Page 13 of The Alpha’s Forced Omega (Alaska Alpha Wolves #1)

Witnessing Aurora flee through the back door gives me dreadful flashbacks of the other night when she tried to run from me and escape the motel room.

I shake my head in disbelief, unsure of what goes on in her mind and what prompts her to escape at every turn.

In hindsight, the night I went to her cabin to speak to her would have probably ended in my discovering that she was my fated mate, no matter what she did.

The moment I knew that, I would have decided on the spot that she wouldn’t become the offering to the demon as a sacrifice in exchange for the pack’s safety.

Still, her escape that night was justified, and I understand that she probably heard the whisperings of the others through the grapevine that left a bitter taste on her tongue. She had every right to run away when she suspected that she would become the sacrifice.

But her fleeing every time she should be using her voice is unbelievable.

The only time she ever speaks to me is if she’s being defensive, even arrogant enough to wrongfully accuse me of things I’m not guilty of.

Like that night when I saved her, or when I was about to kiss her the next morning after bringing her back home.

All my efforts seem to be in vain, and I’m still in the dark about what goes on in her mind. For years, she stayed out of my sight, only visiting my dreams as an apparition of my fated mate who never showed her face to me.

Was it all because of that night in the mountains?

I guess I’ll never know. Not when she refuses to speak to me and flees every chance she gets.

Huffing my frustration, another effort goes down the drain when I toss the pan and ladle into the kitchen sink and rush out after Aurora. She steps out onto the blanket of snow, hugging her chest with both arms as if she’s cold and staring out ahead of her as if deliberating her next move.

“Aurora…where are you going?” I call out, my stern voice cutting through the snowfall as I follow her.

When she doesn’t immediately reply, I take longer strides through the garden that appears diamond-encrusted with the snow caught on every leaf and petal and reach out to touch her shoulder, startling her into a fearful gasp as she spins around to face me.

“Are you running away again?!” I snap, every syllable cutting through her like icicles that make her quiver. “Where will you go, huh? Don’t you know it’s dangerous out there?!”

Aurora lifts her doe eyes at me, tender and fearful as her whole body trembles.

“I—I wasn’t…” Her modest voice tapers off as she hugs herself tighter, then glances at the house. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“Fresh air?!” I bleat, a scoff following my question like the very air in my lungs. I stare down at her through a narrowed glare, my chest heaving with uncontrollable, disbelieving breaths. “I just made breakfast for you, Aurora. I don’t—”

“Did I ask you to do that?!” she throws back accusingly, lifting a defiant chin that sets my pulse alight.

“Will you shut up and listen to me for once?! Instead of running off every chance you get?!”

Aurora presses her lips into a firm line of resistance despite the twinkle in her eyes.

Grunting under my breath, it’s when I take a step forward that I see a flash of something purely vulnerable in her eyes.

“I didn’t make breakfast for you because I wanted anything from you,” I sigh, the look in her eyes so soft and innocent that it calls out to my inner wolf.

Despite my anger, I’m forced to tread carefully when I realize that she’s probably overthinking everything, and that’s why she believes I’d want something in return for an ordinary act of kindness.

I have to get to the bottom of this and find out what’s going through her head. She won’t let me in, clinging to walls that won’t even allow her wolf to recognize me as its mate.

“I just thought I’d do something nice for you,” I continue, lowering my voice so I don’t scare her.

The air between us is as dense as the thick snowfall on the ground, causing an unsettling shiver to cross my spine despite my natural ability to combat the cold conditions.

“I don’t want anything from you, Aurora. Why won’t you let me care for you?”

Aurora stares at me, her eyelids fluttering fervently as she blinks before twirling and giving me her back. There’s a brief moment in which I marvel at her graceful movement, but that moment of awe is lost when she scoffs.

“Care?” she scoffs again. “No one has ever cared about me…”

Shaking my head slowly, I reach out toward her, my inner wolf wanting nothing more than to console her. But I retract my hand. Her vulnerability is fragile, and I can’t risk frightening her again lest she doesn’t speak. And I need to know why she holds up this wall between us.

“That can’t be true, Aurora. You must have many who care about you in this pack,” I press gently.

She shakes her head tentatively, refusing to look my way.

I catch the small sniffle she makes, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s emotional or if she’s cold.

The latter may be true. Unlike the other werewolves, Aurora’s wolf is weaker; that’s why she’s the lowest in the pack’s hierarchy.

And I have yet to see her become vulnerable; she has always been fighting to defend herself ever since I rescued her in the forest.

“No one has ever cared about me since Grandmother died…” Her voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it, unguarded and so meek that my inner wolf feels a pang of sadness that makes me yearn to reach out and fold her into my warm embrace that will soothe the cold from her bones and the pain in her voice.

“What about your friends, Aurora?” I press further, suddenly as curious as I am disheartened for her.

A long, drawn-out sigh escapes her, joining the gentle wisp of wind that carries snowflakes toward the west. Her voice is soft when she says, “I don’t have friends, Alpha Elias. What would you expect of the lowly omega? I’m barely a werewolf. I’m just a fat pig.”

