Mated To The Beastly Alpha
(Book 2) Chapter 3

The beast looked like a product of pure rage, forged in the image and likeness of wickedness personified. Its eyes were a pool of red, fangs bared and ready. A loud growl pierces through the air as it lunges, its claws tearing at the air. Marisol could feel its power, its

anger, its hatred aimed at nothing she could currently make out, but she couldn't look away.

That pull was there once again, a strange and irresistible itch that blocked out any chance for rationality. She knew she should be afraid. Everything about this entire encounter was terrifying, but still, she felt drawn to its energy, raw and untamed as it was. A need to explore and possibly understand its nature bubbling within the constraints of her chest.

She had enough time, considering that they seemed to be trapped in a room that looked to be floating in no particular direction. And it looked as if the beast hadn't taken note of her presence just yet. She hoped for it to remain that way because, as much as she was intrigued by it, she knew just what would be waiting the second it sensed another presence. Maybe it would even recognize her from all their previous encounters, making it even more determined to end it all this time. She shudders, shaking the thoughts away. Going back to watching the creature, she squinted, trying to make out its exact size and maybe shape, anything that could hint at what exactly it was. She was staring right at it, but it looked to be just another failed attempt. No matter how much she glared and squinted at this beast, she still couldn't tell what it was. It was all distorted, like a blurred, pixelated image. Distractingly, she replaces herself wishing she could go closer, inspect this creature from up close, maybe even feel it under her own palm, but it did not look like this creature would appreciate any of that.

Its growl was packed with anger, but she wasn't mistaken about the whimpers that this same creature let out, sounding like a wounded animal, one that she strongly felt she could heal.

She scanned the room they were in once again, just like the recurrent encounters with the creature, this location felt too eerily familiar. It was a wide expanse, all white with no doors or windows. There suddenly seemed to be a shift in the atmosphere, the hair at the back of her neck standing on edge as she slowly turned around to replace the beast only to replace its eyes now locked on her, an angry growl already tumbling out of its chest and the now familiar scent of her fear wafts through the room, her breath catching. It lets out a terrifying roar before taking a big leap in her direction. She should run, but she remains frozen in place, eyes widening in fear. She wanted to scream, but not a single part of her body seemed to want to cooperate. Was it a wolf?

It dove through the air, and in what felt like less than a second, it was on her, pinning her to the floor in a sickeningly familiar way. Its claws dig into her skin from where it holds her down before it raises a limb and swipes at her neck, immediately drawing blood. Marisol lost the ability to breathe as blood began to pour out of the open gash like an uncontrolled waterfall. Tears brimmed in her eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Like always, she starts to claw at any and everything in one final attempt at escaping, wanting to survive.

Marisol wakes up in a cold sweat once again, her heart pounding in her chest. It was the same nightmare again, except it was different this time. Although there was a difference in the scenery as one part of her nightmare seemed to be picked at random, it was the same beast that haunted her dreams. This time, it was closer than I had ever been. Holding her gaze, its touch was cold and icy against her skin as it finally succeeded in taking a swipe at her.

It was still dark out, and that did nothing to ease her nerves. Her wolf was going crazy. It wanted to be let out. It wanted her to take the back seat this time, wanting to reach into the pack bond, to get them both the help they so obviously needed, to protect her and to feel safe itself.

Marisol's grip on the sheets tightens as she stubbornly fights back the need to shift. Everything felt too much, her room was too small, and her body was too hot. She gasps for breath, her hands flying to her neck as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. It seemed like the dream had succeeded in following her back to reality this time too, the walls feeling like they were closing in on her as dark spots began to flood her vision, her heart threatening to explode.

With what felt like the last of her strength, she forced herself to her feet, dragging herself to her wrenched open window to stick her head out of it in a quest to replace some clean, unpolluted air. It didn't help. She was wheezing now, coughing so hard it felt like her insides were right at her throat.

Her mouth remains wide open. She felt as if it was draining her of her energy, her strength. Her wolf raged. It fought and struggled to free them both. Her grip on the window ledge turns vice, struggling to keep it together. Her wolf was going ballistic, it seemed, needing freedom.

But she couldn't let that happen, not now. She couldn't allow her wolf to take charge because the first thing it would do would be to reconnect with the pack. Even if it didn't, it would want to go for a run.

It was way too early for that, not knowing what could be waiting in the depths of the woods, blending in with the night. That was also sure to draw her parents' attention, and that was the last thing she needed at the moment.

