The Alpha´s Mate

Connor cut through the vampire crowd, which instinctively parted before him, their faces a mixture of shock and outrage at his disregard for protocol.

His pack members tensed, uncomfortable with their Alpha approaching me alone, but none intervened.

I remained still. Running would seem weak; confrontation could spark a diplomatic incident. So I waited, chin raised, trying to project the cool confidence expected of a Blackwood princess while my insides twisted with unfamiliar tension.

He stood before me close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him. Werewolves ran hotter than vampires—a biological fact I’d learned but never experienced firsthand. While vampire skin stayed cool unless recently fed, he exuded warmth like a living furnace.

His scent enveloped me—pine, worn leather, and something uniquely him, primal and stirring a strange mix of warning and desire. I involuntarily inhaled, drawing his scent deeper.

Up close, I saw details I’d missed from afar. A scar ran along his jawline, joined by several smaller ones—battle marks etched on his skin. His amber eyes contained flecks of deeper gold near the pupil. His large, calloused hands bore tattoos matching the tribal markings on his chest, whose meaning eluded me.

I noted clearly that his pulse beat strong at his throat, unhurried despite the tension. My vampire senses registered the rich, vital rush of blood beneath his skin. I quickly dismissed the thought, disturbed by my own reaction.

"Princess Elizabeth." His voice was low, a rumble vibrating between us. He offered no bow or customary courtesy due my station.

"Alpha Connor." My voice steadied despite inner turmoil. "This is highly irregular. If you wish to introduce yourself, there are protocols—"

"I don’t need an introduction." He interrupted without apology. "I know who you are."

His statement hung, loaded with meanings I couldn’t decipher. He studied my face with unusual intensity, as if searching for something.

"Then you know that approaching me this way breaches diplomatic etiquette," I replied, struggling to keep my composure. "If you have business with House Blackwood, my father—"

"My business is with you." He cut me off again, an act no one had dared in decades.

Movement flickered on the periphery—a shift of guards, my mother's icy expression as she advanced. Connor seemed unbothered by the potential fallout.

"And what business could an Alpha werewolf possibly have with me?" I kept my tone cool, emphasizing the gulf between our kinds.

A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes—a glimpse of the wolf beneath the man. "You feel it too."

Three simple words hit me hard. Did I feel that strange pull, this inexplicable recognition? I refused to admit it, even to myself.

"I don't know what you mean." The lie tasted bitter.

His lips curved slightly, almost a smile. "Your heart is racing."

I stiffened, angered that he detected my physiological reaction. Werewolves and their damnable senses.

"A natural response to perceived threat," I countered with deliberate disdain. "My kind tends to be cautious around predators."

Instead of taking offense, he seemed amused. "Is that what I am to you? A predator?"

"What else would you be?"

He stepped closer, discarding propriety. Barely a hand’s width between us, I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. The room grew dangerously quiet.

"Something inevitable," he murmured, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "Something written in our blood long before we were born."

Before I could reply, he raised his hand slowly, a deliberate gesture giving me a chance to retreat. I remained frozen, caught between outrage and curiosity. His fingers moved gently toward my face.

When his skin brushed mine along my jaw, a sharp electrical jolt surged between us. The touch lasted seconds, but heat bloomed where he touched, spreading like wildfire. I inhaled sharply, unprepared for the intensity.

His pupils dilated, the amber nearly swallowed by black. His nostrils flared, and I realized with horror that he could sense the confusion and forbidden attraction my body betrayed.

I pulled back, breaking the spell. Suddenly, I was aware of our audience—the shocked vampire court, my mother's cold fury, my father's diplomatic concern, and the tense alertness of Connor’s pack members.

"Do not touch me again." I spoke low, infused with centuries of noble authority. "Whatever you believe this is, you are mistaken."

A low growl rumbled from his chest, inaudible to others but clear to my ears. It wasn’t threatening—if anything, it sounded satisfied, as if my rejection confirmed something for him. "We’ll see," he said simply.

My skin still tingled from his touch. I felt unsettled and off-balance in a way I hadn’t in centuries. This was dangerous—not just politically, but personally. Something fundamental had shifted, and I couldn’t pinpoint what or how to restore my equilibrium.

I stepped back further, needing space to regain composure. "This conversation is over."

Connor didn’t pursue me, but his eyes stayed locked on mine—a silent promise that this was only the beginning.

Silence stretched as the assembly waited for the next move. My father advanced, his face a mask of diplomatic concern barely hiding his anger. My mother stood still, more threatening than any motion.

"This has gone far enough," Lord Thorne declared, stepping between us with misguided courage. "You will step away from the princess immediately."

Connor didn’t glance at him. His focus remained on me, as if Thorne were nothing more than an insect buzzing nearby.

"I've waited too long already," Connor declared, his voice resonating through the silent ballroom.

A chill ran down my spine as his tone carried a finality, a certainty that cut through my confusion and weighed heavily on my chest.

"Elizabeth Blackwood." He spoke my name with unexpected reverence, each syllable loaded with meaning. Then his voice shifted to a formal cadence unfamiliar to me. "I claim you as my mate by the ancient laws of the Blood Moon. What was written in the stars before our birth has now been fulfilled."