Mated to the Alpha's Heir

Chapter 1

Ivy

I did it. I can't believe I actually did it. My heart feels like it is about to beat out of my chest in my excitement. The tattoo artist is finishing cleaning my new tattoo on my shoulder. Wiping it with a damp paper towel a couple of times before applying the second skin to protect it from becoming infected.

The room smells of ink and metal, with the walls lined in bright flash art—wolves, moons, claws.

I bounce my foot impatiently the entire time, and I don't miss the amused tilt to Evan’s lips as he takes his precious time. I swear he finds joy in dragging this out as long as he can. As soon as he finished torturing me, I was up and out of the chair like lightning, and standing in front of the wall of mirrors.

I admire the soft lines of the wolf’s silhouette— it's simple. Nothing overly flashy, just a curve of muzzle raised to howl—but it felt like armor. Marking me as a warrior. I'm a warrior now.

Gone are the days of everyone looking down on me for being an Omega. Pushing me around and telling me that I should just give up on such a crazy dream and remember my place within the pack. I can't tell you how many times I have been told that I would never make it. That there was no way I would survive the grueling task of rising in rank.

But I did.

There would be no more lowered eyes. No more hiding and shrinking myself just to fit in. The omega was dead. The warrior has risen.

“I’ll show them how wrong they were,” I mumble under my breath to myself.

"You earned every line of that ink, Ivy. Don’t let anyone forget it,” Evan says as he starts to clean his equipment before putting it away.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice tight with emotion and everything I couldn’t find the words to say.

I can't contain my smile as I thank Evan once more before rushing out the door. His laughter follows me outside, light and knowing, like he has seen this moment a hundred times before.

It’s taken me years just to get to this moment. Years of hard work, bruises, and convincing just to be allowed to try. That’s hard enough when you’re born an Omega. But I did it. I rose.

Oh my bad, where are my manners? My name is Ivy Ashwood, and I am a former Omega to Shadow Ridge Pack…now warrior.

I’m a werewolf if you haven’t guessed yet.

No, I don't only transform during a full moon, nor do I eat human hearts or any of those silly things they say in the horror movies. I'm just like any other human, only I can turn into a wolf at will. It's pretty cool in reality.

Nyx is my wolf, and she’s a little more reserved in her excitement right now, but I can still feel the quiet thrum of happiness pulsing through our bond. It’s like a second heartbeat beneath my own—the soft thump is steady, grounding, reminding me that I am never alone. She doesn’t need to howl to show her pride. Her silence speaks volumes.

“You’d better get moving before you’re late for your first assignment,” Nyx reminds me, her voice brushing against my thoughts like cool wind. I pick up my pace, my boots striking against the pavement with a renewed purpose as I head toward home to get ready.

The sun is beginning to dip below the treetops, casting long shadows across the road that leads to my family's home. The air smells like damp earth and pine needles, tinged with the faint sweetness of the honeysuckles that grow nearby. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls—not in warning, but in celebration. The packs are gathering, and everyone is excited.

Tonight, Shadow Ridge is hosting their annual Summer Solstice dance for the unmated wolves. It's a tradition. A ritual. A chance for fate to weave its threads and bind hearts together. There are several of the surrounding packs that will be joining us. All members will be dressed to impress, hoping to catch the scent of destiny.

Normally, I avoid these kinds of events. Too many eyes. Too many whispers. Too many memories that I would rather not relive.

I was sixteen the last time I attended one of these, and though most mate bonds don't appear until a wolf turns eighteen, sometimes there is a pull that is the start of the bond. That night, I had worn a pale blue dress that I had borrowed from my cousin, and spent an entire hour curling my hair. I’d wanted to feel pretty. I wanted to belong. But belonging wasn’t something that Omegas were granted in Shadow Ridge.

One of the girls in my class—Marla, I think her name was—walked up to me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and poured her entire glass of punch over my head. The sticky sweetness clung to my scalp, my dress, and ultimately to my pride. I’d left early, humiliated, and determined to show them that I wasn't a weak Omega. That was the night I started training.

But tonight is different.

Tonight I’m not here to dance or drink. I’m not here to hope that by some miracle that I will find my mate. No, I’m here as a warrior.

My job is to watch. To protect. To stand tall and remind them that I’m not the girl they laughed at anymore. That I have strength even if they refuse to see it sometimes.

