The Alpha’s Forced Mate
Chapter 1

Blake

A curtain of rain swept over the estate. The muddy earth hadn’t yet soaked in enough water, releasing a musky odor tinted with floral notes. Muggy clouds of humid air drifted over the porch accompanied by a chilly gust that tickled my skin.

The boards creaked as I gently rocked myself in a chair near the den window. “Looks like a storm.”

“No kidding, sport.”

Irritation fluttered in my chest and then died just as quickly, inspiring me to spare a glance to my left. The woman who sat there was tiny, almost frail, but far from being weak. Black hair hung over her shoulder in a braid and frosted blue eyes observed the land around us. A pensive frown sat on her lips.

That frown could mean anything. Maybe even disappointment.

I sighed. “Mom, don’t you have a baking class tonight?”

She motioned to the charcoal gray skies. “Canceled.”

“Tough.”

“Your grandmother wants to do some baking of her own.”

I snorted. “She’ll set the kitchen on fire again.”

“That was one time, Blake.”

“One time is a time too many.” I reached for the lemonade sitting on the small circular table between us. The ice clinked inside the glass, condensation slicking my fingers as I held the glass to my lips. “Rather be baking than planning some stupid trial.”

It was her turn to sigh. “It’s for your own good, Blake.”

“I’d be happier traveling the coast.”

“On that dingy motorcycle of yours?” She chortled. “I think not.”

She flourished a fan and waved it in front of her face as she tipped the rocking chair back an inch. Not much of a rocker, my mother. But she loved these chairs. If only for the memories made in them.

I sipped my lemonade. The cool liquid soothed me temporarily. I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle patter of the rain. “Dad used to love sitting out here.”

“Your dad loved a lot of things.”

“He loved you.”

The chair creaked. The wood under us wheezed. About a dozen unsaid things swarmed between us, but I didn’t dare mention any of them. Not right now. Not when things were so fresh.

Goosebumps flushed my arm. “Sorry, Mom.”

“No, you’re right,” she whispered weakly. “He loved me. He loved you. He loved this whole pack.”

My eyelids fluttered as I instinctively took in the sight of the land that expanded in every direction. Just beyond the edge of the driveway was a lavish neighborhood of houses. Each shade varied, but most of them were white, detailed with the reddish-brown color indicative of our family.

It hurt to swallow. I tried anyway. “The Beaufort Creek Pack has seen plenty of tragedy.”

“This is the most normal of them all.”

“I don’t see why we have to do a mate trial. He literally just died, Mom.”

She shook her head. “It’s what he wanted, you mated after being crowned as alpha. That’s it.”

“We can wait a week.”

She slammed the armrest of her chair. “We don’t have a week, Blake! You might die!”

“I’m not dying anytime soon!”

“You’re not strong enough to stand on your own,” she argued for the millionth time today.

I returned the glass of lemonade to the table and slumped in my chair. None of this opulence belonged to me—this grand wraparound porch, this land teeming with possibilities, the people in the neighborhood in front of the estate who gave me their allegiance without so much as questioning why it should be mine—this was all ridiculous.

Mom cleared her throat twice. That meant business. “You know the mate bond will protect you. It protected me through all those enemy attacks, Blake. It protected your father.”

“I don’t need a mate.”

“You need stability. You need security.”

I stood from the chair, listening to it rock rhythmically against the porch without me in it. I wiped my face as I approached the railing. Also white. Everything was white here. “I need time.”

“You don’t have time. These attacks always come in patterns. Once they catch wind of your father’s death, they’ll strike.”

“If you’re so smart about it, why don’t you become alpha?”

She smacked her lips and then g*****d with frustration. “That’s not traditional, Blake. You know that. Alpha lineage must be passed through—”

“The balls of the family. I get it.”

“I don’t like your attitude. You’re too grown for it.”

I flipped around to face her. “Right—because you’ve been a real peach since Dad bit it.”

Her lips flattened into a line as rosy circles bloomed on her cheeks. She didn’t blink. She didn’t even breathe.

My words had struck her. Hard.

And I shouldn’t have said them.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. I bowed my head. I leaned against the railing to keep myself from falling to the ground. “Sorry.”

“You’re upset. You’re grieving.”

“Don’t do that.”

She sniffled. “Do what?”

“That thing where you try to protect everyone’s feelings by being so understanding.”

Amusement trickled into her features. “It always worked with your father.”

“Well, I’m not my father.”

She nodded. “No, you’re not. You’re so much more, Blake. You’re more than I could have ever imagined when you were born.”

