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0.82% The Alpha's Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger. / Chapter 2: The Gala from hell

Chapter 2: The Gala from hell

LylaI stood at the foot of the grand stone steps, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Packhouse loomed over me like a fortress, its cold walls whispering memories of a life I had been cast off from.
I couldn't believe three years had passed since that fateful night when my parents had sent me away at midnight. I had felt like a thief, banished without explanation or warning and nothing but a thousand dollars, clutching a single bag that was my clothes, forcing me to vow never to return.
But now I was back. I swallowed the knot in my throat, steeling myself. I didn't want to come, but my father's command was not a request. The annual werewolf gala was tonight, and I was to attend. I had no choice.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy oak door, and the rush of familiar scents filled my lungs, bringing with it a flood of painful and good childhood memories.

I had barely closed the door when my mother's voice reached me.

"You're late," she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she took in my appearance. Her sharp eyes flicked over me as if inspecting something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe. Beside her, my sister, Clarissa, gazed at me with a look that was somewhere between pity and disdain.
"I see you still haven't learned to control yourself during your heat," Clarissa scoffed. "Father, it's not a good idea for her to go like this. She reeks…".
"You think if we had a choice, I would have driven four hours to get her," my father hissed. "The invitation had stated that every family must send a representative that is 18 and above and ripe for mating. I had no choice. She was never an option, to begin with."
I flinched. "I'm sorry," I began, but my mother cut me off with a sharp gesture.
"Save it," she snapped. "We've been doing so well without you, and we want it to remain that way. Just remember, you're here because we had no other choice. Don't disgrace us today. If you cause a scene, or so much as draw unwanted attention… we will remove your name from the family register and disown you. Do you understand?"
I wanted to tell them that none of this was my fault, but I nodded instead. My throat was too tight to speak. The last remnants of any affection my family had for me had vanished a long time ago, buried under shame and disgust. I had never been enough for them, not without a wolf, not with the monthly humiliation of my uncontrolled heat cycles.
"I understand," I whispered.
"Good," my mom said coldly. "Clarissa will lend you something from her wardrobe. You should fix that stupid hair of yours as well..." She turned to my sister and added. "Give her one of your wigs, too. It's enough that she's emitting pheromones. Showing up with two giant silver streaks in her hair will make everyone think we adopted her."
"Okay, Mom," Clarissa nodded and indicated that I follow her.
I bit my tongue, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes but refusing to let them fall. I followed Clarissa, my hands trembling as we went.
An hour later, one of the pack warriors dropped me off in front of the grand ballroom. My father had been too embarrassed to do it.
I smoothed my dress and headed towards the ballroom. The sound of laughter, music and clinking glasses grew louder with every step. The scent of power, strength and pure werewolf dominance filled the air as I reached the entrance and the moment I stepped inside, I felt it — the weight of hundreds of eyes turning in my direction.
I felt like a lamb among wolves.
I could feel the heat crawling up my neck, my cheeks flushing against my will. My body betrayed me again and my pheromones spilled into the air, announcing my presence like a siren's call. I heard the whispers before I saw the faces.
"What's that smell?" everyone turned, their noses wrinkled in disgust.
"Is she… in heat?"
"No control at all. Disgusting? She should be locked up and not here. Or is she trying to snag a mate with those smelly pheromones?"
My fingers dug into my palms, my nails biting into my skin as I willed myself to remain calm. If I just ignore them… everything will be fine.
But then, a sharp voice cut through the murmurs and I saw Cassidy Thorne step forward, a mocking smile on her perfect lips.
"I didn't realize they let mutts attend this year," Cassidy drawled loud enough for everyone to hear. Cassidy Thorne—was the epitome of Lycan and werewolf beauty and elegance. Everyone dreamed their daughters would be like her… there was a time when I wanted to be her so badly. "I suppose they'll let anyone in these days."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, and I felt my composure crumbling. Murmuring an apology, I forced myself to look away and moved to a quiet corner of the room, my hands shaking. I hated how powerless I felt, how my body betrayed me every month, turning me into a joke among the very people with whom I should by birthright associate.
I pressed my back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing and fight back tears, when I felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Something from across the room caught my eye.
Across the room, a man stood alone, dressed in black from head to toe, melting perfectly with the shadows.
His gaze was fixed on me.
He had amber eyes that were sharp and piercing, like molten gold. He was devastatingly handsome, with chiselled features and an air of quiet strength…but more than that, there was something in his gaze that I couldn't place.
For a moment, the noise of the ballroom faded and all I could see was him. There was something about his eyes that held me captive — curiosity and …something more... My heartbeat quickened, not out of fear, but out of an unfamiliar longing.
Who was he?
Before I could dwell on it, a shadow fell over me.
I turned to see a young Alpha, Darius, standing in front of me, his lips twisted into a sly grin. He has taunted me since I was a child and was the first person to spread my wolfless situation when we were 16. All this was because I had rejected the offer to be his girlfriend when we were 12. He still bore malice against me.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Woodland disgrace," Darius sneered. He was with a group of friends, all dressed impeccably, with eyes gleaming maliciously. "What's the matter, Lyla? Couldn't find a better place to hide?"
My throat tightened, and I tried to edge away, but Darius moved closer, blocking my path. His friends closed in on me too, forming a circle around me, all of them wearing identical smirks.
"I see you're having a little–heat problem," Darius continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe we could help you with that, hmm?"
My pulse raced with fear. I knew that look in his eyes. I tried to step back, but Darius grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh.
"Please," I whispered, "Just leave me alone."
Darius laughed and held my chin. "I see someone is getting feisty here. Have you forgotten your place? How dare a deviant like you speak in my presence!"
"Get off me!" I shouted, my voice trembling with both anger and fear. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with his musky scent. It made me nauseous.
"You know," he said, reaching to twirl a strand of my hair around his finger. "Some might find your condition—intriguing. All that heat, with no way to satisfy it. I bet you're just dying for someone to help you out, aren't you?"
"Don't touch me," I shrieked, looking around desperately, but no one was coming to my aid.

