The Bully Alpha's Plus-Size Mate

Chapter 1 - Tessa

The cabin creaks every time the wind changes direction, carrying with it the scents I’m long used to.

The structure is old enough that I can now tell the difference between every sound.

The sharp tick from the kitchen means the temperature dropped another degree, the scrape overhead means branches are dragging across the roof because I still haven’t climbed up there to trim them, and the subtle pop sounds from down the hall are from the boards settling with time and age.

I don’t mind the noise, since silence is worse.

It leaves too much room for ugly memories and pointless thoughts that make me go in destructive circles.

My laptop glows from where it sits on the kitchen table while the cursor in my word processor blinks back at me.

The online articles I’ve been writing about don’t mean much to me, since I’m not an avid gardener, but it pays the bills.

It’s work that nobody really cares about as long as it gets done correctly and on time.

It’s perfect for someone like me.

Shifting in the wooden chair, I rub at the ache in my lower back before taking another sip of coffee that’s long since gone cold, which I should’ve stopped drinking hours ago. Outside, rain taps steadily against the windows, surrounding the cabin in complete darkness.

The Willow island is beautiful in the kind of way that hurts. With dense forests, stony cliffs, and salt-heavy air, it has everything a wolf could ever need. While it is beautiful, I don’t stray far from my cabin.

I glance at the clock in the corner of my screen, catching sight of it as it reads 10:43 PM.

It’s too late to still be working, but sleep doesn’t come easily anymore, and in all honesty, it never really has.

When I eventually finish off the last paragraph for the night, I close the laptop with a quiet sigh, and the cabin immediately feels darker without the screen light, leaving behind the kind of emptiness that presses inward.

My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, and I know what that nudge means by now. Loneliness tugs at my insides, and she silently urges me to get out there. To join the others, like I was always meant to, but I ignore her. It’s easier that way.

Pushing back from the table, I stand and stretch slowly. My oversized sweater slips off one shoulder, exposing the faded scar near my collarbone that’s more like a souvenir from growing up in this pack.

In general, we heal quickly and thoroughly, but some wounds stay anyway.

Moving toward the kitchen window, I stare out into the trees and remind myself that I don’t need it, and I don’t need them.

There’s enough space separating me from the rest of the pack grounds, but not far enough to be in another pack’s territory. I’m right on the outskirts, almost like living in the middle of two different lives.

I used to think I belonged there once, but that was before everyone decided I didn’t.

At first, it was small things, like whispers that conveniently stopped when I looked over, followed by snickering, as if they somehow trapped me or pulled a fast one. The girls my age made comments about my body whenever they thought I couldn’t hear them.

They always said I was too thick and too soft around the edges. In their eyes, I was too human-looking, as if my size made me inherently lazy or unmotivated.

Wolves prized strength, speed, and sleek muscle. The women around me looked like they’d been carved from marble, all lean, graceful, and intimidating in their own ways.

Then there was me, stuck in a body that was curvy in ways the others weren’t.

With round cheeks, thick thighs, and breasts that developed too early and drew attention I never wanted, I was doomed from the start, even if I could outrun most of them. Despite it all, that never mattered.

Their cruelty rarely needed logic, and I learned that from a young age.

By thirteen, the boys had joined in too, as some mocked me openly and others looked at me in ways that made my skin crawl.

Hunter did both.

My throat tightens instantly at the thought of him, even now. Even after all these years, he’s still a sore spot I never quite learned how to heal.

Pushing away from the window, irritated with myself for letting him invade my head again, I try so hard to push them away, but the memories come anyway.

Hunter Reed was already broad-shouldered with sharp blue eyes and total arrogance. He was set to be the alpha one day, the golden boy, and untouchable.

It was so easy to remember the way he spoke to me with that same dismissive tone, as if I would never amount to anything. He didn’t even sound angry, as if I wasn’t worth enough emotion for hatred.

One time, I overheard him call me pathetic when he thought I was out of earshot, or maybe it was intentional. Either way, he made it seem like my existence offended him.

And to make matters even worse, I never understood why.

I never did anything to him. Not even once.

