The Curse of the Ashwood Alpha

Lyra (Lye-ruh)

The air buzzed with murmured conversations, the low hum of voices blending with the steady crackle of the bonfire at the heart of the clearing. The scent of burning sage drifted through the night, mixing with the crisp bite of pine and damp earth. Pack gatherings like this weren’t unusual—celebrations, announcements, even disciplinary meetings happened under the open sky—but tonight was different. Tonight, we named our new Alpha.

Kael Drake stood at the center of it all, his broad frame rigid with the kind of control that had been drilled into him since birth. His straight, dark hair fell just below his ears and he had a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He wore a fitted black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the open collar leaving his throat exposed. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. He never had. Even as a kid, he had carried himself like someone in charge, standing just a little taller than the rest of us, like he already knew this day was inevitable.

And tall, he was.

The elder council flanked him, their weathered faces unreadable as Elder Corwin stepped forward, a hand resting on the ceremonial staff passed from Alpha to Alpha. It was made from pine wood and carved into a spiral at the top. No adornments, no frills, just a simple statement of power.

“We stand tonight to honor Kael Drake as our new Alpha,” Corwin’s voice carried over the pack. “His father, Mason Drake, led us with strength and wisdom, and his loss is deeply felt. But we do not linger in sorrow. Tonight, we look forward. Tonight, we recognize the one who will carry us into the future.”

A ripple of approval moved through the crowd. Not that anyone doubted this moment would come. Kael had been prepared for this since birth. He was strong, disciplined, calculated. He had always been above the rest of us in station and responsibility, and he knew it. Not that he ever lorded it over anyone. No, Kael was just… distant. Removed. His world and mine rarely touched, and that had never been clearer than tonight, with him standing in the firelight while I remained one of many in the crowd.

Corwin raised the staff, offering it to Kael. “Do you accept the burden of leadership? To protect and guide this pack, to uphold the laws and traditions of our kind, and to lay down your life if ever called upon?”

Kael’s jaw tensed, but his voice was steady when he spoke. “I do.”

The staff passed from elder to Alpha, a symbolic gesture more than anything. There were no crownings or oaths of fealty, no grand displays of submission from the crowd, just a simple transfer of power and acknowledgment of responsibility that would follow him for the rest of his life.

Applause and howls echoed through the trees, the pack welcoming their new leader. I clapped along with them, feeling the moment settle. It was done.

Kael was Alpha now.

Someone had dragged a speaker out near the fire, the deep bass of a drum-heavy song thrumming through the ground, mixing with the rhythmic beat of hands clapping and feet stomping against the packed dirt. People danced in the clearing, bodies twisting and swaying in the firelight, their movements loose with drink and the intoxicating energy of the night.

I watched as a group near the bonfire passed around a bottle of whiskey, each taking long swigs before handing it off, their faces flushed with heat and liquor. Further out, young ones in wolf form chased each other through the trees, still brimming with the kind of restless energy that had no real outlet besides running. Even the elders, usually reserved at pack functions, sat in small clusters trading knowing glances as they watched the younger generation revel.

It was how it always was after a big announcement. The pack thrived in moments like these—wild, untamed, unburdened by the everyday weight of duty and survival. It was rare to see them like this, truly free.

And yet, even as the joy of my people surrounded me, I remained on the outskirts, watching rather than joining. It wasn’t that I wasn’t welcome, I just wasn’t reckless or carefree. I wasn’t a warrior or a hunter. My place in the pack was quiet.

I exhaled, hugging my arms around myself as I took a slow step back toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Just as I turned, my gaze flicked back toward Kael.

He stood near the bonfire, his imposing frame relaxed for the first time all night, but there was still an air of restraint about him. He had spent his whole life preparing for this moment, but I doubted he had ever been allowed to fully enjoy anything without expectation pressing down on him. Even now, as the new Alpha, the pack’s eyes lingered on him with a mix of reverence and curiosity, as if waiting to see what kind of leader he would become.

Beside him, his best friend and now second-in-command Torin grinned, the firelight catching in his sharp features. He was shorter than Kael but just as broad, his dark hair tousled from either a run or a fight—likely both. Unlike Kael, Torin had no reservations about celebrating. His voice carried over the noise, deep and warm, and he clapped Kael on the back before handing him a bottle.

I saw Kael hesitate, his fingers curling around the glass, before he exhaled and tipped it back for a slow drink.

Torin leaned in, saying something that made Kael huff out a quiet laugh, barely visible but there nonetheless. It was rare to see a lighter, unguarded side of him. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. Kael straightened, rolling his shoulders like he could still feel the weight of the Alpha title settling into place.

That was the thing about Kael Drake. He didn’t belong to himself anymore. He belonged to the pack. To duty. I didn’t envy him. I belonged to no one. I had no family to speak of, and I spent my days as a house cleaner dutifully avoiding contact with most residents of the town.

And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, his gaze lifted—and locked onto mine.

It was just a glance at first, fleeting, like the hundreds of times we’d been in the same space but never truly seen each other. But this was different. This wasn’t a passing look, or a brief acknowledgment in a crowded room. This was a collision.

The world tilted beneath me, my breath catching in my throat as the noise of the ceremony faded into a dull roar. The air between us shifted, thickening, charged with an invisible force that crackled like a live wire. The bonfire’s glow reflected in his dark eyes, but I barely registered the flickering light. All I could see—all I could feel—was him.

