Page 25 of Alpha’s Hated Mate (Shifters of Clarion)

A n hour after arriving at Aydan’s mega-mansion, we’re following a butler to another set of ornate double doors. When the doors swing open, I almost gasp. The dining hall is massive, with a twenty-foot vaulted ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the darkening mountains outside. An enormous crystal chandelier drips with hundreds of twinkling lights above a table that could easily seat thirty people. Tonight, it holds twelve—all members of the Vaultmore Pack Council, their eyes snapping to us as we enter.

The temperature seems to drop ten degrees when they spot me. Conversations halt mid-sentence, goblets freeze halfway to mouths, and twelve pairs of eyes—ranging from curious to openly hostile—assess every inch of me. Everyone suddenly stands for their Alpha.

Aydan’s hand finds the small of my back, a gentle pressure that steadies me as he guides me toward two empty chairs at the head of the massive oak table. I keep my chin high, refusing to shrink under their scrutiny.

“Good evening,” Aydan says, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of an Alpha. “Thank you all for joining us on such short notice.”

Disapproving glances flicker across the table as he guides me to the chair, seating me at his right hand—the traditional place for a Luna.

“This is Saffron Kamaria.” Aydan lifts my hand in his. “My Luna and Princess of Clarion.”

I muster my best “I’m-so-friendly-and-not-dangerous-at-all” smile and plaster it to my face, giving a slight respectful bow before Aydan guides me into my seat.

A stout man with a salt-and-pepper beard—seated three chairs down—clears his throat loudly. “Allegedly,” he adds with thinly veiled disdain as Aydan takes a seat in his chair.

Aydan’s eyes flash dangerously. “Is there something you’d like to clarify, Councilman Bennett?”

The man shifts uncomfortably. “Only that these claims of royal lineage are quite recent and as yet unverified by the council.”

I adjust the pink satin of my dress and smooth it over my knees, hoping to calm my nerves. We knew this was going to happen.

“The Alpha King’s recognition should be verification enough,” Aydan replies smoothly.

Bennett doesn’t respond, but his mouth pinches like he’s sucking a lemon.

Servers appear silently, pouring wine into our crystal glasses and placing the first course—something artfully arranged with delicate greens and edible flowers—in front of each person.

“Tell us about your studies at Moonhelm,” says a woman with kind eyes seated across from me. “I hear they’ve made quite progressive changes to their curriculum.”

“They have, Councilwoman Foster,” Aydan replies. “Their combat training program has been completely overhauled.”

“And you, Your Highness?” asks an elderly gentleman with spectacles perched on his nose. “What subjects interest you most?”

“Please, Saffron is fine, sir . . . ”

“Elder Greenwood.” He smiles gently.

“Lovely to meet you, Elder Greenwood. Currently, my favorite subjects are Advanced Labors and Defensive Strategy. I’m particularly fascinated about using our minds effectively, in addition to our abilities.”

“Indeed,” says a broad-shouldered man next to Councilwoman Foster. “My aunt teaches at Moonhelm and it has a reputation in providing a well-rounded education like no other institution. I’m Thompson, by the way.”

I smile, tension easing slightly as these three council members—Thompson, Foster, and Greenwood—engage us in comfortable conversation about classes and professors. I begin to lower my guard, thinking perhaps my initial apprehension was unnecessary. It was not.

Then a thunderous voice cuts through the conversation. “What I’d like to know,” says a stern-faced man with hooded eyes, “is how exactly a Scarlet wolf managed to capture the attention of the Vaultmore Alpha.”

The friendly conversation dies instantly.

“Councilman Ellis,” Aydan’s tone carries a sharpness that could slice through metal.

I place my hand on Aydan’s arm. “It’s okay.” I turn to Ellis with my most diplomatic smile. “We had a couple of classes together, and—”

“Perhaps,” interrupts a blonde woman with a venomous smile, “certain unnatural influences were involved? Scarlets are known for their . . . unique abilities, after all.”

“Councilwoman Merrick, that’s quite enough,” Foster says sharply. “Show respect for our guest.”

“I think it’s a valid question,” Merrick continues, eyeing me like I’m something she found stuck to her shoe. “We have a responsibility to protect our Alpha from potential manipulation.”

“Unnatural influences?” I repeat, struggling to keep my voice level. “You mean like actual conversation and getting to know each other?”

“The timing is suspicious,” Ellis says. “After your father’s passing, when you’re vulnerable—”

“Perhaps we should have the healers examine him,” a thin man mutters, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Determine if enchantments were used.”

