The Cold Alpha
Lucien Blackwood had not felt warmth in over ten years.
The thought came to him not as a complaint, nor as regret, but as a fact—solid and unchanging, like stone. Warmth was a memory, something belonging to another life, another version of himself that no longer existed.
The morning sun poured through the vast glass walls of his penthouse, illuminating polished marble floors and minimalist furniture worth more than most people would earn in a lifetime. The city stretched endlessly below, glittering with life and movement, yet it might as well have been frozen in time.
Lucien felt nothing.
He stood barefoot on the cold floor, dressed in a tailored black shirt and slacks, his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His reflection stared back at him from the glass—sharp cheekbones, dark hair brushed back with precision, eyes the color of midnight steel. There was no softness in his gaze, no trace of warmth or hesitation.
Just control.
Behind him, the fireplace burned brightly, flames licking upward with a steady crackle. It was meant to create ambiance, comfort, luxury.
Lucien could not feel it.
He lifted his hand and held it inches from the fire. The heat should have been unbearable.
Instead, there was only emptiness.
He lowered his hand calmly and turned away.
Power had its price.
Ten years ago, Lucien Blackwood had paid it in full.
By day, he was the billionaire CEO of Blackwood Industries, a global empire spanning technology, real estate, energy, and finance. His name carried weight in every boardroom across the world. Politicians sought his favor. Corporations bent under his influence.
By night, he was Alpha.
Not just any Alpha, but the Alpha of the Nightfall Pack—the largest, most feared werewolf pack in the northern territories. Under his rule, borders were unchallenged, traitors did not survive, and enemies learned quickly that mercy was not something Lucien Blackwood offered.
Fear was more effective than love.
Lucien had learned that lesson early.
He adjusted the silver cufflinks at his wrist as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed softly behind him.
"Everything is prepared, Alpha."
Lucien did not turn. He did not need to.
The voice belonged to Ethan, his beta—loyal, capable, and one of the few people allowed into Lucien's private space. Ethan had served him since before the curse, since before Lucien had become what he was now.
"Speak," Lucien said, his voice smooth, devoid of emotion.
"The council meeting has been moved to tonight. The southern packs are growing restless."
"They always are," Lucien replied coolly.
Ethan hesitated, an unusual thing for him. Lucien sensed it immediately, his wolf stirring beneath the surface of his skin.
"And?" Lucien prompted.
"There was… an incident at the eastern border late last night."
Lucien finally turned, fixing Ethan with a sharp gaze. "Explain."
"A patrol detected a human inside our territory."
Lucien's expression did not change. "Remove them."
"We tried."
That caught his attention.
"Tried?" Lucien echoed.
Ethan straightened. "She wasn't afraid. Not of us, not of the border, not even when she realized where she was."
Lucien crossed the room, every step measured. "Humans wander where they don't belong all the time. This is not unusual."
"No," Ethan agreed slowly. "But this one is."
Lucien stopped walking.
"Why?" he asked quietly.
Ethan swallowed. "Because when you passed her, Alpha… the bond flared."
The words struck like a blade.
For a brief, dangerous moment, the world tilted.
Lucien felt it then—something deep inside him shifting, awakening after years of forced silence. His wolf stirred violently, a low growl rumbling in his chest before he could suppress it.
Impossible.
"That's not funny," Lucien said, his voice dangerously calm.
"I would never joke about this," Ethan replied. "Your curse reacted."
Lucien's fingers curled slowly into fists.
His curse did not react.
It was sealed. Bound. Controlled.
Ten years ago, a witch's magic—woven with ancient lunar laws—had stripped him of warmth and emotional attachment in exchange for unmatched power and unbreakable dominance. He had accepted the terms without hesitation. Love had been a weakness he could no longer afford.
He had believed the curse absolute.
"Where is she?" Lucien asked.
"Security brought her here. She's downstairs."
Lucien nodded once. "Leave."
Ethan hesitated. "Alpha—"
"Now."
Ethan bowed his head and left the room.
When the door closed, Lucien exhaled slowly. The air felt wrong—thicker, charged, unfamiliar. The cold inside him wavered, flickering like a flame on the verge of being extinguished.
He did not like it.
He turned away from the window and strode toward the private elevator. The doors slid shut with a soft chime, and as he descended, his thoughts raced with unwelcome possibilities.
A mate.
The word itself was dangerous.
Mates were bonds. Anchors. Vulnerabilities.
The Moon Goddess had twisted fate cruelly by giving him one at all.
The elevator slowed.
Lucien straightened his posture, forcing his wolf back into submission.
Control above all else.
The doors opened.
And everything changed.
The warmth hit him instantly.
Not imagined. Not symbolic.
Real.
Lucien's breath caught as sensation flooded his body—burning through nerves long thought dead. His heartbeat stuttered violently, and the cold that had ruled him for years cracked like ice beneath sudden heat.
He staggered back half a step.
His gaze locked onto the woman standing near the security desk.
She was… ordinary.
And yet not.
She stood stiffly, her hands clenched together as if bracing herself. She wore a simple dress, slightly rumpled, her shoes scuffed as though she'd walked a long way. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, catching the light in soft waves.
But it was her eyes.
Wide. Uncertain. Warm.
When they met his, the bond snapped into place with brutal force.
Mate.
Lucien's wolf surged forward, roaring in triumph and recognition. His skin burned. His pulse thundered. The world narrowed until she was all he could see.
The woman inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest.
"I—" she began softly, her voice trembling. "I don't know why, but it suddenly feels very warm in here."
Lucien's jaw hardened.
No.
This was not fate.
This was a curse upon a curse.
Security guards glanced nervously between them, sensing the shift in the air, though none of them truly understood it.
Lucien forced himself to straighten, summoning every ounce of discipline he possessed. He slammed the cold back into place through sheer will, burying the warmth deep beneath layers of control.
"Get her out of my building," he said.
His voice was deadly calm.
The woman flinched as if struck.
"But I didn't do anything," she said quietly. "They just brought me here. I was lost."
Lucien did not look at her again.
Because if he did, he feared the curse—or his heart—would shatter completely.
"Escort her off the property," he ordered.
As guards approached, the woman's eyes lingered on him, confusion and something deeper flickering across her face.
Recognition.
Lucien turned away.
The warmth faded instantly, leaving behind an ache colder than anything he had ever known.
And for the first time in ten years, Lucien Blackwood wondered if power was worth the price he had paid.