*TLPA Book 1* The supernatural world is changing rapidly. There is a war brewing, and the issue of it all is at the tip of every tongue: werewolf packs are being taken over by vampires and manipulated to cause chaos. In order to keep peace, the two most powerful packs in North America must form an alliance that will allow the Alphas to force other packs to concede in fear of their power instead of being controlled by the vampires. This political alliance turns out to be a marriage between Princess Saskia and the alpha of the most dominant pack in all of werewolf history.*Saskia makes the sacrifice for her pack, putting their welfare first and her desires as well as wishes last. She is willing to do all that is needed of her as the Luna of her new pack. But she'd be damned if she let herself be trodden over by the stubborn, imposing, and oh so possessive Alpha Mikael, aka her husband.
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SASKIA'S POV
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The rogue's claws scratch at my neck, drawing thin streaks of blood, and I hiss in apprehension, ready to retaliate. My blade glints wickedly as I slash at the canine twice at the neck, then deliver a deathly stab to its vulnerable heart. I can't help but flinch slightly when I hear its fury as it howls out in pain while great torrents of blood spurt out of its wounds forcefully.
"Princess! Duck!" I twist my body and head just in time to dodge the dogging beast that had hurled itself at me, crashing into a spindly tree that falls on impact. I had been too occupied by the dying wolf that I lost focus on my surroundings.
"He's their Alpha," I growl out a warning to my men who hurry to take formation as planned, enclosing on the three remaining wolves who have somehow found a place to hide for the time being. "Stay in positions!"
"Yes, princess." The same voice says, and I turn to fix a hard glare on the annoying fool who has suddenly materialised at my side. It annoys me that his stealth still manages to surprise me in moments like this.
"Put a hold to the stupid jokes, for I will not hesitate to rip the head off any man who calls me princess again."
"Sheesh." He says, then whistles. "Just when I thought I'd seen angry. Now that's what I call true princess rage." His smile is taunting, and I take in two deep, cleansing breaths, trying my best to stay calm.
"You've seen nothing, Wade." My tone is menacing, even though I try hard to hide my anger.
"Oh...damn." His expression immediately turns guarded, almost sober, when he notices I am struggling to keep my emotions in check.
Even though the buffoon loved joking around, he knew the Alpha never let the culprits of an unaccomplished mission go unpunished, especially when the misfortune could have been avoided. His words would most certainly fall along the lines of how every werewolf should know that a leader needs a level head in order to conduct a successful operation, particularly when it turns out to be their last time doing so.
"Where are the men stationed?" I ask while I focus my concentration on surveying the clearing—with the help of the half-moon—we have walked into. There could be traps hidden, but then again, I know Wade would have sniffed it out first.
"Sixty-five degrees North lies our new tracker." He stresses on the 'new' while contorting his face weirdly, and I roll my eyes at his childishness. He's never been one to welcome newcomers with open arms. Unfortunately for the younger werewolf, he joined the pack less than three months ago and, not forgetting, after he'd been involved in an altercation with Wade.
Normally I would frown at the idea of recruiting a newbie with little to no experience working with the unit, but Drew has proven himself to be overly useful on many occasions in the little time he has gone on hunting trips with me. His tracking skills and intuitions are also more impressive than Wade gives him credit for. Moreover, if he stepped out of line, I had the orders to reign him in or kill him, if need be.
"Tracker-boy is less than three metres from us now, and four, five degrees West of him are our targets. The men have them locked down." His smug grin makes me want to smile too. "Looks good."
"Great." I let the corners of my lips lift in a smirk.
"Oh, I thought I got the real deal there." He references the fake smiles I often give him despite how hard he tries to make me laugh.
"Well, that's one more thing to add to your wish-list, isn't it, Wade?"
"I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips. Hmm, sexy." He lets out a throaty moan, and I gag as we both creep forward through the hooded night.
When we arrive at a friendly section of the woods that I know will aid our battle, I stop and nod at Wade, who nods back as well. All that is left to be done is leading the fight to our placement in order to gain the advantage.
