The Alpha’s Human Sacrifice

2.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, as Darius stepped into the clearing. The night clung to him like a second skin, the cool air brushing against his bloodied body.

His Massive black wolf moved with the silence of a predator, its golden eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. Blood matted its thick fur, streaked down its muzzle, and dripped to the earth beneath its massive paws. The faintest growl rumbled in its chest—a sound that promised ruin to anything foolish enough to cross its path.

At the clearing’s edge, Darius shifted mid-step. His hulking wolf form rippled and shrank, bones snapping and twisting as his body transformed. Within moments, he stood on two legs, naked and unashamed, his dark hair wild and damp with sweat. He rolled his shoulders back, the muscles of his broad chest rippling with the movement, and stretched his scarred hands toward the sky.

Darius was a man carved from war and fire. His body was rugged, every inch of him marked by old battles, from the scar that slashed across his ribcage to the faint lines along his knuckles. His shoulders were impossibly wide, his powerful thighs corded with muscle, every part of him exuding a strength that defied nature.

And yet, his face was a contradiction to the brutality of his form. Beautiful as the moon, his features were flawless, sculpted to perfection: a strong jaw, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that seemed almost too soft for the sharp edge of his presence. His golden eyes burned with a feral intensity, framed by lashes so dark they looked painted.

He was a beast cloaked in beauty, a paradox of destruction and allure.

Kael emerged from the shadows behind him, his Beta shifting into human form with far less drama. His steps were lighter, his grin faintly amused despite the gash running along his shoulder. “You didn’t leave much for the rest of us,” Kael said, nodding to the trail of destruction they’d left behind.

Darius didn’t reply. He simply walked past Kael, heading for the fortress.

The Midnight Claw fortress rose like a black monolith at the heart of the forest, its stone walls jagged and sharp as if hewn from the mountains themselves. Torches blazed along the battlements, their flames casting flickering shadows that danced against the night sky.

Inside, the pack members moved about their duties with a sense of calm purpose. Conversations quieted as Darius passed, heads dipping in respect. But there was no fear in their gazes—only reverence, a deep and abiding loyalty to the Alpha who had led them through centuries of conflict.

Darius made his way to the throne room, where his council waited.

The chamber was vast, its stone walls lined with banners depicting the Midnight Claw crest: a black wolf silhouetted against a crescent moon. A long, oval table sat in the center, surrounded by five chairs. The council members rose as Darius entered, each of them sharp-eyed and ready.

Kael followed him to the head of the table and tossed him a towel. Darius caught it with ease, wiping the blood from his hands before draping it across his lap as he sat, his powerful thighs spread apart.

“Well?” Darius said, his voice a low rumble that carried through the room.

Saria, the strategist, was the first to speak. Her silver eyes gleamed in the torchlight, her auburn braid coiled tightly against the back of her head. “The eastern border is under pressure again,” she said. “The felines have taken three of our smaller outposts, and we suspect an alliance with the Southern Bear Clan.”

Alder, the youngest member of the council, frowned. “If they’re allying with the bears, we can’t hold them off indefinitely. We’ll need reinforcements—or a miracle.”

“The pack is strong,” said Varyn, the grizzled war chief. His scarred hands rested on the table as he spoke. “But they’re starving. Without the tributes, we’ll be fighting on empty stomachs. Defeat isn’t a question of if, but when.”

Darius’s jaw clenched, his golden eyes darkening. “And the tributes?”

Kael sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

A low growl rumbled in Darius’s chest, and Kael raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Two of the villages have managed to scrape by,” Kael said. “Barely. Grain and livestock, mostly. It won’t last through the next moon, but it’s something.”

“And the third?” Darius asked, his voice sharp and irritated. No alpha wanted to hear that his pack was struggling.

Kael hesitated. “Ashenford has nothing to offer.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Darius leaned forward, his gaze like molten gold. “Nothing?”

Kael exhaled slowly. “The drought’s hit them hardest. The farmers can’t grow enough to feed themselves, let alone meet their dues. They’re desperate.”

Darius’s lips curled into a snarl. “And we are not?”

Saria cleared her throat. “Desperation breeds ingenuity,” she said carefully. “They’ve offered something else this time.”

Kael’s grin was humorless as he turned to his alpha. “You’ll love this,” he said. “They’ve offered a bride.”

Darius’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the side as the towel slipped slightly on his lap. “And what am I supposed to do with her?”

“Same as the others, I imagine,” Kael said with a shrug. “The humans have short memories. They’ve forgotten why you asked for a bride in the first place. Now it’s just a story they tell themselves when they’re desperate.”

The other council members exchanged uneasy glances, the room falling silent.

Centuries ago, a seer had foreseen his fated mate—a woman who would bring balance to the shifter realm. A human. The idea had been laughable at the time, but as decades turned to centuries, Darius had searched. He had watched as the human villages passed daughters from one generation to the next, each one offered in a desperate bid for peace, each one falling short of the prophecy.

It had been centuries since he’d given up hope. But the humans continued, their short-lived lives clinging to a legend that no longer mattered.

“It’s been centuries since the seer’s vision,” Varyn said finally, his voice cautious. “You’ve long since stopped searching.”

“They haven’t,” Kael said, his tone edged with amusement. “They don’t even know what they’re offering anymore. To them, it’s a myth. To us… it’s an annoyance.”

Darius’s gaze sharpened. “Who is she?”

Kael arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter? You haven’t accepted a bride in centuries.”

“Who?” Darius growled, the sound rumbling like distant thunder.

Kael’s smirk faded. “The village chief’s daughter,” he said. “Josephine, I think her name is. He offered her willingly to ensure his people’s survival.”

The alpha’s jaw tightened, his striking eyes narrowing. For a moment, he said nothing, his thoughts hidden behind the mask of his expression. Then he rose, his powerful frame casting a long shadow over the table.

“Bring her here,” he said finally.

Kael arched an eyebrow. “You’re seriously considering—”

“I want to see her,” Darius interrupted, his voice sharp. “If Ashenford has nothing else, let them show me their last resort.”

Kael hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll send someone at first light.”

Darius turned away, his steps echoing against the stone as he left the room.

The seer’s words drifted through his mind like a taunt.

*Your fated will be human.*

He had stopped believing it long ago. But now, for the first time in centuries, something stirred in his chest—a faint, dangerous curiosity.