Alpha's Healer

1

Prologue.

The sparkling liquid in a crystal bottle falls to the ground and shatters from Melissa’s shaking hand. She backs away from him, things decluttering and scattering in her way. Despite his injury, Alpha King Dimitrio—the beast of Gevaudan rises from the bed.

She is a healer who has to treat a king who hates the existence of physicians. To Dimitrio, their skills are nothing more than tricks of deception and their compassion is a facade veiling ulterior motives. One look at his eyes and Melissa can see this deep-seated enmity.

She has been told about it already. She has seen it countless times ever since she got to the castle. With each passing day, the king’s animosity toward healers grew. But why? Why does he continue to hate healers?

While his eyes are full of ire, he is cloaked in a robe, the fabric draping loosely over his broad shoulders, but his chest remains bare, exposing a bandaged wound that has marred his flesh. With one hand pressed firmly against his abdomen, he yanks her to him.

“You damn wolfen!” King Dimitrio seethes, and Melissa is forced to stare into his eyes. Her eyes beams with tears—once again, he has reminded her that she is a wolfen. A wolf who is neither omega, beta or gamma—an abomination to pure blooded wolves.

Melissa turns her eyes away, refusing to look at him. So, with a single, fluid motion, King Dimitrio reaches out, his hand closing around her waist with a firm grip. At such contact, her bossom rests on his chest, heaving gradually. Melissa refuses to look at him. So, her focus is on his chest.

“Look at me.” He says—it’s a demand and she knows this already. Hesitatantly, she lifts her eyes and his lips tries to pursue hers. Melissa, turns the other way, averting away from the kiss of a king.

Impatient, arrogant and full of power, Dimitrio feels it all. He is king, the beast of Gevaudan, a raging wolf— and as a part of his court, Melissa must surrender herself to him.

“You dare…” Dimitrio says, refusing to complete his sentence due to his shock and anger.

“Your majesty…” Melissa says, looking for the words to say to control his fury.

“I am king! I am monarch! I am the one who controls Gethmorn! A beast of Gevaudan, your majesty and owner! If I ask you to kneel before me, you will obey. If I command you to open your legs, you shall!” Dimitrio says to her, and Melissa quivers, trying to remember how she became the healer of King Dimitrio.

Melissa Spatiatis.

With a basket slung over my arm, I bend to pick the second basket of fresh herbs. At this season of the year, we are blessed by the moon goddess with an abundance of resources to fill our storages. But with villagers, common folks and outsiders getting injured on a daily basis by the army of the new king, our resources go out fast and these baskets will be extinguished before the morrow. I am the last daughter of Master Ludo, the great healer.

We are known as the healing village in Gethmorn. People travel from all over the world to meet my father, they stay here for years, tapping and learning from his great knowledge. My father is master Ludo, a master at his skill, proficient in many arts of medicine that haven’t been introduced into the world yet. Such as acupuncture, sweating method, warming method, herbalism, moxibustion—many things I have learnt since five years of age… but still, it feels like I have many things I need to know.

I have four siblings. Two brothers and two sisters. They are all interested in pursuing other aspect of life that do not involve medicine, they don’t have interest in our father’s work and I don’t blame them. My father’s work is filled with gruesome injuries, bloody scenes, pain, watching the sick and trying our best to heal them which sometimes, doesn’t go our way. Actually, it’s not like I fell in love with medicine and decided that this is what I wanted to pursue…I am not here because I want to.

I stay by my father’s side because I have no choice.

I am a wolfen. A wolf that is neither a gamma, beta, omega or Alpha. I am an illegitimate child. A fruit of sin and blasphemy. My father had me outside his marriage, and outside of his ancestor’s law. Wolves are bound to wolves. But he had me with a woman who is not wolf. Two people crossed that line and I’m the product of it. I adjust the scarf over my face as I walk in the silent forest. I am reminded that my eyes are the first thing that may give me away.

