Alpha Soren's POV
Logan was seething inside me, and even though I had shut him off, he was so strong that I could still feel his edging. Cursing silently that I wish I could do it permanently. I could have felt his maniac trembling as if he was about to go over the edge and if he did, that then all shit's gonna break loose. My wolf had nearly zero chill, but it's normal for my status as alpha. Before I was alpha, I did worry that he was too playful.
My heart is burdened.
I insulted my mate and sent her away quickly because I could not hold Logan back for much longer. But I am fuming myself and a little over an hour later, when he calls me a festering putrid pile of cow dung, I sent for Beth who was already downstairs.
While we waited for her arrival, I gave him a lesson on the importance of cows and their waste to which he responded with more hateful and spiteful words. Both of us talking over each other, shouting inside my head, so loudly, that I gave myself a headache.
Sinking myself inside Beth's warmth has Logan threatening to end her 'pathetic life', but it's something I hear all the time from him. Whether it is Beth or some other beast, it's all the same. When I am sated, so is he. Then he is back to his regular trippy self.
His conduct is pretty normal. Wolves are that way, with a slightly unbalanced and very bizarre way of thinking. Very instinctive, yes, but an animal's way of life is not the way of human norms and thinking.
Except when it comes to his mate, I can control Logan pretty okay, if I can detect his aberrant behaviour in time and prevent it.
Meg's nearness was almost all it took today to set him off. When Logan heard her say she was pregnant, my antagonistic wolf was stunned. Both of us, but I recovered before him, and I blocked him out completely from us. The years I had spent learning to adapt my facial expressions, to a blank one- crucial in my line of work, came in handy then.
Pregnant? Hah.
We could have sensed the hurt she felt when she said the words to me, but I do not believe her about having my pup in her womb. I would have sensed it. Smelt it. And no, I know she is not with the delta, in the manner I accused her of being. I am just saying that to hurt her. I have to hurt her for her to leave me alone, since I am weak when it comes to my mate.
And Logan would endanger the pack for her. Meg will always have a pull on him, and he would always protect her first, then the pack, and I cannot have that. She is too weak for us. Had she been Delta, we could have had her to ourselves. Delta was acceptable as Logan and I knew that even if the she-wolf's strength might not be as robust as gammas, we wouldn't have to constantly risk pack members for her.
Or better yet, why not the daughter of an alpha from another pack? A weak alpha is an alpha begging to be put to death, risking his pack's welfare. To be weak is to invite enemies to come, overtaking and massacring my pack with arms wide open. It's like a fish rubbing itself against the shark's teeth- an open invitation for all who are bloodthirsty to enter. A weak leader can be sensed by another alpha, who lies in wait to overthrow anyone to extend his pack. And that is not wrong. A good leader is always seeking ways to extend and modify their core strengths. A larger pack is stronger in numbers as well as power. A pack grows in strength when its members possess strong wills along with brute force. Illuminating from my pack is a commanding aura that other wolves will sniff out and back off from without so much as a jab. More influence means more coverage, which translates to more power. The stronger the pack, the more robust the leader. Even rogues would seize any opportunity to become alpha. Imagine a rogue alpha- feral at its finest.
A weak alpha is an alpha begging to be put to death. Risking his pack's welfare. To be weak is to invite enemies to come overtake and massacre my pack, with arms wide open. Like a fish rubbing itself against the shark's teeth. An open invitation for all who are bloodthirsty to enter. A weak leader can be sensed by another alpha, who is just lying in wait to overthrow anyone to extend his pack. And that is not wrong. A good leader is always seeking ways to extend and modify their core strengths. A larger pack is stronger by numbers as well.
And power. A pack grows in strength when its members are strong-willed as well as possessing brute force. Illuminating from my pack is a commanding aura that other wolves will sniff out and back off without so much as a jab.
More influence. More coverage means more power. The stronger the pack, the more robust the leader. Even rogues would take any opportunity to become alpha. Imagine a rogue alpha: feral at its finest.
A pack always protects and defends the weak, which happens to be the omegas. My mate is one of them. What did I do so wrong in my past that they punished me with her? Or was I paying for my father's sins? Or possibly for some offence I committed in a past life?