"Now!" I yell, and beside me, he shifts into his werewolf's form and shoots ahead of the group. From three runnings, familiar wolves burst into the clearing, tearing down all in their way. They all bound past me, but the last one with shaggy, brown fur turns my way with what would seem to be a vicious snarling expression, except I know him well enough to be certain he means a smile.
"Fight safe." I mouth so quietly that I barely catch my words, but I know he did. Werewolves have great hearing and sight, which makes them such formidable foes when fought against and admirable comrades when bonded with over the same experiences. "No one silver the Alpha. He must be taken alive." I call to the unit before hurrying into the chaos.
The sound of a twig crack commands my attention, and I swing at the same time it lunges at me. My dagger sinks into its fur, but it does not yelp and throws itself off me as most supernaturals might have. It instead clamps my blade between its jaws and flings it afar.
I duck underneath its hind legs when it aims its claws downwards and knee it in the ribs. The whole of my leg jolts, and I feel the vibration ringing in my bone as I wince in pain.
"Shit!" I swear, on the verge of hurling out a scream when it lunges at me again with breathtaking speed. With a little luck—which I will never admit to anyone—and the rewards of my countless practices, I hurtle out of its miscalculated reach even though I get knocked down and out of breath by its large paw.
As suspected, since most of the earlier kills have been considerably easy, the attacker is one of the stronger enemy wolves. I suspect him to be the Beta at least. His speed yet obvious inexperience, nonetheless, tells me he is one of the younger ones.
Terribly bloodshot amber eyes with thick bulging veins regard me in the dark, and I force down the shiver that threatens to trundle through my spine. I know I cannot order for backup as the men are also doing their best to bring down the rogues. The growls, howls and tearing of skin prove my point even further, and it is clear that I have no other option than to finish off the beast myself.
The Beta keeps his eyes trained on me as I crawl around with fingers wandering across the dirt. Like most werewolves do, he is looking for an opportunity where he can go for the kill without missing.
As soon as my hand rests on the wooden handle, I feel the change in the direction of the wind as the injured werewolf rushes at me; I hardly have the time to ready my silver dagger. However, before it can lunge at my dangerously exposed and about-to-die-but-will-not-give-up-ass, a tan, skinny werewolf leaps over a fallen branch and attaches its fangs to its neck. The beta's raucously pained yowls cause the ground to tremble underneath my feet.
While they both struggle, I find an opening. It's a small one but it's enough. Ignoring my still-shaky hand and overworked heart, I hurriedly jam the dagger into the wolf's side repeatedly for as long as I can without stopping; tenacity is the only way to kill wolves without targeting their hearts. After my last blow, it struggles for a while but soon enough, turns limp. "Thank you, Sage." I give the standing wolf a hug, not minding the sticky blood on its fur, and it nuzzles my side before it leaves.
"The Alpha is unconscious but not dead," Wade declares, walking back to me shamelessly with his man bits dangling around.
"Must you do that now?" I groan while feeling a bit traumatised. Behind him, Sage growls loudly, still in his wolf form like the others. Only Wade is human and oh so unashamedly naked.
"Calm down, lover-boy." He turns to Sage, and I roll my eyes at the stupid nickname. In honesty, I am not sure there is anyone in the world who has met Wade that he calls by their actual name.
"Let's head in," I order, and Wade lifts the Alpha werewolf unto his shoulder. "You could have just dragged him along in wolf form."
"And waste the opportunity to show off my well-defined and toned body to my princess? Not a chance."
"Make sure to stay behind me then," I walk past him to the mount of the group.
"I mean, I do like the view of your—" he starts to say, but I elbow him in the gut before he can finish his sentence. The wolves snicker, and I even catch sight of the glimmer of a smile before it gets lost on Jared, the oldest and most serious of us all in the unit. Drew and Sage are full-on snorting as they tread along.
"We should hurry up," I suggest, and they all look up at me as if to ask if I would be okay. "I'll keep up," I say, and Wade and two werewolves dash forward.
I recognise the single wolf that stays behind, running at my pace. "I can keep up, Sage. You should go with the others." I assert, but the wolf voices its disagreement as it growls lowly. When I shake my head at him, he only nudges me forward.
