Jasmine: The Cursed Alpha's Mate

Jasmine's POV It had been a peaceful night at the Dark Moon pack for once. I stood in the kitchen, elbow-deep in water, scrubbing the last of the day's pots as the pack celebrated in the great hall. The thump of music, bursts of laughter, and an odd drunken howl drifted through the night air. Of course, it wasn't for me, Omegas like me just didn't get invited to anything; we were irrelevant. The first signal of trouble was a low rumble, like distant thunder. The walls of the packhouse shuddered. I straightened, clutching the edge of the sink. And then the screaming started. The door to the kitchen flew open, and a young pack warrior stumbled in, his face pale. "We're under attack!" he shouted before a shadow dragged him back into the hall. My heart slammed against my ribs. The bowl slipped from my hands, hitting the stone floor with a crash. "Jasmine!" Cara, my only friend, burst in from the back entrance. Her hair was wild; her face was streaked with dirt and blood. "We have to run! Now!" "Run where?" My voice shook; it was barely audible above the rising chaos. "The Silver Stone pack is here," Cara panted, her eyes wide with terror. "They've broken through the borders. We can't fight them. No one can." The name alone sent a shiver down my spine. The Silver Stone pack. Everyone knew their reputation. They weren't just conquerors-they were destroyers. And their Alpha, Asher Raven, was a monster in the form of a man. Cara yanked me out of the kitchen, and into a packhouse that was barely recognizable. The air was thick with smoke, and screams, the scent of blood-wolves fought and fell around us, bodies mangled. I tried not to look, but the sight of Alpha Markis, our Alpha, laying lifeless in the middle of the hall, stopped me cold. "We're doomed," I whispered. "No," Cara snapped, yanking me forward. "Not if we move!" We spilled out into the open, and the extent of the attack was revealed. The village was ablaze, everything bathed in the orange glow of the fires. The warriors of the Silver Stone pack moved with deadly precision, cutting down anyone who dared to get in their way. I tripped over a fallen body and went down hard onto my hands and knees. Blood soaked into my dress. Cara hauled me up again, but it was too late. A shadow loomed over us, and I lifted my head to see one of the enemy wolves—a huge figure with cruel eyes and bared teeth. He shifted, his claws retracting as he sneered at us. "Run all you want," he said in that gravelly voice. "You'll only make it worse." Cara leaped at him, shifting mid-air, but the warrior swatted her aside like some sort of insignificant fly. She hit the ground hard and didn't get up. "No!" I screamed, falling to her side. "Enough," the wolf growled, hauling me away by my hair. I kicked and scratched, but it was no use. I was nothing against him. The days that followed all blurred into a haze of pain, exhaustion and despair. The Dark Moon pack survivors—what few of us were still alive—had been rounded up, and forced to march to the Silver Stone pack's territory. We were slaves now. The conditions were brutal. No food, barely any water, and no mercy. The warriors who guarded us treated us like animals, herding us into filthy pens at night. I’d never felt lower. I was an orphan, an Omega, a nobody. My life had always been hard, but this was a new level of misery. I thought of Cara often, wondering if she was alive. Guilt gnawed at me. I should have fought harder for her. Maybe if I'd been stronger— No. That was a lie. I was weak. I always have been. On the fifth day, we reached the center of the Silver Stone pack's territory. Their packhouse was a sprawling fortress of stone and steel, towering over the surrounding village like a predator over its prey. We were marched to the center of the courtyard and made to kneel in the dirt. The humiliation was overwhelming. Other slaves wept and huddled around me, the air thick with their despair. The wolves of Silver Stone spat on us, jeers in their eyes, laughing nastily. A thick noxious smell, like vinegar, seared my nostrils; then I knew, in my horror, what they were going to do: branding irons. Marking us as owned. I bowed my head, eyes shut tight as the tears spilled onto my cheeks. This was the last shred of my dignity gone. This wasn't how life was supposed to go. I remembered the life I had wished for when I was a youngling-to find a mate that would love me and a pack where I belonged; to have children one day who wouldn't know from experiencing this pain I went through. That dream turned to ash now, incinerated just like everything else was. The crowd went silent. A presence fell into the courtyard, thick and heavy and weighing my wolf down with his raw power. I lifted my gaze and immediately wished I hadn't. Alpha Asher. Silent as any shadow, he moved through the crowd; his gaze scanned down the kneeling line of slaves. A face that might have been hewn in tawny stone and set beneath a tumble of dark hair, inhumanly beautiful. Grey eyes, cool and dangerous, luminous with purpose. The god of war, they'd called him. And now I know why. He stopped a few feet away from me, his eyes fixed on the sniffling girl to my left. Sobs grew louder and louder, and she doubled into herself like this might make her disappear. “Pathetic," Asher muttered in a low, slicing voice. I hunched up, hoping he wouldn't notice me, but his gaze cut to mine. The world tipped sideways. A wave of scent slapped me hard and rain, sharp and intoxicating. My heart stuttered. My wolf howled in recognition. No. Asher's face went hard. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing to slivers of silver as they stared at me. "You," he said, the word low, deadly. I couldn't breathe. The bond snapped into place, electric and undeniable. " Mate," I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. His jaw clenched, and for a moment I saw something flicker in his eyes, something that looked like rage. Or fear. The world froze around me. Gasps rippled through the courtyard; collective intake of breath so heavy with disbelief, horror, and worst of all, ridicule. My head spun as the word mate hung there, heavy and irreversible. I wished I could take it back, pretend I never said the words. But the bond, oh, the bond—was unmistakable. My wolf stirred in recognition, trembling with equal parts fear and longing. My hands clutched into the dirt beneath me, nails scraping against the earth as terror squeezed my chest. Asher didn't move at first. He just stared at me, his silver eyes unreadable but with intensity. Then, slowly, he took a step closer. The crowd fell silent. His presence swallowed the space between us, suffocating and electric. My body betrayed me, responding to his approach even as panic clawed at my mind. My heart was racing, my wolf howling softly in the back of my mind, begging to submit. Asher came to a stop in front of me, looming over my kneeling form. He c****d his head, a predator sizing up his prey. “You dared to say that word," he hissed, low and with something dangerous laced into his tone. I opened my mouth to say something, anything—but nothing came out. My throat had constricted, his gaze boring into mine and demanding acquiescence. And then he moved.