The Alpha's Caged Mate

"Stand up straight, Elara."

My mother adjusted the collar of her silk blouse, her eyes darting across the massive foyer of the Ironwood estate.

"I am standing straight," I muttered, shifting my grip on the heavy suitcase.

"You look like a frightened rabbit. We belong here now. Alpha Kaelen made that very clear."

"I just want to unpack," I told her, avoiding the intimidating gazes of the pack guards stationed by the front doors.

"Second floor, third door on the right," she instructed, pointing up the grand, sweeping staircase. "Make yourself presentable. We have dinner with the entire pack council tonight."

"I will be down in ten minutes."

"Do not dawdle. And for heaven's sake, fix your hair."

"My hair is fine."

"It looks like you have been sleeping in a ditch. We are guests here until the mating ceremony is complete. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Did you bring the extra suppressants?" she asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"They are in my bag," I replied, keeping my tone flat.

"Keep them hidden. Kaelen knows you are an Omega, but the rest of the pack does not need a distraction."

"I wear the patches, Mom. No one will smell a thing."

"See that you do. This is our fresh start. Do not ruin it by going into heat in the middle of a territory meeting."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. "I know how to handle my own biology."

"Just go up. I need to find Kaelen. He is supposed to give us the official welcome."

"Who is Kaelen?"

"The Alpha of this territory. The wolf I am marrying. Old Marcus ceded the title to him, and he runs everything now. Do not cross him, Elara."

"I plan on avoiding everyone."

"It is impossible to avoid the Alpha. Just be polite. Keep your scent masked. If he thinks you are a threat to the pack's stability, he will have you thrown out."

"I am not a threat to anyone. I am just trying to finish my college degree."

"Wolves like Kaelen do not care about human degrees. They care about power, territory, and submission. Now go."

I dragged the suitcase toward the stairs. The wheels thumped awkwardly against the thick carpet.

Each step felt like dragging a boulder up a mountain. The Ironwood main house smelled of pine, old money, and domineering Alpha pheromones. It suffocated me.

I reached the second floor landing and paused to catch my breath.

Third door on the right.

I counted the heavy wooden frames lining the long, dimly lit corridor. One. Two. Three.

I pushed the brass handle down and shoved the heavy oak door open.

The room was massive, drowning in twilight shadows.

A figure stood on the connecting balcony.

Broad shoulders blocked the dying sun. He turned.

"You are in the wrong room," he stated. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against the glass panes.

"My mother said third door on the