Page 1 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Chapter 1

Ash

Many of the werewolves gathered here would love nothing more than to rip me to shreds. We’ve waged wars with the Stormcrest pack for over a decade.

Yet, here I am.

The parade precedes the signing of a treaty between the warring factions, namely us and the Stormcrest werewolves. In the parade, I’m supposed to ride on a sled pulled by Stormcrest’s sled dogs. For security reasons, my cousin, who looks like me, is riding on the sled in my place.

People shout, and I hear dogs barking as they pull the sled around a bend and toward the crowds gathered before the bridge that leads to the white castle trimmed in blue. It sits on the side of the mountain.

My cousin waves to the cheering crowds.

I’ve accepted a peace offering and will take a Stormcrest female as my bride. She and I have never met, but what do I care? There are worse things in life than marrying a stranger when you’re the reason millions of people died.

On my far right, a group of females gather around a keg to exchange money. They must have a bet going. We’re a competitive species, and bets are common.

“Hey, loner.” A female joins me and offers me a beer.

I shake my head. It could be poisoned. People have been trying to kill me ever since I decided to punish those who wronged us and unleashed hell upon the world. My father tried first. When he failed, my uncle tried, my friends, even my dear mother later in her life. My best friend is the only person I trust.

The blonde and I lock eyes. Hers are blue, typical of the Stormcrest pack. Most of them have sea-blue eyes, since their genetics are tied to the water element.

I raise an eyebrow. “Got a bet going with your girls?”

She takes a sip of her beer. “Yup.”

“What’s at stake?”

“A dare.”

“Which is?”

“That I can bag a wolf at hello.”

I chuckle. Not this wolf. I don’t say that. I want it to appear as if she’s won the bet. “On second thought…” I extend my hand and accept the beer, which I don’t intend to drink.

She slides next to me and leans her back against the wall, propping her leg up. She’s wearing a short skirt with fur trim that rides high up her thigh. I pretend not to notice her body language, which invites me to look.

“So, Fireborn,” she starts. “How do you find Stormcrest territory?”

“Cold.”

She giggles, a pleasant, feminine sound. The wind is in my favor, blowing her scent away from me, and I won’t sniff her out on purpose because that would signal interest. But the slight whiff of pine indicates she ran through the forest recently, maybe even this morning.

She flips her braid so that her hair slides against my biceps. Now her scent is on me, and other females can sniff her out. Territorial, this one. I guess she really likes me. That’s too bad, since I’m not available.

Respectfully, I step away from her, hoping that will send a message. Maren, the Stormcrest princess, won’t appreciate me smelling like another female. Sure, if I wanted to humiliate her, I could bed this one later tonight, but the princess is a victim of our weakened position in society, which is run by human alchemists, and I don’t particularly care for weakening the werewolves even more by acting like a rebellious boy.

Our marriage arrangement is political, intended to unite two warring sides. Instead of water versus fire, the humans, who represent earth, agreed that water and fire should be joined. As I see it, if the Stormcrest and Fireborn packs unite, maybe we have a chance of standing up against the humans, who are slowly erasing our werewolf traditions, stealing our ancestral territories, and governing us with their superior technology.

Don’t even get me started on how fast they’ve advanced with alchemy.

Freedom for all werewolves can only be attained if the Stormcrest Alpha stops licking the alchemists’ buttholes. But, judging by how many humans are in attendance today, getting the Alpha to stop that nasty habit will take another century.

We don’t live that long, so we should secure and enjoy peace while we’re alive.

The wind turns, and a sweet vanilla scent tickles my nose. It invites a purr to rise from my chest. This type of purr is as involuntary as a sneeze, and it tells the omega female that she’s tagged an alpha male. Only an alpha wolf can purr.