The Feral Alpha's Secret Wolfless Mate

Eliana POV

The suffocating scent of dark rum and cedar hit me first, heavy and intoxicating. I gasped, my eyes snapping open to the dim, luxurious expanse of Jaren’s Alpha Suite. The heavy silk sheets tangled around my legs. A massive, scorching weight pinned me down.

Jaren.

My breath hitched. I wasn't dead. The execution, the agonizing betrayal, the cold stone floor—it was gone. I was back. Back to the very night I made the most fatal mistake of my life: trying to use a black-market aphrodisiac mixed with my natural white peach and jasmine scent to seduce the Second Alpha Son.

Right now, the drug had pushed his volatile Inner Wolf into a violent, heat-like frenzy. He was a beast operating purely on instinct.

"No," I choked out, shoving frantically at his chest. But I was a Wolfless Omega, and he was a pureblood Alpha. My resistance meant absolutely nothing against his terrifying strength.

Desperation clawed at my throat. I couldn't let history repeat itself. I couldn't become his broken Breeder again, trapped in a nightmare that ended in my death. I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his bare shoulder, tasting copper.

Jaren let out a guttural roar. His Inner Wolf registered the sharp pain, and his eyes snapped to mine, glowing with a terrifying, predatory gold. His large hand clamped around my throat, cutting off my air. He didn't speak; his beast was entirely in control. He lowered his head, and before I could scream, his sharp canines pierced the fragile skin of my collarbone.

A pre-Marking bite.

Fire erupted in my veins. I sobbed, the pain blinding me until the drug and his frenzy finally dragged him under. With a heavy groan, he collapsed beside me, his grip loosening.

I didn't waste a single second. Ignoring the bone-crushing ache in my body, I slid off the mattress. My bare feet sank into the plush Giant Bear rug. I snatched my torn clothes from the floor, dressed with trembling hands, and slipped out the heavy oak door into the cold night.

*

By dawn, the Griffin Pack House Courtyard was bustling with the miserable labor of the lowest caste.

I gripped my broom, my knuckles white. I had scrubbed my skin raw with cheap, lye-heavy soap and smeared mud over my neck to hide the bruised bite mark and mask my scent. Every movement sent a sharp ache through my collarbone.

"You look like a corpse, El."

I flinched. Ivonne, my fellow Omega maid, leaned against her mop, eyeing my pale face with concern.

"I just... didn't sleep well," I muttered, keeping my head down and sweeping the rough cobblestones. "Stomach ache."

Ivonne glanced around the courtyard, ensuring none of the Beta supervisors were near, before leaning in close. "I'm not surprised you couldn't sleep. The whole Pack House is in an uproar."

My heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

"Lord Jaren," she whispered, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and thrill.