The Alpha's Hunt

---

The first time Elara saw him, she thought she was already dead.

The forest had fallen silent. The night itself seemed to hold its breath. The other sacrifices stood frozen in place, their fear thick enough to choke on.

And then he stepped forward.

A towering figure cloaked in darkness, his presence swallowed the moonlight. His movements were slow, deliberate—like a predator who already knew the outcome of the hunt.

His eyes—burning silver, rimmed with black.

They locked onto Elara, sharp as a blade against her throat.

She could hear his breaths, deep and steady, unfazed by the terrified gasps around him. His power pressed against them, something unseen yet suffocating, as if the very air bowed in submission.

The Alpha of Duskmoor.

She knew the stories. The whispers. The warnings.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for the reality of him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in dark, battle-worn leathers that fit his form with deadly precision. His jaw was sharp, his features striking—a warrior carved from shadows.

And yet, there was something monstrous lurking beneath his human skin.

Something that sent a primal instinct of run screaming through her veins.

He moved closer, his boots silent against the earth. One of the chosen sobbed beside her. The Alpha barely spared them a glance.

His gaze was locked on Elara.

Watching. Assessing.

A guard's voice cut through the tension.

"My Lord," he said, bowing low, his voice tight with fear. "The seven offerings have been delivered."

The Alpha said nothing. He only stared.

The boy beside Elara dropped to his knees, hands clasped together. "Please," he whimpered. "I don't want to die."

A sharp, wet crack echoed through the night.

The boy's body hit the ground before Elara even realized what had happened.

Her stomach lurched.

The Alpha had moved so fast—too fast. A blur of motion, a single swipe of his clawed hand, and now—now there was blood.

The other sacrifices gasped in horror. One girl retched onto the dirt.

Elara?

She stayed still.

Frozen.

The Alpha's fingers flexed, blood dripping from his claws. His expression remained unreadable as he turned his gaze back to the remaining six.

"Too weak," he muttered, voice deep, dangerous.

Then, he lifted his head. Sniffed the air.

Elara's pulse pounded in her ears.

He was searching. For something.

No, she realized. Not something. Someone.

Her.

---

The Alpha's Choice

Elara barely breathed as he stepped toward her.

One of the guards hesitated. "My Lord, if I may—"

A single look from the Alpha silenced him.

Elara swallowed. The icy wind bit into her skin, but it wasn't the cold that made her shiver.

It was him.

The Alpha stopped inches from her.

"Your name."

It wasn't a request.

"Elara," she forced out, her voice steadier than she felt.

His silver eyes swept over her, slow and thorough, before returning to her face. "You're not afraid."

She was.

But she had learned long ago that fear was a weakness best hidden.

So she lifted her chin, refusing to cower. "I don't see the point," she said.

A flicker of something—**amusement?—**crossed his features.

Then, without warning, he reached for her.

Elara flinched, expecting pain. Instead, his fingers closed around the iron shackles on her wrists.

And with one sharp pull, he snapped them clean off.

Shock rippled through the crowd.

"The rest of you," he said, voice low and final, "are dismissed."

The guards hesitated, confused.

One finally spoke. "My Lord, we are supposed to—"

The Alpha turned his head slightly.

The guard stopped speaking.

Then, as if realizing the weight of his mistake, he fell to his knees and bowed so low his forehead touched the ground.

"We… We will obey."

The remaining five sacrifices were dragged away.

Elara didn't watch them go.

Because she knew—she was the only one who wasn't leaving.

---

The journey to the keep was silent.

Elara was pulled through the massive black gates, past towering stone walls and endless corridors, until they finally stopped in a chamber so vast it swallowed her whole.

The doors slammed shut behind her.

Alone.

She was alone with him now.

She turned, her pulse racing as she took in the room. A fire roared in the massive hearth, casting flickering shadows across dark wooden floors and high stone walls. Thick furs covered the chairs and bed—luxury wrapped in something brutal.

And standing near the fire, watching her with those piercing silver eyes—

The Alpha.

"You chose me," she said, voice quieter than she intended.

He didn't answer.

Didn't move.

His gaze pinned her in place.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. "What happens now?"

A slow, measured step. Then another.

Until he was too close.

She could feel his warmth now. The scent of him—smoke, steel, something wild.

And then, in a voice so quiet it sent shivers down her spine, he said:

"Now, you survive."

His hand or claws rather brushed her throat.

Not rough. Not gentle.

Just enough pressure to remind her

She belonged to him now.

....