Amara.
After welcoming me, the Alpha took his seat at the highest place in the hall. The gathering regained life once more, although everyone was more cautious about what they did and said.
I found my way back to the seat beside my grandmother.
When I sat, she leaned closer and with a low voice, said, "do not take the words of those clowns to heart, alright?"
I turned to her. She looked extremely worried. Her expression flashed the memory of the sharp personality she displayed moments earlier from my mind.
I wanted to tell her the truth—that the words they said had hurt me more than I thought it would. That the hostility in some of the pack members' eyes frightened me. That being here, surrounded by wolves who questioned my right to exist among them, made my insecurities worse.
But I didn't.
Instead, I smiled and gave a small nod.
"I'm fine," I said softly.
It wasn't true. The whispers had left their mark in my mind, and the glares still pricked my heart. But my grandmother already carried enough—memories, responsibilities and old wounds reopened by my presence. Adding my fears to that weight felt… selfish.
So I sat beside her with my hands folded in my lap. Trying to breathe amidst the unease while pretending that my heart wasn't pounding.
Then, for reasons I couldn't explain,l looked up—straight to where the Alpha was seated.
Our eyes met.
And all of a sudden, the restlessness inside me calmed. My breathing evened out and the noise of the hall faded into something distant and unimportant. His gaze held no demand or judgment—only a quiet awareness of my presence that calmed me.
I didn't understand why his presence affected me the way it did.
All I knew was that, under his watch, I could finally breathe.
For the rest of the evening, my attention kept drifting back to him without my permission. I didn't understand much about being a werewolf yet, but I understood one thing: his presence mattered. It made me feel grounded and safe.
Maybe that was the true power of an Alpha—not dominance or fear, but that quiet ability to make his pack members feel secure.
I don't quite remember what was said after that, or how the gathering concluded. At some point, I closed myself off, retreating inward until everything blurred together. Before I realized it, the meeting was over.
One by one, people rose and began to leave the hall. Some stayed longer, stopping to speak in quiet voices while constantly chuckling. I lowered my head, careful not to draw attention to myself as I waited for my grandmother to finish her conversations with the other elders.
"Amara."
I lifted my head at once.
The sound of my name cut through the noise with unusual clarity. It was him—the Alpha.
He stood only a few feet away, close enough that the space between us felt suddenly smaller. And that was when I noticed it.
His scent.
It reached me quietly, yet unmistakably—subtle but distinct. I couldn't quite describe it. Only that it reminded me of the forest after snowfall, clean and grounding, laced with a faint sweetness that caught me off guard.
My sense of smell was always dull, and so I didn't know why it suddenly reacted so strongly. I felt strange and at the same time, I was thrilled by the sudden change.
He didn't step any closer. He didn't need to.
"Are you holding up?" he asked.
His voice was quieter than I expected—steady, unhurried. Not the voice of someone used to commanding rooms, but of someone who knew he didn't have to raise it to be heard.
I nodded slowly. "Yes."
The word felt hallow the moment it left my mouth.
His gaze lingered on me, sharp but not unkind, as if he were listening for something beneath my answer. For a second, I thought he might call me out on the lie.
He didn't.
"Tonight was a lot," he said instead. "Especially for your first gathering."
I swallowed, my fingers curling slightly at my sides. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
Something flickered across his expression. It was brief and unreadable.
"You didn't," he replied. "And you won't be blamed for it."
The certainty in his tone settled deep in my chest.
A pause followed. Not awkward. But intentional.
"You're welcome here, Amara," he said. "That won't be questioned again."
I looked up at him, startled—not by the words themselves, but by the way he spoke them. Like a statement of fact. Like a promise he fully intended to keep.
Before I could find a response, he inclined his head slightly and stepped back, already turning away.
"If you need anything," he added, glancing over his shoulder, "you can ask."
Then he was gone, leaving behind the faint trace of his scent and a strange, steady warmth in my chest.
I remained where I was, heart pounding softly, knowing one thing with absolute clarity—
I may not have belonged, but I was cared for. And honestly, it didn't matter to me if only two people cared about me. I felt grateful.
Long after he left, I stood where I was. His image remained , carved into my thoughts in a way that felt far too vivid. I told myself it must have been his charisma—nothing more. And yet, no matter how I tried, my mind kept circling back to him.
My chest felt tight, but not in the way it had earlier. This sensation was different. Warmer. It dulled the cold that had seeped into me throughout the evening, replacing it with something unfamiliar.
I tried to think of other things.
It was useless.
My heartbeat refused to slow, and my skin felt overly sensitive—almost alive—as if every nerve had been quietly awakened and left exposed. The awareness stayed longer than necessary, humming beneath the surface, impossible to ignore.
Get a grip, Amara.
Was this how the rest of the pack felt when the Alpha drew near?
Was this what his presence did to them?
Or was this something else entirely?
The thought unsettled me.
My first transformation was only two weeks ago. I barely understood what I was becoming, let alone what it meant to belong to a pack. To be a werewolf.
My hands curled into pale fists before I consciously forced them to relax.
I was not ready for all these changes. I didn't want them.
"There you are."
I flinched at my grandmother's voice.
She stood there with a soft but knowing expression. She studied me for a moment before moving closer and taking my hand to help me get on my feet.
"Come," she said. "It's late. And you, my dear, have had more than enough excitement for one night."
I agreed…inwardly.
As we exited the hall, I cast one last glance across the hall—half expecting to see him again.
I didn't.
"Charming. Wasn't he?" my grandmother asked out of nowhere.
"Who was?"
She chuckled and glanced at me. "Who do you think?"
She knew that I knew who she was talking about. But there was no way I was going to confess that I found the alpha charming.
And so, in order not to say anything that would give my thoughts away. I kept my mouth shut.
My grandmother laughed again, louder this time. I looked at her—with a dumbfounded expression, I'm sure.
"Lucien," she said, softly. "The Alpha... his name is Lucien." she added when she saw my evident confusion.
Ah. So that was his name. It sounded noble. Befitting of a man his caliber.
I looked away from my grandmother and at the thick layer of snow that sat before my eyes. There was no allure to the endless white that I was looking at.
But a small smile found its way onto my face, and then, before I knew it, my lips parted, and out came his beautiful name.
"LUCIEN."