Resisting the Rival Alpha

Chapter One: Unbearable Heat

Which is why, as soon as I round the corner, I bump right into her.

"Oh my goodness, Little Love!" she startles, hand clutching at her chest. "You gave me quite a fright!"

An eighty-year-old turtle stuck in molasses would give Aunt Cinda a fright.

"I know, Aunt Cinda. I'm sorry. I just needed...a glass of water from the kitchens."

Aunt Cinda raises a single, dark brow.

"Wearing...your tennis shoes?"

"Yes?" I say weakly. I don't have it in me to come up with something better. All I can think about is letting my wolf burst free from the damp cotton clinging to my skin. About feeling the cold wind like lover's fingers through my fur.

"Oh, Kaelyn," Aunt Cinda lifts a cool hand to smooth a sweaty lock of hair back from my brow. "It's very bad this time, isn't it?"

I open my mouth to deny it again, to say anything to deflect her worries. But I'm just so very tired, and her palm on my forehead feels like balm on a burn.

"It gets worse and worse the longer I resist," I whisper. "I know it's late, Aunt Cinda. But I need to run. Please?" Aunt Cinda's brows furrow, and her soft, sweet face crumples a little.

"Of course," she says, her bottom lip trembling, "Oh my heavens, of course, sweet girl. You're doing the right thing, though." Aunt Cinda takes my hands into hers and starts to gently massage the webbing between my thumb and forefinger.

"The Union Valley point," she explains in a soft voice, her eyes lowered to where her hands are massaging mine. "For stress."

After a beat or two of peaceful silence, Aunt Cinda raises her eyes to me. When she does, they're swimming.

"It's so much harder on us, isn't it Little Love?" she says, "The burdens of women are considerable. Those of a she-wolf, even more so. And the burdens of a she-wolf intent on reclaiming her bloodright?" She smiles sadly. "Those are the burdens of Atlas himself."

I actually give her a smile. A real one. Not the tight stretch at the corners of my mouth I've been showcasing of late.

"Ah, yes," I laugh, "Condemned to hold up the sky for all of eternity. That's not at all even a little melodramatic, Aunt Cinda."

Aunt Cinda laughs too and gives my hands an affectionate shake.

"Maybe so, my dear, maybe so." She shakes her head. "All the same...it sometimes feels like it, doesn't it? Like men, even your Uncle Davis, are handed lit cigars and suckling pigs and we she-wolves are meant to cobble feasts from their crumbs?"

Again, a little melodramatic.

But I nod. She's right. Find me one male Alpha that's had to govern his conquests to prove his worthiness to rule, and I'd abdicate my birthright immediately; both are things that would never happen. I've been dealing with this for a year, and I'm already exhausted.

Aunt Cinda's weariness and frailty are beginning to make sense.

The grandfather clock in the atrium chimes nine times. Even down this upstairs corridor it resonates in my chest, the bell tolls magnified by the marble of the grand staircase.

"It's late, my Love. Go run. Fight it. I know you can. You and your wolf are strong." Aunt Cinda gives my hands one more gentle squeeze before releasing them. She lifts her chin. "Never forget. You are a Hart woman. I loved my brother. He was a good Alpha and a better man." There's a tremble in her chin.

"But," she continues, "Hart women have always had to fight harder and longer." Her green eyes are boring into mine. "Our ancestors strengthen your blood. You carry the fight of generations of Hart women in your spirit—and we are not to be trifled with, Kaelyn. Remember that."