2. Mate
Author's POV
Mia, her heart pounding with adrenaline, dragged the captured she-wolf, also the daughter of the Gamma of the Red Moon pack, into her father's presence. The she-wolf's eyes held a mixture of fear and defiance as she stood before Balthazar, Mia's father.
"Father," Mia said with a determined tone, "I've brought her."
Her father, his gaze unwavering, assessed the captive before him. The tension in the air was palpable.
"Very well, my sweet daughter." Balthazar smirked, his voice unwavering. "We can finally exact our revenge and send a message to the Red Moon pack. They'll regret the day they crossed our paths. Take her," he signaled to one of the guards.
Mia nodded in understanding, losing her grip and handing over the captive to the guard. This was just the beginning of their retaliation against the Red Moon pack, and Mia was determined to see it through to the end.
"What happens next, dad?" Mia took a step closer to Balthazar.
"Now we wait for them. And then ruin every existence of that pack," he spat with aggression. "Get ready, daughter; a war is about to happen."
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"Beta Christian!" Gamma Arnold burst into Christian's office without knocking. His voice came out in deep pants, showcasing his lack of air due to the vigorous running. Christian looked up from the paperwork; a frown marked his face with the sudden outburst. "Rachel, she's been taken. She went out for a run. The guards reported she had been missing since then." Christian immediately knew who'd be doing this. It could only be one person who has made their lives so chaotic. The only snake, most conniving, and traitorous person to ever exist
Balthazar!
He squeezed the shit out of the pen in his hand before breaking it in half. "Get the warriors out for a search. I'm going to talk with the Alpha." He sprang out of his recliner, immediately making his way to the Alpha King's office.
"Balthazar has Anastasia," was the first thing that came out of Christian's mouth upon meeting the Royal Alpha, Dominic King. The lines that marked Dominic's forehead were enough to speak volumes of the anger bubbling inside him. Once again, the foul cockroach had not learned from his mistakes and decided to step into the lion's territory. "I mind-linked the guards; they reported the job was done by someone rather skilled." Dominic squinted his eyes at the news.
"How can you be so sure that it was Balthazar?" Dominic questioned.
"All our enemies are under the ground, Alpha, except him. And we have to change that soon."
"He was warned. But if a war is what he wants, then that's what he'll get. Get everyone ready."
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"What potion are you brewing now?" Sylvia, the forty-year-old potion master, turned to witness the presence of Mia munching on an apple while discreetly coming into her little potion camp. "Jeez, it's suffocating here. How do you even breathe?" Sylvia only gave her a small smile before returning to drop some ingredients into her burning pot.
"It's my catharsis," Sylvia commented.
"Of course it is. I can introduce you to many other exciting hobbies if you'd allow me to." Mia had always been fond of Sylvia because she was the only motherly figure who had loved her after her father. Obviously, her father had been very busy throughout her early life running their clan, so Mia had always been under the care of Sylvia, a very useful witch to her and the Shadow Weavers. Not to forget the most respected one. Mia had always loved spending time with her. She used to often drop by her potion camp to spend some quality time or just joke around; sometimes she even learned some exciting things about magic, since she wasn't a natural at it. That was always a mystery for her though. She often tried asking Sylvia why she was different from the others. Sylvia only told her because she was special, the same answer her father would always give.
"Orders to prepare for the upcoming activity," Sylvia finally revealed.
"You mean the war?" Mia scoffed. "I don't even know why dad is putting in so much effort. I mean, we can surely take them out in no time. Werewolves are stupid. And God help them; their concept of mates is nothing but a weakness." Mia observed a spark of emotional change in Sylvia's eyes at the comment. As if she had hit a soft spot. She saw a flash of sympathy? But it was gone as soon as it came. Mia knew something was up. And did not decide to leave it alone.
"Did I say something wrong?" Mia questioned with a soft voice.
"No, you are absolutely right." Sylvia smiled, but Mia knew it was a forced, sad one. "Mates are indeed a weakness." Mia caught something in Sylvia's tone. There was a hidden message in that statement. Mia's mind raked over the possibilities of the thoughts invading her brain, but she was looking for the right way to probe and not come off as suspicious.
"I was curious though," she started, deciding to take a chance. "These werewolf mates are only found in werewolves? I mean, what are the possibilities of them being from another species? Like witches? Vampires? Humans?" Sylvia did not spend all those years of her life in ignorance. She knew very well what the little girl was doing and mentally applauded her attempt. She was not so little anymore, but for her, Mia would always be the little girl that she brought up.
"Zero percent." Sylvia gave a straight answer.
"Oh," Mia said, sounding disappointed for some reason. "I see." She observed Sylvia smoothly run her magic on the potion before smelling it. The smile on her face meant it was ready.