Darkness shifted over her eyes. Something flickered in her irises—the same icy blue as mine—and then ghosted, disappearing into the recesses of her mind. She blinked rapidly while struggling to smile.

“You’re twenty-five. You need a mate,” she whispered. “It will protect you.”

“Well, it didn’t protect Dad.”

She flinched. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t make you immortal. That’s not how it works.”

I grunted and turned my back to her. “So, how does it work, then? If it’s so useful at protecting the alpha, why didn’t it keep your husband from dying?”

“It was his time, Blake.”

“That’s bullsh!t.”

She hiccupped. “His death was natural. The mate bond only protects you from enemy assaults.”

I cringed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

When I turned around, her face was whiter than the wraparound porch. Her shoulders trembled as she clenched the glass of lemonade in her lap.

I shook my head. “You really think that car accident was natural?”

“It’s a normal way for people to die.”

“He was strong and healthy. He shouldn’t have died from his wounds.”

Her gaze hardened and her eyebrows wrinkled as she focused on me. “He had internal bleeding. You weren’t there, Blake.”

“You always throw that in my face.”

“No, I don’t. It’s a simple fact—you were out riding your motorcycle while he was being taken care of in the hospital wing. You know Dr. Windsor is a talented healer.” She was shaking now, making the ice in her drink rattle like chattering teeth. “There was nothing he could do.”

My shoulders ached and my legs burned with a familiar desire to run. Every time I thought of doing something else—walking into the house, wandering to the other side of the porch, stepping into the yard—my wolf insisted that I should shift instead.

Run, he begged. Get the hell out of here. F**k the mate trial.

Agitation crackled in my body like firecrackers. Was I going to stand here and listen to her lecture me again? Or was I going to take off and travel?

Was it even in me to make a decision?

I closed my eyes and turned toward the muggy breeze. Moist earth and w*et bark greeted my nostrils, inspiring me to inhale deeply. After a moment, I turned back to my mother, offering her a sympathetic expression.

But not much more than that.

“Please, Blake,” she begged. Tears trickled from her eyes as she gave me a pleading glance. “Do it for your father if you won’t do it for me.”

I hung my head. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is losing my son to an attack when I could have prevented it.”

“So, this is about you protecting me?”

Her face reddened like a beet. “Yes, it is. It’s always been about protecting you.”

I closed my eyes.

This wasn’t how I wanted my evening to go. The rain, the arguing, the guilt—it was all too much for me. Too heavy. Too invasive. Too obstructive.

“I just want to go for a ride,” I admitted. “I don’t want to do this.”

Mom took a breath and sighed it out. She cleared her throat. Less business now, more motherly.

She nodded. “I understand. I coddled you.”

The laughter that broke from my lips shocked us both. “Mom, you raised me as any kid should be raised.”

“There are things I should have shown you, traditions and rituals. Now…” She waved vaguely at the gigantic yard with a fountain in the center. “You have no idea what it means to be alpha other than what your father showed you.”

“Be good to your people,” I quoted, “and they’ll be good to you.”

A whimsical grin stole across her lips. She beamed at me then, the ghastly grief taking a back seat for the first time in hours—or had it been days? “Alright, maybe you did learn how to be an alpha.”

“Dad didn’t let me down. He didn’t let you down either.”

“I just…” She chewed on her lower l*p for a second. “I’m scared I didn’t prepare you. For anything.”

I knelt in front of her and took her hands in mine. For a moment, it was like we were the only two people on the estate. Much like old times. “Mom, you’ve prepared me for so much. You said you left some traditions out because they were outdated. Maybe the mate trial is one of those things.”

She cupped my face, maternal affection pouring from her eyes. “That’s one tradition we need to cling to, Blake. For your sake. And that of your pack.”

My pack.

Those words had only recently settled into my bones.

It was still weird to hear them. While the next step I needed to take as alpha wasn’t clear yet, I could see the steps I needed to take as my father’s son—and that meant honoring his wishes.

Even if I thought they were backward as hell. “It clearly means a lot to you.”

She straightened up. “Yes, it does. Will you consider it?”

“I’ll think about it,” I conceded.

She hugged me tightly, squeezing the air out of my lungs. “You won’t regret it, Blake. You’ll love the process. It’s all very much your style.”

“My style?” I squeaked. I patted her shoulders to get her to loosen her grip. She let up enough for me to svck air into my lungs. “You mean b***d and g0re?”

She released me with a laugh. “This isn’t one of your weird fantasy novels.”

“I’ve never heard you complain about the books I read.”

She smiled fondly. “You get to choose whatever you want for the trials. You can administer a written test the whole time for all I care. Just pick three main events and a few smaller ones.”