Pure wolves don’t have blue eyes. They have red, gold, yellow, a mix of both. But blue, it is a sign of alchemy, a sign of abomination. I have begged my father for as long to tell me what exactly my mother is or where she is from, I have wanted to know why I was born this way. People in the village call me the forsaken one, the one forsaken by the moon goddess but I know there is more to it.

Like most wolves, I have heightened senses but that is where it stops. I cannot shapeshift and neither can I fight like most wolves. I come from a gamma family, a family where fighting runs in the blood but I am the exception to that. I tilt my focus when the air suddenly stirs with a distant rumble, like thunder rolling across the horizon. At first faint and indistinct, the sound grew steadily louder.

It is the rhythm of hoofbeats. It is a sound I know well; it is a sound every villager knows. The earth trembles beneath my feet, and I shudder for only a moment before adrenaline kicks in. With baskets of fragrant herbs clasped tightly in my hands, I run. My feet barely seemed to touch the ground as I race along the winding path, weaving between ancient trees and leaping over fallen branches.

The cool air rushed past my cheeks, and the urgency of my pace matched the rapid beat of my heart—each thud echoing in my chest as I push myself.

With each step, the baskets grows heavier in my hands, but I refuse to slow down. I enter the village, and my heart sinks when I see chaos. Emerging from the veil of dust kicked up by their thundering advance, their stallions appeared. Horrendous creatures, their bodies glistened in the sunlight, muscles rippling with every stride.

I hide behind a wall, watching, careful of my next step before I find my father. The soldiers did not advance with swords drawn or arrows nocked. Instead, they moved with deliberate purpose, their actions calculated to instill a different kind of terror. They did not spill blood, but they leave behind a trail of destruction and despair in their wake.

I begin to run, hiding in the stir of dust and making way to my father’s establishment. They will find him any second because he is the leader of the village.

However, I have to make it first, to forewarn him. I push the back door open, shutting it with its iron hinges and breathing heavily. I tread past the bags of herbs and run into the treatment room where the workers are running helter skelter.

Workers are running out of the room, and scattered medical equipment are strewn about haphazardly. Master Ludo, my father is wrapping patients up and his gaze falls on me at the entrance of the room.

“Get the wrap!” He yells and I look at him in wonder. His gaze hardens when I don’t move a muscle so he looks at me once again. I blink twice, grabbing the wrap and handing it over to him.

“Why are you still here? Go and hide in the town square with your siblings.” He says, attending to a patient who has an injury on the leg.

“What about you!?” I say to him, looking outside the windows and watching people flee for their lives.

“I cannot leave my patients and flee like some criminal.” He says, completely oblivious to the situation outside. With my chest heaving, eyes darting from one place to another and my throat parched by fear, not water. I stand in front of him.

“I saw their horses. I saw the kings war gammas; they are not here for peace. Father, please, let’s go!” I say to him, pleading, a hand over my chest.

“I am the head of this village. Who would speak to them if not me?” He answers, with furrowed brow like he is not afraid. But those lines…those lines of worry etched deeply into his face betray the weight of his concern.

“What if they are not here to speak!?” I yell back, my words are sharp and biting, fuelled by a mix of rebellion and a desperate desire to make him change his mind.

“Melissa, go.” He seethes.

“I can’t leave you.” I say, and he grabs a hold of my hand, dragging me from the room to send me away but in a thunderous display of force, the door bursts open, propelled by a single mighty kick.

Outside the workshop, we kneel on the dust of the ground, a group of gammas wearing the emblems and insignia of Gethmorn are waiting. I lay my eyes on the ground, kneeling next to my father. I stare at the foot of the captain as he dismounts from the horse, a soft thud and a stir of dust.

“Master Ludo?” He asks.

“Yes, who am I speaking to?” My father asks.

“I am Beswick, the assistant general of his royal majesty, King Dimitiro.” He answers, a sense of pride in his voice that shows he can do and undo.

“There is a new tax that covers all the villages under King’s Dimitrio command and according to the books, this village has never paid a cent to the king’s treasury. I don’t care if other kings have made an exception to the healing village. The king demands it and we are here to claim his demand.” The assistant general says.

