The Alpha's Dying Mate

The full moon hung like a silver coin against the velvet sky, its light streaming through the manor's windows with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I could feel it calling to something primal deep within me, something that had been building for three days like a storm gathering strength.

Then it hit.

The heat slammed into me with the force of a freight train, ripping through my body like liquid fire. I doubled over on the bed, gasping as waves of burning need crashed over me. Every nerve ending screamed to life, every cell in my body suddenly, desperately aware of what it craved.

Him.

"No," I whispered through gritted teeth, pressing my palms against my temples as if I could somehow force the madness back. But it was useless. The supernatural heat was beyond anything I'd ever experienced—beyond pain, beyond reason, beyond my ability to control.

Ember stirred weakly in my consciousness, her voice a desperate whimper. "Mate. Need mate. Alpha."

"He rejected us," I reminded her, but my voice cracked as another wave of heat rolled through me. My skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, and the silk nightgown I wore might as well have been made of sandpaper.

I stumbled to my feet, yanking the fabric over my head and tossing it aside. The cool air should have provided relief, but instead it only seemed to intensify the fire raging through my veins. My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger—flushed skin gleaming with perspiration, eyes dilated with need, lips parted as I panted like a wounded animal.

The scent hit me then—my own pheromones flooding the room with an intensity that made me dizzy. It was sweet and musky, laced with desperation and raw feminine need. Even I could smell how potent it was, how it seemed to seep into every surface, every breath of air.

If I could smell it this strongly, then he...

"Alpha," I moaned, the word escaping before I could stop it. "Please..."

I collapsed back onto the bed, my body writhing against the silk sheets as the heat consumed me. Every instinct screamed for relief, for the one person who could end this torment. My hands shook as I pressed them against my burning skin, but nothing helped. Nothing could help except—

"No," I sobbed, even as my treacherous body arched with need. "I won't beg. I won't..."

But the heat didn't care about my pride. It rolled through me in relentless waves, each one stronger than the last, until I was nothing but sensation and desperate, clawing need.

Three floors down in his office, Asher sat behind his mahogany desk, trying to focus on pack finances while Selene lounged in the leather chair across from him. The numbers on the computer screen blurred together as he rubbed his temples, fighting off a headache that had been building all evening.

"You're distracted," Selene observed, her voice carrying that subtle edge it always had when she sensed competition. "Is it the Omega?"

"It's nothing," he replied curtly, but even as he said it, something shifted in the air. A scent, faint but unmistakable, drifted through the manor's ventilation system.

Sweet. Desperate. Female.

His wolf surged to attention with violent intensity, nearly knocking him from his chair. Every instinct roared to life at once—protect, claim, mate. The carefully constructed walls he'd built around his self-control crumbled like sand.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hands gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white.

The scent grew stronger, more intoxicating with each passing second. It wrapped around him like silk chains, pulling at something fundamental in his chest. His wolf was going mad, clawing at his consciousness with single-minded determination.

"Go to her. She needs us. She's in pain."

"Asher?" Selene's voice seemed to come from very far away. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't answer. Couldn't think. The scent was everything now—filling his lungs, flooding his bloodstream, overriding every rational thought. His body responded with embarrassing swiftness, heat pooling low in his belly as his wolf demanded he follow the trail to its source.

"It's her, isn't it?" Selene's tone sharpened to a blade. "She's in heat."

Asher shot to his feet, the chair clattering backward. "I need to check on her."

"Let the doctor do it!" Selene stood as well, moving to block his path to the door. "You don't need to—"

"She's in pain," he growled, his voice dropping to an Alpha's command tone that made Selene step back involuntarily. "I can feel it."

And he could. Through the damaged bond, he could sense her agony, her desperate need, the way her body burned for relief only he could provide. It was torture, pure and simple, and every second he stood here talking was another second she suffered.

"Asher, please." Selene's voice took on a pleading quality. "Think about what you're doing. You rejected her. You chose me."

But he was already moving, brushing past her with single-minded determination. The scent grew stronger as he climbed the stairs, each step bringing him closer to the source of his torment. His wolf was practically feral now, demanding he run, claim, mark—anything to end their mate's suffering.

By the time he reached her door, his hands were shaking.

He pressed his palm against the wood, feeling the heat radiating from the other side. Her scent was overwhelming here, so thick and potent it made his head spin. He could hear her—soft whimpers and gasps that went straight to his groin.

"Ivy?" His voice was hoarse.

The sounds stopped abruptly. Then, barely a whisper: "Alpha?"

The word nearly brought him to his knees. He turned the handle without conscious thought, stepping into a room that had become a furnace of need and desperation.

She was on the bed, her body gleaming with perspiration, wearing nothing but the moonlight streaming through the windows. Her hair was a wild tangle around her shoulders, and her green eyes were fever-bright as they locked onto his.

"You came," she breathed, and the wonder in her voice nearly broke him.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, but his feet carried him closer anyway. "I should leave."

"Don't." She struggled to sit up, her movements graceful despite her obvious distress. "Please don't leave me like this."

Her scent hit him full force, and he actually staggered. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her, to ease her suffering, to claim what was his by right of the Moon Goddess herself.

"It hurts," she whispered, and there were tears tracking down her flushed cheeks. "I need... I need you."

She rose from the bed on unsteady legs, moving toward him with trembling hands outstretched. The moonlight painted her skin silver, highlighting every curve, every tremor of need that wracked her frame.

"Please," she breathed, reaching for him. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

When her burning skin made contact with his, Asher's world exploded into sensation. The touch was electric, sending shockwaves through his entire system. His wolf roared in triumph, finally, finally touching their mate.

But it wasn't enough. Would never be enough until he marked her, claimed her, made her his in every way that mattered.

She pressed closer, her soft curves molding against his hard frame, and he could feel her heart racing against his chest. Her scent surrounded him completely now, drowning him in need and want and the primal demand to mate.

"Ivy," he groaned, his hands coming up to frame her face. "We can't. I can't—"

"You can," she whispered against his lips. "You're the only one who can make it stop."

His control snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. He was moving before conscious thought caught up, backing away from her with desperate, jerky movements.

"No," he said, more to himself than to her. "No, I won't do this."

He stumbled toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and immediately turning on the cold water. The shock of it against his overheated skin was brutal, but necessary. He stood under the spray fully clothed, gasping as the icy water tried to cool the fire raging through his veins.

But even through the closed door, he could still hear her—soft sobs of frustration and need that tore at his chest like claws.

His wolf was going insane, clawing at his consciousness, demanding he return to their mate and end her suffering. But he couldn't. He'd made his choice.

Hadn't he?