The Alpha and His General

p r o l o g u e

I was six when I was taken and sold to slavery. I remember very little of those times… or so I tell myself and anyone that asks. The truth is, no matter how hard I tried to forget, I still remember it all.

Every last bit of it.

From the rain pouring heavily, to the darkness of the evening and the eerie mist thick enough that I couldn’t see beyond my outstretched hand. The dark men that came in the night with heavy chains arrived like ghosts but they were scarier than ghosts. They were scarier than what nightmares are scared of.

For these men didn’t just take me from my life… they took away my parents too.

A bone chilling laughter came with the men, the screams from every direction of my pack and the sounds of terror. The air stank of slaughter, the smell of death. There was also blood, so much blood. I was almost swimming in it.

My father had run out of the house to protect us… he didn’t come back and soon the men came into the house, killing my mother and taking me. The chain they put on my wrists were silver and it burned my skin painfully like acid.

I carried those chains for years and the lashes I would get if I didn’t listen, the harsh things that were done to me… stayed— burned into my memory like a really bad dream. The laughter of my captors lingered and I remember the anger, the fear and the horror of everything that was happening all around me.

The hopelessness.

Pack after pack. Men and countless women dead at my feet. Years melting into each other. Blood and more of it.

There was no stopping them.

I remember when the flag of the capital finally showed seven years after I'd been captured and I was all but defeated. I was expecting the Queen, the Moon Goddess on earth, the famed white wolf that would save us all.

Only, it wasn’t her.

It was a boy who couldn’t be five years older than me.

Despite his young face, he stood taller than all the men around him. The boy had the darkest black hair and the bluest eyes. It was the color of the sky, serene yet steely.

I remember the look of him, unimpressed and almost demented like.

He didn’t speak but my captors seemed to know him instantly, throwing themselves at his feet.

“The future King of the Werewolves.” They said with their usual wicked voice trembling. “Crown Prince Eros.”

There was no reply from the King, his expression however turned harsher and crueler to the point that he looked even scarier than my tormentors.

“You think you could get away?” A voice spoke from behind the future King.

It was a stunningly beautiful young woman with similar features to the future King. I remember the feeling of awestruck at the sight of her. She was the embodiment of what the Moon Goddess would look like if she walked on earth. Dark hair, big blue eyes and a face so beautiful she couldn’t possibly be real.

The only thing stopping me from thinking she’s the actual Moon Goddess was her right arm which was completely covered in tattoos, from her lower neck, down to the collar bone and stops right before her elbow.

Not the Moon Goddess then.

Not the Queen but the—

“Princess,” My captors trembled at her melodic voice that was both what angels and pit vipers sounded like.

They pulled at my chains, begging for mercy and presenting me as if I was some prize to be given. I was not a prize. Not any prize that a future King would want at least. I was only thirteen, covered in bruises, blood crusted and stick thin.

Right next to the beautiful young woman in front of me, I was nothing but damaged.

Finally the silence was broken by the future King as he laughed demonically, sending a tremor of terror through the crowd. “There are no slaves in my Kingdom.”

I felt a cold gust of wind around me and the screams started. I closed my eyes on instinct, preparing for the worst and when there was silence once more for what felt like forever, I opened my eyes to a field of blood and flesh. Every single one of my captions were dead and ripped to pieces. And in the middle of that chaos was the future King of the Werewolves, his eyes the color of hell and savagery.

The Crown Prince Eros Volkov turned to face me, bloodied and horrifying with his mouth, elbows and knees dripping with red. I imagined that this is what death looked like and it was coming for me next.

Instead, the boy that I thought would end the torment of my life, broke the chains from my wrists and ankles with his bare hands. “You’re free.”

I saw the fierce way he says this, felt the vibrations of his voice even from so far away and was hyper aware that he meant this. I knew then that this man… this new King would be worth dying for.

Because there were very few people worth that and he was exactly that person for me.

“Come with me.” He had said and I followed.

That was ten years ago.

I’m twenty three now, older, better and stronger. I’m no longer a slave but a powerful and trusted General under my King, my savior.

And I will serve him for the rest of my life.

And I will do whatever he asks of me.

No matter what.