Claimed by the Alpha King

Chapter 1

Amber.

"Don't go," a weak voice rasped from the cot in the corner.

I paused, my hand on the cracked wooden door of our tiny hovel. "Leo, I have to. The apothecary won't give us more medicine on credit."

"It's the Winter Solstice Ball. The palace guards will be everywhere. It's too dangerous."

A rattling cough shook his small frame, and I rushed back to his side, pulling the threadbare blanket up to his chin.

"I'll be fine," I whispered, my voice more confident than I felt. "I'm just serving drinks. No one will even see me."

"They always see us," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut. "They see the dirt under our nails."

I squeezed his hand. "Then I'll wear gloves. Get some rest, Leo. When I come back, I'll have bread. Maybe even some cheese."

His breathing evened out, and I slipped out of the room, my heart a heavy stone in my chest. He was right. It was dangerous.

At the palace service entrance, a stout woman with a permanent scowl blocked my path. Her name was Marta.

"I told you, Ross, no more shifts this week," she grunted, not looking up from her list.

I clutched the few coins in my pocket, the metal slick with sweat. "Please, Marta. I heard you were short-staffed for the ball."

"We are. But we need competent staff, not slum rats who might steal the silver." Her eyes flicked over my patched dress with disdain.

I pushed the coins into her hand. It was the bribe I'd saved for a month, money that should have gone to Leo's medicine.

"It's all I have," I said, my voice tight. "I'm a hard worker. You know I am. I'll do whatever you need. I'll scrub the kitchens after, all night if you want."

Marta's fingers closed around the coins. She sighed, a long, tired sound. "Fine. But you are on drinks only. You go nowhere near the food tables. And if you drop a single glass, I'll throw you to the wolves myself."

"I won't. I promise." Relief washed over me, so potent it almost made my knees buckle.

"Get in there and find a uniform that doesn't smell like desperation," she ordered, stepping aside.

The palace kitchen was a chaotic whirlwind of steam, shouting, and the clatter of pots. Another girl, not much older than me, shoved a tray of delicate flutes into my hands.

"You're new," she said, her eyes wide. "You picked a bad night to start."

"I'm Amber."

"Anya. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut. These nobles, they get mean when they drink."

"Any other advice?" I asked, trying to keep the heavy tray steady.

"Yes," Anya whispered, leaning closer. "Don't make eye contact with the royals. Especially not the King. They say his stare can freeze your blood."

"The King? He'll be there?"

"Of course, he will. It's his ball." She shook her head. "You really are new. Just do your job. Fill glasses, be invisible. That's how we survive."

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. "Be invisible. I can do that."

Stepping into the ballroom was like entering another world. Golden light dripped from a dozen chandeliers, catching on the jewels of laughing women and the polished medals of stern-faced men. The air hummed with power and smelled of perfume and expensive wine.

It was so different from the slum's scent of coal smoke and damp rot. For a moment, I was mesmerized.

"Move!" a voice hissed behind me, and I stumbled forward, joining the line of servers skirting the edge of the dance floor.

I focused on my task. I moved through the crowd, a ghost in a black uniform. I offered wine, received empty glasses, and murmured, "My apologies, Lord," and "Right away, Lady." No one looked at me. I was part of the furniture.

It was perfect.

Anya was right. I was invisible.

I saw a small alcove near the grand staircase, a perfect spot to watch the entrances and exits. My plan was simple. Wait for the feast to be laid out, find a moment of distraction, and slip a few bread rolls and a piece of roasted meat into the hidden pockets of my apron.

It was a small theft. A crime of survival they would never even notice.

A sudden hush fell over the room. The music swelled into a powerful, regal fanfare.

"What's happening?" I whispered to Anya as she passed.

"They're here," she breathed, her eyes fixed on the floor. "Don't look up. For the love of the Goddess, keep your head down."

A herald's voice boomed through the hall. "All rise for His Royal Majesty, the Alpha King Gage Hollow, and Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sienna!"

I obeyed Anya, staring intently at the polished marble floor, at the reflection of the glittering lights. I could feel the shift in the air, the heavy weight of an immense power entering the room. It was suffocating.

Then I smelled it.