I burst through the front door of my family home, the scent of rosemary and roasted meat wafting from the kitchen makes my stomach rumble, but I ignore it. My parents are there, their voices low and warm as they prepare dinner. I don’t stop to greet them. I’m too wired, too focused. I take the stairs two at a time, the wood creaking beneath my weight on the worn steps.

Once inside my room, I pull open the closet door and grab my clothes from the back: a pair of black skinny jeans. They are snug and flexible. I pair it with a black long-sleeve shirt with a scoop neckline that hugs my frame without drawing attention. It's functional. Sleek. Warrior-ready.

I brush out my long waves before braiding it quickly, my fingers moving with practiced ease. I tie the simple three-strand braid off with a black elastic over my shoulder. I catch my reflection in the mirror. Pieces of my dark hair framing sharp cheekbones, and icy blue eyes that are bright against my pale skin, my shoulders squared, chest lifted — it's the stance of someone who refuses to be small anymore. The warrior in me stares back, daring anyone to doubt her.

“Let them look,” I whisper to my reflection. “Let them see what we’ve become.”

Nyx hums in agreement inside my head, her pride curling around me like smoke.

I grab the watch off the dresser and strap it securely to my wrist as I head back downstairs. The light from the kitchen glows softly as I round the corner of the stairs. Multiple pots are simmering on the stove top as my mother stirs one before she turns around and spots me standing in the doorway.

She smiles when she sees me. “Well, there she is,” Mom coos, wiping her hands on a hand towel as she moves around the kitchen island, her arms open wide. I take a step closer, and she pulls me into a familiar hug that smells of magnolias and rain.

“We are so proud of you, honey.”

“Always knew that you were going to do big things,” Dad says, his voice thick with pride as he joins us and kisses the top of my head. His scent is sharp and spicy, like cinnamon and clove. It settles something deep inside me. When I first started working to become a warrior, I feared that my parents would feel like I was abandoning them. But they have supported me through the entire process.

Their praise wraps around me like a soft blanket of support and love. For years, I've fought to be seen by the others in our pack. To be worthy of their respect, and tonight, I finally feel like I am.

I pull back from them, grinning so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt. “Thank you both for supporting me through this. I couldn't do it without you both." Mom smooths my braid over my shoulder with one last affectionate touch.

"Oh, sweetie, we love you and are happy as long as you are," my mother says with a smile.

I press upward onto my tippy-toes to press a kiss on her cheek and smile up at Dad, “I should get going before the whole pack starts without me. "Don’t wait up for me tonight,” I say as I make my way to the front door.

I grabbed my jacket that was hanging by the front door on my way out. My heart is thundering with something between excitement and challenge as I step out into the night. Nyx stretches inside me, her claws flexing in restlessness. The pulse of the pack is already tugging at me — music is drifting faintly through the night air, laughter and voices carried in the wind.

The sun has almost sunk below the horizon; only a faint purple hue hangs in the sky now. The air is still very warm, carrying the faintest whiff of wood smoke from the bonfires that are starting.

Loose gravel crunches under my boots as I follow the path toward the pack house. Lanterns hang from low branches of nearby trees, swaying gently in the evening breeze, their light casting pools of golden light that guide my way. The hum of conversation and the thump of bass grow louder with every step I take, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

Nyx has started pacing inside my head, her claws scraping just beneath my skin, her tail flicking from side to side. She is antsy, which is not Nyx; she is always calm and level-headed. She has been that way since she appeared when I was twelve. But now she is practically vibrating with a nervous energy, the closer we get to the pack house.

“What's wrong?” I ask her, as I look over my shoulder, scanning the shadows as we walk.

“I don't know. Something just feels…different.”

My eyes flick left and right again, trying to catch whatever she senses that has her on alert. But there is nothing to see, just the darkness that is only broken by a lantern every couple of feet.

“Is it a good different? Or is this something that we should alert the others about?” I question. The last thing that I want is to pretend that this feeling that we are having is just nervousness, and it turns out to be something more serious.

“I don't feel that the others need to be involved,” she says, but I can feel her shift just a little bit closer to the surface, ready to take control if she needs to. This does little to settle the knot forming in my stomach.

By the time I crest the hill, the pack house comes into view — the lights glowing from the open windows, music spilling out into the night. There are at least a hundred wolves mingling in the yard, each one dressed in their most formal wear. Their laughter rings through the air, and my chest tightens as that 'off' feeling grows even stronger.

