My Fake Alpha Mate Uses My Life to Save His Human Mistress

"The elders are gathering at the hall," Silas announced.

He yanked a dark jacket over his broad shoulders. The fake pine scent choked the narrow entryway, entirely masking the stench of the feral wolf I had seen in the bathroom.

"Now?" I crossed my arms. "It's past midnight."

"The border breach requires an immediate vote." He adjusted his collar, avoiding my eyes.

"Can't it wait until dawn?"

"Packs don't wait for the sun, Elara."

"Alpha Miller usually calls these meetings."

"Alpha Miller is soft." Silas grabbed his keys from the console table. "I need to secure the perimeter."

"You just got back. You haven't even slept."

"Sleep is a luxury we don't have right now."

"Are you taking the beta guards this time?"

"I already told you, I work faster alone."

"You're the Alpha's second. You shouldn't be wandering the woods by yourself."

"Stop questioning my methods."

"I'm your mate. I'm supposed to ask questions."

"You're supposed to support me." He stepped closer. His boots landed heavily on the hardwood floor. "Lock the deadbolt after I leave."

"I always do."

"Check the back windows again."

"I checked them twice, Silas."

"Do it a third time." He reached out and brushed a cold, clammy hand against my cheek. I forced myself not to flinch. "Don't wait up."

"I never do when you call council meetings."

He paused, his hand hovering near the brass knob. "You're acting strange."

"I'm tired."

"Go to sleep, Elara. I'll be back before sunrise."

"Drive safe."

The door shut. The lock clicked into place.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Kael. He answered on the third ring.

"Tell me you're not calling about the border patrols," Kael grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Are you at the council hall?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"No. I'm in bed. Like a normal person."

"Silas just left for an emergency meeting."

"There is no meeting, Elara."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm the head of security. If the elders were gathering, my phone would be ringing."

"He said the western border was compromised."

"I checked the western line two hours ago. It's dead quiet."

"Then where is he going?"

"Probably to clear his head. The treaty negotiations have him stressed."

"It's more than stress, Kael. Something is wrong."

"Did you two fight?"

"No. But he smells... off."

"Off how?"

"Like decay."

Kael sighed heavily through the speaker. "It's just the rain. The rivers flooded the old burial grounds up north. Everyone smells like wet dirt today."

"This isn't wet dirt. It's rotting flesh."

"You're letting your imagination run wild."

"I know what I smelled."

"Go to sleep, Elara. If he's not back by dawn, call me."

"Fine. Goodnight."

I hung up and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"You missed a spot," I whispered to the empty house.

I turned away from the front door. I bypassed the living room entirely. The faint, stomach-turning odor of decay lingered in the hallway. It didn't lead outside. It pointed straight toward the study at the end of the corridor.

I pushed the oak door open. Darkness greeted me. I flicked the wall switch.

"Where does it go?" I asked the silence.

The study looked perfectly normal. Bookshelves lined the walls. A mahogany desk sat in the center. But the rotting smell grew stronger near the back corner, right by the small storage room.

I walked over and yanked the narrow door open.

Boxes of old tax files stacked against the wall. A spare wooden chair. A thick woven wool rug covered the floorboards.

"Not exactly a master of disguise," I muttered.

I grabbed the frayed edge of the rug and dragged it back. The heavy fabric scraped loudly against the wood.

A rusted iron trapdoor sat flush with the floor. No padlock. No deadbolt.

"What are you hiding down here?" I murmured.

I grabbed the metal ring. The hinges shrieked as I pulled it upward.

"Quiet," I hissed at the metal.

Stale air rushed up from the dark square hole.

I took the first step down the narrow, wooden stairs. They creaked under my weight.

"For the pups," Silas had told me last week, his eyes full of fake warmth. "Your Alpha blood heals them."

"Liar," I breathed, descending further into the gloom.

The scent hit me instantly. It punched the breath from my lungs.

Metallic. Sweet. Unmistakably mine.

Mixed with my pure Alpha blood was another scent entirely. The sharp, sour tang of human sweat.

"Why does it smell like me?" I gripped the damp stone wall to steady myself.

Every month. Every full moon. Silas brought the pack medic to our cabin.

"Just a pint, Elara," the medic would say, tying the rubber tourniquet around my arm. "The orphanage needs it."

"Take two if it helps," I always replied.

I gave it willingly. I suffered the dizziness and the weakness because I thought I was saving injured wolf pups.

I reached the bottom of the staircase. A damp, concrete hallway stretched ahead.

"Ah," I grunted, my knee slamming into a rough stone corner in the dark.

The dull throb barely registered. The humiliation burned much hotter.

I wasn't saving children. I was feeding something else entirely. A parasite.

I crept around the corner and stopped dead.

Rusty iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling, forming a large cage in the center of the basement.

"What is this?" I whispered, my hands wrapping around the cold iron.

A medical setup filled the enclosure. IV bags hung from a silver pole. Monitors beeped a slow, steady rhythm. A hospital bed sat directly in the middle of the room.

Tubes fed into a figure lying beneath a thin white sheet.

The smell of my own blood radiated from the IV bags. They were pumping it directly into the patient's veins.

My chest tightened. I couldn't pull air into my lungs. The shock paralyzed me.

He was draining me. My mate was harvesting my blood to keep a human alive.

The figure on the bed shifted. The white sheet rustled.

A pale, fragile hand reached out from under the covers, gripping the metal bedrail.

"Silas?" a weak voice called out.

A human woman.

I froze against the bars. I didn't dare breathe.

"Silas, are you there?" she asked again.

She turned her head toward the shadows. Her eyes were closed, her face gaunt and pale.

Then, she rested her hand on her swollen belly.

"Silas..." she moaned, a soft, desperate sound echoing off the concrete walls. "Our baby kicked me."