The Wolf King's Second Chance Mate

Winding Road Pack

                                                                    (Five Years Later)

Lyria Moonglow hit the ground hard, then scrambled to her feet. Crouching low, she glared at her opponent, a heavy-set, solid looking man with long brown hair and a scar across one eyebrow.

“Come on, Omega,” he taunted her. The jab sent her flying through the air, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop her as she hit him in the knee, knocking his feet out from under him as he gasped in surprise.

“Time,” shouted another man, this one younger and blonde. “That round to Lyria, Ferris loses.” Lyria stood, panting, in the massive gym. It was laid out largely with bright blue cushions firmly attached to the floor and walls, so neither Lyria nor Ferris was injured. She wished he was though. 

Glancing up, Lyria saw the blonde man waving another pair of fighters onto the floor. 

Lyria leaned over the man, Ferris, who still lay winded on the ground and said, “I’m not an Omega,” as she spit on him. As she walked away she added, “I know you probably can’t get that through your thick skull. I’m surprised you manage to remember your own name, you mangy lapdog.” She shouted this over her shoulder as she meandered toward the exit, taking extra care to appear casual and unbothered.

Around her, several people whipped around at the insult and she pretended she didn’t notice.

“Don’t call me that!” Ferris roared. He stood, abruptly, his face turning red with anger.

“What, so you can call me Omega, which is factually incorrect, but I can’t point out that you’re more lapdog than werewolf? What, has Alpha Windmere finally gotten sick of you? Do you need a new collar?”

Ferris screamed in frustration and launched himself at Lyria, who  immediately dropped down, sending Ferris flying over her head and straight into a wall.

“Enough!” came a shout from the blonde man, who ran over to Ferris’s side. “Ferris, Healer, now. Lyria, knock it off unless you want to spend your day off running the dead loop on extra watch duty.” The man motioned to two people nearby to help Ferris up, then turned to walk back toward the center of the room.

“Gamma Greyson, that’s entirely unfair! You didn’t threaten to give him extra watch duty when he insulted me!”

“He didn’t send you headfirst into a wall,” said Gamma Greyson darkly, looking at Lyria with distaste. “Don’t push it.”

“I would have,” mumbled Ferris from behind her, “next time I will.” Lyria whipped around to face Ferris again, stepping up to him so that the two fighters supporting him couldn’t move past her.

“Try it,” she growled menacingly at him. “Try it, and I swear to you, I’ll rip you into pieces so small the Goddess herself won’t be able to identify your corpse,” and then, ignoring the shocked faces of the fighters standing around her, she marched straight past Ferris and out the door.

Without hesitating, she started running. The building she had just exited, a massive, one story building with large, un-paned windows that housed a large gymnasium with stuffed dummies and plenty of space for sparring practice, was shockingly quiet for the number of people Lyria knew she had left behind. She didn’t look back over her shoulder, but she guessed that many of the warriors were gathered around the windows watching her run off.

Lyria was simply not well liked. She knew that. A twenty-two year old werewolf with Winding Road Pack who had dared to dream of becoming a Warrior even though she was born into a family of Omegas, she’d been disliked from the time she was a young pup who swore she would end up a Warrior. Being right had only made her packmates dislike her more. In the two years since she had first shifted and the pack Alpha had granted her the title, that disdain had not dissipated.

She ran through the town square, past the open air market and the packhouse. It was a slightly drizzly day, the skies not quite clear. A few wolves waved at her as she passed, but many more ignored her, bustling about and doing shopping or ducking into the local coffeeshop or bakery. Their pack occupied a sprawling town, but the town center had most of the businesses, which fanned out from the packhouse, a massive and impressive manor occupied by the Alpha, Lord Windmere, and his family. 

Lyria’s parents, Omegas, lived in a small home nearby. Lyria had lived there most of her life as well, until she had her first shift and received Warrior housing. She was given the smallest, most remote Warrior home in town, but she didn’t complain. It was the first time she hadn’t shared a bedroom, since she had four siblings.

Lyria kept jogging, making her way toward the area of town with the nicer homes. That’s where Aertis, her best friend from childhood, lived. Aertis was the daughter of the pack Beta and had just had her first shift recently. She was a late bloomer. But upon shifting she had learned that her mate was Alpha Windmere’s oldest son and the likely future Alpha of Winding Road Pack. They were planning their wedding now, and Lyria had been avoiding Aertis for a while, bored as she was with listening to the endless planning. She was starting to feel bad.

Lyria eventually approached a wide lawn with an impressively large house sat squarely in the middle. Behind it was enough space for stables, in which the Delune family kept horses. Most wolves kept a horse and cart, the easiest means of transporting pups throughout the kingdom, but the Delune family kept a full stable with several carts and carriages. Such was the privilege of the pack Beta, who was also assigned three Omegas to assist with household management.

Lyria approached the front door and knocked loudly. One of the Omegas who worked for the Delune family answered, Myla, a beautiful young wolf who had recently had her first shift at age twenty. She hadn’t yet found a mate.

