An Alpha for Valentine

EIGHT

VALENTINE

“I apologize for Kerri Crow’s defiance.” Maren finally spoke after Kerri angrily strutted into the distance.

“I understand. They all feel righteous anger. I know now what sins my parents committed. They see me as the daughter of murderers. So I cannot blame your pack members. It would be pretentious to not agree. I have also hated-” I paused at the completion of that statement. Hated? That made it seem like it was all in the past. It was not.

“It is not just righteous anger for Kerri,” Maren mused.

Hearing that from this polite stranger made me wonder. There was something more for Kerri? Another reason she despised me. Pushing back the tendrils of hair that the harsh morning wind was bent with playing with behind my ear, I proceeded to ask. “What do you mean?”

Maren offered a motherly smile before nudging me to follow her. My feet found it increasingly difficult to thread forward because we were heading back to the sparring werewolves. At the time, they were doing more staring and whispering than sparring. Maren led me to the front lines before speaking.

“This is Valentine Monarch, the second true Luna of the Crow pack and bride of Alpha Devin.” I hated it. A lot of them already knew who I was. Who would forget the naked orgy that solidified my destiny as Luna to Devin Crow? Even though, it was tradition. It made me seem more elevated. From the look in their eyes, they still hated me. They hated that my new position could not make me accountable for the original sin that was smeared on the Monarch pack’s name. Being untouchable did not mean I was safe and that was what forced my heart out of my chest into my mouth. I was threading on eggshells. The only difference was the damn eggshells were not fragile, nor blunt. “I would suggest that the lot of you get used to her being here. A strong pack is a pack that is in harmony through thick and thin. Her presence should not change that. Her name is Valentine. The second Luna is more than just her family name. She has transcended. She is now a Crow. So you best treat her like one!” Maren added.

There was a lot of grumbling. But not one of them actually had the audacity to actually speak up. Maren’s solidarity made me feel better. I was happy to know that some Crow legacies were capable of peeling past the name I carried and the meaning behind it to see me. But I had a lingering question that Maren had still not answered.

“I appreciate that Maren. But you did not have-”

“Nonsense!” The woman cut in. “What kind of Delta would I be if I was not serving my Alphas to my best abilities?”

“Now about Kerri,” I saw an opportunity and I took it. There was no way that answer was getting swept under the rug. “You said-”

“Do you want to spar with me?” Maren cut in, again. She had a habit of doing that. It was almost infuriating. But I also knew she was not doing it intentionally. She was a Delta in charge of a platoon of young and impressionable Sentinels. She was used to having the last word. A bad habit she clearly never got rid of.

“Why would you want to spar with me?” I asked.

“I hear the gift that the moon goddess handed over to the Monarch bloodline is interesting. Many claim that you can use any object as a weapon with dangerous proficiency even when you have never had prior experience. Is that true?”

Maren’s words had some truth in them. The gift that the moon goddess handed true Monarch werewolves paved way for a lot to become assassins. But no one really had anything to fear because we were peaceful or so I had been led to believe. The abilities of the Monarch pack allowed us to gain an almost omnipresent knowledge of a weapon we laid our hands on, even without prior training or experience. It did not work with every object however like Maren believed. I wondered if answering her was the smart thing to do considering I knew very well where this conversation was going. But f**k it! My curiosity got the better of me. “There are some truths in your statement.”

“Good,” Maren giggled right before she whistled in the faces of her sentinels. It was obviously a signal for something, as one of the young male sentinels ran towards us holding two bow staffs. Maren took them from him and shoved one towards me, saying, "Fight me."

I couldn't help but think that Maren was insane to make such a proposal, but I knew better than to doubt a Delta. She looked like she had seen her fair share of battles, and as a Luna, I knew how foolish it would be to underestimate her. I took the staff from Maren’s outstretched hands, solemnly agreeing to spar her. If she wanted to see how fascinating the Monarch gift was, I was willing to put on a good show. Gripping at the sturdy wooden staff, I felt my body grow out. Knowledge and how to use them surged through me and the world seemed to empty until it was just me and Maren. A sinister grin made it to the corners of my mouth as it suddenly registered in the back of my mind that I had this easy win. It was not overconfidence. The blood rage that possessed a Monarch werewolf when they cradled their weapon of choice was like a high of both strength and madness. If I willed it, blood would flow.

