The Cursed Alpha’s Chosen Mate

Three Years Ago

The scent of pine and earth filled Derek's lungs as he moved through the Sacred Grove. Moonlight filtered through ancient oaks and painted silver patterns across the forest floor. His wolf hummed beneath his skin, powerful and eager, ready to claim what was rightfully theirs.

This was it. The ritual hunt that would cement his place as Alpha heir.

Derek's gray eyes tracked the massive elk ahead. Its breath misted in the cool night air. Around the grove's perimeter, the Nightfang Pack waited in reverent silence. He could feel their anticipation, their pride. His father stood among them. Victor Livingston's chest swelled with the kind of satisfaction only a father watching his son's triumph could know.

"Show them what you're made of," his wolf growled inside him, restless and confident.

Derek smiled. His fangs were already lengthening. He'd trained for this moment his entire life. Every hunt, every challenge, every fight had led here. In minutes, he would complete the ritual, and his destiny would be sealed.

He crouched low, preparing to shift.

Then pain exploded through his chest.

Derek gasped and stumbled forward. His hands hit the ground. His fingers dug into soil and moss. What the hell? The elk bolted, but he barely noticed. His wolf, moments ago so strong and certain, suddenly thrashed inside him like a caged animal.

"No," Derek gritted out, trying to steady himself. "Not now. Not..."

The second wave hit harder.

It felt like iron claws raking through his soul. They tore at the very core of what made him. His wolf howled in agony. The sound echoed only in Derek's mind because he couldn't shift, couldn't release it. The bond between man and beast, the connection every werewolf was born with, stretched thin as wire.

"Derek!" someone shouted from the tree line.

He tried to focus, tried to breathe, but darkness crept into his vision. Through the haze of pain, he caught a flicker of movement in the shadows. A familiar silhouette stood near the ancient stone altar where the ritual candles burned.

Silas?

But before Derek could make sense of it, before he could call out to his best friend for help, the world tilted violently. Energy unlike anything he'd ever felt surged through the grove. It was dark and ancient and wrong. It wrapped around his wolf like chains. Crushing. Suffocating.

His wolf's howl cut off mid-cry.

And then... silence.

The absence was immediate and devastating. Where his wolf should have been, where that constant, comforting presence had lived for twenty-five years, there was nothing. Just a vast, echoing emptiness that made Derek want to claw his own chest open.

"No. No, no, no." Derek's voice cracked as he collapsed fully. His cheek pressed against the cold earth. His whole body shook. It convulsed as if trying to reject what had just happened.

Footsteps thundered toward him. Voices rose in alarm, but they sounded distant, muffled, like he was underwater.

"Derek! Son!" Victor's commanding voice cut through. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and rolled him onto his back.

Derek stared up at his father's face. He could barely focus. Victor's gray eyes, so like his own, were wide with something Derek had never seen there before.

Fear.

"I can't..." Derek's breath came in ragged gasps. "My wolf. It's gone. I can't feel..."

"Move aside!" Elder Moira's sharp command sent pack members scrambling. The old woman dropped to her knees beside Derek. Her weathered hands hovered over his chest. Her eyes, milky with age but still sharp as flint, narrowed.

Derek watched her face. He was desperate for answers, for her to tell him this was temporary, fixable, nothing serious.

But Moira's expression only grew darker.

She pressed her palm against his sternum. Derek felt a foreign tingle of magic, her magic, probing, searching. Her wrinkled face pulled tight. Her lips pressed into a thin line. When she finally pulled her hand away, she sat back on her heels and shook her head slowly.

"Well?" Victor demanded. His voice was brittle with barely contained panic. "What's wrong with him?"

Moira met his gaze, then looked at Derek. The pity in her ancient eyes made something cold and terrible settle in Derek's stomach.

"His wolf has been bound," she said. Her voice carried across the suddenly silent grove. "Ancient magic. Dark magic. Someone has locked his wolf away behind chains forged in blood and moonless night."

Gasps rippled through the watching pack.

"Bound?" Victor's hand tightened on Derek's shoulder. "That's impossible. Who would... how could..."

"I don't know who," Moira interrupted. Her gaze swept the crowd with suspicion. "But I know what. This curse was cast with intention, with preparation. This was no accident, Alpha. Your son was targeted."

Derek tried to sit up, but his body felt wrong, incomplete. Silas appeared at his side and gripped his arm to help him. His best friend's dark eyes were wide with shock. His handsome face twisted with concern.

"Derek, I'm so sorry," Silas breathed. His voice was thick with emotion. "I don't understand what happened. One moment you were fine, and then..."

"Help me up," Derek cut him off. He didn't want pity. Not from Silas. Not from anyone.

With Silas's support, Derek managed to stand, though his legs trembled beneath him. He looked around at his pack, at faces he'd known his entire life, and saw his future crumbling in their expressions.

Shock. Confusion.

And underneath it all, the first whispers beginning to spread like poison.

"Cursed," someone murmured.

"How can he be Alpha without his wolf?"

"What did he do to deserve this?"

That last question came from old Ambrose Crowne. It was loud enough for everyone to hear. Derek's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists. He wanted to shift, to let his wolf tear into anyone who dared question him.

But he couldn't.

His wolf was gone.

"That's enough!" Victor's Alpha command rang out. It forced submission from the gathered wolves. But even his authority couldn't erase what they'd all witnessed. It couldn't undo the damage already done.

Derek felt his father's gaze on him, heavy and searching. When he finally met Victor's eyes, the question he saw there cut deeper than any curse.

“What have you done to deserve this?”