HE WAS AN ALPHA.

THEN

"I think it's time for you to go to bed."

"Really?" a four-year-old Carson Lupin asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. She was being carried into her bedroom by her father, who had just swooped her up in strong arms, forcing her to stop playing with her Lego set. "Because I think it's time for you to tell me a story."

If she couldn't play with the recent birthday gift from the Buchanan family, then she'd at least try everything possible to extend her time awake. Unlike most children her age, the young girl didn't grow tired as the moon rose in the sky — which was rather exhausting at times for her parents.

Weston Lupin held in an amused scoff at her response, unable to believe how much attitude could fit into such a small body. He told people that she got it from her mother, but he knew he was just as bad in his youth — truthfully, he was that bad up until he left his pack.

"Alright," Weston said, sighing. Then he dropped Carson on her bed from high up, smiling as she bounced off of it twice before settling down. "Which book? Beauty and the Beast?"

"Not in the mood," Carson said while climbing underneath her fluffy blue comforter covered in stars.

"Sleeping Beauty?"

"Boring."

"How about you give me a hint?"

"You know the one I want!" Carson practically whined. "The one about the king and his witch."

"The alpha, not the king," her father corrected, shaking his head. "You should know that if it's actually your favorite."

"Same thing," she mumbled. "Now, come on."

"Someone's very impatient," he said, shaking his head. "Alright. One day, the alpha stumbled upon—"

"No, from the beginning," Carson interrupted, moving to hit her father with a pillow. "Backstory!"

Weston snorted, knowing she'd only just learned the meaning of the word 'backstory' eight days ago from her mother. But it was Carson's favorite story to hear — even if it was more of a history lesson than a fairytale. Not a week went by where one or both of her parents recited it to her, but she was just as enthralled by it each time.

Deciding that her father wasn't speaking fast enough, Carson grabbed his sleeve impatiently. "I'll help you start. Once upon a time..."

A chuckle left his lips as he nodded and began. "Once upon a time, in the land called Seabrook, there were two groups of creatures—"

"The werewolves and the witches!" Carson said, excitedly. She would often interject in bedtime stories, claiming that she was helping her father remember.

"The werewolves and the witches," he confirmed. "For hundreds of years, the two species were at war. Long ago, in retaliation for a wolf attacking their coven leader, the witches bound the wolves' abilities to a moonstone to limit their capabilities, and without its power, they would cease to exist. And the wolves never forgave the witches for cursing them, taking away their power and freedom. Because of this, there would never be peace between the two peoples."

"The hostility between them grew too great, especially after the humans of Seabrook stole away the moonstone. And eventually, as the pack continued to grow in size, the coven of witches moved on, finding a safer town to reside in."

"But not all of them," Carson said, leaning closer to her father.

"Not all of them," he agreed, the corners of his lips turning up. "One witch remained, loving her home too much to leave. And it was this witch that stumbled upon a werewolf in the forest."

"Not just any wolf," she whispered.

"No, he was an alpha — the strongest and fiercest of all the pack. His sole purpose was to protect his pack from humans and witches while searching for the lost moonstone," he explained. With a smile, Weston ran a hand over his scruff-covered cheek while thinking back. "And it was rather embarrassing of him to get caught in a bear trap while patrolling the perimeter around the den. The witch was the only one near to hear his cries."

"She appeared through the shadows of the trees. Her eyes were already glowing a deep, red color, ready to cast a spell at a moment's notice. Had it come to a fight, she easily would've bested the injured alpha."

"But it didn't come to a fight," Carson interrupted with a dreamy sigh.

"No, it did not," he agreed. "Wolves were raised to believe that witches and their magic could only cause harm, but that wasn't the case. That day, his witch freed and healed with her magic. Then, as the magic faded from her eyes and she helped the alpha to stand, they locked eyes, and the rarest of things transpired — something only a handful of werewolves are ever lucky enough to experience."

"She was his mate," Cason said, once again sighing dreamily while falling back against her pillow. "Keep going. Keep going."

Weston chuckled and nodded. "The alpha found his soulmate in the one thing he was raised to hate the most. And though the witch was wary of him as well, she still helped to free him from the hunter's trap and healed his leg. He wasn't sure if she felt the mate bond the same as he did — though he figured that was the case when she didn't run or attack him. A few words and names were exchanged, and then one accidental meeting in the forest turned into many planned ones. Meeting far away from the alpha's den so that his pack would not find out. He had to keep his witch hidden."

"He shouldn't've had to," Carson mumbled with a frown, feeling sad for the couple in the story.

"No, he shouldn't have," her father agreed. "There weren't many wolf laws more sacred than the order to respect and protect your fellow wolf's mate. But the feud with the witches, even though it was dying out as they fled town, was still the cause of much hatred. Hatred that would never allow for a witch as the mate of their alpha."

"So, what did they do about it?" she asked, already knowing how the story went.

Weston's eyes glazed over for a moment, and a flash of sadness crossed his face, but it was gone far too soon for the four-year-old to notice.

"They fell deeper in love with every day that passed, and soon, splitting his time between his duties as alpha and keeping his love for his witch a secret became too difficult — his pack needed him, but he was far too distracted when not by his mate's side. And one day, when he was too eager to cover his tracks, he was discovered by his second in command, his beta, his best friend."

Carson knew what was coming and she hated it. But she still wanted to hear.

"There was a choice — kill the last witch in Seabrook to finally end the war once and for all, or to leave the pack behind, forfeiting his moonstone necklace and right as their alpha."

"What did he choose?"

"Her," a new voice said. Carson turned on her side and saw her mother, Julia, leaning against the doorframe. She had a soft smile on her lips as she looked at her husband, who matched the fond expression. "The alpha chose his witch, leaving behind everything he'd ever known for her. Even his precious moonstone."

"But a wolf will die without a moonstone," Carson said as if that was brand new information.

Julie stepped into the room and sat at the foot of the bed next to Weston, who reached to run a hand through her red hair that matched their daughter. "The witch conjured every ounce of magic in her body and then some, pulling from the earth of Seabrook, and used that power to save her wolf. He lost his fangs and his strength, but he survived. The alpha lived as a human."

"All that power was too much for the witch, though," Weston said, cupping Julia's cheek softly. "She sacrificed all of it to save him and lost that connection to her power in return. The witch was as good as human, too."

"But they had each other," Carson said, grinning. Though parts of it were sad, and they both lost things, their love kept them together through it all.

"And they wouldn't be on their own for long," her mother claimed, smiling brightly.

"They soon had a rambunctious little pup to keep them company," Weston said while reaching to tickle Carson's sides. As she giggled, Julie prodded her husband for riling her up even more before bed. He ignored her and instead swooped Carson up, letting her rest her head on his chest as he held her. "The daughter of a werewolf and a witch. Long forgotten legends speak of such a hybrid, one who will be a wonderful alpha — a great one, even. An alpha that will unite and save the very pack her father was exiled from."

"She'll find the moonstone," Carson said quietly. Then she tilted her head so she could look up at her father. "I hope the great alpha is out there. She can bring her daddy back to his family."

Weston tucked an unruly piece of orange hair behind Carson's ear, spotting the single, white strand near the back of her head that was so hard to spot unless her hair was up in a ponytail, as it was now. Someday, his daughter would know better. She'd know it was more than just a story about the alpha and the witch. Someday, she would change everything.

"She will someday."