The Alpha's Secret

Stolen

PROLOGUE

18 YEARS AGO; YEAR OF THE CULLING

“What have you done Helena?”

The monotone of his voice made everything worse but at this point she was past caring, past fighting, past trying.

Helena spat at his feet. “I’d rather have her dead than give her to you.”

“You would kill your own daughter?”

The hunter moved closer and Helena closed her eyes. Her heart breaking even as she spoke the words.

Words that were not true.

But words that would ensure the most precious gift in her life lived long enough to save them all.

“To protect her from you…from him. I would do anything.”

The heat from the vast chasm below stung her eyes and singed her hair but she didn’t move.

Past caring, past fighting, past trying, maybe even like her attacker, empty.

The hunter buried his hand in her hair, wrapping it around and between his fingers with the unhurried slowness of one who knew he had already crushed the wind pipe of his prey and it was as good as dead.

Using it as leverage, he jerked her head back and bared her neck.

A single tear rolled down her eyes.

So sudden and cold compared to the heat around, she almost jerked in surprise, raising shaky fingers to her face.

Past caring; not even flinching when she felt the coolness of his blade against her neck, past trying; a single tear was the only expression she could manage, but past fighting…

Never.

Soon , they would all burn…she had made sure of it.

But for now, her daughter was safe. And that was all that mattered.

The hunter gazed down at her with emotionless eyes “You know he will find her.”

Helena knew she could not reason with the man holding a blade to her neck.

The hunter was naught but a dog doing the work of his Master.

A harsh bark of laughter escaped her. “Even he cannot pass through the veil that separates the dead. You will never, ever, find her. Do what you have to, I tire of this.”

It was so fast, her last thought never even fully formed.

Her head tumbled down first, disappearing in the darkness and heat far below.

A gentle push with the hunter’s foot sent the rest of her after it.

The other one stepped out from where he had been the entire time.

A being cloaked in the shadows materializing as if from nothing.

The fury on his face contorting his features almost beyond recognition.

The hunter sheathed his sword and bowed his head to his master.

“We will find her.”

The Master shook his head slowly.

His voice a calm beautiful baritone, built to calm…to lead…to deceive.

“My patience wears thin.”

The hunter speaks without raising his head. “I will not fail you again.”

The Master urned slowly towards the hunter, eyes flashing with dark powers he should not possess. “No, you will not. You have outlived your use to me. Die”

And the hunter, back straight, head held high and without a backward glance walked into the chasm below as he had been instructed.

The flames like golden tongues of greed rising up to swallow him.

1: STOLEN

It all started the day I turned 18.

The day I almost died.

That is what I would like to say.

And maybe, someday, if I ever become interesting enough for any one to care, that is what I would tell them.

Because at least then, there would be a method to the madness that is my life.

Readjusting the strap of my gym bag, I walk briskly down the sidewalk, not even bothering to dodge the puddles of water that had gathered in the cracks of the street.

I am trying my best to shut it out but like all things, the harder you try to forget them, the more you remember.

I do not exactly recall the first time it happened.

The first time I’d passed by someone and experienced feelings that weren’t …mine.

Emotions that raced through me like little shock waves of electricity.

But I do remember hating it.

Right from the beginning.

But even worse than being forced to feel the emotions of others as my own, were the headaches the feelings always left behind.

I would pass some stranger on the street and next thing I knew, I would be lying in bed for days, crying over some dead puppy that was not mine.

And then a few minutes later I would be doubled over in pain, my head feeling like it might explode.

And the only thing that helped, was…water.

Showers, bath tubs, pools, anything I could hold my head under until I started to feel human again.

And today had been no different.

No, that is a lie.

Today, had been different. In the worst way imaginable.

My 18th birthday had started like all my other birthdays.

The woman I called mom bursting into my room at an ungodly hour of the morning with a plate piled high with pancakes and yanking off the blanket from over my head.

“Happy Birth…”

I had felt it even before my eyes opened.

Before I heard the plate crash to the ground.

A hot flash of confusion, tangy with the taste of fear.

None of which was mine.

I had jumped up to see my mother, hands over mouth and eyes the size of saucers; the pancakes in a ruined pile at her feet.

“Moria”

Maybe it was the fear with which she said my name, maybe it was the way my mother’s accent was almost never obvious but when it was, her “a” was pronounced “ha”.

A glimpse in the mirror beside my bed had revealed the reason for my mother’s fear;

The curly, pitch black, pixie cut hair I had gone to bed with had disappeared and in its place were shoulder length waves, the bright red of blood on a white rug.

I had become a different person overnight.

I turned around in a panic.

“Mom, what is going on? What is happening to me?”

I hated the way my voice had sounded.

Tiny and small.

