The Alpha's Bride Chapter 4 - The Welcome Party

Marcy reflected that she and Nora ought to share some common ground. Judging by Nora's lustrous hair and perfect complexion, they could easily discuss beauty routines, and Nora’s attire was clearly designer as well.

"I'm not in need of anything," Marcy remarked. "However, you are welcome to stay if you have no other plans. We can talk for a bit."

"Of course!" Nora replied with a bright smile, stepping into the room.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, Marcy watched Nora closely.

"Do you have any idea why my parents suddenly demanded my return?"

This question had been gnawing at Marcy's mind ever since she got the call from her mother. She hadn't pressed her parents for details, knowing they would only reveal information on their own terms. That was their way.

Nora blinked at Marcy, her mouth hanging slightly open as if the question had caught her off guard. "You should probably ask Alpha Edward and Luna Layla about that."

Nora quickly pivoted the conversation before Marcy could press further. "Your welcome gala is tomorrow. Invitations were sent to nearly every pack member between eighteen and thirty. Your parents must think very highly of you to host such a massive event. It's meant to announce your return and help you find friends. Everyone knows you because you are the Alpha's daughter, though you’ve likely forgotten us. There will be over two hundred guests..."

While Marcy appreciated her parents' gesture, the whole situation felt forced, dragging her back to the life she led before escaping to Europe.

Her youth had been dictated by a rigid itinerary of education, physical training, and orchestrated social events with a handpicked inner circle.

After a decade abroad, Marcy had managed to forget the suffocating atmosphere of her childhood. Back then, she had accepted it as normal; however, having tasted independence, the memories were now returning as painful, stifling fragments.

...

The following evening...

The celebration for Marcy’s return commenced at six o’clock.

Nora and Marcy dressed together, assisting one another with their styling and makeup.

The pair made a fashionably late entrance at six-twenty. They traded satisfied grins, noting how their flawless appearances set them apart from the crowd—exactly as the daughters of an Alpha and a Beta should look.

Marcy scanned the grand hall on the ground floor, which connected to the gardens through two large glass French doors. She remembered this space from the birthday parties of her youth.

Nora remained at Marcy's side, diligently introducing every person who approached them.

Marcy felt like a member of the royal family, but the sensation was unpleasant. She stood there, offering a manufactured smile while shaking hand after hand. By the time the twentieth guest passed, she gave up on trying to memorize names.

From an objective standpoint, the event was flawlessly executed. The music was lively, the dance floor was overflowing, and the food was both delicious and abundant. With a wide array of drinks and a friendly atmosphere, everyone seemed eager to win Marcy’s favor.

Marcy told herself that once the initial protocols were finished, she might actually relax and have fun.

Shortly after eight, her wolf suddenly stirred as the intoxicating aroma of sweet clover filled her lungs.

'Mate...' her wolf whispered within her mind, causing her entire body to tremble.

Wolves rarely spoke unless they were alerting their human counterpart to the presence of their destined partner. She had fantasized about this moment for years, and it was finally happening!

Having turned twenty-one four months ago, Marcy had nearly abandoned hope of finding her mate. This was completely out of the blue.

A powerful urge to follow the scent overwhelmed her, drawing her toward an invisible magnetic force.

"Where are you headed?" Nora asked, noticing Marcy drifting away.

"Just to the powder room," Marcy lied.

"I'll join you."

"No need. I'll be right back," Marcy insisted, vanishing into the sea of guests before Nora could argue.

The moment Marcy reached the terrace overlooking the garden, her blue eyes met a pair of captivating chocolate ones. She felt as though she had ascended to Heaven.

'Perhaps coming home wasn't such a mistake after all...' Marcy mused. Had she known her mate was waiting here, she would have returned three years sooner.

They moved toward each other as if under a spell. Without a word, he grasped her hand. A jolt of electric sparks surged through their skin at the contact, sending their wolves into a state of pure euphoria.

The brown-haired man, looking like a Greek God, led the way. Marcy followed him willingly into the deeper, more secluded parts of the garden.