“Scarlet magic,” another whispers with obvious distaste.

“Mind your tongue!” Elder Greenwood says. “She is our Luna!”

“She is not our Luna until there is a mating ceremony.”

“How about the Holloway girl? I’ve known Vera since birth,” interjects a silver-haired elder at the far end. “Pure bloodline for twelve generations. She would make a more . . . appropriate Luna for our pack.”

Several council members nod in agreement.

The insults are hardly unexpected—I’ve heard worse walking down hallways at Moonhelm—but the blatant hostility from the very people supposedly serving Aydan’s best interests makes my blood simmer. I clench my hands in my lap, fighting the urge to show them exactly what a Scarlet wolf can do.

“Enough.” Aydan’s knuckles whiten around his fork before he sets it down with deliberate control. The single word silences the entire table.

“Saffron Kamaria bears my mark. She is my Luna—chosen, claimed, and bound to me. By the Moon Goddess, that bond cannot be broken or denied.” His voice is quiet and steady but carries the unmistakable weight of Alpha command. “I understand your concerns. A mating ceremony will come but it is just that—ceremonial. Questioning her or her place in this pack means challenging me as your Alpha. If that is what you intend, speak up now.”

A tense silence falls over the table. The council members exchange uncomfortable glances, clearly caught off guard by Aydan’s directness.

“We are in agreement then,” Aydan continues. “I will not stand for anyone disrespecting my Luna. Not in my house. Not in my presence. Not ever.”

Aydan’s mark on my neck warms in response to his defense . . . or maybe it’s the wine. Either way, I reach for my glass, taking a slow sip to hide my satisfaction at their discomfort.

A silver-haired man at the far end of the table narrows his eyes at me before turning to Aydan and changing the subject. “We’ve been eager to hear your explanation for recent . . . developments with your sister, Lady Vaultmore.”

The remainder of the first course proceeds with forced civility. Beneath the clinking of silverware, Aydan recounts to the others our confrontation with Nadia and what we discovered about his father. After their questions were answered to their satisfaction, the conversation transitions into pack finances and territory disputes.

Aydan catches my eye across the rim of his glass, giving me the smallest reassuring nod. I return it with a slight smile, knowing this isn’t over yet. Just the first step toward gaining acceptance in my new pack.

The Council Chamber drowns me in boredom. I shift in my uncomfortable wooden chair, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my back ache or my butt hurt while the council drones on about neighbor disputes and hunting quotas. Seated in the front row of spectators, I’m painfully aware of the thirty-plus pack members behind me, all breathing down my neck with curious stares and whispered judgments.

Aydan sits at the center of the curved council table, his posture perfect as he flips through the papers in front of him. He looks every inch the Alpha in his tailored black suit, occasionally making notes or asking pointed questions. The formality of it all is stifling, but I suppose this is what pack leadership looks like.

I stifle a yawn as Councilwoman Foster presents a proposal about expanding the pack’s timber operations. When they mentioned a “hearing” this morning, they neglected to mention it would be mind-numbingly dull.

“If I may interject.”

Councilman Ellis’s voice cuts through the tedium as he abruptly rises from his seat. The room instantly tenses.

“Before we continue with these mundane matters, I believe we’re avoiding the most important issue at hand.” His cold eyes fix on Aydan. “The question of your fitness to lead this pack, given your . . . compromised status.”

The gallery behind me ripples with murmurs. My spine straightens. Uh oh.

“You’ve been identified as a Neutral wolf and taken a Scarlet—a genetic anomaly—as your mate.” Ellis spits the word like it’s poison. “Your judgment is clearly impaired, and your bloodline tainted. How can we trust you to make decisions for the good of this pack when you’ve already prioritized your own . . . unnatural desires?”

The whispers intensify behind me. I dig my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to stand.

Aydan remains perfectly still, his face a mask of Alpha control, but I can see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Councilman Ellis,” he says, voice deceptively soft. “I believe I made myself clear last night about questioning my mate or my position. Are you formally challenging me as Alpha of the Vaultmore pack?”

Whispers from the gallery turn to a buzz of excitement. This is what they came for—a drama-filled spectacle.

Ellis’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The pack deserves an Alpha of pure lineage and sound judgment. I invoke the ancient rite of challenge by dominance.”

The council members audibly gasp.