The voice of a child, still trusting her mother to make everything go away.

But my mother could not even bring herself to look me in the eyes.

Almost…almost, like she knew something I didn’t.

Instead she had bent down and wordlessly began to pick up the plate and the now ruined pancakes, chocolate filling staining the white rug.

I made an attempt to get up and my mother visibly flinched, almost even recoiled.

I tasted that fear again but this time, it was mixed with mine.

I did not move again.

Not when my mom left the room in silence.

Or when I heard the front door close about an hour later.

Not even when the engine of my mother’s car started and receded down the road.

I sat there, staring at the large brown splotch on her rug.

I could get down on my knees,

Could scrub still my hands bled.

But nothing would ever be the same again.

It wasn’t until much later that the headache had come.

My feet like logs of wood had dragged me to the bathroom.

Making sure to avoid looking at my reflection in the mirror, I had sat in the tub till my skin began to prune and yet , for the first time, the water did not help. Did not make the headache disappear.

If anything, it only seemed to get worse.

Suddenly it had felt like the bathtub just wasn’t enough water.

It felt like what I needed was a small pool…

Maybe a river.

No…not even that was large enough.

What I needed…was the sea.

All the water in the world, surrounding me, wave after wave crashing over my head until I felt alive again.

I had stepped out of the tub feeling like a crazy person.

But then I turned to the mirror, taking out the clip holding my hair in a bun and for the second time that morning, I nearly screamed.

The shoulder length bright red hair that I had woken up with this morning was now reaching down to the middle of my back

I held the hair gingerly away from my body, as if by staring down at it I could make it stop doing whatever it was doing.

The headache increased, a throbbing pain that made me cry out and hunch over.

I needed that sea.

And given how it was already late at night and how much like a mad person I already felt like, I had settled on the closest, largest body of water close to me.

The indoor pool in the sprawling mansion I occasionally cleaned for a few blocks away.

The owners were on a trip.

I know this because they had told me so right before they fired me for making myself comfortable in their bathtub.

It would be breaking and entering, I know, but my head felt like it might split into two and what is prison when you’re dead.

So what if I had no experience with jimmying open locks or breaking into houses?

How hard could it possibly be?

I had waited till it was dark, decided against leaving a note for my mom who still hadn’t returned, and left the house.

Which is how I ended up here. On my way to break into some old people’s home.

Christ, what am I becoming?

I think about the admission letter sitting on my table at home.

The one that is going to take me far away from here.

To a place where maybe, just maybe, I could finally belong.

A cold breeze jerks me back to the present

I pass a bunch of giggling girls. People my age, laughing, having fun.

Jealousy, green and hot, blossoms out in the center of my chest.

What I wouldn’t give to be them. To be normal.

You would think with the way I looked, olive skin and round eyes, a cute even if admittedly big nose and small pouting lips, I would have people around me, clamoring to be friends with the pretty girl.

But I have never felt anything but insecure. Like I was in a world that I didn’t belong in.

And once people smelt that, they treated me like I treated myself; insignificant.

I take a sharp left between two buildings with bare concrete walls and step into a dark alley, littered with garbage and so tight I have to walk sideways.

The alley leads out to a chain-link fence; the shortest, most secretive way to my destination.

My bag makes a faint thud as it goes over first, landing softly in the grass below.

I follow immediately after, hooking my toes in the holes of the fencing and vaulting over with all the grace and poise of an elephant.

I do not enjoy the adrenaline rush that floods my veins as I dash across the open field towards the house, hunched over and clutching my hood to my head.

I lean against the wall to catch my breath.

A furtive look around the corner assures me that no one is there and I turn sharply to the left, still keeping my back to the wall so that the french doors leading inside and to the pool are now beside me.

I root around in my bag for the card I intended to slide between the locks. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty.

I take a deep breath that does nothing to help and whisper into the darkness. “Okay Moria. You’ve got this.”

But when I push the card in-between the lock…nothing happens and the lock stays firmly in place.

I can feel myself start to sweat. “Come on you stupid door.”

But doors must not like being called stupid because this one remains stubbornly closed.

And then because things could get worse, the sound of whistling from the left reaches my ears even before I see the circle of light appear on the other side of the wall.

Someone was coming.

Fuck, they must have given my job of watching the house to someone else.

Ignoring thoughts about the jail sentence for breaking and entering, I try to slide the card between the two doors and pry it open but my hands are sweating and shaking and unable to work it.

As it would turn out, breaking into houses requires a skill I do not possess.

Shit.

This is what I get for thinking that watching movies made me an expert in breaking open locks

The circle of light is getting bigger, the whistling clearer; a tune I recognize but can not place because I am too busy trying to calm my erratic breathing.

Whoever it is would only have to turn the corner and they would see me.

