Alpha & Omega: The Marriage Treaty

Tristan’s POV

The weathered stone halls of every school building within the Dawn Academy were lined with records of the wolves who had come before, clan leaders, genius minds, master warriors, and all the greatness that lay in between.

I strolled down the main hall of the Fighting Arts School, my hand outstretched towards the wall. I extended my fingers every time I passed the portrait of an omega, touching the cool metal name plaques beneath their paintings. Very few omega wolves had their portraits up on those walls. I could walk the length of a full hallway and count on two hands the number of names who had the distinction of being an omega graduate in the fighting arts. Those were the few who kept my resolve burning. There was Paul Kiriv, one of the very first omegas to train here nearly three hundred years ago. He went on to become a head instructor. Remi Furrow, the great omega general. Hector Morganna, philosopher and founder of the Silver Claw style of combat. Rob Blark, Carl Den, Leo Oan… all great omegas who had excelled in an alpha’s world.

I belonged here, just like they had.

I was confident in my abilities. I knew I was one of the best fighters in the entire school, but because I was an omega, I only got constant ridicule from my alpha peers. And to make things worse, I recently got my mark, a streak of black in my otherwise white hair.

“Hey.”

I turned and sighed when I saw Luke Lunette sauntering out from whatever dark corridor he’d been hiding in. Loch had his own cooldown routine, usually doing dumb sh*t like holding a one-armed handstand for thirty minutes while shirtless, just to show off to the alpha females. He had his shirt draped over his shoulder now, his stupidly ripped torso shiny with sweat. What a joke.

“What do you want, Luke?” I said, not stopping. I just wanted to be left alone.

He flashed that killer smile of his, his fangs glinting in the dusty sunlight streaming in through the huge hallway windows.

“Tristan. Good fighting last class,” he said, falling into step beside me.

“Thanks. You had some good matches too. Even though you still take way too long to shift.”

“I’m what, half a second slower than you are? Not everyone can speed-shift like you.”

“You’ve always been a step behind me, even when we were younger.”

“Oh, is that right? I could’ve sworn you’ve gotten slower.”

“Hah. In your dreams.”

He pointed to the streak in my hair. “Is that making it harder for you?”

“Why don’t you go chew a bone,” I grunted.

“I’m serious. Like, honestly curious.”

I gave him a sharp look. “You think this would make it any harder for me to kick your *ss?”

“It means you’re in heat, right? You know, I’ve heard the reason why there are so few omega graduates from the FAS is because most end up finding an alpha and dropping out. I mean, being in heat and surrounded by hot blooded alphas all day…”

I bit back a surge of irritation. “So sorry to distract you. Is that why you’re so weak? Can’t deal with being around an omega in heat? Or are all Blood Moon Pack alphas that slow.”

He snorted. “Trust me, no Moon River Pack omega could ever faze me.”

“Just beat you, then?”

“I won’t downplay your abilities. You did, but you were slower than usual.”

We entered into the training gymnasium: a gigantic, circular dirt floored arena in the very center of the Fighting Arts School. A huge dome skylight allowed the sun to pour into the ring, and was sometimes opened to allow the natural elements to come in. Training in the snow or rain was always an interesting challenge.

Without another word, Luke split off and went to greet a group of young alphas who were huddled around a laptop computer, probably watching fighting technique videos. I went to my usual spot against the wall to do some quick warm ups before the next class. All around the middle of the arena, people were training or in the middle of sparring matches, and I watched as a practice fight commenced. The two fighters were stripped down to skintight underwear, since anything looser wouldn’t meld with their bodies as they commenced the shift. They burst into a ferocious sprint towards one another and then leapt into the air, their bodies shapeshifting into a half wolf form, a common fighting technique which gave them the dexterity of a bipedal style mixed with the ferocity and natural weapons of their wolf. The two clashed and kicked up a cloud of dirt, and I watched with mild interest, noting about fifteen critiques I had with their technique.

My eyes went back to Luke, who said something to make the group around him laugh. I took my shirt off and began to stretch my muscles. I was alone in my area, but that was fine. I was used to it, and that was how I liked it.

No alpha wanted to associate with an omega, especially one who had a mark. They thought it would make them softer.

You’ve gotten slower.

Luke’s voice echoed in my head.

I unconsciously touched my fingers to the dark streak in my hair. Stupid Luke.

At 22, he was two years older than me and hardly what I’d call a friend, and yet we’d been around each other since childhood, simply because of the relationship between our two clans: the Moon River Pack and the Blood Moon Pack. My family headed the Moon River Pack, and Luke’s the Blood Moons, and there was a generations-long rivalry between us. Luke and I were born into a peace truce set in place by our parents. We grew up feeling the tensions of our clans’ past, knowing that just a single generation ago, there was violence between us.

There was a loud crack, the sound of muscle on muscle, and my attention turned back to the fighters. One hurtled to the ground, his snout buried in the dirt as he slid on his face. The other stood over him, fangs bared, paws spread out wide at his side with claws out. The match was over. Fur melded back into flesh, and they were soon in human form again. The winner put

out a hand and helped the other up to his feet. His face was caked with dirt, and he laughed as his friend patted him on the back.

The doors to the arena burst open, and everyone rose to attention as Master Groff strode in, his traditional battle robe billowing behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice boomed out, filling up the entire cavernous arena.

I hurried out to the center where the rest of the class was gathering in organized formation. Master Groff paced back and forth until everyone was standing at attention, and then held out his fist in front of him, clasping his open palm over it. The class returned the gesture. It was our martial salute, representing the fusion of man and beast.

“Let’s pick up where we left off and get into some more matches, shall we? Who wants to go first?”

Luke’s hand shot up first, and then mine.

“Lunette. Broc. You’re up.”

I tossed my battle robe aside and Luke did the same, and we moved to the center as the class formed a ring around the fighting area. The light from the domed window above us created a spot of light that shone onto us. It cascaded down Luke’s nearly naked body, casting shadows from the rigid lines of his muscles. His physique was flawless, and seemed almost effortlessly so. Being born with the advantage of physical strength was the benefit of being an alpha. It was something I had to work my *ss off to achieve, and even then, my physical strength would always be a step behind his, and every other alpha.

I needed to rely on my other abilities, like my speed and dexterity. I knew I outmatched everyone else.

“Fighters ready? No claws. Half-contact bites,” Master Groff said.

“Three-minute match, an ending blow or ten second knockdown ends it.”

He drew his arm up.

“FIGHT!”

Tristan’s POV

I felt the brief snap of pain as my bones rearranged themselves, reforming and snapping into new configurations as I moved to a half-shift. My face exploded forward into a snout, my teeth sharpening into deadly points. My vision sharpened, and I could suddenly hear everything; a bird’s claws against the glass skylight, the breathing of every single one of my classmates standing in the circle around us.

I focused my senses onto the sound of Luke’s feet crunching through the dirt as he ran toward me. To my surprise, he was already in his half-shift form, and drawing his arm back for an attack.

Gosh, maybe I was slower.

I stepped to the right just in time to dodge his strike, and his arm grazed the fur of my cheek. Evading had left him open! I pivoted on my right leg, using my tail to aid in the speed of the turn, and opened my jaws to clamp them down on his shoulder. They snapped together, catching nothing but a tuft of fur and air