Alpha of Alphas - The Lycan's Impossible Mate novel Chapter 1

I walk through Aunt Mildred’s pink flat, taking in her smell and wacky style one last time. Gods, I’m going to miss her. I wish I was here to say goodbye, but I couldn’t get away without arousing suspicion. She was alone in the end, as she was alone most of her whole life. Cast out and forgotten – except by me.

Unbeknownst to my parents and our coven, I kept in touch with my aunt over the years. Like me, she had the power of projection, so we used to have entire conversations sitting on a cloud somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, or the peak of Mount Everest.

She was my favourite person in the world, and I’m the reason they kicked her out of the coven, though she never blamed me for it. She always said, “Willow, my dear child, they could have killed me, but your love saved me. That’s payment enough.”

I almost died for it, but because I was only ten at the time, my coven spared me. Instead, they got rid of my troublesome aunt and ordered me to break contact with her.

Once, about six years ago, right after my sixteenth birthday, and a month before my induction into the Crystal Rose Coven, I ran away and came straight here to hide. My aunt cast a protection spell around me, kept me away from prying eyes, but it didn’t work. My father found me two days later, here in this very flat. He beat me severely. I still have the scars. But it was worth it.

Don’t let the cutesy name of our coven fool you – they practice dark magic, and one of the ways to manifest a fledgling’s dark side is through constant torture and abuse. You become so angry after a while that you tap into that darkness because that kind of magic is stronger and far more dangerous than light magic.

In the end, you start learning it so you can punish the ones that hurt you – but before you know it, you are a grown-up, you’ve become just like the ones that hurt you, and you start doing the same to the little fledglings.

After dropping my bags in the spare room, pink like every other room, I take a quick shower in the cerise bathroom. It has been a long day, and all I want is some food, maybe a little bit of wine, and a good night’s sleep.

I realise my mistake when I start going through Aunt Mildred’s kitchen. There isn’t much in the way of food, and the little food she did have had gone off in the month since she had died. I should have brought food with me.

There is wine though. I pour myself a glass and step out onto the balcony. The view from the top-floor penthouse is spectacular. The wind whips up my dress, but I don’t bother to pull it down. I should be the only person here. Most of the luxury apartments here belong to rich holidaymakers, and since winter is approaching, they’ve all gone home

Inhaling the fresh, clean ocean air, I lose myself in the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks below. I open myself to nature’s power, feeling it radiate through me, recharging my energy, alleviating some of the hunger.

I wasn’t aware of the man that walked out onto the adjoining balcony until he clears his throat. “Good evening,” he says in a deep, melodious voice. “What are you doing in my pack house?”

All the alarms in my head starts jangling, and every witch sense is telling me to turn. Run. But there is something else much stronger that’s keeping me rooted. Something I’ve never felt before, something I can’t explain.

Blushing, I grab at my dress that blows up around my waist, giving the stranger a good view of my white panties, and pull it down. “Your pack house?” I ask, alarmed and curious at the same time. “You’re a werewolf?”

“Yes. So’s everyone else living in this complex.”

So that is why the alarm bells are screaming. “My aunt wasn’t a werewolf.”

“You’re Mildred’s niece?”

I nod, keeping my eyes on the impressive specimen mere feet away, getting ready to attack me, no doubt. Werewolves despise witches. Hate them. They tend to kill us on sight. Not that I can say much about their disdain for us, we don’t exactly love them.

His dark blonde hair flops over his brow, and light blue eyes pierce into my soul. “You’re tall,” I say, gaping up at him like a lovesick puppy. “Even for a werewolf.”

“Hm,” he grunts. “Mildred didn’t tell you about me?”

I search my memory but come up blank. I don’t think she ever mentioned that she lived in a pack house with werewolves. “I’m not sure…she might have. What’s your name?”

“Kane Madden. Lycan king of these lands. And you must be Willow Jones, daughter of the infamous Daniel Jones, coven master of Crystal Rose.”

Oh lovely, a fucking Lycan king. The deadliest, cruellest most ferocious wolves on the planet, and I am standing here talking to one like he’s my friendly neighbourhood soccer dad. “My aunt talked about me?”

He grunts and nods at the same time. “Well come on, it’s almost time for supper.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” I stutter. “What?”

“I can hear your stomach rumble, and knowing Mildred there can't be much to eat in her place.”

The idea of walking into the wolf’s den like a willing sheep to the slaughter is just a little too much to handle, even for a witch as brazen as me. “What are you planning?”

His eyes flash angrily, but his voice is still calm and even. “I plan on feeding you.”