EXCERPT ONE:
I’m not planning on attending this year.” Aldric crumpled the offending piece of paper and threw it into the trash can beside his desk. “I refuse to parade around in hope of being chosen when we all know that’s not going to happen.” He stopped pacing long enough to point out the large scar that ran from his left temple across his cheek to his chin and down his neck before disappearing into his shirt.

“Brother, you’re the alpha of our pack and it’s your duty to attend this gathering. Not only is it a decree by King Leonidas, but who is to say an omega won’t choose you. You’re a respected and strong alpha, our pack is large, and we have our own town and over five hundred acres of wooded lands to let our wolves run free without fear. There are a lot of benefits to becoming the alpha mate and omega to our people.” Godric stood and retrieved the invitation from the garbage, flattening it out on the desk as best he could and handing it back to Aldric.

“Your brother is right, son. You must attend. We have a strong relationship with the king and queen, which has been fortuitous since our lands touch on their northern borders. To refuse an invitation to the yearly Omegas Celebration by any unmated alpha would be an insult.” Aldric’s father, Karl, stood and placed his hand on his son’s back. “I know it has been hard for you, son, since Senorfra. That battle claimed far too many of our brave men, but bless the gods you survived, protected our king, and came back to us.”

Admittedly, it was odd that even in this modern age of convenience and technology, most supernatural beings lived by the old code of fealty, honor, and loyalty. Considering most lived to be well over one thousand years, having rules to live by and a king to follow ensured the safety and health of all werewolves.

“True, we fought bravely and many men never returned from that damned forest, but the rest of us came back scarred in one way or another. My scars cover my body, and there’s no omega out there who will choose me. When will any of you see this? Omegas are rare and wield powerful magic. They can pick any alpha and any pack they wish and be given anything they desire because of the blessings they will bring to that pack. I’m not saying that an omega doesn’t deserve such things, but none would want a battle-scarred alpha, no matter how wealthy or strong our pack is. Perhaps if Godric went, he—”

“No, don’t even finish that sentence. I am no alpha, brother. I couldn’t even dream of taking your place. This pack—hell, the entire town looks to you for leadership. You have given all of them a safe place to live and thrive with their families. I respect you, brother. You will always be my alpha.” Aldric stared at his reflection in the window. He knew he was a scary-looking man; his wolf was even more imposing. His human form stood at 6’7” and weighed over 280 pounds of muscle, which had been hard earned through his years as a general in King Leonidas’s army before the war ended and Aldric had settled with his family and pack on these lands. His black hair was braided halfway down his back, just as his father’s and brother’s, but his dark blue eyes came from his mother. Tattoos covered his right arm, wrist to shoulder blade, depicting his family lineage and his position as alpha. They revealed themselves on the day Aldric assumed his position as alpha. Should he ever be chosen as mate, his blank left arm would reveal his mating tattoo, indicating the lineage of his mate, their joining, and any future offspring. The tattoos his kind wore could not be given by their own hands or magic; they were given by the gods, either at birth or upon claiming their birthright.

Aldric knew in his heart that his left arm would always remain bare. His great size alone would be a deterrent to most omegas, who typically feared a larger predator, but the scars from his many battles that littered his body made sure to keep all would-be mates away. Normally, a werewolf could heal most injuries without leaving so much as a scratch, but the ogres had coated their blades with dark witches’ blood, which was poisonous to all werewolves and much more difficult to heal, leaving many warriors with these scars. He just couldn’t figure out why his family chose to ignore these facts and continued to make him attend these celebrations, which allowed omegas of age who had come into their powers to choose an alpha as mate.

EXCERPT TWO:
“Shit, there’s a group of them coming from the south,” one of Helena’s new warriors yelled from the balcony. “Call the others!”

Helena ran out to his side in time to see a large group of ogres breaking through the tree line to the south. They were large, misshapen creatures filled with hate and rage for everything around them. Their small heads sat on top of overly large necks and shoulders. Their knuckles dragged on the ground, swords and spears filling their hands. Fur covered their abdomens and proportionally short stubby legs, even though they stood at over eight feet tall. They only concerned themselves with death and destruction. There hadn’t been many ogres left after the war they themselves had started, and Helena wondered where all these obviously alive and healthy ones were coming from. She couldn’t send out feelings of contentment and peace toward the ogres because the wolves in the battle would be effected as well. Helena watched as waves of werewolves rushed the ogres, the sounds of man and beasts clashing with metal and claws filling the air. Wolves and ogres alike littered the ground as the battle waged below them. Helena felt the earth crying out for her to help. She sensed the large wisteria vines crawling up the eastern walls, searching for her until they crested the balcony. She reached out to them.

Her warriors quickly drew their blades back, intent on protecting her and cutting away the multitude of flowing vines and flowers. “No. Leave them. They just wish to help our people.” The men withdrew their swords and the vines wrapped themselves around Helena’s hands, allowing her to immediately connect with all the surrounding vegetation. Helena called in every bird she could reach within the area, asking them for help. Then she called upon the roots and trees, asking for their assistance.

Like some great symphony, flocks of birds in every shape and size began to dive and attack any ogre they could reach, trying to blind them with their beaks and claws. The ground rumbled and shook as roots as big as a man’s thigh burst through the soil, snaking out and wrapping around ogre after ogre, dragging them back beneath the earth and to their deaths. Helena could see and feel the other omegas standing shoulder to shoulder behind the windows, sending out their strength to boost Helena’s abilities.

Once every last ogre was removed, the roots and trees retreated, leaving the bodies of wolves and men littering the ground injured and dying. Helena knew she couldn’t physically reach them all in time, but she refused to allow them to die. Desperately, she called on more vines. They answered eagerly, pouring themselves over the railing and wrapping around Helena’s body. Through them, Helena pushed her healing powers down into the roots reaching out to each downed person. Flowers and vines erupted through the soil beneath the injured, searching out their wounds and cocooning their bodies. Helena was vaguely aware that all fighting had ceased and the warriors returning from the east were quickly offloading their wounded onto the ground to be enveloped in flowers and vines. A beautiful black wolf raced around the men and vehicles toward the palace as Helena pushed even harder, forcing every last bit of healing power outward filling the vines. One by one, the other omegas fell, and soon her own vision blurred and she collapsed into one of her warrior’s arms. Her aunt cradled her head, calling for the doctor.

Aldric’s voice roared before everything went dark.