Not the cloying perfume or the rich food. It was something else. Something wild and clean, like a thunderstorm breaking over a forest of pine. It cut through everything, a scent that seemed to call to something deep inside me, something I didn't know existed.

My head snapped up against my will.

And I saw him.

The King. He was even more imposing than the stories claimed. Tall and broad, with black hair and eyes so intense they seemed to burn. He moved with a predator's grace. At his side, the Queen was a vision of fiery beauty, her hand resting possessively on his arm. They were a perfect pair. A king and queen of legend.

He wasn't looking at me. He was smiling at his Queen.

So why did it feel like a rope was tightening around my chest, pulling me toward him?

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm. My lungs refused to draw air. The tray in my hands began to tremble violently.

"Amber?" Anya hissed beside me. "What are you doing? Head down!"

I couldn't. I was frozen. My gaze was locked on the Alpha King.

As if he felt my stare, his head turned. His smile faded. His eyes scanned the crowd, sweeping past nobles and guards. Then they landed on me.

Everything stopped. The music, the chatter, the world itself.

There was only the scent of storm and pine, and the impossible, soul-shattering pull between us.

It felt like my very bones were being rearranged, like my soul was being torn from my body and dragged across the floor toward him.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. A choked gasp escaped my lips.

The strength fled my limbs. My knees gave out.

I fell.

The tray of crystal flutes went with me, crashing against the marble with a sound that was like a scream in the dead silent room.

Wine and shattered glass exploded across the floor.

Every head in the grand ballroom turned. Every eye was on me. The invisible girl, suddenly the only thing anyone could see.

I looked up from the wreckage of my simple plan, my whole body trembling, and met the furious, disbelieving, and utterly captivated eyes of the King.

Chapter 2

Gage.

“The Northern Lords look particularly grim tonight,” Sienna murmured, her warm hand resting on my arm. Her voice was a low melody only I could hear over the swell of the orchestra.

I glanced at the cluster of stone-faced Alphas near the hearth. “They always look grim. It is their natural state. Perhaps they are unhappy with the vintage of the wine.”

Sienna squeezed my arm, a subtle gesture of affection that spoke volumes. “Or perhaps they are unhappy you secured the trade route through the Silvermoon territory without them. You have made them irrelevant, my love.”

“I have a formidable Queen who is very good at negotiations,” I said, turning my head to smile at her. Her fiery hair was woven with solstice diamonds, catching the light like captured stars. She was magnificent. My partner in all things. My Queen.

She smiled back, a flash of pride in her sharp, intelligent eyes. “We are a good team.”

“The best,” I agreed. Our union had begun as a political treaty, a merging of her Ironwood Pack and my Ironclaw Kingdom. But over the years, it had forged into something real. Something strong. A bond of respect, loyalty, and deep, quiet love.

We were untouchable. A fortress of power and partnership.

Then, the scent hit me.

It was not a perfume. It was not the food or wine. It was elemental. Primal. It was the smell of rain just before it breaks a drought, the scent of ozone after a lightning strike. It was the impossible fragrance of a wild moonpetal, a flower said to only bloom once a century in the deepest parts of the forest.

It bypassed my mind, my control, my very sense of self, and struck the wolf that lived coiled at the base of my soul.

And my wolf, the beast I had commanded for three decades, went utterly, violently insane.

*Mine.*

The word was not a thought. It was a roar that shook my bones, a possessive, feral snarl that echoed in the cage of my skull. It wanted out. It wanted to hunt.

“Gage?” Sienna’s voice sounded distant, as if from across a great chasm. “What is it? Your eyes…”

I could not answer her. My senses were overwhelmed. The scent was a beacon, pulling every part of my being toward its source. My head turned, a mechanical, unwilling motion. I scanned the room, my Alpha senses flaring, pushing past the dozens of lesser scents.

My gaze swept over nobles, over guards, over… her.

A servant girl. Small. Patched. Insignificant.

She looked up, and her wide, terrified eyes met mine across the grand hall.

The world shattered.

It was her. The source of the scent. The source of the madness clawing its way up my throat.

*Mate.*

The wolf screamed the word this time. It threw itself against the bars of my control, demanding I cross the floor, demanding I seize her, demanding I mark her and claim her in front of the entire court.

Then came the crash.

