Marked By The Alpha King's Son

Elara’s POV

The pack border always smells like pine, damp earth, and secrets nobody wants to talk about.

My house

Sometimes the wolves passing by pretend not to see me. Sometimes they stare like I’m a strange animal they can’t categorise. And sometimes, when they think I can’t hear, they whisper things like

“She’s weak.” “She’s fragile.” “She’s a burden.”

Humans aren’t supposed to live in werewolf territory, but the pack elders made an exception because I’m good with herbs. Because I can “patch people up cheaply.” Because it’s easier to use me than to exile me completely. And because my mother

So, I live here. On the fringe. Not inside the pack. Not outside it either. Just… on the edge. A place only stray cats, lonely hearts, and idiots like me end up.

This morning starts like most mornings: the sound of pounding on my door like someone is trying to break it.

“Elara! Open the d*mn door!” a familiar voice bellows.

I groan and shove the blanket off me, feet hitting the cold floorboards. “If you break it, you’re paying for it!” I shout back.

He won’t, obviously. He’s a werewolf. I’m a human. The universe doesn’t work in my favour and never has.

By the time I yank the door open, Beta Rowan stands there with a kid in his arms. The boy is pale, sweating, clutching his stomach like it’s twisting itself into knots.

“Apologies for the early visit,” Rowan mutters, though he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. His eyes flick toward the woods as he’d rather be anywhere else. “He’s sick.”

I step aside and gesture him in. “You don’t say. He looks f*ck*ng fantastic for someone who’s not sick.”

Rowan ignores my sarcasm, sets the kid gently on my old couch

“What happened?” I ask, grabbing my woven basket of herbs.

Rowan’s jaw ticks. “He ate something poisonous.”

Of course he did.

“What was it this time? Mushrooms? Berries? A shiny bug?”

The kid groans. I kneel beside him and check his pulse. Weak. Faintly rapid.

“Show me,” I say.

The boy opens his mouth. His tongue is stained bright blue.

“Bluethorn,” I mutter. “How the hell did he get Bluethorn?”

Rowan shrugs like it’s not his problem. “Kids wander.”

Right. Kids wander. And humans play nurse. And wolves pretend I’m useful until they don’t need me anymore.

I grind dried leaves between my fingers, mix them with water, and gently tilt the boy’s chin to pour the remedy in his mouth. He coughs, tries to spit it out, but I hold him steady.

“Swallow it, sweetheart,” I say softly. “Or you’ll puke out your intestines by sunset.”

Rowan winces. “Can you maybe not say stuff like that to a child?”

“He needs motivation,” I shoot back. “Fear is very motivating.”

The kid chokes down the rest, tears gathering in his eyes. I smooth a hand over his hair. “Good. Just breathe now.”

Something tingles under my palm. A spark of heat. A quick pulse

My breath catches.

No.

Not again.

Not this.

I yank my hand back instantly and wipe it on my jeans like I touched an electric fence.

Rowan frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. Wolves can smell lies. I forget that sometimes. They smell fear, guilt, shame

“Elara,” Rowan says slowly, “what happened just now?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, forcing nonchalance. “A cramp. My hand fell asleep. Maybe your kid is contagious. Who knows?”

Rowan doesn’t look convinced, but before he can argue, the boy’s breathing steadies. The fever breaks. Colour returns to his cheeks.

“See?” I say, spreading my hands. “Good as new.”

Rowan lets out a breath of relief and gathers the child into his arms again. “Thank you.”

“Tell his mother to keep him the hell away from glowing blue plants.”

He nods, but then hesitates. “The Luna Ceremony is tonight.”

Ah. There it is.

The thing everyone won’t shut up about.

The big, sacred evening when the Moon Goddess reveals fated mates. Wolves dream of this night as humans dream of winning the lottery or becoming royalty. And this year is special because the Prince is being revealed.

Prince Kaelen. The Alpha King’s only son. The heir to the throne.

Girls have been squealing for weeks. Some even practice their “surprised but dignified” expressions in the river reflection. Idiots.

Rowan shifts awkwardly. “The pack elders expect everyone living within pack territory to attend.”

I stifle a groan. “Even me?”

“Especially you.” His gaze softens for a fraction of a second. “You saved a lot of our people. You deserve to be there.”

No, I don’t. And no, I don’t want to be. I don’t want to stand among wolves who glare at me like I’m a stain on their ceremony. I don’t want to watch couples be magically paired up when I’m the girl no one looks twice at.

But Rowan carries the authority of the Beta. And I’m too tired to argue.

“Fine,” I mutter.

Rowan nods and walks out, the kid resting peacefully against his shoulder.

I shut the door behind them and lean against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor.

My palm tingles again.

I stare at it.

The same strange pulse. The same invisible warmth. A soft shimmer in the air around my fingers, so faint I almost think I imagined it.

Almost.

I shake it off and get up. “Nope. Not thinking about it.”

I grab my cup of cold tea and dump it out the window. Then I head toward the tiny table where I dry herbs.

It’s safer to focus on things that make sense. Plants. Remedies. Things grounded in reality.

Not weird flickers of magic in a human girl’s hands.

Not things that shouldn’t be happening.

Not things that could get me killed.

There’s a knock at my window. Not the door. The window.

I don’t need to look to know who it is.

“Go home, Talia,” I say loudly.

A head pops up anyway

“Barely.”

She crawls inside like she owns the place. She’s sixteen, reckless, and a Beta’s niece

“You’re coming tonight, right?” she asks, rummaging through my cabinets like a raccoon on a mission.

“Apparently.”

“Good! I need you there so I’m not alone when the Moon Goddess pairs me with some drooling, sweaty brute with bad breath.”

I snort.

“You’d be lucky if your mate drools over you.”

“Mmh.” She grabs an apple. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your mate.”

I freeze.

Then laugh.

Loudly.

The kind of laugh that sounds like it wants to be a sob.

“Talia, I’m human. Humans don’t have mates.”

She shrugs. “But what if you do?”

“Then the Goddess is drunk.”

She bites into her apple and watches me carefully. “You look tired.”

“I’m always tired.”

“Like… emotionally tired.”

I stare at her.

Some wolves hate me. Some wolves tolerate me. But Talia? She’s the only one who looks at me like I’m not a walking inconvenience.

I force a smile. “I’ll survive.”

“You always do,” she says softly. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Before I can respond, her uncle howls somewhere in the woods

Talia tosses the apple core into my sink and climbs back out through the window.

“I’ll see you tonight!” she shouts as she runs o