Under my veil, I gasp in horror. My father offers help to those who are in need without asking for a sum, we get money from farming and selling herbs outside of the village. That money is used to buy food for patients and rare herbs. Thus, it leaves us with nothing. We have never had to pay tax and my father is focused on saving lives.

“How---how much is the king demanding?” my father asks, hesitating for a second.

“According to this scribe…”

The sound of ruffling papers are going about before he continues speaking.

“According to these documents, the healing village is required to pay to the king’s treasury, a hundred kg of silver and gold.” The assistant general says and I tighten my hands on my gown. My father is silent, there is no way we have that money. Even If every villager were to sell their properties, we will barely come up with thirty kg.

“We don’t…we don’t have it.” My father whispers.

“Hmmm, well the king doesn’t want ‘no’ for an answer. What do you say we do boys?” The assistant general asks, and his group begin to laugh, scattering voices in the air as anger throbs in my bones.

“According to new laws, failure to give back to the king will require your limbs to be taken from you because you failed to use them to pay what is owed.” The man spits and I gasp loudly.

Loud enough for them to notice me but I quickly cover my mouth, bending my face in the veil and shutting my eyes close.

“I—but I don’t have it.” My father says.

“Take him.” The general says.

“No!” I yell, forgetting that I’m supposed to stay hidden, raising my face to look the man in the eye.

“What in the moon goddess…” He stutters, staring at me and my father adjusts my veil immediately.

“Take my limbs.” My father says.

“No, please….my father treats people. If you do so, we will never be able to pay the king. I beg you.” I say, bending my head to the ground when the man places a hand over my veil and yanks my face back up.

“She is a wolfen.” They murmur.

“She is your daughter? Who did you f**k to produce a wolfen?” The assistant general says in a disrespectful manner and my heart stiffens.

“Sir, please…” My father says.

“The king will be in awe to know that there is a wolfen that exists in his kingdom. Who knows…he could reward us for bringing him such an abomination…?” The man says, holding my chin up and staring into my eyes like I’m an object to steal.

“I will gladly have my limbs cut off! Please, let my daughter go….” My father says but in mid-sentence, he is cut off by the general who punches him in his chest and kicks him repeatedly.

“Let go of him!” I yell, rising on my feet to help my father but the general whisks me away by grabbing a hold of my hair. I scream, staring back at my father who is still on the ground and reaching my hands out to him. Due to my stubbornness to surrender, the general swiftly executes a precise strike on my back and it weakens my entire body. I stagger, fainting from the impact.

The next time I open my eyes, it is in a place that I do not recognize but I don’t need to be told of the location. Everything happened so fast, a second ago I was in the healing village and now, I find myself outside the towering doors of the king's throne room. My heart is pounding with trepidation.

There are war gammas, flanked at each side of where I stand. They can hear the sound of my heart beating and the choked sobs that are emitting from my mouth. I clutch the edges of my gown, my hands are trembling in fear of what’s on the inside. I look left and right, completely lost and alone, trying to hear anything that will explain what awaits me inside the door.

With a resounding creak, the massive doors swing open. I move back, placing a hand upon my chest and one over my mouth as my resolve crumbles, and tears well up in my eyes. The general who put me in this predicament steps out, the glare on his face is evident.

“Come in before the king.” The general utters.

I hesitate, unwilling to go in. The guards flanked at each side begin to make their way towards me and I walk further in fear of being harassed, entering into the room.

Quickly, my eyes fixate on the figure seated upon the throne—the King rumored to be as ruthless as his wolf. His gaze, sharp as the edge of a battle-axe, penetrates right through me. His features are weathered, etched with the scars of countless battles fought and won.

There is a hardness to his expression, a steely resolve that speaks of the iron will that drives him to conquer and dominate villages. there is no mistaking the power he wields, nor the consequences of crossing him. Now, the question is, will he dominate me too?