The sound of shattering glass was like a physical blow, breaking the silent, invisible cord that had stretched between us. It ripped me back to reality, to the hundred pairs of eyes in the room, to the Queen whose hand was now gripping my arm like a vise.

“Who is that girl?” Sienna’s voice was cold iron. “What is she to you?”

“Nothing,” I gritted out, the word tasting like a lie. My heart was a war drum against my ribs. I had to get her out of my sight. Now. Before I did something unforgivable.

Before I lost control completely.

The girl was on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, her body trembling. A pathetic sight. A disaster.

My wolf did not care. *Ours. Protect. Keep.*

“Guards!” My voice was a thunderclap in the sudden silence. It was not my kingly voice of command. It was the guttural bark of an Alpha pushed to his limit.

Two of my Royal Guard, clad in black and silver, moved instantly, their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“Seize her,” I ordered, my eyes locked on the girl. She flinched, her gaze darting toward the exits. She was going to run.

The thought of her running sent a wave of pure, animal panic through me. If she ran, I would hunt. My wolf would tear this palace apart to find her.

“Your Majesty?” General Lycan, my oldest friend and commander of my guard, was suddenly at my side. His steady presence was a small anchor in the storm raging inside me. “What are her crimes?”

Sienna answered before I could. “Her crime is existing. Look at him, Lycan. Look at your King.”

Lycan’s gaze flickered to me, and I saw the dawning understanding in his eyes. He had known me since we were pups. He knew what this meant.

“What are your orders, Your Majesty?” he asked again, his voice carefully neutral, hiding the shock I knew he felt.

I could not look at my wife. I could not look at my friend. I could only look at the girl, this impossible omega who smelled of destiny and ruin.

“She is not to be harmed,” I said, forcing the words through a tight jaw. “But she is not to escape. Under any circumstances.”

“Where shall we take her?”

“The West Tower,” I said, the first secure place that came to mind. “To the Solarium Suite. Lock it down. No one in or out without my direct command.”

Lycan nodded once, his expression grim. He gestured to his men. They moved toward the girl, their large forms eclipsing her small one.

She scrambled backward, a little cry of terror escaping her lips as they reached for her. The sound was a knife in my gut. My wolf strained, wanting to rip them apart for frightening her.

I stood rigid, a statue of a king, while my world burned down around me.

The guards lifted her to her feet. She did not struggle, just stared at me, her eyes wide with a terror that mirrored my own.

They began to lead her away, a ghost being escorted from the feast.

“Gage, you will explain this to me,” Sienna hissed, her voice dangerously low. “You will tell me what is happening right now.”

“Later,” I managed to say, my throat raw.

“No. Now.”

I finally tore my eyes away from the retreating form of the girl and looked at my wife. I saw the fury in her face, the betrayal. The beautiful, strong partnership we had built was cracking right before my eyes.

And I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that the simple, insignificant omega girl being dragged from the room was not just a servant who had dropped a tray.

She was a match. And she had just been thrown into the perfectly constructed world of my life, my kingdom, and my marriage.

Chapter 3

Amber.

The guards’ hands were like iron clamps on my arms. They hauled me from the ballroom, my worn shoes skidding on the polished marble.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I didn’t do anything. It was an accident.”

The taller guard grunted. “Quiet. You will speak when the King commands it.”

“But where are you taking me?” Panic was a cold serpent coiling in my stomach. “To the dungeons?”

They didn’t answer. We moved through endless, opulent hallways, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors watched my pathetic procession.

“I have to get home,” I tried again, the image of Leo’s pale face flashing in my mind. “My brother, he’s sick. He’s alone.”

The second guard, the one who looked like a general, finally spoke. His voice was gravelly but not entirely unkind. “The King’s orders were absolute.”

“What orders?” I asked, desperation making my voice thin.

“That you are not to escape,” he said, and the finality in his tone stole the rest of my questions.

They stopped before a set of gilded doors at the top of a winding tower staircase. This was not the way to the dungeons. I had scrubbed the floors leading to that dark, damp place. This was something else entirely.

The tall guard produced a heavy iron key and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

“In here,” he commanded.