"What is it, anyway?"
The alarms started blaring as soon as the words escaped Mia's lips. Her eyes widened as it finally dawned on her.
"We've been attacked. They are here!" She instantly sprang out of her comfort zone to run to the battlefield.
"Get the canons ready!" One of the men from the shadow weaver's army entered Sylvia's camp instantly, attracting the attention of the two and yelling into the air.
"Cannons? For what?" She questioned, seeing him pick up the bags of potions that Sylvia had prepared a few minutes ago.
"Master Balthazar needs you on the battlefield right now," was all he answered, not meeting her eyes and rushing away with the potion.
"Sylvia?" She faced her, daring not to break eye contact. "What potion did you just prepare?" Her tone became serious.
"Paralyzing potion. It's only going to take them out for a while, helping you all get the upper hand." She looked at her, confused. So Father asked Sylvia to prepare the potion for war? This was strange of him to do. He had never used magic potions before to get the enemy out. If it had come this far, then things had gone seriously out of hand. She was ready to take off when Sylvia called for her.
"Mia!" She turned abruptly to meet Sylvia's eyes. "Take care of yourself, please." Mia gave her a gentle nod before following her destiny.
On the battle-scarred grounds of the ancient war, the sun hung low in the orange sky. A chilling wind swept across the desolate landscape, carrying with it the scent of impending battle.
Amidst the ruins, a fearsome black werewolf stood tall, its eyes aglow with feral intensity. Next to him was a silver-coated werewolf, standing almost equally tall as the black one. Its gnarled fur bristled, muscles taut beneath matted, coarse fur. The light revealed the sharp gleam of its elongated claws, and its jaw, powerful enough to snap steel, was lined with razor-sharp teeth.
A smirk spread on Balthazar's lips as he watched the scene unfold. Exactly as he wished. "Welcome King! Long time, no see." He stood across the field, with a coven of witches clad in dark robes gathered, their eyes ablaze with otherworldly power. They brandished twisted staffs adorned with wicked charms, each step echoing with an eerie chant that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest of soldiers.
Balthazar observed all of the army of werewolves, waiting for one command before the fight would unfold. "Ready to lose the existence of your pack?"
Dominic's wolf, Eros, snarled, blaring at the comment. "Oh, angry? I'm sorry, I don't speak wolf." He was purposely trying to get on their nerves, Eros knew. Leo, Christian's wolf, stood next to his alpha, burning with fury and not being able to accept the disrespect. "Do it."
The witches conjured swirling vortexes of dark energy, crackling with malevolent lightning, while the werewolf's growls reverberated like thunder. With an earth-shaking roar, the werewolf lunged, claws slashing through the air. A shimmering barrier of energy appeared, deflecting the monstrous assault.
Bolts of arcane energy shot from the witches' wands, colliding with the werewolf's advancing form, but it shrugged off the pain, pressing on with relentless determination. Each step cracked the scorched earth beneath its paws as it closed in on its mystical adversaries.
Mia panted slightly; witnessing the horrendous sight did scare her, but only for a second. She had to prove to him that she was ready. She slipped into the eerie battlefield of war, her agile form shrouded by shadows. With a heart as cold as steel, she aligned herself with the witches—a union of dark magic and cunning strategy. In her hands gleamed the deadly tools of her trade—a quiver of deadly arrows and razor-sharp blades.
The haunting howls of the werewolves echoed through the night, their yellow eyes gleaming with malevolence. Mia's piercing eyes remained unwavering as she silently stalked her prey. Her fingers caressed the cool metal of her blades, and her keen senses were attuned to the slightest rustling in the nearby woods.
As the werewolf lunged from the shadows, Mia moved like a shadow herself. Swiftly, an arrow was notched, and her fingers released the bowstring. The arrow flew true, finding its mark with deadly precision. The beast's agonized cry pierced the night, only to be silenced as Mia's blades found their mark.
In this macabre dance of darkness, Mia's lethal prowess was unmatched. With each arrow and blade, she struck fear into the hearts of the werewolves, and one by one, her deadly skills proved to be their undoing.
She heard the bombing sound of the cannons firing the balls of potion. Slowly, it only added to the casualties of the enemy, and she grinned, nearing the victory. If only she knew.
She saw the gigantic silver-coated wolf spout out from nowhere to attack one of the witches, ready to cast a spell. He lunged forward, ready to dive onto her arm. No doubt he was the enemy, but she could not help but praise the beauty he held in his thick silver coat of fur.
