The Werewolf King's Mate

Chapter 3 : The Dark Alpha

~SINCLAIR~

Every member of the Lupine Realm lost his sanity after a few centuries of living without a mate. It was inevitable, and nobody could avoid it. Not an Alpha. Not even the Alpha of all Alphas.

Sin had thought that would be his fate. He was prepared to retire to the wild after a few more years. He was more than certain he couldn't find his mate anymore, and was already blanking out to go feral after little provocation. Just at the last meeting of Circle with his elders, he'd destroyed the tablets that had been thousands of years old in a fit of rage.

He was in no state to own a mate. Everyone thought of him as the Mad Alpha, and that's precisely who he was. To prove it, he had an ancient prophecy that made sure he'd die without knowing the love of a mate. And wasn't that what ruined him and Vannie before they even started?

To think he'd thought his unavoidable lunacy was better for the Inlands. With him out of the picture, his people would crown a King that would rule them humbly and be kind to them.

They would table their fears before their next King, and he would allay them. They would look up to him, serve him loyally... love him. Yes, they would love their new King. He would be a better King than Sin ever was.

The thought hadn't put a lump in Sin's throat, and hadn't made his heart clench in dread. Till now. Till his mate.

Vannie. Gods, Vannie.

The girl he'd ordered whipped and degraded. The girl whose family he'd murdered. He'd meant to kill her, too.

Then she'd looked at him, fire in the near-purple depths of her eyes. She'd dared him to do his worst. That's all you've got? her eyes had seemed to mock, and he knew killing her would mean his submission.

He'd sensed her powers, the powerful fae magick she had bubbling on the surface. There and then, he'd decided it'd be a relish to break her, the ice Princess who owned the Flora.

Her ordeal flashed through him now. He'd ordered his men to go every length they possibly could - his men, who were inarguably the strongest species of Lycans. They would have used the silver. They must have. Gods, his men had whipped their Luna. Maybe even done worse. For four moons.

The thought put him in an agony he had never felt in his whole many years of existence. His daemon howled in agitation, and he began to claw at his chest in response. He tore through his skin with great and deep gashes. Like that would make the ache in his heart go away. Like that would make the last few years disappear.

What had he done? He would have used her blood and killed her, had she not come to maturity at that moment. If dawn hadn't just started, and if it wasn't her birth date. The woman he was supposed to cherish and worship.

The gashes became more frantic when he thought about all the things he had put her through. He'd relished her pain, telling himself that her torture was penance for her family's sins.

Now he couldn't even bear to look at her. He'd pushed her to want to take her own life, and she'd been unconscious for one month and six days, and gods, if she died. . .

He couldn't think about it. He would destroy the world to bring her back, he'd give everything he owned, he'd... he'd take his own life and join her wherever she was.

Why had the gods chosen to punish him with the only thing he'd place far above his own life? He'd used his own hands to destroy the only good thing about him. He crashed to his knees, body trembling in agony as he continued to tear at himself.

She would never forgive him.

Never.

Hours later, Sin's Beth found him on the wet grass of the combat field. Chunks of his skin were scattered around him. This was not the first time she'd found him this way since his mate became unconscious, and it wouldn't be the last.

He stared up at the starless sky like a warrior who'd fought a battle with himself and lost. They both knew he'd heard her footsteps before she stepped onto the ground, but he was too numb to move, or to care if she was a threat or not.

"Alpha." Her agitated voice floated to him. Warm hands tried to lift him to a sitting position, but even though she was one of the strongest warriors in the Inlands, she'd never be able to do it alone, especially when he didn't want to get up.

"Alpha," she repeated. A pause. "The Queen has regained consciousness." Maeve said so cautiously, he thought he'd misheard.

He had her throat in a vice grip and was tackling her to the ground before she could even blink. "What did you just say?"

She didn't look away or struggle. She could probably sense that his sanity was hanging on a very thin thread, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. "The Queen is awake."

"You aren't just saying that for me to get back into the court?" He asked, ignoring how broken his voice sounded. He just couldn't bear for this to be another ruse to get him out of his depression. He'd kill her if it was. She hesitated.

"F*cking answer!" Sin's roar was cut off by the sweet scent of a vanilla bush after the rain. His heart tripled in its beat. So painful in its ferocity, he groaned from the agony of it. "She's awake."

He was up and running before he could even think of it. Maeve followed, barely keeping up with his speed. "Alpha, you can't go see her looking like that."

His roar was her answer. Nothing, absolutely nothing could stop him from holding her in his hands, and throwing himself at her feet to beg for her to forgive him. Absolutely nothing.

"You'll scare her if you go that way!" She shouted, and he realized she'd stopped running for a while. The force of her words slammed into him and he froze. He didn't want her more scared. He had done enough of that already.

He turned to face her. "What if she goes unconscious again before I get back?" He asked, not even surprised by the defeat in his voice. Maeve's eyes softened and he could feel her sympathy through their bond.

"Alaric is there to stabilize her. And it won't take a minute to just change your clothes."

Sin couldn't bear her tone that told him she pitied him. He wanted to shout at her and tell her she couldn't understand; she couldn't possibly understand the agony he was feeling. He nodded instead. "Go to her and stay there," he growled, then retraced a path to his quarters.

He met her in front of the apothecary's after a few minutes. He'd changed into trousers and a shirt robe. That was the fastest thing he could pull on, without bothering to tend to his wounds. He could see that his anxiety was releasing bursts of restless energy that was, in turn, making Maeve antsy. Trying to control it was pointless, however. All he could care about was seeing his mate.