Wolf’s Fated Bride

1. Ash

Ash

Many of the werewolves gathered here would love nothing more than to rip me to shreds. We’ve waged wars with the Stormcrest pack for over a decade.

Yet, here I am.

The parade precedes the signing of a treaty between the warring factions, namely us and the Stormcrest werewolves. In the parade, I’m supposed to ride on a sled pulled by Stormcrest’s sled dogs. For security reasons, my cousin, who looks like me, is riding on the sled in my place.

People shout, and I hear dogs barking as they pull the sled around a bend and toward the crowds gathered before the bridge that leads to the white castle trimmed in blue. It sits on the side of the mountain.

My cousin waves to the cheering crowds.

I’ve accepted a peace offering and will take a Stormcrest female as my bride. She and I have never met, but what do I care? There are worse things in life than marrying a stranger when you’re the reason millions of people died.

On my far right, a group of females gather around a keg to exchange money. They must have a bet going. We’re a competitive species, and bets are common.

“Hey, loner.” A female joins me and offers me a beer.

I shake my head. It could be poisoned. People have been trying to kill me ever since I decided to punish those who wronged us and unleashed hell upon the world.

My father tried first. When he failed, my uncle tried, my friends, even my dear mother later in her life.

My best friend is the only person I trust.

The blonde and I lock eyes. Hers are blue, typical of the Stormcrest pack. Most of them have sea-blue eyes, since their genetics are tied to the water element.

I raise an eyebrow. “Got a bet going with your girls?”

She takes a sip of her beer. “Yup.”

“What’s at stake?”

“A dare.”

“Which is?”

“That I can bag a wolf at hello.”

I chuckle. Not this wolf. I don’t say that. I want it to appear as if she’s won the bet. “On second thought…” I extend my hand and accept the beer, which I don’t intend to drink.

She slides next to me and leans her back against the wall, propping her leg up. She’s wearing a short skirt with fur trim that rides high up her thigh. I pretend not to notice her body language, which invites me to look.

“So, Fireborn,” she starts. “How do you find Stormcrest territory?”

“Cold.”

She giggles, a pleasant, feminine sound. The wind is in my favor, blowing her scent away from me, and I won’t sniff her out on purpose because that would signal interest. But the slight whiff of pine indicates she ran through the forest recently, maybe even this morning.

She flips her braid so that her hair slides against my biceps. Now her scent is on me, and other females can sniff her out. Territorial, this one. I guess she really likes me. That’s too bad, since I’m not available.

Respectfully, I step away from her, hoping that will send a message.

Maren, the Stormcrest princess, won’t appreciate me smelling like another female.

Sure, if I wanted to humiliate her, I could bed this one later tonight, but the princess is a victim of our weakened position in society, which is run by human alchemists, and I don’t particularly care for weakening the werewolves even more by acting like a rebellious boy.

Our marriage arrangement is political, intended to unite two warring sides.

Instead of water versus fire, the humans, who represent earth, agreed that water and fire should be joined.

As I see it, if the Stormcrest and Fireborn packs unite, maybe we have a chance of standing up against the humans, who are slowly erasing our werewolf traditions, stealing our ancestral territories, and governing us with their superior technology.

Don’t even get me started on how fast they’ve advanced with alchemy.

Freedom for all werewolves can only be attained if the Stormcrest Alpha stops licking the alchemists’ buttholes. But, judging by how many humans are in attendance today, getting the Alpha to stop that nasty habit will take another century.

We don’t live that long, so we should secure and enjoy peace while we’re alive.

The wind turns, and a sweet vanilla scent tickles my nose. It invites a purr to rise from my chest. This type of purr is as involuntary as a sneeze, and it tells the omega female that she’s tagged an alpha male. Only an alpha wolf can purr.

The omega points at the last sled, which bears my cousin.

People shout obscenities at him (because they think it’s me), while he smiles at them, showing his snow-white teeth.

I wish he would stop that cheerful nonsense and behave as I would.

First impressions are important, and now the Stormcrests falsely believe that I’m approachable and outgoing.

I’m anything but.

If the omega didn’t bet her friends that she could bag me for the night, I’d be standing here by myself, cherishing the last bit of solitude I’ll get for the duration of my stay in this pack. Is it time to go home yet?

The omega whistles. “The Fireborn alpha is handsome.”

“You think so?” My cousin and I look a lot alike. In fact, after he trained with me this year and gained more weight, we’re nearly identical.

“Yeah, clean-shaven, which is nice.” She looks up at me as I glare at her down my nose. Not reading my displeasure, she bats her fair lashes, “I’m not a fan of bearded men.”

I shaved to throw the Stormcrest pack off a little. Usually, I have a beard and trim it neatly. I don’t care for looking unkempt, but a beard is a must.

“I’m happy you approve,” I deadpan.

“My sister likes beards. She’ll ask him to grow one.”

I tense. “Your sister?”

“My sister Maren. Your man’s promised bride.” The omega sticks out her hand. “I’m Runa.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Shouldn’t you be with the rest of your family? They’re about to receive the Fireborn Alpha.”

She drops her hand. “My father will receive him. My attendance is only required at tonight’s party.”

“You mean dinner.”

“I mean what I said, wolf.” She crosses her arms over her chest and mimics my stance.

She’s mad because I wouldn’t shake her hand.

There’s no way I’m touching this omega. I should’ve sent her away already.

“It’s my understanding that the family will hold a private dinner.

” A quiet one where the bride the Stormcrest pack promised me will say words I’ll be able to hear over the drunken revelry.

“My brother called the gathering a dinner to get the Fireborn Alpha to agree to attend the party. He’s a bit of a grump, I hear. Very bossy. Serious. Bearded too, but I guess he shaved.”

“I don’t like parties,” I say.

“You don’t have to attend.”

But I do. “You’re right.”

Runa smiles. “I only need to be there at the beginning. After that, we could not attend together.”

She doesn’t give up easily. I fight a smile. Her game is fantastic, and she’s a persistent omega with more courage than some of the beta males I know. I like her boldness. But I also can’t allow her to continue flirting with me. I push off the wall.

“Hey, don’t leave me hanging. I’ll lose my bet and have to kiss a frog tonight.”

I sigh as the group of females watch us. “I can’t help you. I’ve got a date with your sister.”

“Why would you…” She blinks, realization registering on her face.

“Ash Fireborn.” I introduce myself, but don’t offer her my hand to shake. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Her pretty blue eyes widen, and her full lips part.

Freckles dust her small nose, which is red from the cold.

Her rosy cheeks color more pink with embarrassment as the weight of our conversation settles in.

She flirted with the only wolf on the planet who would reject her.

I can’t imagine another alpha letting her walk away.

She spins on her bootheel and marches off.

It’s a good thing that she doesn’t care for bearded guys.

It’s a bad thing that I find her freckles cute.