The Mate's Discovery

Gael's POV

"Ahh, Al..pha, slower, pl..ease slower."

The fake, dramatic cries of the female rogue beneath me did nothing but incite a deep, visceral disgust within my chest. I stared down at her thin back, watching the sweat bead along her spine as her spread legs quivered violently against the heavy oak desk of the ruined pack house. My fist tightened in her long, messy brown hair, anchoring her in place as I drove my cock deep into her wet heat.

I smirked, thrusting with a harsh, mechanical force that drew another loud, labored wail from her lips. She arched her firm ass back against my hips, desperately attempting to seduce me amidst the smoldering ruins of her own home. The sheer audacity of her performance was nauseating. Less than an hour ago, I had led a brutal ambush on this very territory, slaughtering her people in cold blood, tearing the throats from her defenders, and painting the walls with their gore. Yet here she was, offering her body like a cheap prize, hoping her wet core and firm breasts would buy her survival.

The blatant display of self-preservation was pathetic. It turned me off completely. The hollow amusement I usually found in taking a captive's body vanished, replaced by a suffocating wave of boredom.

"Please Alpha, it hurts!" she screamed out as my grip on her hair tightened to a painful degree.

I let out a loud, heavy sigh and abruptly pulled my penis out of her tight opening. The slick, wet sound of the withdrawal echoed in the trashed study, but I felt absolutely nothing. My erection died instantly, my physical arousal wiped out by the grating sound of her annoying voice and fake, calculated whimpers.

Without my weight holding her up, she collapsed onto the dirty floor with a low, heavy thud. She curled into a pathetic ball on the wooden planks and began to sniffle. The bitch was putting on a theatrical show, trying to invoke a pity that I did not possess. I didn't give her a second glance as I stepped back, calmly pulling up my trousers and buttoning them with cold, calculated precision.

"Alpha, did I not please you?" she asked in a trembling whisper. She slowly rolled onto her side, her face tilted up to meet my gaze. Her cheeks were slick with fake tears, the skin under her eyes flushed a slight shade of red.

A dry, dark chuckle vibrated in my chest. I turned my back to her and walked straight out of the room. I had no time to entertain a desperate slut.

Stepping outside into the night, the smoky, blood-tainted air filled my lungs. The sharp, metallic stench of fresh carnage was intoxicating. A group of my warriors stood a few meters away from the front door, their armor splattered with the gore of our enemies. They straightened their postures the moment my boots hit the dirt, their expectant gazes locked onto me as they awaited their next command.

"Gather every valuable item in this pathetic excuse for a pack," I ordered, my tone chilling and indifferent, perfected over years of ruthless leadership. "Take the women as spoils of war. Chain them up. And burn the rest of this filthy place to the ground until nothing but white ash remains."

"And the woman in the study room, Alpha?" one of my warriors asked, his head bowed in deep respect.

Before I could form the words, my inner wolf, Vane, pushed his presence to the forefront of my mind. *Let them fuck her,* he answered with a brutal, chilling calmness.

I echoed his dark sentiment without a shred of hesitation. "Do whatever you want with her," I told the men, waving a dismissive hand as I walked away from the burning structure.

This was the dark, unforgiving reality of the Obsidian pack. We were the apex predators of this world, a relentless force of destruction that swept across territories and crushed anyone foolish enough to stand in our way. Across the continent, rival alphas whispered my name in sheer fear. They called me Malphas—a demon utterly devoid of reason or mercy, a monster who thrived solely on the savage thrill of blood, conquest, and absolute dominance. And they were right. Killing was an art form I had mastered, a release that made my cold veins pump with life.

Living in this hellscape of a world had taught me a harsh, unyielding lesson: the fragile concepts of love, mercy, and kindness were nothing but fatal weaknesses. They were diseases meant for the weak, emotions that clouded judgment and got leaders killed. I vowed long ago never to entertain such useless shit. I took what I wanted, destroyed what bored me, and fucked whoever I pleased, because that was the true nature of an Alpha.

