The Alpha’s Chosen Mate (Crescent Lake)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

EMILY

There’s a troll under the bridge.

I’m sure of it.

I’ve never seen the troll. But I know it’s there.

No one else believes me. They stroll over the bridge without a worry, as if there is no danger lurking in the darkness. As if the noises coming from beneath their feet are the natural sounds of the river running through our pack lands.

I know the truth.

The gurgling? It’s not water running over the stones in the riverbed.

It’s the troll’s stomach digesting its most recent meal.

Or maybe it’s rumbling because he’s hungry again.

The roaring? It’s not the surging river echoing off the underside of the bridge.

It’s the troll asserting his dominance and warning anyone nearby that he’s on the hunt, ready for his next victim—his next meal.

Most days I avoid the bridge. Our pack lands are large enough that there isn’t much reason for me to journey this far out. I tend to stay closer to the packhouse.

But today I don’t have a choice. Alpha Justin ordered all the omega children to stay away from the packhouse and the omega house.

We were all given jobs to keep us occupied for most of the day.

He assigned me the task of picking berries for our cook to use in her cobbler for dessert this evening.

And according to her, all the best blackberry brambles are in the forest.

On the other side of the troll bridge.

My knees tremble as I stare at the line marking where the field ends and the bridge begins. I have to cross, but I’m unsure if I can. The single step required to start across the bridge feels like it’s miles wide, and my bare feet refuse to lift from the grass.

“What’s wrong?”

I gasp and whirl around, heart thudding in a wild rhythm.

A young boy stands a few steps away. His head is cocked to the side, brown eyes appraising me as he waits for a response.

I lean away from him, lifting my chin and angling my nose to match the slight incline of the ground so I can catch his scent. I search for the hint of lupine that lingers within the scents of all our pack members, but don’t find it.

He’s an outsider. A stranger.

Don’t talk to strangers. The warning clangs through my brain like the bell that signals training sessions for our warriors.

I back up a step, still conscious of where the bridge begins, ensuring I don’t cross over the boundary.

I study the male as intensely as he studies me, that warning still echoing in my head.

He stays in his spot, rooted to the ground like the giant trees that grow in these mountains, and the warning fades.

The boy is a stranger, yes, but he isn’t scary.

He can’t be much older than I am. His dark-brown hair—messy and almost too long—falls into his eyes, and he wears a cheeky half smile on his face as he waits for me to decide if I should trust him.

There are dirt smudges on the knees of his jeans, and his left shoe is untied, the laces damp and tinged green from the grass.

Surely grown-ups don’t mean someone like him when they warn about strangers. Right?

“There’s a troll under the bridge.” The words tumble out of me, torn from my tongue by the unfamiliar boy.

“He eats children. Even werewolf children. And I’m supposed to pick blackberries.

I have to cross the bridge to find them, but if I cross the bridge, then I may be his next meal, and then the pack won’t have any blackberries. ”

While I ramble, he raises his brows, peering around me to glance beneath the bridge. I curl my fingers tighter around the handle of my basket, waiting for the howling, teasing laughter that usually follows when I tell someone about the troll. But it never comes.

“How long has he lived there?” the boy asks.

“As long as I can remember. Probably since before the founding of Lupine River.”

He hums to himself as he peers into the endless darkness where the troll lives. Water splashes violently across the rocks, rippling towards the shore, and we both jump backwards. My shriek pierces the air, but he is sturdy and serious, his hand clasping my empty one to prevent me from running away.

“Trolls can smell fear…” His free hand strokes his chin, and his forehead wrinkles with thought. Then his eyes light up with the spark of an idea. “Hop on my back.”

“What will that do?”

“It will hide your scent.”

“How?”

“I’m brave. And strong. If we cross together, with you on my back, then the troll will only smell my bravery instead of your fear.”

“What if he attacks us anyway?”

“Then I will fight him off and buy you time to escape.”

He crosses his fist over his heart as he makes his promise. His head dips into a low bow, as if I’m a princess and he’s my knight in shining armor, my sworn protector, the prince who will rescue me from any danger that may come my way.

“Here”—he grabs the basket from my loosened grip and then turns his back to me—“climb on.”

I hesitate for one second. Then, before my brain can catch up, my feet close the distance between us, and I hop onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs through his arms and around his middle. I sense rather than see him smile before he heads towards the bridge.

Tension fills my every muscle with each step he takes. He tightens his grip on my legs. The touch is reassuring in its gentle firmness, and beneath the tenderness, there is an inherent strength.

My new friend is right. He is strong. And brave.

He takes his first tentative step onto the bridge.

The creak of the wood beneath his shoes forces my eyelids closed.

I cling to his neck, pressing my face into the space between his shoulders, shutting out the rest of the world.

The rushing, roaring sound filling my ears could be either the river water or my blood pumping through my body.

I don’t know, and I don’t care. All that matters is making it across the bridge without disturbing the troll.