Claiming to be pregnant is Meg grasping at straws to be with me, and I want to be with her, but I cannot. I wish I were not the alpha just so I could bury myself in her warmth and stay there until I am old and grey.
Everything about Meg, I loved. Her hair- long, black, and needle-straight that I couldn't resist touching. Her smell- mangoes, from the shampoo she uses. I saw it in her room. I've been killing myself wanting to know its fruity scent- and now I do, but I want more.
More influence. More coverage means more power. The stronger the pack, the more robust the leader. And even rogues would take any given opportunity to become alpha. Imagine a rogue alpha. Feral as its finest.
A pack always protect and defends the weak. Which happens to be omegas. And my mate is one. What did I do so wrong in my past that they punished me with her? Or was I paying for my father's sins? Or possibly some offence I committed in a past life?
Claiming to be pregnant is Meg grasping at straws to be with me, and I want to be with her, but I cannot. I wish I were not the alpha just so I could bury myself in her warmth and live there till I am old and grey.
Tonight, Logan said she smelled different, however. I did not even want to know what he meant by it, but he forced his words on me. Mate smells softer, sweeter, and warmer.
I'd argued back- so what? So what if he made it seem like mangoes were cold suddenly? The conversation ended because Beth came in then.
My stirring for want of Meg is starting up again. Even when Meg lied, like telling me she was carrying my child. The pain sears me, but I ignore it, throwing it to the back of my mind.
Her captivating dark-brown eyes promised me the world, pulling me into their depths even when she couldn't feel the mate bond- I know because I searched for her the moment I felt it forming years ago.
It had been years back, at an annual ceremonial gathering. We had been joined by a few members from the neighbouring packs that my father had invited to a wine moon party, more popularly known as ' Moon Harvest', which is just a fancy way of inviting a night of fun and drinking before harvesting begins. Long ago, way before my father's time, obviously, farmers would plant their crops late into the night, with the aid of the bright moonlight, as electricity wasn't a thing back then.
Tradition kept up, though slightly altered.
Not even midway through the party, I started to feel tingling inside me, and instantly, I knew what it was. See, there is no specific time or date for a wolf-mate to come to us, but I figured it had something to do with our emotional or physical state, and I had only gotten my wolf a few days prior.
Oh boy, I recall the joy inside me when it began. The way my wolf freaked out...more than me. He sniffed her out for nearly thirty minutes before Logan took me up the stairs and inside my home. Her scent was so beautiful, and the stronger it grew with each step I took, the more I could feel her ingraining into my senses.
The sensations heightened, and I could have felt it running throughout my veins, increasing my heart palpitations, increasing the bond with each millisecond. I'd closed my eyes, taking deeper than deep breaths as the adrenaline overtook me.
But when I opened the door to my grandfather's room, there she was. My heart pounded against my chest when I saw her from behind until Logan took another breath and my senses tingled again, but this time a trace of disgust filled him. She wasn't gamma or even delta, no. My nose brought me to our maid. An omega.
An omega is what the Goddess chose for me. Me? Next in line for alphaship, of this pack? An elite?
Both Logan and I were stunned. Too stunned to even move as Megan turned and, in her hands, she held up my grandfather's bedpan, walking past me without even acknowledging my presence. Not even aware of our mate pull, and while I devilled in her scent, I also battle nausea as my brain is filled with scorn.
Mortification had me heading to my room, in a rush and ignoring the rest of the festivities. When I emerged from my room, late the next evening, I spotted Meg in the kitchen, through the arched doorway, and I admired her beauty for a few minutes, forgetting that I always thought she was dreary in all the years I knew her.
Logan had not gotten over her low rank either, but he, too, seemed not to be able to control the joy he felt when he smelled her. We admired her loose bangs that escaped her messy bun. The way her clothing fitted her body. Her non-smiling way as she lowered her head when my mother spoke to her.
Then she turned and answered someone else and grabbed a dishrag to wipe the counter with. When she saw me, she grimaced and lowered her head, then continued with her task. Dismayed is how I felt, but Logan was in glee, even though he had spent the better part of our time in my room bashing her. Talking about how low she was in rank that she didn't have a wolf and caused his own depression over it.
Knowing Logan's agenda and fighting him all the way- he'd almost made it back into the kitchen like a lovestruck puppy before I got back in control.
And I have spent years since suppressing him...