Then it hit.

It slammed into me like wildfire, igniting every nerve, scorching a path through my body with a heat so fierce it stole the breath from my lungs. It wasn’t gradual. It wasn’t gentle. It was a primal force, a truth so absolute that it carved itself into my bones, branding me with the knowledge that Kael Drake—Alpha, untouchable, a man who had never once truly looked at me—was mine.

And I was his.

A f*ck*ng mating bond. It had to be.

A gasp tore from my lips as my pulse surged, pounding in my ears like a drum. My wolf surged beneath my skin, howling in recognition, clawing at the barriers I had spent my life building. Every part of me screamed to go to him, to close the unbearable distance between us, to press my body against his and let the bond consume us both.

Kael inhaled sharply, his broad chest rising with the movement, nostrils flaring as his expression flickered—shock, resistance, and then something deeper, something raw. His fingers curled around the staff as though he needed something to ground him.

For years, we had existed in separate orbits, bound only by the pack. Now, in the space of a single breath, fate had rewritten everything.

* * * * *

Kael (Kay-ell)

The fire burned high, licking at the night sky, its glow casting shifting shadows over the clearing. The scent of roasting meat and whiskey mingled with the crisp autumn air, and the sound of laughter, music, and howling voices filled the night. The pack was celebrating—my pack now.

I rolled the weight of that thought over in my mind, gripping the bottle Torin had shoved into my hands.

My pack.

The words settled heavy, solid, in my chest. I had been raised for this moment, shaped by my father’s rule, molded by his expectations. And now that the mantle of Alpha rested on my shoulders, I could feel every ounce of its weight pressing down.

Torin leaned in, his sharp, eyes glinting with mischief. “Loosen up, Kael. You look like you’re about to start giving orders.”

I huffed, tipping the bottle to my lips. The burn of whiskey spread through my chest, but it did nothing to dull the edge of my thoughts. “Maybe that’s because I am.”

Torin barked a laugh, slinging an arm over my shoulder, unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. Torin was always at ease, always knew when to push and when to pull. He had been my closest friend since we were young, and now, as my Beta, he was my second, my right hand.

“The hard part’s over,” he said, nudging me. “You’re Alpha. The pack is behind you. And right now, they just want to celebrate. Let them.”

I exhaled sharply, my gaze sweeping over the gathered wolves. He wasn’t wrong. Tonight was about the pack, about marking the transition and solidifying our bond under my leadership. My father would have expected me to watch, study, and assert my dominance through silent presence alone. But he was dead now, and I was not him.

Still, the restlessness gnawed at me. The firelight danced over the faces of my people, their expressions filled with revelry and ease. And yet, beneath the surface, I could already sense the shifting tides, the silent watchfulness from the elders, the quiet calculations of those who had yet to decide if I would be the leader they needed. Trust was earned. Loyalty was proven.

Torin must have sensed my thoughts drifting, because he sighed dramatically and clapped me on the back. “Alright, brooding Alpha. I’m getting another drink before you kill the mood.” He strode off toward the fire, leaving me momentarily alone at the edge of the celebration.

And that’s when it happened.

A pull. Subtle at first, like a thread of tension tightening in the back of my mind. My inner wolf stirred, ears pricking, hackles rising. The air shifted, thickening, crackling, charged with something unseen.

I turned.

And then I saw her. Her name flashed through my mind.

Lyra Varrow.

The name was familiar, but only something that never demanded attention, a random person I went to school with. She was one of the wolves who lingered at the edges of the pack, silent, unobtrusive. I’d known of her existence, but only in the vaguest sense. She had never been someone worth noticing.

Yet now, standing before me, she was impossible to ignore with her chestnut-colored hair and wearing a nicely fitted, if cheap, dress.

Her brown eyes locked onto mine and widened, and the world spun. The mate bond snapped into place with a force that sent a shudder down my spine, igniting a fire in my blood so sudden, so absolute, it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.

My inner wolf surged forward, a raw, visceral need unraveling inside me. A howl clawed its way up my throat, primal and unrelenting, demanding that I go to her, claim her, mark her as mine.

But I didn’t move. I shoved the sound back down. Hard.

Instead, I wrestled the beast back, locking it behind steel walls forged over years of discipline. My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. My inner wolf might have recognized her—might have cried for her—but I did not.

I didn’t want a mate.

Love was weakness.

And Lyra? Too soft. Too breakable. Too delicate for an Alpha like me.

I let the ice settle in my veins, burying the wildfire that threatened to consume me whole. My expression smoothed, every trace of emotion wiped clean as I leveled her with a gaze as cold as the night air.

Then, without a word, I turned away.

Lyra

The ceremony had ended in the way it always did, with bodies shifting, bones snapping and reforming, and wolves vanishing into the wild. Fur burst from skin, claws dug into the earth, and one by one, wolves emerged where humans had stood. A ripple of energy swept through the clearing as they gave in to instinct, muscles coiling before they lunged forward, paws pounding against the earth. The exhilaration of the run called to me, urging me to surrender to instinct.

The freedom, the unity, the sheer power of the shift, it was all intoxicating. My pulse quickened as I felt the pull deep in my bones, the familiar ache that signaled the change. This was the moment where everything else faded, where thoughts dissolved into something simpler, something primal. I should have shifted. I should have followed.

But I hesitated.

Because beneath the call of the run, something else stirred. Something deeper.

It was a quiet force, in