The Alphas Hunt

Every girl at the age of eighteen, if left unmated, is volunteered for the Alphas Hunt. Hazel is no exception and also the only one who sees it not as a chance to find a strong Alpha to take care of her, but rather as a ceremony that strips you of your free will and sends you out into the woods to be hunted like a deer.

If she is claimed she will be his. If she is not, she will return in shame and be shunned from her pack.

Hazel knows the ways of the Alphas, being the daughter of a Beta but what she doesn't count on is the presence of the Lycan King. The leader of all is participating in his first-ever hunt and she is his prey.

***Warning: This book contains a LOT of mature content such as strong language, explicit s*x scenes, BDSM, etc.***

The angelic music played in the speakers around the pack. The torches were lit along the streets and the moon shone brightly in the center of the sky.

A shadow was cast over the edge as the blood moon began to form and once it was fully merged it would be time, and later on when the the blood moon begun to pull from its form the horn would blow- indicating that the Hunt had begun.

“Are you nervous?” My little sister, Mathilda, asked me.

“Hazel isn’t nervous, sweetheart, this is an honor. One that you too might experience in a few years if you’re lucky.” I shifted on the bed and suppressed the growing anger towards my mother.

I looked into Mathildas hopeful eyes and cupped her tiny chin.

“I hope you never do,” I said and cast a fierce glare at my mother when I turn my head.

If a female didn't have her mate by the time she turned eighteen, she was to be a volunteer for the Hunt. It wasn't her choice but somehow, through the centuries that this tradition had been alive, young girls had been brain washed to see this as an honor.

If we were unmated our names were automatically placed into the Chalice of Choice that the ring leader would later pull from. The name had always boggled me, Chalice of Choice, it was ironic because we had none.

You would never see a parent more proud than when their daughters names were read.

The blinding joy in their eyes when they saw their girls being taken away, thrown into the truck and driven out of the pack. It was rare that they were ever seen again but their absence was taken as a good sign.

“You’re all finished, dear,” my mother stroked her hands gently over my shoulders.

She walked over and grabbed the white under dress. It was barely a dress, it looked like a nightgown but thinner and more exposing.The thin straps were pressing into my shoulders, my skin turned red when my chest was to big for the size