Choosing You, My Perilous Alpha

Chapter2

FLASHBACK

Yearning for an escape into the enchanting realms of books, settling among the whimsical pages forever held an irresistible allure for Charity.

It wasn't that she despised her reality; rather, she harbored disdain for the intricate mechanisms of pack politics that incessantly entangled her. At the tender age of sixteen, she once believed she would be shielded from such complexities, only to realize her father's expectations made it incredibly challenging.

Banishing the troubling thoughts, she brushed a lengthy braid over her shoulder, immersing herself in the fervent consumption of words, a resolute effort to transport herself elsewhere.

Perched at the base of a sprawling oak tree, its gnarled roots providing the perfect makeshift seat, Charity delved into her latest literary obsession. The sun began its descent, enveloping the virgin pages of her book in a warm orange hue. The day had been unusually balmy, ensuring that anyone seeking Charity would discover her in the shade, engrossed in her reading.

There existed no finer way to pass a summer evening.

Natasha had departed for her run moments earlier, an activity that held minimal appeal for Charity. Natasha had assured her swift return, and Charity had acquiesced to await her in the clearing where the younger wolves of their pack congregated for training sessions. While not entirely unfamiliar terrain, given the mandatory training for all young wolves, the setting left Charity feeling unsettled. She could virtually sense the scrutinizing gazes of her peers who toiled rigorously in their training as she lounged in the shade.

A subtle murmur, not entirely distant, caught Charity's attention, emanating from wolves conversing just beyond earshot. Her lupine senses, still in the process of maturation, compelled Charity to rely heavily on her human faculties, which were more familiar to her.

Navigating the decision of whether to dismiss the murmurs tugged at Charity's thoughts. As the muttering intensified with proximity, she hesitated to glance upwards. Anxiety mingled with reluctance to validate her apprehensions, and she exhibited no inclination towards engaging in discourse with a passing wolf merely due to accidental eye contact.

It became increasingly challenging to disregard the growing chorus of voices, the resonant footfalls growing louder and closer as they inexorably drew near. Urging her body into a state of utter stillness, Charity permitted an instinctual tranquility to envelop her mind until her breath scarcely stirred. Recalling her father's teachings, she endeavored to synchronize with the wind, ensuring her presence remained undetected akin to unseen prey. However, the bark pressing into her back served as a stark reminder of her confined predicament.

A group approached directly towards her, mere feet away, leaving her devoid of escape routes or sanctuaries.

Inhaling a shaky breath, Charity endeavored to maintain focus on the text before her. Her trembling fingers tightened around the book, the pages creasing slightly under her tension. Willing her heartbeat to decelerate, striving to alleviate the tension coiled through her being, an innate instinct forewarned her of impending danger.

"Well, well," one taunted, his dirt-laden toes encroaching into her line of vision. "Look who we have here, the pack's princess."

Perhaps feigning ignorance could deter their advances and prompt their departure, or it might incite their aggression.

"What? Too grand to talk with us commoners?" another jeered, eliciting raucous laughter from his companions. "You've been engrossed in your book all day, care to spare us some attention instead?"

She discerned their intent for attention, an intention to which she adamantly disavowed compliance.

"Oh, has the Delta's daughter been frightened?" the first one chortled, invading her personal space. "If you were training diligently like a true Delta's offspring, you wouldn't quiver at our sight."

The book, once staring back at her, vanished from her grasp, hoisted overhead by the first wolf amidst his callous laughter.

Casting a furtive glance upwards, Charity yearned for an expeditious return of Natasha to defuse the situation.

The wolf brandishing her book wasn't towering, yet his substantial build served as an implicit warning against defiance. His companions mirrored his demeanor, towering structures emanating a sense of ominous malevolence. Each reminiscent of impenetrable bulwarks, thick-necked, their visages etched with vacuous spite, akin to followers tethered to their malevolent leader in search of destructive gratification.

It churned her stomach with waves of nausea.

"May I have that returned, please?" she requested quietly, avoiding any movements that could provoke the encroaching wolves. Understanding the caution required when wolves were on the prowl, Charity aimed to evade becoming another cautionary tale in the Wolf 101 handbook.

"What's this, princess?" the lead wolf, Isaiah, if memory served her correctly, simpered. His eyes gleamed with a menacing glint, his fangs bared in a toothy grin. "You want your book back? Perhaps you should come claim it."

He shifted, as she had anticipated, his companions mirroring his movements until her back pressed against the tree trunk. They loomed low, poised to strike at any moment.

A surge of primal instincts made Charity's neck hairs bristle as her wolf essence surged forth. The fleeting discomfort of bones shifting and cracking vanished as she swiftly dropped to all fours, hackles raised in a stark warning. Her attempt to seize the book from Isaiah's grip was thwarted as another wolf's bite caught her flank. Yelping in pain, she leaped back, ensuring she kept all of them in her direct line of sight. They fanned out, setting Charity's heart racing, her ears pressed flat against her head.

Realizing the impossibility of facing them individually, let alone as a group, she glanced away, silently praying for Natasha's prompt return. Isaiah lunged forward, his teeth grazing her unguarded side. Despite the absence of blood, tears welled in Charity's eyes from the sudden pain. Crouching low, ready to defend herself, she found herself pinned as Isaiah's teeth closed around her neck, every nerve in her body screaming for escape, urging her to flee. However, any movement risked his fangs tearing through fur, skin, and sinew.

A warning growl reverberated through the clearing, momentarily diverting Isaiah's attention from Charity. Managing to twist her neck, Charity halted as a brassy, almost golden wolf emerged from the trees. Positively directing attention, the newcomer approached almost noiselessly, his poised snarl signaling a potent threat. In a swift movement, he effortlessly dislodged Isaiah, subduing him to the ground. The whimpered submission faded beneath the resonating growl that shook Charity to her core.

Isaiah and his cohorts retreated, tails between their legs, leaving Charity's book in tatters on the ground. Watching their departure, Charity gradually shifted back, curling her toes in the grass. The other wolf approached her book, transitioning with each step until he stooped down, lifting the book with human hands. Silently, he extended the rescued book to her.