The Alpha’s Human Sacrifice

9.

The bears were dead. Their massive forms lay in broken heaps, blood soaking the mossy ground beneath their lifeless bodies. The clearing reeked of copper and death, and the silence that followed the battle was deafening.

Darius stepped closer to the human girl who lay crumpled on the forest floor. He hadn’t expected her to be here yet, and certainly not unguarded. When her scent had reached him—so tantalizingly sweet it had made his wolf growl low with hunger—he’d thought his senses had betrayed him.

But here she was.

The bride.

The one Ashenford had offered in desperation. The one his council had spoken of in murmurs and sideways glances, as though daring not to hope she would even survive the journey.

He stared down at her, his golden eyes narrowing. She was shaking violently, her lips trembling as tears streaked down her pale face. Her teeth were gritted in a fierce determination that intrigued him even in her obvious fear.

Two steps brought him close enough to smell the blood smeared on her dress. He inhaled deeply, and his wolf stirred again, prowling beneath his skin.

The bears.

That was the first thing he’d seen when he’d entered the clearing—the two hulking brutes circling her like she was a meal laid out for them. Had he arrived even a moment later…

Darius shook his head, forcing the thought away.

Her scent was still clinging to him, stronger now that he stood this close. Sweet, like wildflowers after a storm, but sharp enough to make his wolf restless. He crouched low, his sharp gaze sweeping over her.

Blood spattered her face—not hers, but the bears’. It marred the curve of her cheek, her trembling lips. Without thinking, his wolf nudged closer, lowering its snout. His tongue darted out in a tentative lick, brushing against her skin.

The sweetness of her scent exploded on his tongue. But there, beneath it, was the copper tang of blood, jarring and wrong. Darius recoiled with a soft growl, shaking his head sharply.

She didn’t move.

His gaze lingered on her, taking in every detail. Her beauty was undeniable—different from the fragile prettiness of the other human brides he had been offered over the centuries. There was strength in her features, a fire that hadn’t been extinguished even in the face of terror.

She wasn’t weak. He could see it in the way she carried herself, the faint musculature in her arms and legs, the set of her jaw even in unconsciousness. She wasn’t one to crumble easily.

And gods, she was tall for a human. Not nearly enough to meet him eye-to-eye, but she wouldn’t look like a child standing beside him, like majority of the previous human brides.

It was… refreshing.

Before he could process his thoughts further, a rustling sound snapped his attention to the edge of the clearing.

Dren and the others emerged, their forms streaked with blood. They shifted as they approached, their hulking wolves shrinking into humanoid shapes. Dren was first to speak, his silver eyes widening when he caught sight of Josephine’s prone form.

“Alpha,” he said, dropping to one knee immediately. His voice trembled. “We didn’t know—”

Darius stepped back from the girl, his golden gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. Then, with a low growl, he shifted.

The transformation was quick, seamless. Bones cracked and realigned, his hulking wolf form shrinking and reshaping until he stood on two legs, his dark hair damp with sweat, his powerful frame radiating dominance.

He glanced down at his scarred hands, flexing his fingers before turning his molten gold eyes on Dren. “She was attacked,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Where were you?”

“We thought—” Dren stammered, his head bowed low. “We thought she had run to safety, Alpha. We never expected—”

“You thought?” Darius’s voice rose, sharp and cold. He motioned to the two massive corpses behind him. “While you were thinking, she could have died.”

Dren lowered his head further, his body tense with shame. “I have no excuse, Alpha. My failure is inexcusable. I will give you my head to atone for my negligence.”

“Stop.” The command was sharp, and Dren froze.

Darius’s golden eyes narrowed. “Had I arrived even a second later, you wouldn’t be offering your head. I would’ve taken it myself.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Dren said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Darius exhaled sharply, forcing his anger down. His pack couldn’t afford disarray—not now. “Clean this up,” he ordered, motioning to the bear corpses. “And return to the packhouse. We will discuss this further there.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Dren said immediately, rising to his feet.

Darius turned his attention back to the human bride. She was unconscious now, her body still trembling slightly. Blood streaked her dress, her dark curls spilling messily across the moss.

She was beautiful. Frustratingly so.

Without a word, he knelt beside her and slid his arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly. She was lighter than he expected, her frame fitting perfectly against his chest. Her scent hit him again—stronger now, sweeter, so potent it almost made his knees weaken.

What was she wearing?

He shifted her slightly, his eyes scanning her face as her breathing slowed, evening out in her unconsciousness. There was a vulnerability to her now that hadn’t been there when she’d stared down the bears, her teeth gritted in defiance.

Darius straightened, his expression unreadable as he turned back to his pack.

“Move,” he ordered, his voice cold.

Dren and the others bowed their heads, stepping aside as their Alpha carried his bride through the clearing, her scent lingering in the air like a whispered promise.