The Lone Alpha

Chapter One. Mars

Chapter One. Mars

Present.

“Come on man, you have to celebrate,” Justin pleads with me, as I sit on a large log, potting up some sage plants, the sprinkles of mud falling down my olive green polo shirt, onto my khaki cargo shorts, down into my thick socks that sit in my brown boots, which is going to annoy the hell out of me for the rest of the day, unless I empty them when I am finished.

He doesn’t know that my birthday is not something I want to remember, let alone celebrate. He has no clue that it is a day that I want to forget, a day when my family and pack were viciously wiped off the face of the earth, and I barely survived. He also has no clue that I am a werewolf, with Alpha blood pumping through my veins.

It has been ten long years since the attack on The Harvest Moon Pack, where we were decimated, and I was the only survivor. My family was killed before my eyes. I only escaped because of my father's Alpha command. My birthday is an eternal reminder of that fateful day and not something I ever want to celebrate. For the past four years, Justin has attempted to get me out for the night, when we have finished work, and each time he has failed.

My grumpy teenage status has now changed to a full-on broody male, and I care not a jot what people think about that.

I remind myself that Justin is just being his usual self and trying to be nice. The large man with short black greasy hair, and a stomach that shows his love of burgers, has worked in this holiday park for years and is a hit with the tourists and guests, with his friendly and approachable nature.

We share a caravan on the site and spend nine months of the year living in each other’s pockets. Working by day at the Ranger Station, teaching the kids and adults all about the wildlife around the park, or different plants that grow in the grounds, and along the side of the large lakes. Or how to safely build a bonfire, and to check for hedgehogs in the wood, before lighting it. We are the small conservation awareness part of a huge holiday operation.

The work suits me, keeping in touch with nature, being surrounded by people who have no clue that I am the ‘presumed dead’ Alpha Mars O’Leary. People come, and people go, never staying more than a week at a time. Yes, there are some caravan owners, who visit every weekend, but that is a tiny minority of the site visitors. The rest of the large caravans and lodges are rented out, for three, four or seven nights. Even the staff change at the end of the season, other than Justin, and of course, me. It is perfect, inspiring young minds from inner cities to appreciate nature and the countryside, whilst never having to truly befriend anyone. The holiday park and surrounding area are free from other werewolves. The nearest pack is fifty miles south. Werewolves do not holiday in this place, most packs have money, and to have a vacation in what some would call a low-rent place like this park would be beneath them.

This place was for those who needed a break with their family, who did not have thousands of pounds to spend. It is popular, with mountains of visitors arriving every few days, taking advantage of the low-cost break, and the many children’s activities. Despite not being a posh hotel or an expensive glamping site, the place is clean and tidy, and my colleagues worked tirelessly to ensure everyone had the best time. I know that I blend in here, and it gives me the freedom and anonymity I need.

The familiar churn of guilt rumbles in my stomach, as I let out a heavy sigh.

Hiding. I am always hiding.

I know some would say I should be fighting tooth and nail to get my pack back. To reach out to the royals and have them give me my birthright once more, to avenge what has happened to me, and the King and Queen, would, they are good people, but I have hidden, out of sight, and out of mind and I intend to stay that way for as long as I possibly can.

Then there is the other guilt. The night I met her, my mate. I was unable to resist the pull of the mate bond, and she was human, and gave in, not understanding that it was fate that had pushed us together. The look on her face when I ran from her, haunts my dreams. But she deserves a happy life, not one attached to an Alpha with no pack, who cannot look after anyone. If I was the Alpha of my pack, I would not have cared if she was human. But, the facts are, I am a failed Alpha, too weak to protect my family, and she would be even more fragile in my world. I could never take the risk of losing her in an attack, so I did what I always do. I ran.

As an Alpha, what I should be doing is fighting for my pack. The thoughts and guilt have plagued me for the past ten years. But the truth is, I am not sure that I want a pack, to go back to a life where people can betray you and kill your loved ones in the blink of an eye. It may sound selfish, but all I want is to get through a day that is not haunted by memories that would steal my heart if I allowed them to. I cannot subject myself to the pain; to lead a pack is to love it, and love, when it is ripped from you, hurts beyond anything that I can describe. The guilt I feel for surviving that attack almost consumes me daily. Then there are the regrets, the woman who, as soon as I saw her, I loved her unconditionally, but the fear of her being taken away from me caused me to run, as far and as fast as I could.

Guilt is my bedfellow, even the fact that I did not only leave my pack lands, but I left the beautiful emerald isle of Ireland as well, is yet another thing that plagues me. I had headed as far as I could on limited funds, landing in the north of England, where I met her. I do not even know her name, but I remember the feel of her, the scent of her, the way she made my heart pound in my chest, the instant attraction, and even the love I felt. But it is because I felt the love, that I had to let her go.

