Alpha warrior novel Chapter 3

“Deimos is already a death trap being next to the Wall,” he offered, taking a few steps away. “They don’t need a family-slaying Alpha as their leader too.”

And with those inspiring words, her dear friend was off. Isla followed his confident stride with a deadpan stare. Maybe Winslow needed to give him some more lectures on sensitivity.-

With a purse of her lips, Isla swirled the wine in her glass and settled back against the bar. A curious spirit and unyielding inquisitor, her mind ran wild with possibilities. Trying to find an answer no one had. . . except maybe, the Alpha of Deimos.

She shook her head. She didn’t need to waste her time worrying about that now—or ever. All her active-focus had to remain on tomorrow, on the day that would change her life, and the rest of the time, like right now, she’d relish in the mindless moments.

Her eyes went from left to right, citing the company of dust.

How could one have mindless moments when all they had was their thoughts?

She let out a breath, looking out into the crowd. She spotted the Trainee and Callan, who’d returned to their state of being complete strangers, but she didn’t necessarily want to converse with either of them again. No one really looked interesting enough to talk to. She definitely needed more companions that weren’t Adrien and her own brother.

For a brief second, a carnal desire rearing its head in her tedium, she let it linger out there, the fact she had not been laid claim to, and she, not another. There was a bit more time before the dinner. But as heads lifted with sniffs of the air to discern her location, something switched, and she changed her mind, tempered any lust.

Instead, she finished her glass and let it down on the counter with a hollow clank. Then, going against the grain of the party, traveled away from the congregating bodies until she found a dimly-lit, empty hallway. A good-ways down, it ended with a glass door to a terrace. She pushed it open, the old metal of it creaking. Her steps echoed off the stones of the platform as she walked out into the tepid night air. The only source of light was the full moon. It was all she needed.

She approached the terrace’s railing and placed her hands upon it as she drank in the lunar aura, breathing deeply, absorbing its glow. The lumerosi markings etched into her skin throbbed, the intricate swirls and symbols of black ink taking on their signature iridescence as she teetered on the edge of the mundane and mythical. For a moment, she pondered it. Ripping off her gown, shifting, and hauling through the trees.

No one would know she was gone, right?

“Beautiful.”

Isla’s markings flared, her eyes following in their glow, as she spun around to face who had snuck up on her.

But then the furious light dwindled to nothing, as she became frozen, disarmed, by one of the most striking men she’d ever seen.

When first confronted by something—or someone—she knew nothing about, Isla, historically, was a ‘claw first, ask questions later’ kind of she-wolf. An automatic fight in the fight-or-flight dichotomy. The reaction had both saved her life and gotten her in deep trouble in the past. The latter more so than the former.

That called for training, and with it, she eventually learned to hold off on the snap actions, and instead, use all of her senses first. Quickly and efficiently run down the mental checklist, evaluate the threat, then strike if needed.

She tried to call upon the teachings now, but the only sense that was working was her sight.

And then. . . there was also something deeper.

Isla felt a tug at what felt like the core of her being in a way that she’d never experienced before. Was this it? The day she’d once dreamed of and now dreaded?

No. This wasn’t quite how that mystical, magical Fated attraction felt, at least in the way she imagined it would from the descriptions she’d heard.

“It’s like a light just shines and the heavens open and. . .”

“It’s a. . . ping!”

“Suddenly, the world just made sense.”

“I saw her, and I just knew.”

No. This definitely wasn’t any of that. That sounded romantic and wistful and dreamy. This was just. . . carnal.

It consumed her like a wildfire, spreading quickly through her branches of veins and torching the hills and valleys of her skin. It budded fantasies like roses, each one unique, but the one most intoxicating was the vision of him reaching for her, pressing her against the banister, and lifting her dress to take her right then and there underneath the lunar glow. No words, no time for pleasantries, just. . . sex.

She blinked as she descended back to some form of reality, trying to figure out, by the Goddess, what had just come over her. Had it really been that long since she’d been taken to bed?

She cleared her throat, looking him over. “Excuse me?”

“The moon?” The stranger stepped closer, gesturing upwards. “Beautiful.”

Her spit felt thick as she swallowed, sparing the Goddess a glance. “Yes, it is.”

The stranger moved forward until he was beside her at the railing. “I’m assuming you’re here for the Warrior’s Feast?” He leaned against the stone and turned to face her. “For the Hunt?”

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