. Always full of laughter and warmth, but all that changed on the day of the Challenge.

My eight-year-old brother, Roman enters with bright green eyes and a proud smile, even if he’s missing some teeth.

Jerky in one hand. Bone knife in the other.

The blade’s worn, notched with age. It was our father’s.

Where did he get jerky? My eyes travel to the small alcove where he kept his carvings.

He must have traded the figures he whittled to barter for the jerky we’d need on our journey.

Here I thought he was out exploring again. He’s become quite the adventurer.

“You got everything?” he asks, nodding at my empty, hand-stitched satchel.

The only thing I own is the jagged seashell in my hair. It was Mother’s.

“Yeah.” I swing the satchel off my shoulder, then tug it around him until it rests across his chest. “Everything I want to bring is right here.” Before fussing up his shaggy auburn hair. It’s getting past his ears. I’ll have to cut it soon.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away. “You’re getting cheesy in your old age.”

“I’m eighteen,” I deadpan, “basically ancient.”

His toothless smile grows, but mine doesn’t.

A few months ago marked my eighteenth year, making this my first year eligible for the annual Mating Trials.

The law mandates every unmated wolf in the northern region, from Alaska to Maine, must participate.

No exceptions. The trials are how mates are chosen.

The purpose of the Mating Trials is to identify fated mates for strong offspring.

They are said to appeal to a wolf’s inner instinct to weed out those fated by the gods.

The couple can determine whether the coupling lasts a season or a lifetime.

But, I’m still struggling with letting fate choose my future.

Because once a pair is matched, the female leaves with the male. That’s the rule. I could be forced to leave Roman. Forced to move to another pack, in another state.

No choice. No control. No coming back.

I grab Roman in a headlock before hugging him to myself, savoring the feeling of his warmth and his scent. Still tucked into me, I guide him to the door without looking back at our damp little hovel. Together, we step into the main cavern.

The vast space opens above us, large stalactites hanging down from the ceiling like jagged teeth. The wide-open center is filled with clusters of pack families huddled near firepits. The cave is alive and thrumming with energy. With watchful eyes, we cross to Dove’s cave.

Dove and her family have always been close to ours. She’s my only friend, the only person we’ve come to trust. Roman and I enter her family’s cave. Dove rushes us in a flurry of golden hair, her heavy satchel thumping against her knees as she throws herself into my arms.

“Oh, Ember. I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m so excited.” Her hazel eyes alive with possibility.

“Me too.” Only not from excitement, from dread, but I don’t tell her that.

“This time next week, we could be mated.” She practically sings, “I wonder what he’s going to look like.”

“He might have five chins,” Roman mutters under his breath. Sometimes it feels as though he’s another one of her little brothers. She’s the eldest of four, soon to be five.

“Romey, don’t be mean,” she scolds, nudging him with her elbow. “He’ll probably have big muscles and the largest teeth. Tall and lean, but can lift me up and spin me around like a doll.” She spins her curvy frame around in a circle to demonstrate as her golden hair swishes from side to side.

I snort. “Sounds like you’ve put some thought into this.” Of course, she has. Most females our age have thought about it and experimented with others between the furs.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t. I mean, this will—”

I haven’t. At least, not with hope. All I think about when the trials are mentioned is what I’ll lose. The life I built with Roman. The cave I created from nothing. The freedom of choosing my own path.

“Alright, Dove,” I interrupt. “Let’s get into the cave so we don’t miss departure.”

“Yup, yup, you’re right.”

Dawn, Dove’s mother, appears from behind the curtain that hides their bedroom alcoves.

She’s the spitting image of her daughter, with long blonde hair and bright eyes, although they look a little more tired these days.

Dawn has a baby bundled to her back and two more pups squabbling at her feet.

Like my parents, Dove’s parents found a lifetime mate from the trials.

“Ember, do take care of my little Dove.”

“I will.” Dove and I lock eyes and share a conspiratorial look.

“The offer still stands,” Dawn adds, glancing toward Roman. “I can keep him here during the trials.”

The twin pups at her heels, Hunter and Ranger, stop long enough to look at Roman like a new chew toy.

Feral grins crossing both their little faces.

I’ve seen that face when they devoured an entire deer carcass by themselves.

No, this woman has enough on her hands as it is.

I couldn’t ask her mate to find food for yet another mouth. They’ve done enough for us already.

“Thank you, but I want Roman with me.” My eyes drift to Roman. I don’t know how many moments we have left. I’m not ready to let him go yet.

“If you say so.” She shrugs before turning to Dove. She kisses her forehead, then grips her shoulders, “Good luck, baby, make smart choices. Follow your heart. Trust the trials.”

The moment is so tender, it catches me off guard. Something lodges in my throat.

What would my mother have said to me?

I grab Roman’s hand and step away before the ache swallows me whole.

The other eligible wolves are gathering for departure.

Females in braids laced with feathers. Males shifting from foot to foot, excitement buzzing under their skin.

Some are still saying their goodbyes, others’ eyes are set on the cave mouth, waiting not so patiently.

Dove joins us. Her gaze locks on the cave opening, but I know what she’s really looking at, or should I say who she’s looking at.

Leif.

He stands tall on a ledge beside his cave, sharp jaw clenched, muscles taut even through his beard.

They were together up until about a year ago.

When he came home from last year’s Mating Trial with a mate, it only lasted a season, the female left months ago, but the damage was done.

Dove’s been pretending he doesn’t exist since then.

Her eyes flicker toward him, just once. Then away.

My nerves crawl beneath my skin as more of the pack gather. I scan the crowd. The Guard is lined up around the walls, watching and waiting. But it doesn’t ease my anxiety.

The Guard is something Cullen implemented when he became Alpha of the Shadow pack after his Challenge.

It’s comprised of mostly orphans and widowers from the aftermath.

Besides giving them a sense of community, their purpose is to dispel animosity and break up fights before they escalate.

My eyes drift to the dark stain on the floor near the largest firepit.

The place where it happened.

The ground still stained with our parents’ blood. My blood, as I almost died with them.

I touch the three scars that run across my stomach, a reflex now. My daily reminder of my cost of survival.

I can picture it like it were yesterday and not five years ago — when I return from locking Roman in a closet, my mother’s throat was torn open, blood pouring from the wound.

My father fell beside her, never to rise.

I lunged as the bloodlust and anger took over.

The surprise is what gave me the upper hand as my teeth came down on my mother’s killer’s jugular and tore it out.

But it wasn’t without consequence as the wolf slashed through my abdomen as the light was leaving his eyes.

Falling to the floor with the rest of the corpses, I struggled to rise until someone kicked my head, knocking me unconscious. When I woke, everything was gone.

Cullen was Alpha, our parents were ash, and our cave had been claimed by someone else. So Roman and I were forced to create our own cave, far away from the others, in an old storage room.

“Where’d you go?” Roman asks, breaking me from the memory.

“Hm?”

“You looked far away just now?”

“It’s hard.” I try never to lie to Roman or treat him like a child. It’s the worst thing to do to a wolf — coddle them — as this world is unkind. It’s best they learn it now. “The big moments, I miss them most.”

“I know.” He squeezes my hand. “Me too.”

Then the line in front of us begins to move. One by one, the wolves start to shift and dash out of the cave opening toward the trial, heading north. I hold my breath and tighten my grip on Roman’s fingers.

It’s been the two of us for five years.

I don’t know what these trials will bring.

But I know this: I’m not ready to lose him and I’m certainly not ready to be claimed.