Five steps. Ten steps. Twenty steps, and suddenly the ground is softer, muting his footfalls once more.

“We made it.”

His voice breaks through my fear. I glance around and behind us, to the far bank of the river where we first met. It seems so much closer from this side now that we’re safe. Now that I know we made it here without so much as a scratch.

“No troll?” I ask.

“No troll.”

He releases my legs. I drop to the feathery grass, wiggling my toes as the blades tickle my bare feet, and I sigh in relief.

His chin jerks towards the bridge behind me. “I think he’s sleeping right now. I’m pretty sure I heard snoring.”

I snatch the basket from him. “We should hurry then if we want to get the blackberries and make it back across the bridge before he wakes up.”

As I shoulder past him, he slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. “Are there any other dangerous creatures in the forest that we need to worry about?”

With his hand around mine, I feel braver. Bolder. Stronger. I peek sideways at him, a teasing glint in my eyes. “I don’t know. Are you dangerous?”

“Only if someone or something tries to hurt you.”

My cheeks heat. I drop my chin and stare at my feet, certain my face is as red as a cherry tomato. He doesn’t seem to notice though. Or if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“The blackberries are a bit further in.” I speed up my pace so I’m slightly in front of him instead of side by side. “I can smell them.”

“They smell delicious.”

I steal a glance at him again. He lifts his nose in the air, bouncing it in the way most werewolves do when tracking a scent.

“Are we allowed to eat any?” His voice is a whisper even though we’re clearly alone in this part of the forest.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

He grins widely and takes off at a run. Our positions switch, so he’s in the lead and I’m the one being dragged along. He’s clearly a better runner than I am, but instead of sprinting ahead and leaving me behind, he maintains an easier pace so we stay together.

The path curves to the left, and there, beneath the towering redwood trees, is the blackberry bramble.

My new friend immediately releases my hand and leaps towards the blackberries, picking several. But instead of placing them into the basket, he tilts his head towards the sky, and one at a time, tosses them into the air before catching them in his mouth.

“Oh, wow!” His eyes widen. “These are the best blackberries I’ve ever eaten!”

He tosses a fifth blackberry into the sky. I track its journey up and back down into his mouth, impressed by his flawless catches.

An idea flares to life. I set the basket down and pluck several berries from the vine, backing away from him. “Think fast!”

I toss the berry towards him. He whips around, spins in a full circle, and catches it in his mouth in one fluid motion. I throw three more, and with each berry, his tactics grow sillier. On the last one, he bends over backwards so his head is completely upside down, and closes his mouth in triumph.

“Your turn!” he declares.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly—”

The berry is already out of his hand, arcing through the air towards me. I dart backwards, mouth open, but the blackberry lands right on my forehead.

He claps his hand over his mouth. The entire forest stands still with him, waiting for my reaction.

A giggle spills out of me. It morphs into a loud, cackling laugh, one that’s impossible to contain. One I’d usually be embarrassed by, but I’m not. Not with him.

I can’t help it. He feels safe. He feels like someone I can trust, someone I’ve known forever even though we’ve just met.

His shoulders slump in relief, and he smiles at me as I continue laughing. “Here.” He plucks another berry. “Try again.”

I still don’t catch it, but this time, my reflexes are on my side, and I snatch the berry with my hand before it hits my nose.

“You have to keep your eyes open,” he instructs. “Follow the path of the berry, and don’t take your eyes off it.”

I nod, determined to succeed. He tosses a third berry at me. This time, it bounces off my top lip. I adjust my chin, lifting it higher, and the berry lands in my mouth, right on my tongue.

“I did it!” I bounce on my toes and throw my hands in the air. Warmth like nothing I’ve ever felt floods through my veins. “I did it! I did it!”

“I knew you could do it.” He grins smugly at me. “Now, let’s get this basket filled and get back across the bridge before the troll wakes up.”

We start at opposite ends of the brambles. Working our way towards the middle, we pick as quickly as we can, racing against the impending end of the troll’s nap.

I glance down at the almost full basket. “That should be enough.”

We could add more, but I don’t want any berries to fall out if we need to run across the bridge because the troll is awake.

“I’ve got it.” He extends his other hand to me again, bearing the weight of the basket as we reverse our journey through the forest. When we reach the bridge, I hop onto his back without hesitation, and he carries both the berry basket and me to the other side as if we weigh nothing at all.

I slide to the ground once we’re across. “Thank you.”

“Emily! Where are those berries?”

The cook’s shout overlaps my expression of gratitude. My eyebrows fly up to my hairline in fear. I yank the basket away from my friend, sprinting towards the omega house before my name is called a second time. Being hollered at to return once is bad enough. If she has to call for me twice?

I can’t let that happen.

But as I’m running away from him, I realize something. Something important. I skid to a halt and whirl around, my long braids smacking me in the face with the force of the motion. “I didn’t get your name…”

I scan every inch of the riverbank, but the boy is nowhere to be seen, leaving me to wonder if I imagined my savior and our entire day together in the forest.