"Took her long enough," Wade comments when I finally arrive at the borders leading to our pack. "Could have reached the North Pole if I wanted to."
"Shut up!" I fix a deathly glare on him, then sigh in relief after noting he had snagged some clothes from goodness-knows-where to cover up himself. "I will meet the Alpha first, and then he will call for you." I make clear, and the three wolves and Wade as well nod in reply.
We proceed forward but don't have to wait at all after crossing the barrier as the Alpha, and a few of his guards are waiting for our arrival.
"Alpha!" I bow, as do the men by my side.
"Welcome home, my dear Princess Saskia."
Hello, lovelies!Thank you for reading to the end of The Luna’s Possessive Alpha. This is Book 1 of the TLPA Series. Book 2 is titled The Luna’s Broken Alpha, and will be made available on Goodnovel in the next few days. I sincerely appreciate all your support for Book 1, and I hope to see you all in Book 2!*Please read the blurb for The Luna’s Broken Alpha below:“To establish a balance in the supernatural realm, the two most powerful packs in North America formed a political alliance. This was achieved through the union of Princess Saskia and Alpha Mikael. However, the infection among the werewolf packs has only grown stronger since the ascension of the new Alpha. The supernatural world is currently on the brink of falling apart. War is closer than ever as corrupted werewolves escape the grasps of their vampire lords; chaos is bound to ensue.*Saskia accepted her fate in her new pack and was willing to do all that was needed of her as Luna until she had her title stripped away by
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "You know that's not how things work, Saskia." Wade's reply snags my focus, and I change my train of thought. "Once I pledge my loyalty to an Alpha, I become bound to him as one of his pack. The fact that I did already means that I was accepted. The only creature allowed to admit me into Guttenbrieg is its Alpha." I squeeze my eyes shut as a tremble shakes me to my core. It's difficult to process what Wade's made plain. I don't want to try because it's fatuous to do so. It would be pure idiocy to believe that Mikael's dead. It honestly can't be. I would know. As the woman who married him, who's mated with him, and most of all, as one who has come to love him artlessly, I would have known. I, of all people, should have felt him slipping away from this world. The planet should have felt off-center, tilted off-axis when he took his last breath. How could I not have known? What was I doing when—according to their hypotheses—he died? How could I have carried on w
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Kaleb Sacramone makes no sense. No sense at all. Mikael's not dead. The man I talked to mere hours ago was everything but dead. Guttenbrieg's Lieutenant General often sucked at making coherent sense, but this is simply ridiculous. How dare he fake Mikael's death only to get under my skin? I might have slapped him if I didn't think he was insane. The werewolf needs a psychiatric intervention coupled with enough mental evaluations. His days in the dungeon must have turned him unhinged, a deranged creature. I make a mental reminder to request an appointment for him immediately after this is over. "Who is dead?" I parrot, pausing for him to assert that this is all a joke and rescind those hideous words. "Mikael isn't dead." Kaleb laughs in my face. Outright does so. I contemplate pulling out my daggers and holding them to his neck, drawing blood for his insolence. I fist my hands to keep from heeding any rash decisions. "Do you have hearing problems, Saskia? I b
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ You're such a fool, Saskia. The berating arrives only after the fibres of my undies have suffered the deluge of an Olympic-sized pool. It's embarrassing. My body still throbs for Mikael even after learning about his misdeeds. Even directly beside the man who's made himself vulnerable by disclosing a secret he's kept for years to me about his emotions, I'm thirsting for and craving the attention of a man who's bent on using me without a care for how much I'll hurt as a result of his evil deceitfulness. It's so ludicrous. I missed him before I knew what he'd done. And now that I know the crimes he's committed, I miss him maybe even more. Frankly, I just want him to come home so we can have an earnest discussion. I want to hear the truth from the horse's mouth. If I could help it, I'd pick up my phone and call him to hurry up and head back to the pack. I won't, of course. First, I have no inkling of my phone's whereabouts. Second, I wouldn't dream of hindering