"Not so fast," she hurtled a dagger just before he could sink his teeth into the arms of her father's close witch. His senses were more heightened than Mia expected, and for the first time in forever, someone had been successful in missing her aim, even if it was by just an inch. What surprised her more was that he didn't even have to turn back to find out where the dagger was coming from. It was like he had sensed it before she even released it from her hand.
Christian stilled right after dodging the dagger. It was not because he was taken aback by the sudden interruption. It was because of a certain smell that invaded his lungs and consumed him completely. No, it couldn't be.
Slowly turning to face the direction where the dagger was launched, his eyes finally met his target. His yellow orbs glowed and dilated further, if it was even possible. His heart ran wild as Leo howled in pleasure that erupted just because of the whiff of smell he caught.
Mate, he heard his wolf pant.
Christian could not believe his eyes. His heart raced as he advanced through the smoke-filled battlefield. There she was, a fiery-haired beauty geared with arrows and daggers, her intense gaze locked onto his. Their eyes met across the war-torn terrain, and for a moment, time stood still.
He couldn't help but be captivated by her striking red hair, which seemed to burn with the same intensity as the war around them. Her eyes held a dangerous allure, a mixture of determination and uncertainty.
Their meeting was unexpected, and Christian felt a complex whirlwind of emotions that he was torn between. She was the enemy, yet there was something about her that drew him in—a magnetic connection that transcended the battle they were embroiled in.
In that brief, charged moment, Christian shifted back into his human form. Mia observed the silver wolf shift into the human he partly was. And she was left amazed at the sight she witnessed. She stood in wide-eyed awe as she watched Christian undergo the incredible transformation from a fearsome werewolf back into his human form. The moon's glow faded, and in its place emerged a man of striking allure. His rugged features were accentuated by a strong jawline and chiseled cheekbones, and his eyes, once fierce and animalistic, now held a warm, human depth.
As his muscles rippled beneath his skin, Mia couldn't help but admire the powerful physique he possessed. His chest was broad and defined, his arms were sinewy and powerful, and his entire presence exuded an aura of primal strength.
But what truly left her breathless was the rugged yet captivating look he carried. There was an air of mystery about him, as if he had stories etched into every scar and line on his handsome face. His tousled hair framed his face perfectly, and the way he carried himself, with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, was utterly mesmerizing.
At that moment, Mia realized the effect that specific werewolf had on her. It was not normal what she felt. She felt anxious, giddy, excited, and even nervous. And that was not okay. She didn't like it. Although, who was she kidding? She couldn't decipher the feelings that were suddenly wrapping her in the gist of the moment. Did the werewolf secretly put her under a spell? She mocked. She wanted it to go away. It had to go away. Because one thing she could not afford was to get distracted in the middle of a literal war. She did the only thing that made sense to her. She lunged at him with her blades.
Mia moved at lightning speed. Her years of training had honed her into a deadly assassin, and she was determined to take him down, even in his formidable human form.
With a fierce battle cry, she slashed at him, the blades singing through the air. But Christian, his instincts sharp as ever, deftly evaded her strikes. He was deceptively quick, his movements fluid and precise as he danced out of her reach.
Christian, in his human form, didn't underestimate his opponent. He knew Mia was a formidable adversary. As she lunged at him, blades flashing, he moved with astonishing agility. With a quick step to the side, he narrowly avoided her first strike, the blade slicing through the air where he had been moments before.
Their dance continued, a deadly waltz amidst the turmoil. Mia attacked with precision, her blades flashing like bolts of lightning, but Christian's reflexes were unmatched. He blocked, parried, and dodged with an almost supernatural grace, his movements fluid and controlled.
Mia's frustration grew as her attacks failed to land a solid blow. Christian's strength was undeniable, even in his human form. He countered her strikes with a strength that defied her expectations, easily pushing her back with each clash of blades.
Christian was amazed by her skills and secretly proud too. He seized an opportunity to disarm her. With a swift and decisive movement, he dislodged the blades from her hands, sending them clattering to the ground.
Mia stood there, disarmed and breathless, her gaze locked onto Christian's. He didn't strike the finishing blow; instead, he took a step back, a silent acknowledgment of her bravery. Mia was left in utter surprise. Why would any enemy let go of such an epic opportunity to literally end the opponent with one blow?
She held a look of shock in her wide eyes as he let her go of his grip. But letting her guard down was her mistake because one moment she was standing admiring the piece of hunk before her, and next, a sharp pain erupted in her neck, and she knew what it was. She had just enough time to locate the dart, which had been fired from a different direction, and it had to be a complete outsider. Christian's shocked face had spoken so. Oh well, what could she say? Karma was a bitch after all.
The last thing she remembered was falling into the handsome man's arms and hearing a soft whisper before her consciousness slipped, taking her into the world of darkness.
Mate.