Chapter Two: The Wolf's Alpha
Evelyn stood frozen, her breath shallow as she stared at the man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The glow of the moon made him appear otherworldly, his dark features illuminated in a soft, ethereal light. His piercing golden eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a strange chill down her spine, but there was something more—something that felt like recognition.
His presence was commanding, yet calm, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for her to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken understanding. Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest, the thrum of her pulse like a warning, urging her to flee, but her legs refused to obey.
The man remained still, his expression unreadable. His gaze didn't waver from hers. There was no threat in his posture, yet Evelyn felt the weight of his power as if it were a tangible force pressing against her.
"Who… are you?" she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible above the rustling of the wind through the trees.
The man's lips curled into a slight, knowing smile, though there was no humor in it. "I could ask you the same, but I already know," he said, his voice low and velvety. "You've been running for a long time, Evelyn."
Her breath caught in her throat. "How do you know my name?" Her voice was sharp now, instinctively defensive. She took a cautious step back, though it felt useless to move away from someone who exuded such authority.
The man didn't move, but his gaze softened just a fraction. "You've been marked, whether you know it or not. Just like me. Just like us."
Evelyn's pulse quickened at the mention of being marked. She wasn't sure why, but those words rattled something deep within her. Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides as the memories of her life began to feel like a distant dream, like she wasn't fully in control of it.
"Marked?" She repeated, as if trying the word on for size, trying to make sense of the foreign concept. "What are you talking about?"
The man finally took a step toward her, his movement fluid and predatory. Evelyn instinctively took another step back, her instincts screaming at her to keep a safe distance, but there was no real fear—only confusion.
"You're a werewolf," he stated, his tone brokering no argument. "A true one, not like the stories they tell you. A wolf with the blood of an Alpha running through your veins."
Her eyes widened, her chest tightening with a mixture of disbelief and dread. She had heard whispers over the years—stories about werewolves, myths and old legends—but never once had she imagined it could apply to her. It sounded like something from a childhood fairytale, not the reality she had lived for the last twenty-two years.
"You're wrong," she said, shaking her head, trying to push the thought away, but the words didn't come out as convincingly as she hoped. "I'm not one of them. I'm just… Evelyn Grey. I'm nothing like them."
The man—no, the wolf—smiled softly, his golden eyes glinting with a strange kind of sympathy. "You are more than you know. More than they've let you believe." His eyes darkened for a moment, and Evelyn could have sworn she saw a flicker of something fierce, something protective, before he masked it again. "And you've been running from who you are for far too long."
Evelyn swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "I'm not a werewolf," she repeated, though she could feel something stirring inside her. Something raw, primal.
A deep sigh escaped the man's lips, and he seemed to soften, though his presence was still imposing. "You are. You just don't know it yet." He took another step closer, slowly, almost cautiously, as though testing her reaction. He paused, just a breath away from her, and his scent—a mixture of wild, earthy tones and something undeniably masculine—filled the air around them. "But you will. Soon."
Her heart thudded harder against her chest, the truth of his words clawing at the edges of her sanity. She wanted to argue. She wanted to deny everything. But a strange, foreign warmth began to grow inside her, something she couldn't ignore.
Her mind was racing. "And why should I trust you?" she asked, her voice cracking just a little. She hated how vulnerable she sounded, but she couldn't help it. The uncertainty gnawed at her, filling her with more questions than answers.
The man's expression softened again, and for the first time, there was a hint of something genuine in his gaze—a flicker of warmth, even if it was faint. "You don't have to trust me, Evelyn. But you will. I'm here because you need to understand your place in this world, and because you're not safe alone. Not anymore."
She recoiled slightly at his words. "What do you mean? Who would want to hurt me?"
His gaze turned hard, the protective streak flashing through him again. "You have no idea who you are, do you? Who your adoptive parents were really trying to protect you from. You're not just any woman, Evelyn. You're the descendant of a bloodline that's been hidden from you. And there are people who will stop at nothing to claim you."
Her breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend what he was saying. The words were too much. Too heavy. "My parents—they never said anything about—"
"Your parents didn't tell you the truth," he interrupted, his voice sharp now, almost angry. "They hid it from you. They took you in because of your bloodline, Evelyn. But they never told you that you were born with the power of an Alpha. A power that calls to others of your kind. That calls to me."
Evelyn felt the ground beneath her feet shift. The air around her felt thick, charged with an invisible force. The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity. The strange connection she had felt when he first looked at her—the sense of familiarity, of being drawn to him—wasn't just in her mind.
"You… you're like me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The man's golden eyes softened again, and for a moment, his expression was almost… tender. "Yes," he said quietly. "I'm Alaric Thorn. And you, Evelyn Grey, are my fated mate."
The world around her seemed to spin. Fated mate. The term hung in the air like an echo of something primal. But all Evelyn could do was stare at him, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind reeling from the weight of the truth he had just dropped on her.
Her fated mate.
How could that be possible? She was just a girl, a runaway, with no idea of the world he was talking about.
And yet, deep within her, a flicker of recognition flared. Something instinctual, something powerful. Her hands trembled at her sides.
Alaric's gaze softened, as though he could sense her growing panic. "You're not alone anymore, Evelyn. You're with me now."
The words were both a promise and a warning. Evelyn wasn't sure which one terrified her more.