My heart stutters. Shit, shit, shit. This can’t be happening. If Aydan is defeated as pack leader, it will destroy everything. They could separate us by banishing me from Claymore. Or even more terrifying—they could exile him from the only pack he’s ever known.

Aydan’s jaw clenches, the only visible sign of emotion. “I accept your challenge,” he says evenly. “As is my right and duty as Alpha.”

One of the elders stands and nods. “Prepare the ceremonial circle.”

The chamber erupts into chaotic movement. The council members rise as Aydan and Ellis are escorted out by the Elders. The crowd flit toward the exits. I’m swept along, dazed and terrified, as we’re all herded toward an open field behind the main building.

My mind races with worry. A dominance challenge? I’ve only ever seen one when I was very young. The Alpha of my pack nearly killed his challenger. Not something that a young girl soon forgets. Dominance challenges are fairly rare in modern packs. Nearly all Alphas are determined by lineage and diplomacy. Any uncertainty is clarified by a blessing by the Moon Goddess through the pack seers. But here we are. And now Aydan has to fight for his position because of me.

The field is dusty and wide, ringed by wooden benches already filling with eager spectators—they’re treating this like entertainment. I’m directed to a front-row seat alongside the other council members.

A couple of mages work quickly to prepare a ceremonial ring in the center of the field, sprinkling black sage in a perfect circle before lighting it. The flames flare briefly before dying down, leaving a ring of ash that will contain the fight.

My breath catches when Aydan emerges from a tent at the edge of the field. He’s stripped to the waist, revealing a torso mapped with old scars that I’ve already become familiar with. His eyes find mine across the field, and he gives me the slightest nod, trying to reassure me.

Ellis appears from another tent, also bare-chested and ready for combat. My stomach drops at the sight of him. He’s older than Aydan, yes, but he’s also larger, with the thick muscled build of someone who’s spent decades training for battle. His body bears even more scars than Aydan’s—evidence of fights won and experience gained.

Elder Greenwood steps forward with a ceremonial staff. “The challenge has been issued and accepted. The victor will lead the Vaultmore pack as Alpha. The defeated must submit or face death.”

Face death? Fuck. I don’t remember that part when I was a kid. If Aydan gets seriously hurt because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.

“Begin.” Greenwood strikes the ground with his staff and backs out of the ring.

Aydan and Ellis circle each other, careful footwork raising small puffs of dust. Ellis’s lips move continuously, though I can only catch fragments of what he’s saying.

“ . . . think you deserve to lead us . . . tainted bloodline . . . your Scarlet whore has you bewitched . . . ”

Something flickers across Aydan’s face—a momentary break in his composure. I want to break Ellis’s fucking neck but I know that in the eyes of the pack, having his Luna fight his battles will only bring embarrassment to Aydan.

Aydan attacks, launching forward with impressive speed. His first strike catches Ellis on the jaw, snapping his head back. He follows with a series of precise blows that showcase his formal training.

For a moment, Ellis seems surprised by the ferocity of Aydan’s attack. He staggers back, blood trickling from his lip. Murmurs of approval rise from some spectators.

But Ellis recovers quickly. When Aydan comes in for another strike, the older wolf sidesteps, grabs Aydan’s arm, and uses his momentum to throw him off balance. Ellis’s counterattack is brutal—a knee to the ribs followed by an elbow to the face that opens a cut above Aydan’s eye.

Blood drips down Aydan’s face as Ellis presses his advantage, landing blow after blow. Aydan blocks some, but many find their mark. Ellis fights with the assurance of someone who’s done this many times before, each movement calculated to wear down his opponent.

With a powerful sweep, Ellis takes Aydan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Aydan rolls, narrowly avoiding a stomp aimed at his chest, but he’s breathing hard now, blood staining the dust beneath him.

Fuck! Get up!! I don’t dare yell out loud.

Ellis circles him with predatory confidence, letting Aydan struggle to his feet. “Is this really the Alpha you want?” he calls out to the watching pack. “A weakling who can’t even defend his position?”

Whispers spread through the audience. I catch fragments—”inevitable,” “always knew he wasn’t strong enough,” “what happens to the Scarlet now?”

Several pairs of eyes turn toward me with renewed hostility. I grip the hem of my shirt so tightly my knuckles turn white, the scent of Aydan’s blood in the air making my heart race with fear.

Aydan regains his footing, wiping blood from his eyes just as Ellis lunges forward. The blow catches Aydan in the chest, sending him staggering backward, dangerously close to the ash boundary.