Submitting To Three Alphas

Isabella

The shrill sound of my alarm clock jolted me from a dream that left my skin burning and my breathing rapid. Three powerful figures with glowing eyes prowled around me, their scents filling my senses.

What the hell is happening to me?

I slammed the alarm off, staring at the cracked ceiling of my rundown apartment. The cheap curtains barely filtered the morning light, bathing the room in a dim gray haze.

My business administration textbooks teetered precariously beside the bed, next to my neatly folded two uniforms—a blue polka-dot dress for Twilight Café and a tight white crop top with black shorts for Howl Bar.

Two years ago, I, Isabella Hart, left Forest Territory—a remote village hidden in ancient woods. My Omega parents held low status in the local pack, working hard for almost nothing in return.

I still remember being seven, watching my father forced to stand with his head down in the corner during a tribal gathering, simply because he was an Omega. That night, I found my mother secretly wiping away tears while my father held her hand saying, "Our Isabella will have a different fate." In that moment, the seed of changing destiny took root in my heart.

Despite their hardships, they never let me see their complaints. They pinched pennies to send me to Silver Moon University. In their eyes, I was their only hope—if I could get my degree, perhaps I could break the generational curse of our Omega family.

Tomorrow night, I turn eighteen—a significant moment in any werewolf community. My family constantly reminded me how important this birthday would be, as on that day, my wolf would fully manifest, and I might sense who my destined mate was.

But they remained silent about these sudden... urges. I dared not ask anyone—as lowly Omegas, our pack barely tolerated us, and no one cared about our troubles. Mom always said certain "dirty" reactions weren't unusual for wolves like us.

These burning sensations and uncontrollable cravings, perhaps they weren't just torments but opportunities.

What's wrong with me? I wasn't like this before. I could feel my body changing, surging like an uncontrolled tide—heart racing, throat parched, even fingertips trembling. No, don't think about those depraved things!

I forced myself to sit up, frowning as the sheets brushed against my sensitive nipples. The red numbers on the clock pulled me back from my thoughts. Shit. I was going to be late.

I rushed through a shower that did nothing to soothe my burning skin. I pulled on my Twilight Café uniform, the fabric feeling unusually rough against my oversensitive body. No time for breakfast.

On the street, humans walked past indifferently, but occasionally a werewolf would turn their head, nostrils flaring slightly. I quickened my pace, eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

"That's the third time this month, Hart. One more late arrival and I'm cutting your hours." Mrs. Cooper's face was tight with no hint of sympathy as I clocked in three minutes late.

"Sorry, it won't happen again." I tied my apron with shaking fingers.

"Better not. Register two—Julian called in sick."

My heart sank. Julian was my only friend, the only one I could talk to. Without him as a buffer, today would be hell.

Damn it, why today of all days? My body felt like it was on fire.

Three hours into my shift, a familiar voice cut through the café's bustle.

"Hey girl! Miss me?"

Julian appeared at the counter looking like he'd just stepped out of a fashion shoot—black pants, loose shirt, denim jacket, fingers glittering with rings, black hair artfully tousled.

"I thought you were sick?" I whispered, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

"Sick? As if. I texted I'd be late, and Cooper marked me down as out for the day. Typical her." He leaned against the counter, then suddenly froze, eyes widening. "Girl, you look... off today."

I avoided his gaze. "I'm fine."

"The adult ceremony's coming up. Are you ready?" His voice dropped to a concerned whisper. "Tomorrow's your eighteenth birthday, right?"

"Can we not talk about this here?" I hissed, nervously scanning the room.

Concern flashed in his eyes. "Your reaction is stronger than any pre-ceremony werewolf I've seen."

Before I could respond, I mixed up two coffee orders, handing a cinnamon latte to a customer who'd ordered vanilla.

"What the fuck is this?" the male werewolf customer growled, shoving the cup toward me. "I ordered vanilla, not this cinnamon garbage!"

"I'm so sorry, sir. I'll remake it right away." I reached for the cup, my voice trembling.

His nostrils flared, and a malicious smile curled his lips. "This is what happens when you let worthless Omegas serve customers. Can't even handle a simple coffee order. Pathetic."

My cheeks burned as other customers turned to look.

He continued, his tone dripping with contempt. "Omegas like you can't even find a decent mate. Maybe you should come to me—at least you'd know what a real man feels like."

Julian stepped between us. "Sir, I'll remake your drink right now. And I'd appreciate it if you'd show my colleague some respect."

Under Julian's steady gaze, the customer sneered but backed down.

Shame burned hotter than the fire in my veins. I wished the floor would crack open and swallow me whole.

"Are you okay? That guy was a total asshole." Julian said as we stood outside after my shift.

"I'm fine, just tired." I lied, adjusting my backpack for my second job.

"Damn, girl. You need to figure this out, especially working at the bar. The wolves there aren't as manageable as the ones here."

"I'll handle it. I'm heading home." I turned, fatigue making my steps slow.

"Text me if you need anything, okay?" Julian called after me.

I didn't look back, just nodded. My skin felt like it had been pricked with a thousand needles, and the ache between my legs had grown worse throughout the day.

This is my problem. I'll deal with it.

I took a shortcut home, worried about encountering wolves who could detect my condition. Damn it, if a wolf smelled me now... look at me—pussy soaking wet, breasts aching with sensitivity, and I'd probably act like a bitch in heat if a male wolf passed by.

The elevator in my apartment building was broken again, forcing me to climb five flights of stairs. By the time I reached my door, my legs were trembling from exhaustion and something entirely different.

Once inside, I collapsed on my bed, noticing something in my pocket—a smooth black card I didn't remember picking up. It bore a silver moon emblem and elegant lettering:

"Erotic Paradise—Exclusive experiences for werewolves, open to unmated wolves. This Saturday, no invitation needed."

Erotic Paradise. This wasn't just an answer to my body's needs, but a challenge to my Omega identity. Premium venues always rejected lower-rank wolves like me, but this card seemed to remind me: destiny can be rewritten.

My parents could never step foot in such a place, but I—I would walk through that door, not just to ease this burning desire, but to prove I could transcend their fate.

Who gave me this? What kind of place is it? It sounds like some high-end wolf club, the kind where lowly Omegas like me couldn't even get through the door.

I turned the card over in my hand, feeling an inexplicable attraction. My body ached with unbearable emptiness. My hand slid between my thighs, but my own touch wasn't enough.

Perhaps Erotic Paradise could provide the answers my body was calling for. Maybe Saturday—tomorrow night—I would go see. This wasn't just about satisfying my body's needs, but my first step toward proving myself to those wolves who had always looked down on us.