His hand moved from my hair to my waist, and I felt panic rising in my chest.

I tried to pull away, but I leaned into his touch, biting off a moan. My body wanted this… I wished he could run his hands up and down my engorged nips peeking from my dress already…
"Don't act like you don't want it," he whispered. "I can smell it on you."
His hand covered my bosom, roughly squeezing it, drawing another illicit moan from me.
"Please," I breathed, barely able to keep my voice steady. "Let me go."
Darius's grin widened, but before he could say another word, a low dangerous growl cut through the air, freezing everyone in place.

Chapter 3: Unexpected Ally...

Lyla

For a moment, nobody moved. Then slowly, Darius released me, his expression shifting from arrogance to unease.

"Who the hell was that?" he muttered, glancing toward the growl.

I didn't answer. I didn't know who he was, but I felt a strange pull towards him, a sense of safety I hadn't felt in years. My eyes drifted to where he was across the room, but he was no longer there.

I turned around frantically, searching for him in the crowd, but I couldn't find him. He was just here a few seconds ago. The cruel laughter from the boys reminded me of my current dilemma.

One of the boys suddenly yelped and pointed to my legs. I flushed in embarrassment as they laughed again. It was my warm juices… I was so horny that I could feel every underwear I had on, soaked. I closed my eyes, trying to block everyone out. My body was just reacting to having plenty of men around me at the same time.

"What's the matter, Lyla?" feeling a little… needy?" Darius taunted me as he stepped closer again. "I bet you'd do anything to make this stop, wouldn't you?"

My breath hitched. I could feel my heat intensifying. Darius' voice—the manly scents of the men around me… gosh! It was driving me crazy, making my skin burn and my thoughts blur. It was as though every nerve in my body was on fire and the unbearable desire coursing through my veins overwhelmed my senses.

I moaned loudly, clamping my legs together as the scent of my high arousal hung heavy in the air. Right now, that didn't matter. I just wanted to take care of the pressure building inside me.

"Come on," Darius sneered, leaning in closer. "Why don't you just beg us? We might take pity on you, mutt."

I recoiled, my heart racing. The insult stung, but the worst part was the twisted flicker of excitement that pulsed through me at his words. I hated my body's betrayal, how it craved for any touch, any relief, even from those who despised me. My legs felt weak, my breath ragged, and I knew I was losing control.

This wasn't the peak yet, but the heat was too much and it fogged my mind, causing my need to grow every second.

Darius' friends jeered, their taunts mingling with the roaring in my ears. "Look at her," one of them laughed. "She can barely stand. Pathetic."