In the Obsidian pack, the concept of possession was non-existent. We shared the spoils of war. We shared the wealth. We shared the women. Even my own wife was part of the pack's twisted communal system. She was a breathtaking, beautiful, and deeply submissive female, but she did not belong solely to me. Her sole existence, her entire purpose within the pack hierarchy, was to sexually satisfy me and the high-ranking officers who fought by my side. I allowed my Beta, my Delta, and my top warriors to take her, to fuck her until they found their own dark release. I felt absolutely nothing for her, no possessive jealousy, no affection. And she knew her place. She existed to be a tool for our pride, an object to drain our aggression.

To us, the romanticized, fairy-tale idea of a 'mate' was a laughable myth. It was a pathetic delusion completely erased by a dark, generational curse inflicted upon my bloodline by the moon goddess herself. We were stripped of that fated bond, cursed to wander without a soulmate, which only fueled our endless hunger for war. Conquering packs for fun was our hobby. Spilling hot blood onto the cold dirt was the only thrill that made us feel alive.

As I walked away from the rising flames, the mind link snapped open in my head.

"Alpha," Rafe, my trusted Beta, called out, his mental voice steady and professional.

"What," I answered lazily, my boots crunching over the broken bones of a fallen rogue.

"Our men..." Rafe began his report, but before the sentence could form, a violent disruption tore through the link.

His words were violently severed. All the ambient noise of the crackling fire and dying groans around me instantly went dead. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sharp, desperate cry of a female pleading for help deep within the dark woods.

Inside me, Vane shifted abruptly. It wasn't his usual predatory stir; it was a violent, massive jolt that slammed against my ribcage. A strange, electric sensation ignited across my flesh, raising heavy goosebumps along my arms and the back of my neck. My heart rate spiked, hammering a frantic rhythm against my chest.

Driven by a frantic, unexplainable adrenaline rush that bypassed all my logic and control, my legs moved on their own. I broke into a full sprint, tearing into the dense, dark woods. My breath became heavy and labored, a cold sweat forming on my forehead as the trees whipped past my peripheral vision. I couldn't stop. I couldn't slow down. Vane was at the absolute edge of shifting, clawing at my mind, desperate to reach the source of that voice.

"Please, I don't want this! No, I don't want this! I was saving myself for my mate!" her screams pierced the night air, growing louder, more frantic, tearing through the forest canopy.

I burst into a moonlit clearing, dirt flying from beneath my boots as I skidded to a halt. The sight before me sent a blinding, possessive red haze over my vision.

A slim, fragile female was pinned forcefully to the cold ground. Two of my own warriors knelt in the dirt, gripping her wrists and holding her arms spread wide. Hovering directly over her thrashing body was Talon, my trusted Delta. He was staring down at her with clear, predatory intent, his large hands unbuckling his leather belt, preparing to mount her.

A violent, monstrous growl ripped instinctively from my throat. It was a terrifying sound, vibrating with a lethal promise of agonizing death.

Before Talon could even register my terrifying presence, I crossed the clearing in a blur of motion. I lunged forward, my hand shooting out and wrapping like a steel vise around his thick neck. I hoisted him straight into mid-air, lifting his massive frame off the ground with a single arm. My sharp claws extended involuntarily, piercing deep into his skin. Hot blood welled up around my fingertips, dripping down his neck as he choked and gagged, his hands clawing uselessly at my unyielding grip.

*Kill him! Rip his head off!* Vane screamed in my mind, a chaotic storm of pure, unadulterated fury demanding Talon’s immediate and brutal death.

"Alpha!" the two warriors on the ground shouted in sheer panic, scrambling backward away from the captive.

The sound of their voices managed to crack through the red haze blinding my logic. It took every single ounce of my formidable, iron willpower to force Vane back down. I was irrationally attacking my own loyal, obedient Delta over a nameless captive. It made zero sense. Talon had never defied me, never made a mistake, and yet I was seconds away from crushing his windpipe.

Panting heavily, I forced my rigid fingers to open. I dropped Talon heavily to the dirt. He hit the ground clutching his bleeding neck, coughing violently as he struggled to drag air back into his crushed lungs.

"Leave," I commanded in a husky, dangerous whisper. The tone offered no room for hesitation.

The men didn't dare speak. They scrambled to their feet, grabbing Talon by the arms and hauling him up. "Excuse us, Alpha," they stammered out, their faces pale with sheer fear as they turned and bolted back through the trees toward the pack house.