What's out there that I can't see?

I do my best to push the unease to the back of my mind as I search the crowd for Max. He is the next Beta and the one who is in charge of security for tonight's gathering. It's his first test of sorts before the reins are officially handed over to him. I scan the crowd and spot him across the yard, standing like the perfect future Beta — straight-backed, assessing everything.

Being the future Beta meant that he and I were never in the same social circle growing up, even though he is only a year older than I am. Betas and Omegas never hung out, especially in high school. And even though he has not been outright opposed to my promotion in rank this week, I can tell from the crease between his brows when he notices me that he is not comfortable with me being here tonight.

“Beta Max,” I say as I reach him, bowing my head in respect.

“Ivy.” His tone is curt but polite. He might not say it aloud, but his face sure shows the judgment that is flying through his mind right now. I raise a brow at him when he still doesn't say anything, and he finally manages to shake himself from his thoughts.

“d**k,” Nyx growls in the back of my mind.

I snort to myself and quickly have to cover it with a cough so that Max doesn't think that I am being disrespectful in any way.

Beta Max narrows his gaze on me like he is trying to peer into my soul, and for half a second, I want to shrink back. Old habits die hard, I guess. But I force myself to stay still, with my chin lifted, back straight, until his eyes flick away.

“You’re over there,” he says, nodding toward the far side of the yard — the spot farthest from the crowd and the makeshift stage.

I grind my teeth but don’t comment on my assignment. Instead, I bow my head once more and head for my post.

It doesn’t take me long to realize exactly what he’s done. I’m the only Omega here tonight — everyone here clearly outranks me. I am the lone shadow placed at the edge of the gathering. A neat little reminder of where I came from, no matter how far I’ve climbed. I bit my tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood.

I plant my boots in the soft moss and lift my chin, making brief eye contact with Beta Max. keep my spine stiff as he watches me from afar. He nods, satisfied that I am not going to throw a tantrum, probably before he returns to his duties. I scan the years, listening to the laughter ripple across the open space, music thumping through the speakers. Wolves dance near the fire pits, pairs and trios, all with smiles as bright as the moon above us.

The smell of food wafts across the open area, herbs and roasted meat from dinner.

And then—something else that makes my mouth water.

A new scent cuts through everything. Slamming into me so hard I nearly stagger. Warm cedar and amber, threaded through with something that is wild and electric, sparks across my skin. Goosebumps rise across my skin even in the warm night air.

Nyx suddenly surges to the surface, her sharp claws digging deep into the barrier. "Mate."

My heart thunders like never before as my eyes dart frantically across the crowd, searching, searching—

And then I see him.

He stands on the stage next to Alpha Callum. He is tall, with broad shoulders that could fill an entire door frame. His clean-shaven face shows off his sharp jawline. His hazel eyes are flecked with gold that catch the light like sparks as he scans the crowd, like he feels me too, but can’t quite find me. He looks carved from the same stone as his father, but there’s a quiet storm brewing behind his gaze.

My knees nearly buckle when his eyes lock with mine. Heat floods my chest, tingling that crawls up my throat until it’s hard to breathe; it is like all the air is sucked out of my lungs. The world tilts around me, and every sound is muffled under the roar of my pulse in my ears.

The music stops, and everyone stops to turn and look at the stage. The Alpha walks to the center of the stage with a black microphone in his hand.

“Tonight,” Alpha Callum announces finally, his deep voice booming through the speakers, “we welcome home my son, Ronan, who has just returned from university. In the months ahead, he will begin to take his rightful place as Alpha of the Shadow Ridge Pack.”

Applause erupts around me, but all I can hear is the rush of blood rushing in my ears, all I can feel is that pull between us growing stronger, locking me in place.

I've heard their whispers about Alpha Callum’s son over the past few years. The brilliant future Alpha, who had it all going for him. But nothing could have prepared me for the way his gaze would pin me in place with such ease.

Nyx howls inside my head, triumphant and wild. "Ours."

She lunges, pressing against my skin like she wants to tear through it. Her joy is all but feral right now.

But reality makes me hard in the face a second later. He is the next Alpha, and I am just the omega that clawed her way up. He will never want me. Never accept me.

His expression is one that shows absolutely nothing, but his gaze never wavers. And for the first time today, I don’t feel like a warrior at all. I feel like prey caught in a predator’s sights.