"You may sit," I allow. Once she has, I ask, “What have you gathered?”
She clears her throat, still not meeting my eyes. Although both she and her wolf are particularly dominant, it’s difficult for anyone to hold my gaze—being an Alpha compels submission in almost all those around me. The fact that Sierra stared into my eyes without flinching is a testament to her strength of soul.
Within packs of any shifters, there are two primary categories; those with a dominant inner animal, and those with a submissive one. Alpha’s have to be the most dominant of all, or they risk being overthrown by other pack members.
“Your mate’s full name is Sierra West. She’s twenty-three years old, and Leisel is nine,” Aspen tells me.
Wyatt perks up at the mention of his mate, pausing in his pacing to listen to Aspen. The rest of the shifters present also stop their conversations, curious to hear about their future queen and princess.
“Go on,” I encourage.
Aspen clears her throat. “Sierra’s father died from cancer when she was thirteen. Her mother shortly found out she was pregnant, and then died giving birth to Leisel when she hemorrhaged on the birthing bed. There are no accounts of any magical blood in her family—it’s an incredibly well-kept secret.”
My eyes flutter closed. It’s little wonder that Sierra can’t stand me—she lost both her parents because humans are no longer afforded the medical attention they once had direct access to. In a roundabout way, they died because of mythics.
“By most accounts, Sierra’s relatively solitary, oftentimes keeping to herself while working on her farm. She does, however, trade in the village multiple times a week—anything from meats she gathers on hunts, to produce and grains she harvests from her farm. On occasion, she’ll sell paintings she makes as well. Every Sunday she visits the struggling families in Aesara, bringing whatever food she can spare for the children.”
My chest warms. Aspen’s words tell me that my mate has a considerable soft side hidden under her armor. Perhaps I can coax that softness out and use it to my advantage.
“All the villagers seem to like her well enough—and they all positively adore Leisel. Sierra raised Leisel as her own daughter and has seemingly dedicated her life to providing for her sister.”
My assumption that Leisel and she areveryclose was spot on which means Leisel is the only leverage I have on Sierra.
“How did the villagers respond to seeing their magic?” I ask Aspen.
With any luck, that’ll have turned some of them against her, leaving her in need of a safe haven which I’d be most happy to provide.
Aspen replies, “Mostly positive, but there’s a group that’s not happy with finding out that two magical beings, mythics or not, have lived right under their noses for decades.”
History shows that mobs don’t take long to spread hatred; if there’s already a group of individuals that have turned on Sierra and Leisel, they might grow in numbers and pose a threat. That’s something I might be able to use to my advantage, as well as it serving as an additional reason for wanting to get Sierra away from here, where there might soon be danger to her afoot.
“You’re dismissed,” I tell Aspen.
With a bow of her head, she scurries off. Wyatt takes her place, clenching his hands into fists.
I watch the fireplace thoughtfully. “Leisel didn’t declare duelum,” I say, thinking out loud.
“She’s not old enough to,” Wyatt responds, brows furrowing as he watches me. As both my brother and Beta, we grew up quite close, and he often helps me strategize during tumultuous times, especially since our father abdicated the throne to live out the rest of his life in solitude.
“Very true,” I allow, “but technically, she is a member of the Rockwell Pack by association. The laws state that humans under the age of eighteen can’t be marked or officially mated, but if I recall correctly, nowhere is it stated that mates can’t still be brought to pack territory.”
Wyatt’s eyes spark with interest as he listens. “In other words, I have jurisdiction to take her to Kinrith with me.”
I incline my head. “And anywhere Leisel goes, Sierra will undoubtedly follow.”
It’s an underhanded plan—a dirty one without a doubt—but I have no compunction about playing dirty to get Sierra.
I knew from the first five seconds in her presence that she’s not a person who’d ever submit to anyone, let alone me. I doubt even physical punishments could bend her will—not that I intend to hurt her. The longer we spend in proximity, the stronger our bond innately becomes, even without her bearing my mark or consummation. That means that soon enough, her pain will trickle over to my body through the bond; even if I wanted to hurt her, which I don’t, it wouldn’t be in my best interest to do so.
The only real thing I can use against her is her love for her sister, and I intend to use it as much as is necessary.
Sierra will come to accept me—few can resist the pull of the bond for long. In time, she might even come to love me. How much I crave that truly startles me.
I glance at one of my packmates, Oscar, and motion him over with a hand. The tall, burly blond is our pack scribe—when letters or documents need to be created and sent about, he’s the one who writes them.
“Put together a formal invitation for Sierra and Leisel to join us for dinner tonight,” I instruct him. Then I stand and walk to the kitchen, instructing my chefs to replicate the normal dinner spread Wyatt and I are offered each night.
Beyond wanting to feed my mate a hearty meal—foods not afforded to mere humans—I’m curious to see how she’ll interact with the pack. Curious to see just how deep her hostility towards us runs—if there are any chinks in her armor I can press on. At the end of the evening, I’ll inform her that Leisel will be taken to Kinrith in the morning and prepare for the fight of a lifetime she’ll no doubt put up.