I stood alone in the clearing, dragging a hand through my messy hair as I tried to calm my racing pulse. I slowly turned my attention to the trembling female left on the ground.

She was scrambling backward against the dirt in sheer terror, trying to put distance between us. Her small, delicate body was completely naked, exposed to the cold night air. But what caught my eye wasn't just her bare flesh; her pale skin was littered with dark, heavy bruises. Deep purple and yellow marks painted her ribs, her thighs, and her arms. The pattern of the injuries clearly indicated severe, prolonged abuse. She hadn't gotten those marks from my men pinning her down just now; she had been beaten mercilessly by her own pack members.

She lowered her face toward the earth, pulling her knees up and using one arm to desperately shield her bare breasts.

"Don't piss me off more than I already am," I warned her coldly, my voice a deep, vibrating threat in the quiet forest.

The command struck her like a physical blow. She froze instantly, halting her frantic scrambling. Her complete, rigid stillness struck a strange chord within me. She was terrified, yet she knew exactly how to submit to a predator's command to survive.

I closed the distance between us, my heavy boots silent on the forest floor, and knelt on one knee before her fragile form. She held her breath, her muscles pulling tight with tension. I reached out, my fingers wrapping firmly around her small jaw, and forcefully tilted her chin up to make her meet my gaze.

"Who gave you those bruises?" I demanded, my tone low and dangerous.

I expected her to cower, to scream, or to fight back against my grip like every other stubborn captive I had taken by force. Instead, she slowly raised her eyes to mine.

The breath physically hitched in my throat. I was immediately captivated. She was breathtakingly beautiful, possessing a raw, natural perfection that far exceeded any woman I had ever laid eyes on. Her face was smeared with dirt and wet with fresh tears, the corner of her plump lips slightly busted and bleeding, but it did nothing to hide her allure. Her eyes were the focal point—a deep, mesmerizing, ocean-blue that swirled with fear but held a magnetic depth that hooked straight into my chest. Her long, black hair cascaded over her bruised shoulders, trailing down her chest.

My gaze dropped to the slender arm she held tightly across her torso, shielding her breasts from my view. I wanted to see her. All of her.

As if sensing the dark, heavy demand radiating from my body, she slowly relaxed her defensive posture. She willingly dropped the hand shielding her chest, letting her arm fall to her side.

The movement exposed her completely. Her dark, tanned skin was flawless beneath the ugly purple bruises. Her breasts were full and firm, sitting perfectly on her chest, the tight, beautiful nipples pebble-hard against the chill of the night.

The visual hit my brain like a physical strike. My body betrayed me entirely in a fraction of a second. A massive, suffocating surge of pure, primal lust crashed through my veins. The blood rushed violently south, and my cock jerked against my trousers, swelling into a painful, fully hard erection just from looking at her bare breasts.

Fuck.

I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling a sharp, ragged breath. Something was terribly wrong with my reactions. This made absolutely no sense. I was Malphas. I didn't lose control of my arousal over a battered slave in the dirt. Things were not adding up.

Forcing myself to my feet, I towered over her and cleared my throat loudly. I needed to regain my cold composure, to suppress the agonizing physical arousal straining against my zipper, and to push her away before this bizarre possessiveness consumed me.

"You would do well to serve my wife as her slave," I sneered down at her, making sure my voice dripped with disdain and cruel dominance.

The expression of deep, trembling fear on her dirty face shattered instantly. It was replaced by pure, unadulterated shock.

"Wife?" she asked, her soft voice cracking in utter disbelief.

I raised a brow, letting a cruel smirk twist my lips as I enjoyed the sudden, agonizing confusion flashing in her ocean-blue eyes. I was forty years old, but our kind aged incredibly slowly, leaving me with the prime, lethal looks of a younger man. Did she really think a reigning Alpha would be single?

"You aren't deaf, right?" I fired back, driving the verbal knife deeper.

Instantly, fresh tears welled up in her stunning blue eyes, pooling and spilling over her dark lashes to track down her bruised cheeks. The sight of her crying sent a sudden, unfamiliar, and deeply unsettling pang of sharp pain straight through my chest. It rattled my ribs, echoing in Vane’s mind, forcing my wolf to whimper in an agony I couldn't comprehend.

She looked up at me, her chest heaving as she parted her busted lips.

"But I am your mate," she whispered.