My parents did enough damage on their own, and while I could understand why the pack might’ve felt betrayed by what they did, it had nothing to do with me. Still, I was the perfect target.

Parents pulled their children away from me at gatherings, conversations stopped when I walked into rooms, and wolves who used to tolerate me suddenly looked at me like I carried a disease they were afraid to catch.

Nobody ever said it outright, not to my face, anyway, but I heard enough.

I was the daughter of traitors, and my bloodline was surely cursed because of it. Some days, that’s what it felt like.

My jaw clenches hard enough to ache while those thoughts rear their ugly heads again.

I haven’t attended a pack gathering in almost three years, and nobody has asked me to. Nobody has even cared enough to notice.

A sudden prickle crawls down my spine, awakening that suppressed part of me all over again when I catch the scent of wolves nearby.

Going still, my instincts sharpen as I focus past the rain and the breeze.

Several scents drift through the trees north of the cabin, likely from patrols or some returning late from a hunt.

When their scents fade, I relax again, relieved to be left alone.

No one comes here unless they have to, and I’m too far from the inner territory for casual visits. That’s exactly why I chose it, since distance makes people forget you exist.

Annoyingly, I can’t fully disappear since I’m still tied to the pack regardless.

And now, Hunter’s back, which means the dynamics have been changing since he became the alpha, as it was always intended.

With an irritated huff, I quietly move toward the fireplace, kneeling to stir the dying embers with the poker.

His ceremony happened the other night, but I didn’t go. I didn’t see the point after everything.

The entire pack had gathered to celebrate their returning war hero, apparently. The former black ops operative, deadly fighter, and rightful alpha is taking his place at the head of the pack after Cole stepped down.

They probably expected me to show up and stand quietly at the back like a proper outcast who pops up occasionally just to make a reluctant appearance. But that didn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

I’d heard enough about Hunter’s return already, along with all the ways he has supposedly changed.

Apparently, years of covert operations and bloodshed turned him into exactly the kind of alpha wolves admire.

Good for him… But I want nothing to do with it, and nothing to do with him.

No matter how much people change, the memories don’t, leaving me to remember every cruel look, the cutting words, and every moment he made me feel small just because he could.

Hunter had never needed fists to hurt me, since he used precision and quiet cruelty instead.

My inner wolf stirs softly inside me, remembering him differently, and I shove that traitorous thought away immediately.

Outside, the rain begins to ease, and I stare into the flames for several long minutes before finally grabbing my coat from the hook near the door.

I need air, and the woods at night are the only place my mind ever quiets.

A light mist greets me when I step outside, and cold air brushes against my cheeks while damp earth sinks beneath my boots. The forest surrounding the cabin stretches endlessly, illuminated only by thin moonlight filtering through the cloud break and trees overhead.

Everything in me settles, including those base instincts within myself.

This is the part that feels more bearable. The isolation, the silence, and the freedom of not being scrutinized for every minor thing.

I pull my hood higher and follow the narrow trail winding deeper into the woods.

Somewhere far off, waves crash against the cliffs, and the island breathes around me like a living, tangible thing.

For a while, I let myself disappear into it, free from the pack, the relentless memories, and best of all, Hunter. It’s just me, the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath my boots, and the refreshing sting of night air filling my lungs.

Then I stiffen when the scent hits me hard from behind. It’s something unknown to me, yet wrapped in danger, with notes that are explicitly male.

When I stop, it’s already too late.

A large hand clamps around my upper arm and shoves me sideways into a tree hard enough to rattle my teeth. Pain explodes across my shoulder, and I gasp sharply as it registers fully.

“Well,” a rough voice drawls, “look what I found wandering alone.”

Fear spikes through my chest as I look up, and recognition comes immediately.

Hayes Voss.

While I never got close enough to see or know him myself, everyone talks about the Voss family, especially the current Alpha of Wraith Peak.

With his brown hair, dark brown eyes that almost look like pits in the shaded woods, and his broad frame that towers over me, I know without a doubt it’s him. The arrogance lingering beneath the surface gives him away.

He’s been a public enemy for quite some time and was beaten months ago by one of the other alphas. After the fact, word got around quickly. But regardless of that loss, everyone has been on high alert ever since, given how unpredictable he can be.