Still refusing to panic I try again.

“Come one, come on you stupid door.”

The card breaks off with a loud snap.

And in the quiet stillness of the night, it might as well have been a gun shot.

I turn around the way I came and press my back against the wall.

It’s okay Moria. Maybe they didn't hear it. Maybe….

“Who is there?!”

“s**t”

A loud voice rings out just as a beam of blinding white light aims itself at my face

“Hey!”

Fuck it

But before I can fling all caution to the wind and make a run for it, strong arms shoot out through the wall behind me and wrap themselves around my shoulders.

My heart stops and my whole world freezes.

“What the…”

All the house sitter sees that night, is a pair of disembodied arms reach out to drag a flailing girl through a closed, intact glass window and a solid wall.

By the next day, rumors that the house is haunted will spread like wild fire, but for now, the man throws down his flashlight and runs for his life.

Inside the almost pitch black pool house, I fight against my attacker who holds me immobile against their body, hand across my mouth.

This…cannot be happening.

If it is a dream, it is a terrible one.

And it isn’t just the fact that ghost like hands had passed through a closed glass window and grabbed me.

Something else, something I can taste in the back of my throat but can’t put my finger on is causing this innate feeling of intense danger and I know I have to get away.

I try to scream and it comes out muffled even as I realize it is stupid and pointless.

“leem mmeee mmmgoomm”

“Stop…struggling”

I barely register the voice as male and exasperated even as I sink my teeth as deep as I can into the hand covering my mouth.

He lets out a frustrated, pained grunt and removes his hand from over my mouth but instead of letting me go, he grabs my arms and spins me around to face him.

Stark, grey eyes bore into mine even as goose bumps crawl up my arm.

“If you’d just listen for a moment”

I scoff.

Yeah, not doing that.

I try to head butt him but he moves his head out of the way quicker than I can move mine.

“Fighting is…”

I do not let him finish.

One fluid motion of my knee and he doubles over in pain.

“…pointless” His pain stricken voice carries the completion of his sentence even as I dash past him and around the pool, trying to get to the door.

Thank god my mom made me take those self defense classes.

But then a gust of wind blows past me.

And one heartbeat later the once open space in front of me is obstructed by someone blocking my path.

Christ, there are two of them.

I skid slightly before catching myself and making a sharp left, heading for the second entrance at the other end of the room.

Before I can even blink, that gust of wind rushes past me and blocks my path again.

Whoever this person is, he was moving faster than was humanly possible.

This time, I do scream.

“Who the f**k are you people?!”

Whipping my head to look behind me, I notice the first attacker is already back on his feet and is now walking slowly around the pool, towards me.

He dusts off his sleeves.

“There is no...”

I dive into the pool, just as the second one makes a grab for me, leaving my hoodie in his hand.

The first attacker groans. “Will you just let me finish!”

I realize it is a dumb idea the minute I hit the water.

Why did I think I would be faster in the water?

But none of them jump in after me.

They just stand.

Watching me.

And I immediately switch plans, swimming as fast as I can to the other side and towards the french doors that had betrayed me earlier.

I step out of the water, my bun now undone, red waves cascading down my back and brushing against my upper thigh.

Registering that it had grown again, I frantically run forward, maybe I could get to the door before…

The thought never even fully forms.

The second one materializes behind me, grabs a fistful of my shirt and flings me across the room.

I brace for an impact that never comes.

Ghost boy catches me before I can break every bone in my body.

He pins my hands to my side, and I can feel the firm hardness of his chest where my back presses against him.

He grunts. “Maybe, just stop trying to run for a second.”

I spit. My voice strained and gasping for air. “Why should I? You dragged me through a freaking wall…”

“It was a window….”

“And Flash over there just flung me across the room like a rag doll. So why should I listen?”

“Because you don’t have a choice”

Maybe it is the certainty in his voice, but the way he says the words pisses me off.

“I don’t think so”

And with that I swing my head back and lucky enough, this time around I get him with enough force.

Bruising his mouth against his teeth and nearly breaking his nose.

He lets me go on instinct.

But my victory is short-lived.

The second one, who had been standing quietly by the window appears at my side and grabs me by the neck. “Enough”

It is the first time I’d heard him speak since this nightmare began.

And it is the last thing I hear before he dips my head into the pool of water.

And holds it there.

I thrash and kick even as spots start to dance in the darkness behind my eyes.

I want to scream, to cry…

It isn’t fair.

Why do I have to die now?

I am thinking about the letter on my desk again. The one that should have changed my life forever.

But my lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen and it is getting harder and harder to stay awake.

To keep fighting.

I should have left my mom that note.

My mind forms one last thought and I realize that my headache is finally gone.

Then I let go.

And let darkness take me.