Claimed By Three Alphas; One Fated Regret

Claimed By Three Alphas; One Fated Regret

Nikky Brien · Ongoing · 131.7k Words

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Introduction

"I'm pregnant," I whispered to the empty room, clutching the positive test while my husband zipped up his brother's widow's dress in the next room.

It was our one-year anniversary. I had spent weeks stitching a shirt for Alaric, hoping he’d remember me. Instead, I found him with Tazira. He didn't just ignore me; he looked at me with cold disgust, as if I were the dirt beneath his boots.

"I want her," he had claimed a year ago. Now, he only wanted to hurt me. He forced himself on me, using my body like a vessel for his rage, then left me bleeding on the couch to comfort her.

When the fire started—lit by Tazira’s own hand—I was tied up, suffocating in smoke. I screamed for him. I begged him to save our unborn pup. He burst through the door, looked me dead in the eyes... and turned away. He scooped Tazira up and carried her to safety, leaving me to burn.

That was the moment I died. Not physically, but my heart turned to ash. Through the roaring flames, I forced the bond to snap. "I, Elowen, reject you, Alaric Veylor."

He thinks I’m dead. He thinks he’s free to marry her. But I survived. And when I return, carrying the blood of a Queen he never knew existed, he will kneel in the ashes of his regret.

Chapter 1

"The laundry's piling up, do you want Luna Rhiannon to see it?!" Sirra's voice snapped like a whip behind me. 

I immediately kept my head down, hands moving faster through the heap of damp linens I was ironing. 

The hiss of steam rose as I pressed another crease flat, the hot metal nearly burning my fingers for the third time in a row. 

My wrists ached, the skin peeled from the constant heat, but slowing down wasn't an option here. 

The head of maids, Sirra, stood there a moment longer, waiting for me to answer, but I remained quiet. When I heard her huff and walk away, I allowed myself one breath before lowering the iron again.

This was my life... a maid in Morvain Pack!

Two years ago, I was still Luna's favorite daughter by name, and loved by everyone in the Pack house despite not having a mate after I turned eighteen that year. I believed I belonged to them even if we are not blood related, until the day they found her.

Tazira, their real daughter, stolen as an infant, returned with proof in her blood and face.

And from that moment, I was no one.

Even my wolf betrayed me that day. She went silent… extinct in my soul, and hasn't stirred since. I only pray she wakes before I take my last breath.

The day after Tazira's return, they sent me away to a fishing village on the southern border. I lived there a year, working in a stranger's kitchen, before they brought me back. But not as a family... a maid.

"Elowen!"

I looked up to see Ina, the youngest maid, peering through the laundry room door. "Luna Rhiannon wants you in the solar."

I set the iron back in its cradle and wiped my damp palms on my apron. "Why?"

"Didn't say," she shrugged. "But she's in one of her moods, so prepare yourself."

"Thank you." I straightened my back and hurriedly left.

When I got there and stepped in, the solar smelled faintly of the rose oil Luna Rhiannon favored. She was seated at her desk, pen scratching across parchment.

"You will serve at the Alpha's welcome feast tonight," she uttered without looking up.

"Yes, Luna."

"You will not speak unless spoken to, and remember your place."

"I understand, Luna."

Following my response, she finally looked up, and the sharpness in her gaze didn't waver. 

There was a time those eyes had softened at the sight of me, when she used to smile and ask what I'd learned that day. Now, they looked through me as if there was nothing left worth seeing.

"You will not embarrass this household again," she added.

"I won't," I nodded, understanding what she meant by the word, "embarrass again."

Three weeks ago, I had mistakenly poured wine on the feet of the neighbouring rogue Alpha that came visiting, which almost cost everyone in the Pack their lives. 

Despite the Alpha mercy, I was later punished for my action. How typical of Morvain.

Luna Rhiannon's mouth tightened, as if my words were almost an annoyance, and she returned to her writing. 

I bowed my head and left.

In the hallway, I nearly collided with Tazira. She wore a pale silk dress that caught the light, her hair pinned with gold combs. She didn't even look surprised to see me... just smiled, the way one might at a servant bringing tea.

"Elowen," she slurred, lips curling with mock. "Do polish the goblets properly tonight. Alpha Alaric will be here, and I want no dull silver at the table."

"Yes, Miss."

The title scraped against my throat, but it was what Luna had ordered us to use. Without another word, she glided away with her silk dress whispering across the floor. 

That perfume of hers clung my nose--cloying, suffocating, as if she wanted to mark the hallway the way a wolf marked its territory.

The Red Hall was already alive with movement by the time I returned. Servants hurried with banners, runners polished the long tables, and the steward's sharp voice cut over the noise as he assigned tasks. 

I was given wine service, third column on the left, close enough to the high table to be seen, far enough not to be heard.

By late afternoon, the hall was set. Black-and-silver banners hung straight, the chandeliers lit, and the scent of roasted meat everywhere. 

I worked without pause, polishing until my fingers cramped, aware that one mistake would cost me more than just a scolding.

Even with modernity, Morvain Pack still held to its old customs. Wolves were ranked by bloodline, and everyone knew their place. 

A visiting Alpha's arrival was definitely a serious matter.

Whispers passed between the servants as we worked. Some said a hawk had flown into the courtyard that morning... a sign of change. 

Others spoke of an omen, strange figures falling over the northern gate but no one said too much. In Morvain, superstition traveled fast, and the wrong words could make trouble, even to the extent of getting you beheaded.

"Alpha Alaric of Dravenmere approaches!" The herald's voice cut through the hall, and everyone got on their feet.

I had heard his name. The Alpha of the northern territories, brother to Tazira's late mate. 

A man said to be as cold as the Drezova city he ruled, and the only contender of the Alpha King Throne. He rarely left his lands, which meant tonight was no ordinary visit.

The doors opened, and he entered.

He walked in alone without an entourage. Tall, broad-shouldered, his dark suit cut to perfection. Silver hair brushed his shoulders, and a single black wolf's-eye pin gleamed at his collar. 

His presence was so absolute it felt like the rest of us had faded into the backdrop.

His gaze swept across the hall until they found mine, and he froze. It was only a moment, but it felt as if the air had shifted.

I lowered my eyes at once, just as Luna Rhiannon had ordered.

"You!" 

The word fell from his heart shaped lips like a verdict.

Every eye in the room turned towards where I stood, my grip on the tray tightened until the metal bit into my palms and my legs trembled.

Then Luna Rhiannon stepped forward quickly. "Alpha, she is only a maid. If you require someone—"

"I want her," he cuts in, as his voice carries no heat or plea-- just possession, as if it were already decided. 

"From this moment forward, you're mine!"

The tray shook in my hands whilst my pulse roared in my ears. 

A part of me wanted to vanish into the floorboards… and another part, traitorous and unbidden, leaned toward the sound of his voice.

And that's how I was claimed, becoming Alpha Alaric's Mate...

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