The Alpha’s Forgotten Mate

Chapter One

Tiara’s POV

The smell of rain always makes me uneasy.

It’s strange, really. Rain should smell clean, fresh, renewing, but to me, it carries the weight of endings. The faint iron scent that lingers in the air before a storm makes my chest tighten. Like something important is about to be washed away again.

The healer says it’s just part of the trauma. That memories can get tangled with the senses, that fear sometimes hides itself in smells or sounds. But deep down, I know it’s something else. Every time rain falls, something in me remembers what my mind cannot.

I press my forehead against the cool glass of the infirmary window and watch the drizzle soak into the dark soil of the courtyard. Wolves move in and out of sight, training even through the weather. I can hear their shouts, grunts, growls, commands, and my pulse thrums faster, like my body recognizes the rhythm of combat even though my head doesn’t.

I’ve been here for thirty-one days.

Thirty-one days since I woke up in this bed with no memories, no name, no idea who I was.

They told me my name is Tiara Vale. They said I was found unconscious near the edge of the southern border after a rogue ambush. The healer, Maren, said I was lucky. That most wolves caught in rogue crossfire don’t make it.

But I don’t feel lucky.

Lucky people don’t wake up surrounded by strangers who flinch when they see them. Lucky people don’t hear their own name and feel… nothing.

“Still awake?”

Maren’s soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts. She’s kind, gentle eyes, graying hair tied in a braid, always smelling faintly of lavender. She sets a tray beside me: tea, a small bowl of soup. “You didn’t eat much at lunch.”

I offer a small smile. “I wasn’t very hungry.”

“You need to keep your strength up, child.”

I nod but don’t pick up the spoon. My eyes drift back to the window.

“Rain again,” she says, following my gaze. “Storm season’s come early.”

“Does it always rain here?”

“In this pack? Yes. Storms are our constant companions.”

Her tone is wistful, but I catch a flicker of tension when she says this pack. It makes me wonder again, how long had I been here before the attack? Was this truly my home?

Before I can ask, the door opens.

The scent hits me before the sound does.

Pine and frost. Something sharp and wild. It slides into my lungs, and for a heartbeat, the world tilts.

Then I feel it, 

The pull.

Deep in my stomach, in my bones, in a place beyond reason.

The man who steps in fills the doorway with his presence. Alpha Maxie.

I don’t need Maren to tell me who he is. I feel it. The air bends around him. The wolves outside stop sparring. Even the rain seems to pause.

He’s tall, broad shoulders wrapped in a black jacket, damp from the storm. His hair, dark as midnight, is pushed back, but a few strands cling to his forehead. His eyes… Goddess, his eyes. Silver-gray, intense, like the moon reflected in a lake right before it freezes over.

“Alpha,” Maren says, dipping her head.

He nods curtly, his eyes already fixed on me. “Healer. Leave us.”

Maren hesitates, glancing between us, then gives me a look that almost feels like warning. She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her.

The silence that follows is heavy. 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says finally, voice deep and gravelly.

“I’m not,” I whisper, though I am sitting up.

His gaze sweeps over me once, clinical yet charged. “You shouldn’t push yourself. You’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine.” The lie slips out automatically. “Just tired of staring at the same walls.”

He crosses his arms. “Then stare harder. At least the walls don’t bleed.”

I flinch. His tone isn’t cruel, exactly, just cold, detached. Like he’s building distance between us on purpose.

“Do I know you?” I ask quietly.

That makes him still. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe for a long second. Then, “You’ve been through trauma. It’s best not to force memories.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His jaw tightens, a faint muscle ticking. “Rest, Tiara.”

He turns, but I can’t let him walk away. Something deep in me, my wolf, maybe, aches when he moves toward the door. “Wait,” I say. “You keep avoiding me. Everyone does. Why? Did I do something wrong?”

He stops, his back to me. I can see the tension in his shoulders. “No.”

“But you look at me like you hate me.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, then faces me again. The look in his eyes steals my breath. It isn’t hate. It’s something worse. Something hollow, like grief frozen solid.

“You should eat,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You’ll need your strength. We have visitors coming tomorrow.”

“Visitors?”

“From the Northern Ridge.”