The way she spits out the last two words with vindictive venom is very telling of her experiences in the pack as the omega. My jaw drops, my heart breaking for the omega who turned out to be my fated mate. A frisson of anger ignites deep within—has she always been treated poorly by the pack?

What’s worse is that I’d never bothered to check up on her, especially after that night out in the mountains.

Forced to prioritize my alpha duties, the last thing I needed back then was to be tied down to the pack’s lowest-ranking omega.

I had no idea that I was only adding to her suffering, and that’s why she’d been staying away from me these past five years.

The anger that ignites in my chest with a sudden need to lash out at everyone for ever treating her poorly is outweighed by Aurora’s vulnerability and my wolf’s aching desire to protect her now that it’s recognized its mate.

I can’t see her suffering anymore, and I long to reach out and fold her into my protective embrace.

Knowing that showing her my anger will only scare her off, I take a deep breath to calm myself. But it only allows a tenderness to wash over me, bringing with it a more intense need to hold her close and assure her that her troubles are a thing of the past.

But she’s a fragile thing, appearing even tinier in my eyes as I watch her through a curtain of falling snow, imagining all her pain and suffering since her grandmother died.

I know what it’s like losing your family, but Aurora has only known losses, while I gained the responsibility and respect of the Snehvolk Pack.

Perhaps that’s why she’s always running away, running from the pain and extreme emotions, not wanting to face any of it. Her wolf is running from me, her misery running deeper than I can ever imagine.

I have to make things right and tread carefully around her now that I’ve realized that she’s a fragile creature, even if she has mystical powers that set her apart from any ordinary wolf.

She has no idea how powerful she could be.

Not only does her wolf exist, despite it being hidden in the recesses of her being, but she has her tribe’s powers that mean she’s stronger than any of us.

She’s yet to discover this.

As her mate, it’s my responsibility not only to protect her but to ensure that she discovers the true extent of those powers.

It was no coincidence that she had that psychic premonition—true psychic abilities are a force to be reckoned with.

So are the magical powers I witnessed her wielding during her fight against the demon.

With another deep breath, I call out to her again.

“Please, come inside,” I urge gently. “I don’t think it’s safe for you out here when the demon is aware of your powers.”

My statement is what prompts Aurora to turn, facing me with swollen eyes.

“It won’t attack during the day…” she whispers.

I shake my head. “We can’t be sure of that,” I shrug.

“So far, we know that the demon dog only attacks lone wolves in isolated places, but we can’t be sure that the same goes for you.

You’re the only one who can successfully impair the spirit with your powers, and it knows this.

It might come after you if it knows where you are. ”

A fleeting frown passes over Aurora’s face, but she shrugs it off. Though I can’t hear her thoughts right now, I can sense them.

Clearing my throat and raising my chin, I solemnly swear, “As your alpha and mate, I will do everything in my power to protect you, Aurora. But you have to come inside. Please.”

A long moment of silence stretches before Aurora finally nods timidly, agreeing to come inside. Leading the way, I hold the door open for her and step aside to let her in.

Without the shield of the snow falling around us, she passes by, and I catch a whiff of her alluring scent, my inner wolf swiftly becoming intoxicated by the sweet floral notes.

Acting on impulse, I grab her arm and spin her toward me.

She knocks into me, her palms flattening on my chest as she stares at me through the warm depths of her earthy brown eyes.

“Elias…” she whispers, blinking with luscious flaps of thick lashes.

Gazing down at her, our faces are so close that our breaths mingle between us, becoming a heady cocktail of the contrast of her softness against my hardness. A perfect blend that should be explored by the dance of our tongues, my eyes flicking to her lips as she parts them on a gasp.

Somewhere deep inside, I chastise myself for coming on too strong, my logical mind reminding me that I shouldn’t be obtruding when she has only just opened up to me.

I have to take my time with her, even if my body is racing with hot blood that pools at my core, awakening the most primal need known to a werewolf. I imagine it’s stronger for a pure-blooded alpha, and it takes every ounce of self-control to mentally break away.

Gulping hard, I notice the way Aurora’s eyes follow the movement of my throat, giving me a second of pause in which I can gather my thoughts and senses and redirect this moment of intimacy. I lift a hand to her head and dust off the snowflakes caught in her hair.

“Come on,” I say, carefully stepping away and taking her hand to lead her back to the kitchen.

“Your breakfast must have grown cold. I’ll just…

” My voice tapers off into a sniff as I gently release her hand and lift her plate from the table.

Taking it to the microwave, I watch her through the reflective glass as she takes a seat at the table, appearing even more fragile and nervous as she waits for her food.

Goddess knows that I’m about to lose my mind steadily with every second when I’m close to her, but I can’t rush things with Aurora.

Not until her powers are primed enough to allow her inner wolf to recognize me as her fated mate.

She probably doesn’t trust what she felt years ago, just as she doesn’t trust me. Yet.