Maren twirled her bow staff, expertly moving it through the air in a way that made my head spin. "Come on," she taunted. "Don't be afraid to hit me."

I lunged forward, swinging the staff at Maren's midsection. She deftly dodged to the side, bringing her own weapon down to strike my arm. I saw an opportunity and my eyes went white with madness. I never put my strength in the first swing. It would take only minimal strength to slam the staff into her head. The first hit would stun her. The second hit; a more precise attack would break something. But at the last minute, I let the opportunity slide. Maren’s bow whacked my arm mercilessly. I winced in pain as insidious rage blinded me. For a second there, I was close to snapping the bow in half and jabbing the rough edge into Maren’s eyes. Maren must have seen it. The madness behind my eyes. Because she immediately charged at me, swinging for my head. The woman was smart. I would give her that. She wanted to take that opportunity away from me. The opportunity to think. But it was a feeble attempt. I could read her moves with ease. Every time she thought she had me, I slipped away, my movement graceful and fluid. It was almost like fighting the wind.

“Have you ever fought with a staff before?” Maren asked as we continued to spar. I could see the frustration in her eyes. Her swings got faster. More brutal.

“I am not a fighter, Maren,” I replied, fixated on her attacks. With each primal attack, Maren got sloppy. I could see the openings in Maren's defenses. I could see opportunities to knock her out. But every time I moved to strike, something held me back. Maybe it was a sense of sportsmanship, or maybe it was fear of hurting her. The gift in my blood was not for sparring. There was a reason why we were peaceful. The bloodlust that consumed us when we touched a weapon is almost demonic. The gift was made for war. I would not stop at one hit or a second. The animal caged inside my blood and packaged as a gift of the mother of the night would want pain, suffering, and blood. The Monarch already had a reputation. This would fuel something wicked. This fight was like s*x for the power in my blood. It did not like to be teased. If I kept on playing this game, it would take over. I could not have that happen. So I stopped playing the game of cat and mouse.

I made a mistake. I left myself open for just a moment, and Maren took advantage of it. She swung her bow staff at my side, and I felt the wind knocked out of me as the weapon made contact.

I stumbled backward, gasping for air, while Maren grinned triumphantly. "Good effort," she said, extending a hand to help me up. "You're not bad for a beginner."

I accepted the hand and Maren pulled me up. When I was close enough, I saw the grin on her face disappear. I saw her face turn dark as she whispered into my ear. “I am not a pity case Valentine Crow. There is no mercy in the battleground. So do not ever believe it is in your place to show me one.”

I took a deep breath, my heart still pounding from the intensity of the fight. Maren was right, I had been holding back, intentionally missing opportunities to decimate her. But it wasn't out of pity or underestimating her skills. It was out of fear. My own fears. She would not get it.

I stepped back, meeting her gaze head-on. "I know you're not a pity case, Maren," I said, my voice firm. "I hold back because I cannot have your sentinels continue to look at me like I am a demon in a flesh suit. Defeating you would have proved that."

Maren's expression softened slightly, and I could see the concern in her eyes. "You mean that you could have taken me out at any moment?" She asked.

“Effortlessly,” I answered.

“Impressive,” Maren noted. “I best give you an answer since you gave me one. Valentine does not just despise you because you are the daughter of the man who rained g******e on the Crow pack. Valentine despises you because the goddess fated you to Devin. Kerri grew up with all three Crow brothers and she has always had an unhealthy attachment to all three. One doesn’t like women. The other has been matched and now, you come into the picture. A leech that takes away the last opportunity for her to become an honorary Luna or Beta. For Valentine, this is not about your family history. This is about three different crushes that never blossomed into something more.”

Her words hit me like a truck, and I felt a mix of anger and sadness. It wasn't fair that I was the target of Kerri's insecurities all because none of her crushes on the Crow brothers were unrequited. I didn't ask for any of this. But then again, nothing in my life had ever been fair.

I took a deep breath, my grip tightening around my bow staff. "So, what do I do? Just take the abuse and hope she someday gets over it?"

Maren's expression softened, and she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "No, you don't take the abuse. You stand up for yourself, and you show Kerri that you're not going anywhere. You're here to stay, and she needs to accept that. But you also don't stoop down to her level. You don't fight fire with fire. You rise above it. Because at the end of the day, you are still the Luna of this f*****g pack and she isn’t."