Page 5 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

I stepped back.

He followed.

The wolves kept howling around us, no one noticing the anomaly here. But those eyes stayed locked on me, refusing to let go.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned and ran.

I practically launched forward, through the forest, over bushes, running as fast as I could. Behind me came a deep wolf howl—his voice, calling me. But I didn't look back.

I ran faster.

Branches whipped my face, rocks dug into my paws, tears blurred my vision. I didn't dare look back, didn't dare stop, didn't dare imagine what expression he wore now.

Moonlight washed over me, cold as ice.

The wolf howl behind me grew fainter and finally disappeared into the night.

I collapsed beneath an old oak tree and shifted back to human form. My whole body trembled—from cold, from fear, or from those gray-blue eyes.

In the distance, the howling continued.

It pierced the night sky, pierced the forest, pierced my eardrums, like sharp knives cutting into my heart.

And I couldn't even cry out loud.

Chapter Two

Zane

"Your Majesty, the Howling Ceremony is around the corner." My beta Edmund was recycling the same line he'd been feeding me for six straight years. "You need to prepare."

"I know." I slouched against the throne, drumming my fingers on the armrest. "Not exactly my first rodeo."

"But Your Majesty—"

"Edmund, if the next words out of your mouth are 'your power is fading,' I swear I'll ship you to the border to count sheep."

He shut up. Good.

I took a deep breath, irritation crawling under my skin. Six Howling Ceremonies. Six years. And still no fated mate. Same cycle every year—hope, ceremony, disappointment.

My wolf stirred restlessly inside me. It wanted our mate even more than I did. Every full moon, it went crazy, pacing back and forth in my chest, claws scraping against my ribs like it was filing a complaint. Why? Why haven't we found her yet?

Hell if I knew. Maybe the Moon Goddess had it out for me.

Either way, this year's Howling Ceremony rolled around right on schedule. I put on the formal wear, strapped on the silver mask—as king, I had to lead the pack's howl.

Moon Valley looked spectacular as always. Hundreds of people gathered here, wearing all kinds of masks, talking and dancing to music around bonfires. The air smelled of wine and perfume mixed with that raw, wild scent unique to werewolves.

I stood in the corner nursing a whiskey, watching the spinning skirts and tangled footsteps, calculating how much longer this circus had to run.

"Your Majesty, won't you dance?" Edmund had somehow slithered up beside me, voice low.

"No."

"But—"

"Edmund, one more word and I'm turning you into a frog."