Marcy couldn't help but grin like a fool as she stared at his broad shoulders. He was tall, powerfully built, and exactly what she had imagined her soulmate would be.

At the garden's edge, shielded from the party by massive hydrangea bushes, he turned to face her.

They both stood in silence for a moment, admiring one another's features and taking in every detail.

Words were unnecessary. Their lovestruck expressions and matching smiles conveyed everything.

Marcy was mesmerized by how the setting sun turned his hair to gold. His full lips, curved into a teasing half-smile, practically begged for a kiss. She noticed a tattoo peeking from beneath his unbuttoned off-white shirt. Was it a hummingbird? She felt a desperate need to strip the shirt away to see the full artwork on his muscular frame.

Marcy felt proud that she had saved her virginity. This Greek God would surely be thrilled to discover she was pure and belonged only to him. She yearned for him to claim her with the typical possessiveness of their kind.

It wasn't that she was particularly traditional, but she knew her parents would be furious if she were "defiled." Consequently, whenever she had hooked up in the past, she ensured there was no actual penetration. While she had engaged in other acts, her "sweet spot" was reserved for someone truly worthy. The man standing before her was more than worthy.

He gazed with adoration at Marcy’s perfectly straight blonde hair and her delicate face. Her pale blue eyes, her straight nose, and those full lips—everything about her was exquisite.

Before he could utter a word, Marcy seized his collar and pulled him down into a kiss.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as a numbing electricity raced through her. His taste filled her senses, and the feeling of his large hands on her back felt perfectly right.

Though it wasn't her first kiss, the slight brush of their tongues left her feeling dizzy and ecstatic.

"I'm Marcy..." she whispered, breathless.

"George," he answered, his smile making her insides tighten with desire.

"My father is Alpha Edward and my mother is—"

"I am aware," he interrupted, his voice husky and deep. It made her want to tear his clothes off right there among the flowers.

She smiled brightly, her hands roaming over his solid chest. The shirt was a nuisance, but she controlled her impulses, hearing the distant music and chatter. They couldn't risk being discovered.

George tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Marcy felt it was the most seductive gesture she had ever experienced.

"Tell me about yourself," Marcy requested dreamily.

He shrugged casually. "I'm just a nobody."

She was confused. "You're a member of the Red Moon pack, aren't you?" She could feel the pack link, confirming they were of the same blood. "The party has been going for two hours; how did I miss you?"

"I was busy cleaning the training grounds. My shift didn't end until eight. I came straight here after..."

Marcy froze as she processed his words. Her smile vanished.

Cleaning? An Omega. A nobody.

Why would the Moon Goddess link her to an Omega? Even a warrior or a scout would have been acceptable. But Omegas were the lowest rank, the unskilled labor of the pack.

How could an Alpha's daughter be mated to a servant?

Marcy struggled to breathe and recoiled from him.

Then, words she never imagined she would speak tumbled from her lips: "I, Marcy Redmayne, reject you..."

Her heart shattered, and her wolf let out a mournful howl. She saw the flash of agony cross George's handsome face, but she knew she couldn't accept him.

She fled in such a state of distress that she didn't notice if anyone saw her leave or if George had acknowledged the rejection.

George.

That name would remain a painful scar on her soul forever.

As she neared her bedroom door, she collided with someone.

"I'm sorry..." Marcy muttered to the girl who had been knocked to the floor. The girl's clothes were far too tattered for an event like this.

Marcy was in too much internal pain to care about the stranger. The girl kept her head down, her messy copper hair hiding her face as she scrambled up and bolted down the hall.

Marcy forced herself to keep moving. She couldn't let anyone—especially her parents—see her like this. She simply hoped the person she ran into was insignificant.

Deep in her mind, Marcy's wolf retreated, nursing its wounds and ignoring her. The wolf's suffering only served to magnify Marcy's own heartbreak.

Without the cooperation of her wolf, Marcy would be unable to shift, but she would soon realize that was the least of her concerns.

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