She forces her feet in the direction of the bathroom, still wheezing but trying to do it as silently as possible. She bends over at the sink, splashing some water on her face, but that only looks to make things even worse.

This was why she'd cut herself off from the pack in the first place. She felt like she was dying and didn't want to share that feeling with them because it would rile them up and make them feel way worse with worry.

But the nightmares were getting worse, and their effects had grown alongside. This was the weakest she'd ever felt after surviving another night of terror. Her legs wobble, and she finally drops to the floor. Terrified, she crawls back into the room. Was she really dying?

The worst part was that she had yet to figure out what exactly was leading up to her seemingly imminent death. Still had no idea what it was that visited her in her dreams, leaving her with just enough anxiety and fear to last until the next night. She was in pain, everything hurt, and her wolf that'd been struggling and growling to break free was now whimpering pitifully in her head.

Her heart squeezes in fear, every ragged breath feeling like the last, finally has the reality of the situation dawning on her. She couldn't die like this. This would be too unfair, to her, to her parents and to the future she wanted for herself.

Realizing she needed help, she tried to reach out with the scattered remains of her strength, trying to reconnect to the pack bond, but the result of her own stubbornness and the repercussions of her actions chose this exact time to catch up with her as the desperate calls for help seemed to bounce off the very walls she'd put up herself.

For the first time in a long time, she wanted her parents, wanted to be seen and heard. She screamed for them in her head, but nothing was getting through.

Having finally drained the very last of her energy with the futile attempts, Marisol finally collapsed onto the floor.

A

Marisol cracks her eyes open but is greeted by bright lights that force her to shut them right back. Behind her closed lids, flashes of her nightmares haunted her senses. Beads of perspiration adorned her forehead. Her chest ached, burdened by the weight of the lingering fear that refused to dissipate for months now.

She greedily takes in long drags of air, grateful for the ability to breathe again. Unconsciously, she traces her fingers over her neck, half-expecting to feel the pain or lingering scar of the imaginary wound. Her nightmares had begun to feel so real that they'd started to blur with the real world, creating a disconcerting blend of fear and disorientation.

Of all her nightmares, that one was the most terrifying. She still couldn't decipher if she'd dreamed about the second part or if it was real.

She digs her head deeper into the fluff of her pillow, the weight of her exhaustion only now settling in.

'It was just a dream. She chants, willing her muscles to relax until her eyes fall on the bathroom door. It was open.

Her heart jumps at that, and she springs to a sitting position, checking her body and the pieces of scratched wood from where she'd been gripping the window in her second dream, confirming her fear. Had it been real?

But how had she gotten back into bed? She remembers everything fading into darkness after she'd dragged herself back into the room. In her panic, she rushes to grab a mirror from her bedside drawer and check her neck. There was nothing there other than the dampness from sweat.

She falls back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She felt tears brimming in her eyes again, her nose stinging. Marisol felt like she couldn't keep this hidden any longer; the facade of strength was crumbling.

She closed her eyes for a while and allowed her heart to settle as much as it could. There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but she forced them to the back of her mind.

She would wait until after the ball. She didn't have any other option.

The Dark Moon Pack had become a formidable force in the supernatural world, their strength and unity unparalleled. The annual ball, a testament to their growth, was a gathering of werewolf dignitaries from far and wide.

It was a celebration of power, diplomacy, and unity among the pack, with Marisol's birthday serving as an additional cause for revelry. It meant a lot to everyone in the pack.

Marisol couldn't bring herself to ruin it. She knew that if her parents found out about her dreams, they would call it off immediately, too, on edge to even think of celebrating, much less hosting a celebration.

With a determined sigh, she rose from the confines of her covers, steeling herself to face the day. Her responsibilities awaited. She was planning the intricate details of the ball that would host werewolf dignitaries from far and wide. Her mother had done it perfectly for so many years now, and she shouldn't be any different. Maybe she would strive to be even better, but there was no way that would be possible with how messed up her head was as it stood.

After a quick breakfast, Marisol delved into the preparations for the annual ball. The scent of fresh flowers, the sound of laughter, and the hum of activity enveloped her as she navigated through the myriad tasks that demanded her attention. The floral arrangements, the seating arrangements for the guests, and the intricacies of the ceremonial traditions- all required her meticulous oversight.

The halls of the pack's grand estate buzzed with energy and anticipation. When she was younger, Marisol used to thrum with the exact same level of energy, if not more. How she wished she could go back to those times.

Despite the excitement that buzzed through the pack, Marisol couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something malevolent lurked in the shadows.