I frowned. “How long is this going to last?”

“Two weeks.”

“Mom, you didn’t mention that.”

She smiled sheepishly. “You were so upset about the whole thing that I figured I would—”

“Lie to me?”

“No, sport,” she replied affectionately. “I figured I would let you come into the idea on your own terms.”

I stood up. “By poking me every hour for the past three days?”

She frowned. “It’s been a week since your father passed and you were named alpha. This is time-sensitive. It’s important.”

I waved away her excuses. I was tired of hearing them. “I need to go upstairs.”’

She stood up as I marched to the door. “I left the information on your desk!”

Of course she had. How else would she pressure me into making a decision that favored her? She just wanted grandkids. Lots of them. Little spitting-image creatures shifting all over the place and carrying the Hayden torch into the future.

Would I force the mate trial on my son? And his son? And the sons after that?

I raked my fingers through my hair. Greasy already. I needed a shower.

Silence filled each room I passed through, starting with the foyer. A spiral staircase led to the three floors above, Gothic-style carpet expanding everywhere the eye could see. Gold banisters spat me out onto the third floor where antique tables sat underneath every rustic lamp. Warm electric light flickered over the hallway, guiding me to my suite in the west wing.

An immaculate living room sat beyond the cream-white door. The grand fireplace stood unused, a portrait of my late father hanging over the mantle. A doorway led into the bedroom. From there, a set of doors opened up to a veranda. I considered shifting and dropping into the garden below. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Or the last.

But the marble bathroom called to me first.

I breezed past the desk that held the information my mother had so conveniently left for me, and swatted at the handle for the shower. Water burst from the showerhead. Within seconds, I was naked and standing beneath the hot stream, groaning loud enough to wake the dead. This comfort was the only thing keeping me from running away from this life, from the heavy responsibilities, from my family and my pack.

Because regardless of how much my mother pressured me, I wanted to be a good leader. I wanted my pack to be protected. I didn’t want to die.

By natural or enemy causes. But this mate trial means giving up my life.

I sighed as I hung my head and let the water massage my scalp. No more late nights at the bar in town. No more hookups. No more sleeping by myself.

No more peace.

Some woman would be hanging around my home in hopes of gaining whatever remained of my inheritance. Because that was what fated mates were about according to my mother—protection and riches.

I sighed as I leaned against the marble wall. It’s worth a shot. For my dad.

A sound broke through my thoughts. I shut off the water and stood still in the shower. my ears focused on the next room.

Nothing. It was just my imagination.

I rolled my eyes while rinsing myself off. Mom put all those ideas in my head. Now I’m hearing shit.

Once the water was off and I was wrapped in a towel, I drifted into the bedroom.

My nostrils flared.

Rose. Soft powder. That didn’t smell like anything I kept around.

Just as I turned around to inspect my suite, a figure lunged from the shadows near the veranda door. The silent attacker raised a dagger, the blade glinting in the faint light from the living room. I blocked his arm in time to catch a whiff of something else.

Wolf.

“Who are you?” I growled through gritted teeth.

The attacker persisted, applying weight to the dagger that rested just an inch from my face. I struggled to get the weapon away from me as my heart raced and my vision tunneled. The back of my neck prickled.

I need to get to the desk.

A forceful shove sent my attacker stumbling. I raced to the desk, snatched the dagger from the top drawer, and wielded it as my attacker regained his footing. He lunged at me silently. How odd it was to see a man slice through the air without so much as making a sound.

I dodged a few jabs as water slithered from my hair. W*et strands flung into my face every time I twisted out of reach.

“Who are you?” I bellowed. “Answer me!”

But the guy wouldn’t give me anything.

And why would he? He was just here to kill me.

The blade caught my shoulder. I winced as b***d poured from the wound, hot and sticky. All I needed was one shot with my dagger. One stab. It would mark this guy forever—and then I could handle him later.

I caught my attacker by the throat, surprised at the soft wheeze that escaped him when I applied pressure. Without hesitation, I plunged the dagger into his side. It was the only time he made a noise—a strangled gasp that terrified me to my c0re.

I released my assassin. He swept his dagger from the ground and scrambled for the veranda, leaving a smear of b***d on the ground. Before I could do anything, he flung open the veranda doors and disappeared into the night, leaving behind the scent of powdered roses.

The aftermath left me gasping. B***d oozed from my shoulder, the flesh knitting back together much slower than usual. Poison slithered through my system, sending me to my knees. I clutched my wounded arm.

My mother was right.

I needed to be mated as soon as possible.