The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Nathan

I woke up feeling like I was floating.

For the first time in years, I felt light, sated, fulfilled.

Lyla.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face as memories of last night flooded back. Her soft sighs, the way she fit against me, the way she looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

After twenty-six years of waiting, of restraint, I'd finally given myself to the woman I loved—the woman who was destined to be my Luna. I'd always believed that my first time should be with my true mate, and now it had happened. Lyla had come to me willingly and had initiated everything. It was better than I could have ever imagined.

I stretched languidly, feeling my muscles protest slightly. As I moved, I felt her stir beside me. I stilled, not wanting to wake her just yet. I wanted to savour this moment, this victory. After she settled back into sleep, I turned onto my back, letting my eyes roam lazily over her form, the way the golden morning light cast a warm glow over her bare skin.

And then—

All the hairs at the back of my neck stood and my breath caught in my throat as I stared at the form. Blonde hair splayed across the pillow where brown should have been.

It was blonde.

Blonde.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision and convince myself that it was just a trick of the light.

A creeping unease slithered down my spine. Lyla was a brunette. Had she dyed her hair?

When did she dye her hair? I was sure she was a brunette yesterday when I had picked her up from the Northern Forest. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I reached out to brush the golden strands away from her face.

The moment her face came into view, my entire body went rigid and the world stopped.

It wasn't Lyla lying next to me. It was Clarissa.

I just lay there, staring at her, wondering if I was trapped in some bizarre nightmare. This couldn't be real. No. No, this had to be a dream. Some kind of sick, twisted nightmare.

Last night I was with Lyla. I remembered her scent, her touch, her voice...

Clarissa stirred, a small, satisfied hum leaving her lips before she blinked up at me, smiling.noveldrama

Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw me watching her, a slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice was still thick with sleep.

I couldn't speak. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. How had this happened? Where was Lyla? I was sure it was her yesterday. What was going on here? When did Clarissa come to my bed and why wasn't I aware?

Clarissa propped herself up on one elbow, not bothering to cover her ample bosom. They stared at me with their pinkish bud and to say the truth, they looked warm and inviting. I tore my eyes from there and looked up at her. Her smile had faltered slightly at my silence. "Last night was amazing, the best night of my life, Nathan. I'm glad my first time was with you."

An icy sensation gripped my chest. Her first? She had been a virgin too?

My stomach churned violently at the implication. I threw off the covers and swung my legs off the bed. I needed to get up. I needed to breathe. I practically leapt from the bed. My body was tense, my hands had curled into fists at my sides.

What the hell had just happened?

I wasn't angry. Not yet.

I didn't know what I was.

The room spun slightly as I took a step, whether, from the lingering effects of last night's alcohol or the shock, I couldn't tell. I spotted a discarded robe on the floor and snatched it up, shrugging it on as I strode toward the kitchenette, my mind racing.

I could feel Clarissa's eyes following me as I moved across the room.

My hands shook as I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the counter. I needed something to steady my nerves, to help me process what had happened.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I downed it in one go.

I felt Clarissa's presence before I heard her. She came up behind me, sliding a hand up my back, pressing my tense muscles with her fingers.

"You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach," she whispered, her breath warm against my neck.

I ignored her, downing another glass of whiskey in one burning gulp. The alcohol scorched a path down my throat but did nothing to ease the turmoil inside me. I reached for the decanter again, ready to pour another, when Clarissa's hand closed over mine, stopping me.

Something inside me snapped. With a roar, I hurled the empty glass across the room, watching it shatter against the wall as the shards flew in different directions.

She didn't even flinch.

"You deceived me, goddamnit!" I shouted, spinning to face her. "You manipulated your way into my bed. You pretended to be Lyla!" My voice rose with each accusation. "You're a vermin, and I hate you for deceiving me!"

If my words were affecting her, she didn't show it. She just stood there, wrapped in a sheet, her face surprisingly calm.

"I never pretended to be anyone," she said evenly tucking her hair behind her ear. "You assumed I was her. I was only trying out a seduction tactic I learned earlier. I had no intention of lying to you."

My entire body was shaking at this point.

"Bullshit!" I spat. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew I thought you were Lyla, and you played along."

"Did I ever say I was Lyla?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did I ever claim to be someone I'm not?"

I opened my mouth to argue but found I couldn't remember her explicitly claiming to be Lyla. Still, she had to have known. The room had been dark, I'd been drunk, and she hadn't corrected me when I'd called her by the wrong name.

"You're going to regret this," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "For deceiving me, you will pay."

To my surprise, Clarissa laughed—it was a bitter sound devoid of humour.

"That's rich coming from you," she said. "You deceived me too, Nathan. You made me believe you cared about me, that I was special to you." Her eyes hardened. "You've been using me to get to Lyla all along. I think we're even."

Her words hit uncomfortably close to home. I had been using her, keeping her close because she was Lyla's sister. After all, she might be useful in my plans. But that didn't excuse what she'd done.

Before I could respond, a loud, urgent knock rattled the door. Without waiting for an answer, my father burst into the room, his face ashen, chest heaving as though he'd run the entire way.

"Dad?" I stepped toward him, alarm cutting through my anger. "What's wrong?"

He bent over, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. "Blue Ridge...pack," he gasped. "Under attack...White Moon warriors..."

My stomach dropped.

"What?"

"Warriors—" he panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "From the White Moon Pack—they launched a surprise attack early this morning. Not just at Blue Ridge but also at the packs of the core Southern Werewolf pack. As I speak to you, they're all heavy under attack and they had to sneak out a warrior to come inform us because they cut off their communication since last night. Right here in Blue Ridge—there's chaos everywhere. The lower villages were hit."

"What about the military response teams?" I demanded. "They should have been deployed last night!"

My father shook his head. "Never arrived. Intercepted...on the way."

"How bad is it?" I asked, already moving to grab my clothes.

"Bad," he managed. "Multiple casualties. The pack is in chaos."

I cursed under my breath. This was Ramsey's doing—his response to my taking Lyla or what? But how had he moved so quickly? How had he known exactly where to strike?

As I dressed hastily, my mind racing with military strategies and damage control plans, I caught sight of Clarissa. She was watching me with an unreadable expression, still wrapped in the sheet from my bed.

"We'll finish this conversation later," I told her. "Stay here."

Something flashed in her eyes—triumph, perhaps? Or was it regret? I couldn't tell, and I didn't have time to analyze it.

"You know," she said softly as I headed for the door, "Ramsey always said you were predictable. That your arrogance would be your downfall."

I froze, turning slowly to face her. "What did you just say?"

Her smile was sad. "I warned you last night, Nathan. I told you that you should have come to me sooner."

A cold realization washed over me. "You're working with him."

"I'm loyal to the Lycan Leader," she corrected.

My father cleared his throat urgently from the doorway. "Nathan, we need to go. Now."

With one last look at Clarissa—this woman who had deceived me far more thoroughly than I'd ever imagined—I followed my father out into the chaos that awaited.

My grand plans, my carefully orchestrated schemes, were unravelling around me. And as the distant sound of howls and cries reached my ears, I knew that this was only the beginning of my fall from grace.

Is it though?

Enhance your reading experience by removing ads for as low as $1!