In the courtyard, she met Estella, her closest friend and confidante. Only Estella knew of the nightmares that plagued Marisol, but she didn't know the details. That would be unnecessary.

Together, they went through the checklist for the grand event, discussing the details that would make the ball a spectacle to remember.

"You seem off, Marisol," Estella suddenly notice her sudden mood. "Is everything okay?"

Marisol forces a smile, dismissing the question with a casual wave. "Just a lot on my mind with the preparations and all. It's nothing to worry about, Estella."

Another lie. She'd been thinking about her latest dream and how she collapsed. She was still yet to decipher what was real and what was not.

"I've known you for too long to buy that, Marisol. Something's bothering you, and I know so. Talk to me." Estella presses, and Marisol sighs, fingers running through her hair.

"I had another one." She confesses in a whisper, not missing how Estella's eyes grew in size.

"Another nightmare?" She questions, and Marisol nods, swallowing.

"But you had one yesterday, and that one had all of us terrified." Marisol looked away, anxiety already bubbling under her skin.

"They're becoming more frequent, aren't they? You've never told me what they're about. What I felt through the bond yesterday scared me, Mare. What do you see and experience that could be so terrifying even for us?" Marisol exhales loudly, biting down at her lower lip as she considers telling it all.

"Come on. I've respected your privacy and have also kept your secret thus far. Don't you trust me?"

"It's dark and unsettling." Marisol grits out, "It's been going on for months, but I still can't seem to make any sense of them."

Estella frowns at that, "That's a vague description, Mare, but I'll take it. Why haven't you told your parents? They could help."

"I don't want to worry them. Besides, there's something about this, something I can't put into words. It's like I'm drawn to it, and that scares me more than anything."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the presence of Garret. His loud voice reached their ears from where he'd been laughing and teasing some of the pack members. Although he looked to be busy with them, his watchful eyes followed Marisol's every move, trying to be as subtle as he could manage.

"I've noticed Garrett hanging around lately," Estella notes quietly. "It's almost as if he's watching you, Marisol. Do you think he knows something?"

Her brows furrow at the thought, and an uneasy feeling unfurls in her chest, but she already had so much to keep her on edge. "Don't worry about him," she resorts to saying. Estella steps closer to her, "Are you sure? Do you need me to tell him off?" She asks seriously, and Marisol spares a chuckle.

"Although that would be fun to witness, I'd rather not see you get in a scuffle with the Beta of the Dark Moon, Estella."

Estella gives her a wry smile before stepping away. "I'm sure I could take him." She says with a smug look, shrugging. Marisol shook her head, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Marisol's senses were heightened as she navigated the grand ballroom. With each step, she grows angrier. Garrett's intense gaze followed her every move, and it was getting on her nerves.

Unable to bear the weight of his scrutiny any longer, she marched purposefully toward him.

"What is your problem, Garrett?" Marisol snaps, giving him a sharp look. "You've been staring at me all night. Are you a guest or a critic?"

Garrett, unbothered by her outburst, or claiming to be, casually leans back against a pillar, flashing his signature smirk. "Easy there, Princess. I was just checking out your work so far. You're doing a great job handling things. Weldone, Marisol." He says, earning an exaggerated eye roll. "Cut the nonsense. What are you really up to?"

He chuckles before pushing himself back to his feet. "Okay, fine. I was here to tell you something, but your efficiency and party-planning skills distracted me. Your dad's waiting for you. You're supposed to go over the guest list with him."

Marisol's eyes widen, and a gasp escapes her lips. She had been avoiding encounters with her father so far, and so much so that the meeting had slipped her mind.

"I totally forgot," she admits with a sigh.

Garrett laughs again, seeming to be enjoying her misery a little too much. "Better not keep the Alpha waiting. He seemed eager to discuss the details. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be a thrilling conversation." He drawls, nodding at her while Marisol shoots him a glare. "Thrilling is not the word I'd use, but thank you for the reminder, Garrett." She grits out before walking away.

As Marisol reluctantly headed towards her father, her heart pounded in her chest. She felt like her father was the only person who could get her to unload her burden. It was why she steered clear of him.

"Why don't we go together?" Garrett suggests, spawning next to her.

"No. Why don't you go about your day like you have been .... continue admiring my work or something."

"I got bored," Garrett replies swiftly. "But I'll let you face your dad alone if you'd prefer that. I wonder when you became so afraid of him."

Without waiting for her response, he spins on his feet and walks away in the opposite direction. Marisol regretted it immediately.