Another boy stepped forward and ran his index finger over my lips. I gasped with want and opened my mouth as he inserted his finger inside it. Tears burned in my eyes—I wished I could stop myself, but I couldn't.

I ran my tongue up and down his finger, moaning.

The boy's voice dripped with false sympathy as he turned to his friends. "I bet she'd do anything to make this stop. Isn't that right, Lyla? Do you want me to…"

I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed through them before he could finish speaking, stumbling as I tried to escape. All the eyes in the hall were on me, coupled with the mocking laughter of Darius and his friends, but I didn't look back. My only thought was to get away, to find somewhere–anywhere–I could breathe.

I collided with a solid wall of muscle and staggered back. I looked up, an apology on my lips, but the words died in my throat.

It was the amber-eyed man. His gaze locked onto mine with a mix of curiosity and something darker. Up close, he was even more striking -tall, broad-shoulders, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit — showing off his power and authority.

A collective hush fell over the room as everyone turned to watch. I could feel their stares and a sickening dread pooled in my stomach. My eyes drifted to his signet on the third finger of his left hand and I gasped. He was the Lycan leader, but not just any Lycan leader. He was the Lycan Leader of the White Moon Throne—the highest rank in our world.

 My heart pounded as I realized the gravity of the situation. I was standing before the most powerful man in my world, with the scent of my arousal on his face. I trembled, expecting a reprimand. Or worse. I knew the punishment for uncontrolled heat cycles, especially in public. My condition is a disgrace, a shame that could bring down the wrath of the White Moon Throne council.

The Lycan leader's eyes were intense, a deep amber that seemed to see right through me. But instead of condemnation, his gaze held something else. He reached out, pulling me up from the ground with surprising gentleness.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice sending shivers through my already hypersensitive skin. His touch was electric, his hand warm against my arm, and my breath hitched again as I struggled to find my voice.

"I–I'm fine," I stammered, but my body chose that moment to betray me again. Another wave of heat crashed over me, stronger than before, and my knees buckled. I sagged against him, my vision blurring as desire overwhelmed my senses.

The Lycan leader caught me. His grip was firm. Our bodies were impossibly close now, and I could feel the hard planes of his chest against mine. I could smell the intoxicating mix of his scent—earthy, wild, and dangerous. I glanced up at him, my cheeks flushed and found his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.

Time seemed to slow. The room faded away, the whispers and the judgment fading into the background as I and the Lycan leader stood locked in this strange, charged moment.

His eyes darkened, a flash of something raw and primal crossing his features. I couldn't look away. I was drawn to him in a way that defied reason, a powerful attraction that made me forget where I was and who I was supposed to be.

The Lycan leader's head dipped lower, his lips just inches from mine. My breath caught in my throat and I leaned into him, wanting–no, needing–him to close the distance. My body craved the connection, the relief only he could provide in this moment of my longing.

But before our lips could meet, a voice cut through the haze.

"Lyla?"

I blinked, snapping out of the trance. Nathan, my childhood friend, stood at the edge of the gathering, his eyes wide with shock.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, coming closer, his voice filled with concern.

Nathan's gaze flickered to the Lycan leader and his brows arched with recognition. His expression shifted instantly to one of respect and immediately he bowed low.

"My apologies, Alpha Ramsey. I didn't realize…".

I barely heard the rest of the apology. All I could focus on was Ramsey's arms still wrapped around me, his touch burning through my dress, searing my skin. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face, couldn't ignore the way his fingers lingered on my waist as though he didn't want to let go.

The Lycan leader's - whose name I now know to be Alpha Ramsey - gaze remained locked on me, but whatever connection that had sparked between us a moment ago had been abruptly severed. His expression shifted, hardening into something unreadable.

In a swift motion, he released me and I stumbled back, catching myself just in time to avoid falling.

The heat of his touch lingered, and I felt my heart twist painfully as I watched him turn away without another word. He moved through the crowd, his posture rigid, his presence commanding respect from every werewolf in the room. No one dared to approach him, not even Nathan, who stood frozen in place.

My legs felt weak as I watched Ramsey leave. The moment had passed, and I was left reeling; my body still burning with unfulfilled desire. I had never felt anything like this—this pull toward a man who was as dangerous as he was mesmerizing.

My mind spun with the implication of what had just happened with the realization that Alpha Ramsey…

The Lycan leader had looked at me as though he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him.


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