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "Ignore what I said." "Okay." I can't. I swallow hard, glueing my sight to the road. Wade loves me? Perhaps he means as a friend. But we were talking about Mikael as a baseline. The Alpha wouldn't love me as a friend as I'm his wife. Moreover, that wouldn't be a kind of love worth being broached in chatter by another wolf. Things genuinely just got incredibly weirder. And awkwarder. My head feels like there's been a crater blasted into it. The indented hollowness is the equivalent of a cavity, and I find myself scrambling to fill my head with reflections other than that which refuses to dissipate: Wade loves me. I love him too, I realise. I love him as one who's been by my side for ages, one whom I've relied on in the thickest of battles, one who's never shied away from being a firm shoulder I could cry on. I love him for being an incredible person, but I have never dwelt on what kind of love it is. It's always been common sense that we care for each other l
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade's hand is fisted by his side when I return to scrutinising him. "I w-wish I realised...earlier that this was how... you'd been feeling. I was too occupied...and engaged by my self-imposed job of being...the happy-go-lucky guy. I never noticed...that you were burdened...by how we all treated you. I'm sorry, Saskia." He lingers between his words, trying to catch his breath and possibly summon the strength to speak. My heart clenches in my chest. I wish I could take away his pain and make it nonexistent. He doesn't deserve what Absalon did to him. I guess the thought that's been keeping me restless is the odds that his injuries aren't from Absalon's antics, as he claims, but from the destruction I caused with my powers. I can't yet envision forgiving myself for what I've done so far; if I was the one who truly hurt Wade, I know I'd truly never be able to grant myself forgiveness. It wouldn't matter how many years might pass; I'd continue to hate myself for
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade is a damned liar. I should have known better than to trust him to tell me the truth about how he felt. Even more annoying is that he clearly fooled me with his charms. While I often harped on the fact that werewolves could make themselves more attractive to others through their supernatural magnetism, I'd forgotten the fact that, in specific, they could conceal defects about themselves. In my state of despair, I'd become easily subject to his prowess. He'd gotten the chance to disguise the true extent of his injuries. If I say I'm not entirely beyond pissed off, then I'd be telling a lie—something those I cherish as friends and family seem adept at doing when I'm involved. "You don't need to do this." Wade coughs, a shadow of himself, having drained up to half the quota of blood in his body. I eye him in irritation. Is there any time he doesn't annoy me like it's a hobby of his? "I'll do what I want, Wade. Kindly shut the fuck up while I do." I want to
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ "What the...fucking...hell was that?" I scramble to rise, but my efforts are thwarted by a force field smashing my length to the ground. It all clicks in at once: magic. The weight on my spine, crushing my neck and torso to the ground, is of a mammoth's mass in thousands of tonnes. I snarl as the invisible load intensifies at my joints, breaking my bones. Whatever witch is responsible must be incredibly skillful. It's a hellish experience that might have had a more inexperienced version of myself centuries ago whimpering in pain. I've long learnt to endure worse. Warning bells wail in my head. It's evident Cillian and Whelan planned this from the genesis of our interaction. I'd been too blinded by my fury to see through their plan. Cillian hammers on this point with his utterance, "you were an idiot not to suspect the cause of our visit, Mikael." My hateful gaze pans upward, but it does not land on Cillian. Instead, Absalon's distasteful countenance is caught
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ A scowl overtakes my cast as I set eyes on the fair-headed man bent over a walking stick, not from age but for a ruse. "Missed the train home, Whelan?" The bitterness yet stored within seeps into my tone. "Whelan?" The old, heavy voice rumbles like a clap of thunder rolling down the beak of a mountain. Long ago, in a distant land bound by time, I'd been a lad afraid of its owner. "I imagined I was once Seanathair to you, Mikael. Ain't it so, Cillian?" Cillian pulls further out from the woods—left untouched and spared from Saskia's dismantling—at the query. I do not give the coward a chance to voice his opinion. "You mean nothing to me. I don't remember a grandfather. Nay, I recall a sadistic fiend who gloated in sacrificing others for his evil causes—his family included." As patronising as the word might ever entail, Whelan corrects, "Family means naught without loyalty. I attack not those under my wings. You must've understood that by now, Alpha of Guttenbrie
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