Page 2 of Alpha’s Twins (Alpha Kings Island #3)

I gasp as one of the spiked vines suddenly springs forward and cuts my finger. I knew it was going to grow; I could almost see it trembling in anticipation. I just didn’t expect it to burst to life quite so quickly with my finger in the way.

The flower at the center of the vine retreats, petals folding inward almost in shame.

I sigh and run my other hand along the nearest leaf, almost conspiratorially, until the flowers begin to bloom again and the vine coils higher this time—crucially, taking its razor-sharp spikes away from my fingers.

I look up to where the vine has already reached the ceiling and watch as it blooms into a cascade of flowers that shoot across the cramped space, intermingling with all the other high-reaching blooms in the shop.

Satisfied that another of my plants has reached its potential, I give it a celebratory spritz from my watering can and shuffle the base of its pot back an inch in the already overcrowded space.

I step back, admiring my handiwork as the flowers dance and jostle for space around me.

My little shop is alive with its color and fragrance.

It’s a constant and stark reminder of the contrast to the cold isolation that surrounds me in my pack.

Here, though, I can pretend none of that matters.

This is where I belong—in and amongst the flowers that seem to understand me better than any other wolf.

I take a deep breath, the scent of fresh soil and blossoms filling my senses.

My fingers trace the delicate petals of a peach-colored rosebud that has just begun to unfurl its velvety leaves.

It seems to sense my touch, pulsing gently against my skin, beckoning me closer.

A smile tugs at my lips as I lean in to inhale its sweet perfume, and the leaves open in my hand, tickling my fingers.

For so long, I wanted to be like the others.

I wanted a wolf that could shift, hunt, and run like the others.

Maybe then, I would look athletic and tall, like the other women in the pack, rather than being so curvy.

Perhaps then, I would have been accepted instead of growing up on the periphery of the pack like an unwanted guest, even in my uncle’s home, where I was raised after my parents died.

But as I grew and began to discover my abilities with plants, I found something that was just for me.

As the pain of being ignored by the pack began to lessen, I realized that I couldn’t make them want me, but I could still build my own future right here.

That isn’t to say their constant veiled sneers and disregard still don’t sting, but when I’m here working in my store, Serena’s Floral Fantasy, I can forget all that.

Besides, since becoming a hit across the mainland, my blooms and designs generate significant revenue for the pack through producers, delivery contracts, and events, not to mention all the tourists who come to visit the store but also stay to explore the rest of the town.

It’s not the same as being respected as a shifter within the pack, but my store at least allows me some peace.

And probably most importantly, some dignity.

The people who flock here from across the mainland and order months in advance online for large events don’t care that I can’t shift or have no status in my pack.

They don’t care about the fact that I grew up an unwanted burden to my uncle, an outcast at school, or picked on because of my weight. They just love my plants and flowers.

I’m not even sure where my ability to make flowers bloom or plants grow beyond expectation comes from.

My uncle doesn’t talk about my parents much, but I get the sense he blames my mother.

It seems she didn’t have a wolf either, and my father, his brother, lost a lot of status being with her.

But magic was never discussed; he would often dismiss my gift as some kind of latent witchcraft within my mother’s bloodline.

Clearly not wanting it to be seen to taint his own.

The local witches came to see me when I was just a pup and didn’t entirely agree.

It’s magic, but not connected to spells or any of their other methods. It’s more innate.

Most in my pack see it as some kind of cute consolation prize.

I can’t shift; none of the men in the pack would look twice at me due to my family background, lack of a wolf, and curves…

but at least I can arrange pretty flowers.

I’m inclined to agree with them most of the time.

Sometimes, though, I feel something so much greater behind my connection with the plants, something untapped and thrumming beneath the surface.

Perhaps I’m imagining it or hoping for too much.

The desire to be something other than what I am—a disappointment.

But on days like today, with the vibrations of my plants undeniably strong, I feel like I could conquer the world.

I look down at my hands, and they practically glow with life. I sometimes wonder if it’s me who makes the flowers bloom, or if it's the other way around. The power in my little store feels so tangible, yet all it achieves are beautiful flowers.

Sighing, I look around at my latest creations, an installation for a huge event out of state that will be shipped later today.

It’s stunning, and, as usual, all my plants will be sent potted so they can live on long after the event is over.

It’s something I feel very strongly about.

Obviously, there are smaller flower arrangements that are just for show, but the plants themselves must be cared for.

Some suggested that it would hinder my business, but the truth is, I think people appreciate my USP, even if they don’t understand the magic, and I often receive e-mails from clients showing my plants thriving months later.

I’m lost in thought as I work with one of the pink Monstera to develop its leaves to perfection, ready for shipment, and I barely notice the tiny bell ringing above the door until I see my assistant Hannah weaving in and out of the towering plant arrangements toward me.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, clearly out of breath. “I was helping Ron organize his trip to the island and lost track of time.”

She stops and looks around at the almost-finished display with the same expression of wonder she gets every time we send out a completed batch.

Stepping back and looking at it through her eyes, I can understand why.

The arch of colorful blooms, sky-high foliage, and cascading leaves has created a stunning effect.

I can’t help but smile as pride wells within me.

It’s a rare feeling and one that I cherish on the rare occasions I have reason to feel good about myself.

Suddenly, I register what Hannah said. “Ron’s going back to the island? Again?” I ask, surprised. “I thought his ships were still avoiding it?”

Hannah shrugs slightly and lets go of a breath.

“He says it’s fine. All that trouble seems to be over, and we need the business.

” She picks up the shipment details from the counter and walks over.

“Besides, if it was dangerous, he wouldn’t risk it.

He knows I’d kill him quicker than any demon living on that island. ”

I laugh, knowing that’s probably true. Hannah and Ron have been mates for years, and are still so in love.

Looking at Hannah, you would think she could be my grandmother, but she’s fitter and healthier than most wolves half her age.

I have no doubt she could still run circles around Ron.

But I also know how afraid they were when Ron’s ships were attacked by that monster Malik’s rogues.

He stopped trading with the island for a while, but I guess the danger must really be over if he’s started traveling again.

There’s no point in me making her worry, even if I wouldn’t want to set foot on that island. It still gives me the creeps.

The island has always been a place of mystery, even before Malik's rogues attacked Ron's ships; first, with their old alpha being more like a dictator, and then with the island split between his sons. But with Malik apparently defeated, it seems like the perfect opportunity for trading to resume.

Still, I can't help but feel uneasy about it all. There are not many people I count as friends in the pack. Hannah and Ron mean the world to me.

"Are you sure?" I ask, looking up at her anxiously. "What if there are still… things lurking there? You know how strange those attacks were."

She smiles reassuringly, the lines around her eyes creasing slightly.

"Oh, Serena," she says in that tone she often uses with me.

"You worry too much. Ron said he has everything under control now that Malik, whatever he was, is gone.

" Her voice trails off for a moment before adding softly, "Besides, we need the money. "

I can’t argue with that, knowing how tough things are for everyone, so I keep my mouth shut, and we get to work on organizing and securing the plants onto the large pallets for delivery.

One of the pack's largest freight operators, owned by Alpha Nolan himself, is due later to collect the shipment, so it needs to be ready.