The Alpha's Betrayal and the Vampire's Mate
Joy Brown · Completed · 7.1k Words
Introduction
Two Alphas I'd loved for ten years—the Wolf King's sons—swore they'd protect me forever.
Then she showed up. Maggie. My cousin. All wide-eyed innocence, claiming she had the same gift.
Suddenly, I was the jealous one. Every trap was mine, meant to hurt her. Every wound on me was fake. She cradled the silver fox I'd killed, tears falling right on cue.
They handed me the moonflower wine. Bryan said, "Don't ruin the mood."
When they accused me of treason, Ronald said, "Exile."
They dragged me past the borders themselves. Poison fire in my veins, bones breaking under moonlight.
I hit the ground. The last thing I saw was Maggie's smirk...
Chapter 1
Alice's POV
I dragged my injured leg back to camp, blood soaking through my pants.
The pack square was crowded. My cousin Maggie stood at the center, battered and bruised, holding a dead silver fox—the prey that should have been mine.
"Alice ran away," her voice trembled, crying at all the right moments. "When the trap triggered, she clearly saw I was stuck... but she only had eyes for the silver fox."
Everyone started murmuring disapproval.
Bryan rushed over to support Maggie's shoulders, touching her like she might break.
Ronald was already kneeling before her, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from her face. He'd used that same handkerchief on my face last year when thorns cut me.
"Does it hurt?" Ronald asked Maggie.
My throat tightened. My leg was bleeding heavily.
Maggie lifted her wet eyes toward Bryan. "Is Alice angry? Because I... took her prey?"
"She has no right to be angry," Bryan shot me a cold glance. "The silver fox belongs to the entire pack."
I clenched my fists.
The truth was different. This morning, Maggie had reached out through our mental link, sobbing that she was trapped by an old snare in the western valley. When I arrived, she was indeed caught in a rusted bear trap, but it was so loose it couldn't hold a puppy. The second I bent down to disable it, she suddenly pulled free and leaped away. The trap snapped shut instantly, its teeth sinking into my leg.
"Thanks for being the bait, Alice," she'd said with a smile, stabbing the silver fox in the throat—the fox I'd been tracking for three days.
Now she held my kill, with scratches so shallow they barely bled.
"Last year during the hunt," I heard my voice come out hoarse, "when that silver fox ripped up my shoulder, Bryan, you carried me for three hours to find bloodroot."
Bryan's movements faltered.
"You said 'I'll always protect you.'" I stared at him.
He avoided my gaze.
"Now you're protecting her," I said.
Ronald stood up, positioning himself in front of Maggie. "The past is the past. Maggie just arrived, she's been through hell. As her cousin, shouldn't you be understanding?"
I laughed.
Blood from my leg dripped to the ground, forming a small pool.
The victory feast began at dusk. By the time the bonfire was lit, my wound had barely stopped bleeding.
Maggie approached with two cups of liquor, her eyes still red-rimmed. "Alice, let me toast you as an apology."
The cup was filled with dark red liquid—moonflower-infused spirits. It would make an injured werewolf bleed internally.
"I'm still injured, I can't drink." I didn't take it.
"Just a small cup," Maggie pushed the glass forward again. "If you won't drink, you're refusing to forgive me."
Ronald walked over, took the cup from her hands, and thrust it toward me. "Maggie brewed this herself. Don't ruin the mood."
Bryan moved to her side too. "You never used to be like this. It feels like you have it out for Maggie."
I smiled without explaining. There was no point.
Last year during the full moon, when I was bedridden with fever, Bryan had stood guard outside my door, driving away every elder who tried to force medicinal wine down my throat. He'd said, "If she says she can't drink, then she can't drink."
Now he held poison and said, "Don't ruin the mood."
I took the cup. It burned like fire going down.
My insides started cramping.
Maggie smiled.
By the time the feast ended, I could barely stand. Leaning against a tree, I vomited blood foam.
Maggie came over with a cloak, her fingers "accidentally" brushing my wound. I gasped from the pain.
But in that instant, I caught it!
I caught the scent in her blood.
Not werewolf. Not human. Something cold and sickly sweet.
Vampire.
"Your blood smells..." I grabbed her wrist.
She yanked her hand back, her smile innocent. "Alice, what are you talking about?"
"You smell like vampire." I raised my voice.
A few pack members who hadn't yet left turned to look.
Ronald immediately stepped in front of her. "Alice, have you lost your mind? Maggie killed the silver fox today. Silver burns vampires—she can't be a vampire!"
"Exactly," Maggie cowered behind him, her voice breaking with tears. "Does Alice hate me enough to make up lies..."
Bryan's gaze turned completely cold. "Apologize."
I looked at them. At this pack where I'd grown up. At the two Alphas by the bonfire who I'd thought would protect me for life.
My leg wound began seeping blood again. The burning sensation in my gut gnawed at my sanity.
"Fine," I released her hand and stepped back. "I apologize."
I turned and walked away.
As I passed the edge of the square, I crouched down, pretending to tie my shoe. I quickly scooped up a drop of Maggie's blood from the ground, hiding it in my sleeve.
Deep in the night, I lay in my cabin bed, the wound too painful for sleep.
The blood in my sleeve had dried, but when I brought it close to my nose, that sickly sweet scent remained clear—blood from someone turning into a vampire, mixed with werewolf bloodline, already changing.
Maggie wasn't purebred werewolf. She was working with vampires and hiding her scent somehow.
But no one would believe me.
Laughter drifted through my window—Ronald and Bryan walking with Maggie under the moonlight. Last year at this time, they would have left a bag of fresh berries outside my window, because I'd told them I liked eating berries when I couldn't sleep.
Under my pillow lay an old pocket watch. I opened the case, inside the cover, a line of small text was engraved: "In desperate times, call me with blood." Dad left this for me before he died.
He said his best friend had promised to help.
I wiped blood from my wound and smeared it across the engraving.
The watch suddenly burned hot.
An unfamiliar male voice spoke directly in my mind. "Ready to make a deal?"
I closed my eyes.
"Help me leave," I answered silently. "One week from now, on the full moon."
"What's the price?"
"Take me away. What else do you want?"
Silence for several seconds.
"Deal."
The watch cooled.
I looked toward the window. In the moonlight, three figures walked toward the distant hills—our childhood secret base that Bryan, Ronald and I had claimed for ourselves. They'd said that place belonged only to us three.
Now he was leading her up there.
I drew the curtains.
The countdown began: seven days.
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