“Warrior Moonglow,” Myla bowed respectfully. Lyria had to stifle the urge to bow back, an urge ingrained in her from her Omega upbringing. As a Warrior, it was no longer required that she bow to anyone, other than the Alpha or Beta at certain formal events or gatherings.

“Is Aertis in?” Lyria asked, peering over Myla’s shoulder into the house.

“Yes, yes,” Myla stood aside. “She is up in her room with Lady Delune. Sir Delune is away at the packhouse.”

Lyria grinned gratefully at Myla, who had been working in the Delune family home for a few years now and knew well the tension between Aertis’s father, Francis, and Lyria. Though the rest of the Delune family embraced Lyria as if she was one of the family, Francis was cold to her. Alpha Windmere hated her family, and Francis Delune was a dutiful Beta who followed the lead of his Alpha. 

A small wooden clock in the corner of the room chimed out, telling Lyria it was just six. Myla noted the time as well, and as Lyria rushed to the stairs, she asked, “will you be joining the Delune family for dinner?”

“I don’t know that I should, Myla, but thank you. I’m not sure Sir Delune has recovered sufficiently since last week’s family dinner,” Lyria laughed. She had dinner with the Delune family often, and last week she had been enjoying a delicious roast lovingly prepared by Aertis’s mother, Brigid, when Alpha Windmere had come by to see Francis. Though no one had said so to Lyria, she suspected that Beta Delune heard some choice words about his dinner guest.

“Sir Delune won’t be joining us for dinner,” Myla says tentatively. “He sent a messenger back a short while ago. Urgent business holds his attention at the packhouse with Alpha Windmere.”

“Ah,” Lyria says with a smile. “That is an entirely different matter, then. Yes, I’d love to join for dinner if Lady Delune will have me.”

Myla curtsied as Lyria headed up the stairs, then turned left toward Aertis’s room. As a child, Lyria had always envied Aertis for her large, spacious room which she didn’t even have to share with any siblings. The Delune family was prosperous enough to have five bedrooms in their home, and no one had to share. It was quite the contrast to Lyria’s childhood home, a cramped one floor house with barely enough room to turn around in, and certainly not enough room for Lyria’s family of seven.

“Lyria,” Aertis cried out with joy as Lyria opened the door. She grinned. One downside to being a wolf was how difficult it was to hide your presence from anyone. Aertis must have known she was coming by scent before she even knocked on the front door. As a future Luna, Aertis had an even stronger sense of smell and a better sense for the pack than Lyria did as a Warrior.

“Hey, Aertis,” Lyria smiled. Her friend was wrapped up in layers and layers of green gauzy fabric, her mother seated on the floor beside her and cutting the lengths of fabric into smaller strips. “What are you two doing?” She asked, sitting on the large bed. Unlike Lyria’s bed, stuffed with straw, Aertis had a goose feather mattress. Lyria stretched as she sat, enjoying the luxurious feel of the feather mattress under her tired frame.

“Preparing the hangings to decorate for the ceremony,” Aertis giggled. “We are going to sew diamonds into some of the hangings too! And I’m going to embroider them in gold thread!” Lyria smiled gently at her friend, who had always known a more luxurious life than Lyria had, but who was now basking in the glow of marrying into the family of the Alpha, a Lord at the King’s Council Table and a prestigious family.

“Will you be joining us for dinner?” asked Lady Delune, smiling as well. “My husband will, regrettably, be working late into the night and can’t join us.”

“Myla told me,” Lyria replied. “I’d be happy to join you.”

“If you want,” Aertis said, pushing the fabric around gleefully, “you can help me embroider. You were always better with a needle than I!”

“I’d love to,” Lyria said. Although it pained her to think of Aertis marrying, when Lyria doubted she ever would, she was happy to see her friend so joyful. Aertis was the only wolf who believed in Lyria when she asserted that she wanted to be a Warrior. Lyria tried to hide her sadness to be equally supportive now. 

“Can you believe it?” Aertis asked her, “me, the Luna?”

“Of course I can, Aertis,” Lyria chuckled, “you’ve had an interest in Lyle Windmere since we were just young pups. And you’ve said you wanted to be Luna since just after that.”

“Still,” Aertis sighed dreamily. “And we will have the wedding and our official mate ceremony in two months!”

“Well, you still won’t be Luna, so you still have something to dream about,” Lyria replied with a chuckle.

“True, not until Lyle becomes the Alpha. But I’ll get to move into the packhouse… oh you can visit me there!”

“Not sure that’s a good idea, Aery,” Lyria said, her tone darkening. “Too much time around your intended’s father isn’t good for anyone,” she added.

“Well, when Lyle is Alpha, all that will change,” Aertis said, exchanging a sympathetic glance with Lady Delune as she said it, “I promise. Then you’ll be recognized for the amazing Warrior and friend that you are.”

Lyria forced a smile. Lyle Windmere didn’t hate her, the way his father Mannon Windmere did, but he was primarily polite to Lyria out of courtesy to Aertis. She was sure he would not be some great champion of her family, or of her. 

But as she watched her best friend dancing about with joy, she couldn’t bring herself to say that. She was content watching her friend experience all the happiness she herself would probably never feel.