The fate of the Rejected Alpha

WITH NO INFORMATION, A REQUEST FOR PEACE

The air within the castle ruled by the genuine alpha was thick. The violence emanated from the most powerful being of the Lycan race, the omegas were not aware of being the punching bags and were succumbed because they did not have enough time that their fragile bodies needed to heal themselves and consequently the cimexs, mates of these omegas, were also dying.

The search for Bloodstain was daily, from the light between the clouds to the highest peak of the moon. For fifteen days the wolves hunted for her, hunger leaving the situation of the lower beings in the hierarchy even more critical. The strongest relieve themselves by judging even more of the weakest.

The genuine alpha, Kratos, felt frenzied. Although the casualties by the traitor of the species have ceased in these two weeks, the vampire attacks have not stopped happening. The witches, on the other hand, showed no interest in this war. It was leading both of them to extinction. And Kratos’ murderous violence wasn’t helping to keep the species alive at all.

If defending and at the same time tracking the shame of his being was leading him to insanity. torture the humans was not enough, mating with the genuine lunam was not satisfying him, killing the vampires was something dull and very annoying. The wizards have tried to get in touch, but the he murdered all the messengers without listening to what they had to say.

Every day the hatred of all, in all the packs that still existed, grew more and more every day. Lycanthropes are disgusted by witches and think they’re superior to vampires. What about the humans? They were like plagues that needed to be broken.

“Bastard!” cries the genuine alpha, throwing a chair that crashes when it comes into contact with the wall.

The hatred of having his plans ruined is making Kratos more and more violent. The genuine lunam, Kathe, stopped trying to get close to her mate.

“Sir,” the genuine beta Lacios catches Kratos’ attention, who now also heads the meeting table against the stone wall.

“Did you find her?” he asks hopefully.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

“No, sir.”

“What do you need, then? Your incompetence is no longer enough.”

“Two princesses of the witch race are here, genuine.”

“This will be the first time I will kill a princess.” Kratos smiles and starts walking to the reception room being followed by Lacios.

Princess Angèle Benoit is the eldest daughter and heir to the sovereignty of witches. She is eighteen years old, her hair is red and her eyes amber. A thin, upturned nose, round face. Her essence is the magic of nature, but thanks to the Blue Belle jewel, passed down from generation to generation, it also has powers of illusion and speed. The witches’ race has five princesses, and each one has a jewel, namely:

•The Pink Star, the jewel of invisibility.

•The Blue Belle, the illusion jewel and speed.

•The Moussaieff, the jewel of the portals.

•The Hope Spinel, the jewel of transformation.

•And the Rockefeller, the jewel of sounds.

Unlike wolves and vampires, the witch race does not live for that long and has no keen physique and senses. A witch’s life is for an average of three hundred years only.

“What’s a princess doing here, in a wolf’s territory?” Kratos questions, standing in front of the female figure.

Angèle lowers the hood of her black coat and he sees that the rumors do justice to the beauty of the first princess. Despite the disgust he feels for her race, Kratos admitted only to himself that the princess would be a good fuck. Her curves are plentiful and are well exposed over the blue colored dress glued to her body.

“Since none of the messengers have returned, I have personally come to speak to…”

“I thought your kind was smarter, I don’t want to talk to you,” he interrupts in a rude way.

“All I want is to end this war. Look around you, we’re practically wiped off the face of the earth. What’s the point of continuing with…”

“I will fight until there is no witch or vampire contaminating this soil. You are worms and do not deserve to breathe the same air as me and my pack,” he says, crossing his arms and staring at her threateningly.

“You’re a bigger fool than I thought. You can’t see anything but your own.”

“No,” he steps forward, but the princess doesn’t move, stays steady in her place, her head high. “You’re a fool, do you really think I’ll make any deal whatsoever with this disgusting race of yours? Don’t make me laugh, you scum.”

“Come one more step closer to the princess and I’ll rip your head off, you stinking dog,” Lorraine threatens Kratos, who only looks at her from head to toe.

Lorraine Benoit is the second princess, bearer of the Moussaieff jewel. Besides, she’s the head of Angèle’s personal guard. Her hair is blond, her eyes are blue and her face is shaped like her older sister’s, however, she is taller.

“Who do you think you are? This is my territory, I will not allow threats from a half-mouthed princess…”

“You’re a wretch who doesn’t even care about his own kind, who is on the verge of extinction and yet prefers to keep shedding even more blood, you’re an ass!”

“You bitch, what do you want? As far as I can remember, this war started because of you!”

“We are not here to deal with the past,” Angèle says, interrupting the discussion between her sister and the genuine alpha. “My people are tired of this war, we want to live in peace, to see our children grow.”

“If it’s up to me, I’ll rip each and every one of you heads off and I’ll start now!”

In a matter of seconds, Kratos changes to his lupine form, growling and preparing to attack the princesses.

“Eventually you will fall,” Angèle says and signals to her sister.

“Patent portae eu regnum,” Lorraine recites the words of her jewels charm.

A light blinds everyone in the room, and in less than two seconds the princesses are already back in their castles. Far away from the lupine territory.

Kratos returns to his human form, his hatred increasing even more. Without Bloodstain’s womb he will not have his heir, and without an heir, the goddess will triumph over him, and he will do anything to stop it.

He walks naked through the halls. And even though he’s got a great body, to his servants, he’s just a walking trash. Kratos goes to his bedroom, he wants to relieve himself somehow. And human blood is not enough.

The genuine lunam has just come out of the bath and is combing her hair. Her ears detect the sounds of footsteps approaching and she smells her hateful mate from afar. Kratos opens the door to his den with a bang, and closes it the same way. Kathe doesn’t dare look at him, but she is surprised when his big hands pull her by the wrists and she is thrown brutally on the bed.

“Open up to me, now,” Kratos says rudely.

Kethe says nothing, just lifts her dress and spreads her legs for him. He enters her without another word, without caressing her. He only stops when she touches his face, seeking some sort of affection.

He doesn’t want affection, he doesn’t want hugs, he doesn’t want words, he doesn’t want anything but his heir. The years are passing, and watching all his effort go down the drain is making him show even his mate his darkest side.

A side that Kathe had never seen before, at least not with her.

Patent portae eu regnum: open the gates of the witches’ kingdom