God, to be sure, I have so many regrets.

Hence, why I remain here, in the holiday park, where I cannot get attached to anyone, and the chances of seeing my mate again are slim to none. There is nobody here that can hurt me when they disappear from my life.

“Just a couple of drinks,” Justin pushes, as he walks past me into the ranger station, and grabs the list of participants for the nature trail he is leading in half an hour.

If alcohol affected me, I would probably fully immerse myself in it every day of my life, in a bid to drown out the memories of this day, ten years ago. To lessen my pain, and force myself not to remember her. But you need something a lot stronger than the stuff they give to humans, and so drinking a few beers after work is akin to drinking coloured fizzy water and will give me no relief, so I do not see the point.

“Sorry, just not my thing,” I shrug, placing the sage plants I have potted down onto the ground beside my log perch.

“Oh, here they are again,” Justin grins, winking at me.

I do not need to look up to know who he is talking about. A group of teenage girls, who all vie for my attention are giggling over at me.

“Is your name really Mars, as in the planet?” the more confident of the girls asks, battering her long fake eyelashes at me. She must be around 16 years old, with shorts that leave little to the imagination, flanked by her friends, who are equally dressed in barely any clothes in a bid to garner attention from the opposite s*x. Not like my mate, she was beautiful, her curves so soft and enticing, dressed in my favourite green colour, in a dress that was respectful, yet sexy as hell. s**t, it has been nearly six years, and yet I still cannot forget her, as much as I try.

“Yes,” I smile up at them, resisting the urge to sigh and walk away. But they are the kids of paying guests, so I must always remain polite.

“Are your parents hippies or something?” one of the other girls asks.

At the mention of my parents, my heart constricts in my chest, and the lump that forms in my throat is not easily swallowed down, but still, I do not want to have a complaint put in against me, so I manage to answer.

“No, but they were space geeks,”

Despite myself, I feel a smile form on my face, as I remember being a little boy, climbing up to the attic of our pack house, into the observatory. My father taught me all the constellations and planets he could find in the night sky through his telescope. I had been named after Mars the planet, rather than the Roman God of War. However, it was a little shocking that my wolf was Ares, the Greek God of War, and Venus’s newly formed wolf had been called Aphrodite. The wolves were not named by my space-obsessed parents, and they had spent countless hours surmising and theorising what that could mean.

Another wave of grief hits my heart, taking the breath from my lungs. I need to get out of here before I break down in front of the holidaymakers and Justin.

“Sorry girls got to go,” I politely excuse myself from the teenage hormones, and pick up my planted sage and head into the ranger’s station to escape.

“Wow, that Irish accent of his makes me moist,” one of the girls says to the others, and I move my feet even quicker to the safety of the Ranger Station.

“Man, what I would do to have a single girl flirt with me like they do with you,” Justin walks in behind me and sighs.

What the hell do I have to do to get some space around here?

“They are kids!” I shake my head at him in dismay.

It is the same old story with Justin. He is desperate to love and be loved, whereas I am desperate to avoid it at all costs, even if her face haunts my dreams, another thing to regret.

“Well, not the teenagers. But the single mothers who come here a plenty. Yeah, one of those flirting with me for a few days would be welcome. But what chance do I have when the Roman God of War, with all his muscles, sexy charm, oodles of testosterone, and an accent that is as smooth as silk, is my work colleague,” Justin wistfully sighed.

“Are you sure I cannot tempt you to come out for your birthday? You are a p***y magnet, I may be able to get some of your crumbs,” He tried again, wiggling his bushy monobrow at me.

I couldn’t honestly think of anything that would even remotely tempt me to go out tonight. However, I know something that will get Justin off my back about it.

“Certain. I am going out for a run; you can join me if you like?”

I have to suppress the chuckle that is lodged in my throat, as he looks at me as if I have grown another head and shakes his head manically at me.

“Hell no. You can keep your freaky obsession with running to yourself. You mad Irishman. The only exercise I want is a pint going back and forth to my mouth,”

It is no lie, I am going for a run. Only once I hit the woods it will be on four legs, not two. Ares needs to be let out. After all, this day is equally difficult for him, as it is for me.

With Justin back from his nature trail, and the area all cleaned up, I head back to the caravan, stripping out of my work clothes, into a pair of joggers, and a T-shirt, before grabbing my water bottle, and with a quick goodbye to Justin, I head out towards the back entrance of the holiday park. Breaking into a run, I get around two miles north, when the wooded area that Ares has claimed as his own, comes into view, and finally, I strip out of my clothes, leaving them in the hollow of a tree, and give myself over to my wolf's control. Yes, this is what I needed, to give up control, and feel the wind under Ares’ fur. Tomorrow is another day. The current guests will depart by ten am, and a new batch of nameless faces will arrive by three pm, and it will be just another day, and not my damned birthday.