“Lycans?”

His eyes flicker, almost imperceptibly. “They’ll stay in the packhouse for the night before continuing north. I expect you to stay away from them.”

“Why?”

His voice turns flat again. “Because I said so.”

My chest tightens. “Am I a prisoner?”

That stops him cold. “No.”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

He doesn’t answer. The silence between us stretches until the rain outside grows louder, harder, filling the space his words won’t.

When he finally speaks, his voice sounds almost human. “There are things you don’t remember. Things you shouldn’t.”

“Then tell me.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

And before I can stop him, he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that feels too final.

That night, I can’t sleep.

The rain hasn’t stopped, and each drop against the roof feels like a heartbeat I can’t quiet.

I turn over in bed again and again, tangled in sheets that smell faintly of herbs and antiseptic. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes. Not full memories, just fragments. A dark forest. The sound of snarls. A hand reaching for mine. Silver eyes glowing in the dark.

His eyes.

I sit up, breathing hard. My wolf stirs restlessly under my skin. She doesn’t speak in words, not really, but I feel her. Pacing. Whining. Searching for something. Someone.

The connection hums faintly in my chest, like an invisible thread tugging at my heart. It’s not normal, I know that much. Wolves can feel the emotions of their mates, their families, but this feels different. Stronger. More dangerous.

Then, out of nowhere, 

“Tiara.”

I freeze. The voice isn’t in the room. It’s inside my head.

My heart skips. “Alpha Maxie?”

A pause, then, Yes. His voice, smooth and low, but distant, like an echo through water. “Are you alone?”

I glance around the empty room. “Yes.”

“Good. Listen carefully.”

My pulse races. “What’s happening?”

“We have visitors arriving tomorrow morning. You’ll prepare the guest wing.”

My brows knit. “I thought you didn’t want me near them.”

“You won’t be near them. You’ll prepare the rooms and leave before they arrive.”

“Why me?”

Another pause. “Because I trust you to do it.”

I almost laugh. “You don’t even look at me without flinching.”

He doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is softer, rough around the edges. “Tiara, this is important.”

I swallow. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

There’s silence again. I can feel him hesitate, his presence in my mind lingering like warmth before it fades.

“And Tiara…”

“Yes?”

His voice drops to a whisper, barely audible even through the link. “Stay away from the northern border.”

I frown. “Why?”

A beat passes. Then, 

“Because that’s where you died.”

The link snaps shut.

I sit frozen, his words echoing through me, my breath stuck in my throat. Died. The word feels heavy, wrong, impossible.

I press a trembling hand against my chest, feeling my heartbeat pounding too fast. I can’t be dead. I’m here. Breathing. Alive.

A sudden flash sears through my mind, blood on snow, a scream, a scent like fire and smoke, and then it’s gone, leaving me gasping.

The next morning, the sky is pale and gray, washed clean by the storm. I dress quietly, ignoring the trembling in my hands. The packhouse is quiet at dawn, just the creak of old floorboards and the distant howls beyond the ridge.

Maren finds me in the hallway, her eyes worried. “You shouldn’t be up so early.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Bad dreams again?”

I hesitate, then nod. “Something like that.”

She sighs, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. “The mind remembers what it must, in its own time. Don’t chase it, child. Some truths cut deeper than claws.”

I try to smile, but my throat is too tight.

When she leaves, I stand there for a long moment, the healer’s words echoing inside me. Some truths cut deeper than claws.

I look out the window. The northern forest stretches into mist, dark, endless, dangerous. And somewhere beyond those trees lies the border where I supposedly died.

My heart beats faster.

Maybe Maxie was trying to warn me. Or maybe he was trying to keep me from finding something he doesn’t want me to remember.

Either way, the pull inside me, the bond, the mystery, the ache, won’t let me rest.

Something happened that night. Something worth hiding.

And whatever it is, Alpha Maxie knows the truth.

That night, when the moon rises high and the wind howls through the trees, I stand by the window again, the scent of rain still clinging to the air. My reflection stares back at me, pale, uncertain, but there’s something new in my eyes now.

Resolve.

If he won’t tell me who I am, I’ll find out myself.

Even if the truth kills me again.