His eyes lock onto me with sadistic amusement. “You’re one of Hunter’s wolves, right?”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I snap instinctively, trying to yank myself back to no avail.

His grip only tightens to a painful degree. “Wrong answer.”

I suck in a sharp breath as my inner wolf snarls beneath my skin, but fear smothers her quickly.

Without question, Hayes is stronger than I by a devastating margin. He’s a bit older, too, and fully dominant. Even if his strength hasn’t been a proper match for the other alphas on the island, he is still a leader regardless, and that comes with physical perks.

I already know how this ends, and it seems he does, too.

Hayes studies my face for a moment before barking out a short laugh. His gaze drags slowly over me. “You’re definitely an outcast. You reek of loneliness.”

Humiliation burns through me immediately, and I jerk back against his hold, but he barely moves.

“What do you want?”

He tilts his head, grinning a little more. “Really, I didn’t plan this. I came looking to send a message, since your new alpha has friends who think they can humiliate me and walk away like they’re heroes. You just happened to cross my path.”

“I’m not involved in any of that,” I mutter, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to leave me alone.

“No,” he agrees. “But you’re right here, and perfectly convenient for me.”

My stomach drops, and the forest suddenly feels too quiet. The isolation I crave immediately loses its appeal, and I have no choice but to bear it alone.

Hayes steps closer. “The funny thing about alphas is that they hate when someone touches what belongs to them, outcast or not.”

Disgust twists through me, and I do everything in my power to keep the panic down. “I don’t belong to Hunter.”

Hayes smirks. “Pack rules say otherwise.”

“The pack barely remembers I exist.”

His expression flickers slightly at that. Maybe he hears the truth in it, and maybe he doesn’t care.

Either way, his hand slides from my arm to my throat, just resting there heavily enough to remind me how easily he could squeeze if he wanted.

My pulse jumps beneath his palm, completely out of my control.

“See?” he says softly, more like he’s teasing me now. “You’re perfect for this. You’re nobody important enough to start a war over, but still technically one of his wolves. Hunter will know not to count me out just yet.”

Rage and shame war inside me, leaving me feeling even more helpless than usual.

Nobody important enough.

It rings true, and to push the blade in a little deeper, he’s far too perceptive for someone who doesn’t know me at all.

I force myself to glare at him even as fear crawls through my veins, wanting more than anything for this to be over. “If you’re trying to intimidate Hunter, you picked the wrong person.”

“Oh?”

“He won’t come for me.”

The words leave before I can stop them, and they’re painfully, humiliatingly accurate.

Hunter wouldn’t cross a room for me, let alone start a fight. Not after the way he treated me growing up, or after years of making it clear I was beneath him in every way.

Something unreadable flickers across Hayes’s face, then he laughs again. “Damn. That bad, huh? You’re almost making me pity you.”

I say nothing, because what am I supposed to say?

I learned early that nobody was coming for me, and now a part of me already accepts whatever happens next, since expecting rescue will only lead to disappointment.

My silence is answer enough.

Hayes studies me for a long moment before leaning closer. “You know what your problem is? You already act like prey.”

I stare at him coldly, and my inner wolf snaps angrily beneath my skin at the insult, but exhaustion crushes her quickly.

I’m tired… so tired of fighting battles I never win, and of existing in a place that decided years ago I don’t matter.

Hayes must sense it because his grip loosens slightly, not with kindness, but confidence, since he already knows I won’t resist.

“Look at you,” he taunts quietly with a sardonic click of his tongue. “No claws or bite. Just waiting for bad things to happen.”

My chest rises unevenly, well aware of how pathetic I must seem.

Some distant part of me knows I should fight harder, and that I should shift before tearing into him with everything I have.

But the larger part of me already knows how stories like mine usually end.

Even in fighting him, I’d be alone, unwanted, and left to die without anyone to mourn me.

The forest wind shifts suddenly, and without warning, Hayes freezes. So do I.

A new scent cuts sharply through the trees, familiar enough that my stomach twists instantly, accompanied by an undeniable power.

The last person I ever imagined would appear.