The Half-Blood Two Alphas Fought For

Half human, half wolf—my blood can heal anything. To keep the peace, the elders offer me to the pack's War God.

"I'd rather sleep with a rock than a half-blood," Zane spits.

The wind rips away the herbs masking my scent. He freezes mid-sentence.

"Mine," he growls, claiming me on the spot.

He warns me to stay away from the Alpha—he hates half-bloods, and he'll kill me.

But when Zane leaves for war, it's Lucius who collapses at my door, drenched in blood.

"Medicine won't save me. You already know what will."

——

"Take her!" The wooden fence was kicked open with brutal force.

I was crouched in the herb garden, carefully tending to a stalk of bloodroot, when several burly, unfamiliar men shoved their way in.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, trying to break free, but my arms were seized in an iron grip.

"No! Please, don't take my daughter!" My mother wailed, throwing herself forward to cling to one man's leg, only to be thrown off without mercy.

The elder walked out, leaning on his cane, and stopped my mother.

"Why are you crying? Serving as a 'peace offering' to the wolf pack is an honor for her!"

And just like that, I was shoved into a carriage. After a long, jarring ride, I arrived in a land utterly foreign to me.

Though I carried a trace of distant wolf blood in my veins, it had never awakened—which meant I belonged nowhere, rejected by humans and wolves alike.

As the half-blood offered up to the werewolf pack as a "peace gift," I didn't even have the right to resist.

Wolves of massive build stood on every side, making no effort to hide the contempt and mockery in their eyes.

I trembled, clutching the thin burlap cloak around my shoulders.

In their eyes, I—a half-blood without a shred of magical power, who only knew how to grow herbs—wasn't even fit to be a proper blood bag.

The man escorting me shoved me down hard onto the cold steps and dropped to one knee. "War God, the human has arrived."

"This is what they sent?"

A low voice, thick with menace, crashed down from above.

My legs went weak with fear; I nearly collapsed to my knees.

Zane. The most feared War God of the pack, its executioner—and the "mate" I was being forced to marry.

He stood before me like a tower of iron.

Over two meters tall, his powerful muscles straining against black leather armor.

Silver hair cropped short, and beneath it, a pair of golden eyes fixed on me, brimming with undisguised disgust.

"They expect me to take a half-blood as my mate?" Zane let out a scoffing laugh, loud enough that the wolves around him fell silent.

"I'd sooner mate with a rock in the back hills than touch trash that can't even withstand one of my fingers."

The crowd erupted into laughter.

I bit my lip, my eyes stinging.

I didn't want to cry, but I was truly terrified.

All I'd ever wanted was to live quietly among the herbs in the human world. Why did they have to send me to a monster like this?

"Throw her to the snow wolves." Zane waved his hand impatiently and turned to leave.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind swept through.

The burlap hood over my head was torn away.

The herbal powder my mother had dusted over me before I left—meant to mask my scent—scattered and vanished in the wind.

My hair fell loose, and with it came the special fragrance I had always kept hidden.

It was an intensely sweet, warm scent, laced with a deadly, irresistible allure of blood.

The wind stopped.

The moment moonlight touched my face, the laughter around me died at once.

Before I could even react, a terrifying force yanked me forward.

I slammed hard into a chest.

So hot.

Zane had turned around at some point without my noticing.

He stared at me fixedly, his golden eyes—once filled with disgust—now contracted into vertical, feral slits.

His throat rolled violently as he swallowed, his breathing turning ragged and heavy, washing over the top of my head.

"So sweet..." he murmured.

The wolves around us seemed to catch the scent too, beginning to stir and press forward restlessly.

"Back off!"

Zane roared, and a terrifying wave of pressure swept across the entire clearing.

Several wolves standing too close were slammed down onto one knee, coughing up mouthfuls of blood.

Trembling with fear, I finally couldn't hold back my tears.

"You... didn't you just say... you'd sooner die than touch me..."

"That was before I met you."

He suddenly lowered his head and clamped a large, calloused hand around the back of my neck. The force pinning me left me utterly unable to move.

He bent down, his nose almost brushing against the artery in my neck, and drew in a deep, greedy breath.

"So unbelievably sweet." His voice carried a strange, obsessive fervor.

"You're mine now. Anyone who dares look at you, I'll gouge out their eyes."

He hoisted me over his shoulder in one motion.

As we jolted through the crowd, I lifted my head—and from the shadows at the highest point of the altar, my eyes met a pair of silver-gray ones.