EMBER
The foyer is teeming with energy and nerves. It’s contagious, and I arrive late on purpose to avoid it and the commotion like last time. But as I slip down the three flights of steps, I notice it wasn’t quite late enough.
“Oh, look who decided to join us,” Lucia retorts, leaning against the wall.
“It’s the virgin who thinks she’s better than everyone else,” Aura smirks, crossing her arms beside her.
“Who says I’m still a virgin?” I glance down at my nails.
“Your attitude,” Lucia sneers.
“Thorn needs a real female,” Aura pipes in, voice dripping like venom.
That’s when I see red. The female who had Thorn in her neck, the female who stole him away from me while we were talking. This bitch needs to know her place. My blood heats until it’s nearly boiling.
“That’s funny, I thought you had a mate,” I snicker through gritted teeth.
“Thorn has always been mine on the side,” she smirks, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.
“That’s not what he was saying when his fingers were inside me last night.”
Aura blanches, color draining from her face. Lucia’s sneer deepens.
“Thorn doesn’t deserve a mate, and neither do you.” It’s Rue who speaks up, her long blonde hair shaking with her anger.
“If your mates weren’t stupid enough to challenge Thorn, they’d still be alive. Stop carrying a torch for dead men. And stop blaming us for your inability to keep your dead mates from imminent death.”
The fire in her eyes is about to ignite when the priest leads us out into the torchlit path leading to the valley.
The three widows toss me evil eyes as we line up along the valley and shift. Unlike last year, I’m able to tune out all the noise, eyes focused on the tree line as the priest drones on with his speech. I know what I want this year, and I’m determined to get it.
The first horn blasts once, echoing through the valley.
I leap forward with the rest of the females, paws pounding the valley side.
The line of trees opens below us, moonlight glinting off silver leaves and mist rising between their majestic trunks.
I aim straight for the Sacred Tree, lungs burning with determination. It’s where I know he’ll find me.
But I never make it.
A wall of bramble rises ahead — woven thick, laced with ironwood stakes. Too late to stop. My paws skid, thorns tear into my legs. Pain lances up my side.
Snickers echo behind me as the others circle around. Lucia’s laugh slices through the night. “Run faster, little virgin. Maybe you’ll get there before he finds someone better.”
Fury roars inside me. My wolf surges, snapping through my chest. My claws tear, teeth gnash, and I rip through the vines with savage force. The thorns shred my foreleg, slice my shoulder, blood slicking down my fur. Virgin blood.
The second horn blares. The males are loose.
If I’m stuck here when the males arrive, I can be caught by anyone. I can’t stop. Not now with virgin blood dripping down my fur, and I’m stuck like a sitting duck.
After a few more twists and carefully placed tears of bramble. I burst free, rolling onto the dirt path, panting.
But I don’t get far.
Lucia steps out of the trees. Aura and Rue flank her. Their eyes gleam with hatred, their lips curled back in snarls. They stopped pursuing to taunt me. They trapped me here.
That’s when I finally realize, they aren’t here for mates. They’re here for retribution.
Lucia grins. “We should’ve killed you when we had the chance.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”
“A mate for a mate.”
“No.” My hackles rise. A growl builds low and deep in my throat. The scent of blood sharp in my nose. It’s still dripping onto green grass, a target for the onslaught of the coming males. I thought last season was bad, but this is twice as much blood. Well, bring it on.
Aura lunges first. Her claws rake across my ribs, but I twist, slam my shoulder into her, sending her sprawling into the dirt. Another widow leaps onto my back, jaws snapping at my collar. I roll hard, crushing her beneath me with a sickening crack of bone. She whimpers and scrambles away.
Lucia is faster. She slashes across my chest, reopening healing wounds from the bramble. My vision goes red.
“You’ll never be his mate,” she spits. “You’re nothing but a girl playing mate.”
“Watch what kind of girl I am.”
I launch at her, teeth bared. We collide in a spray of dirt and blood. Her claws slash across my muzzle, but I clamp my jaws around her throat. She thrashes, snarling, claws tearing into my shoulders. I bite harder. Blood floods my mouth, hot and coppery, until her struggles weaken.
With a guttural roar, I rip free. Her wolf collapses limp into the mud. Blood runs down my muzzle, dripping into the earth. I stand over her corpse, chest heaving, wild and feral, my eyes glowing with moonlight.
The two other widows freeze. We stand there, eye to eye. My mate took theirs. I took their friend. I watch their eyes, torn between loyalty and common sense. But I see the moment the question shows on their face: How much more am I willing to let them take?
The look I give them in return shows that I’ll take everything from them before they take the one thing I want most from me.
One lets out a strangled whine. Then, without a word, they scatter into the trees, tails tucked.
I lift my head to the moon, blood dripping from my jaws, and let out a howl that splits the night. A howl not just of survival, but of dominance.
I am not prey.
I am not a girl.
I am an Alpha’s mate.
I am to be feared.