I stepped inside and froze. This was not a cell. It was a suite of rooms so luxurious it made the grand ballroom look plain. A massive bed with silken sheets sat in the center. A fireplace, already lit, crackled merrily. The far wall was made entirely of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the snow-covered kingdom under the moonlight.

“This… this is a mistake,” I stammered, turning back to them.

“There is no mistake,” the general said, his face grim. “Do not try to leave. The door will be locked. The windows are reinforced.”

“But why? Why am I here? I’m just a servant.”

“You are the King’s prisoner,” the tall one sneered. “That is all you need to know.”

They pulled the door shut. The heavy sound of the lock clicking into place was like a death knell. I was alone.

I rushed to the door and pulled on the handle. It was solid, immovable. I ran to the wall of glass, pressing my hands against the cool surface. The intricate metalwork woven into the glass was beautiful, and I realized with a jolt of fear, it was also a cage. I was trapped.

“What is happening?” I whispered to my reflection in the dark glass. A terrified girl with tangled hair and a cheap, borrowed uniform stared back at me.

I paced the room like a trapped animal, my heart hammering against my ribs. Why would they put me here? Prisoners were thrown in cells to rot. They weren’t given silk sheets and a private fireplace.

Unless this was a different kind of prison. A waiting room.

My mind raced back to the ballroom. The scent of pine and thunderstorms. The way the King’s eyes had locked on mine. The violent, irresistible pull that had brought me to my knees.

I knew the old stories. Every wolf-shifter child did. Tales of the fated, the mate bond woven by the Moon Goddess herself. A connection so powerful it could bring kings to their knees.

A connection that was said to be unbreakable.

“No,” I breathed, shaking my head. “It can’t be. It’s impossible.”

The King was an Alpha. The most powerful Alpha in the kingdom. And he was married. Happily, from all accounts. His Queen, Sienna, was an Alpha herself. Theirs was a union of power that secured the throne.

I was an Omega. A nobody from the slums. I was dirt under their noble fingernails.

An hour passed. Or maybe it was three. Time blurred in my panic. Finally, I heard the sound of the lock scraping again.

I scrambled back against the far wall as the door opened. A young guard entered, not one of the two from before. He carried a silver tray with a pitcher of water and a single glass. He looked barely older than me, his face nervous.

“The General sent this,” he said, his eyes avoiding mine. He set the tray on a small table.

“Please, you have to tell me what’s going on,” I begged, my voice cracking.

“I don’t know anything,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“Everyone knows something,” I insisted, taking a hesitant step toward him. “I dropped a tray. That’s all I did. Why am I locked in a tower?”

“My orders are just to bring you water.” He turned to leave.

“It was the King,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He looked at me, and… and I fell. Did he think I was trying to attack him?”

The guard paused at the door, his back to me. “No one thinks you were attacking him.”

My breath hitched. “Then what do they think? What did he feel?”

When the guard turned, I saw pity in his eyes. It was worse than the contempt I was used to. Pity meant I was doomed.

“The bond,” I whispered, the horrifying realization finally solidifying. “It was the mate bond, wasn’t it?”

He flinched. “You should not say such things.”

“So it’s true.” The room spun. I leaned against a chair for support. “The Alpha King. My mate.”

“It’s a complication,” the guard said, his voice low.

“A complication?” I laughed, a sharp, hysterical sound. “He is mated to Queen Sienna! Their alliance holds this kingdom together. An Omega from the slums showing up as his true mate isn’t a complication. It’s treason.”

“The King ordered you kept safe,” he insisted, though he looked less certain now.

“Safe?” I repeated, my voice rising. “He can’t keep me safe from this! The Council, the Queen, her entire pack… they will see me as a threat to the throne. A threat to the stability of the kingdom. Do you know what they do to threats like me?”

He remained silent, his hand gripping the door handle.

“They eliminate them,” I answered for him, the words tasting like ash. “They will call for my head. They will say I bewitched him. They will demand my execution to preserve the alliance with the Queen’s family.”

My legs finally gave out, and I sank to the plush carpet, wrapping my arms around myself.

“This isn’t a sanctuary,” I whispered, looking around the beautiful, gilded cage. “It’s death row. He just put me somewhere comfortable to wait for the executioner.”

The young guard looked at me, his face pale. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He slipped out of the room, and the lock slammed shut once more, sealing my fate.