The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Chapter 118

Chapter 118 – Ella Takes a Stand

Ella

I’ve been replaying my conversation with Henry all day long, repeating the exchange over and over in my mind and trying to decipher if the old Alpha was trying to warn me as a mere precaution, or because he really believes we have something to be worried about. After Henry left this evening I got online and started looking into the actual mechanics of the election – something I should have done from the very beginning.

It all looks fairly simple on paper. All eligible Alphas compete in the public arena and all the shifters in the realm vote on election day. This usually results in two or three frontrunners, and the Alpha council makes its selection based on the remaining competitors. If there’s a wide margin and a clear winner, they usually just reinforce the popular vote, but when there are ties or controversies, they provide an important check on the system.

Once elected, the Alpha King will remain in power until they die, coronate one of their heirs, or are removed from power by council decree. Historically elections are actually very rare, because most King’s belong to an existing dynasty and pass down the title through the generations of their children. As I’m reading, I discover that the current King is the only the third ruler in history to ever be removed from power, and his own election five years ago was the first in 200 years. The fact that the wolves are already having another vote is absolutely unprecedented. The knot in my stomach tightens as all this information comes together. I realize that Henry was right to warn me, after all.

“What are you frowning at so intently, trouble?” Sinclair inquires, striding out of the bathroom and ruffling his wet hair with a towel. Another swath of terry cloth is slung around his hips, and water drips down his bare torso . My mouth waters as I take in the sight of his rippling muscles and powerful physique, but the heavy weight in my stomach is preventing my inner wolf from getting too distracted.

“Dominic, what will happen if we lose the campaign?” I inquire hesitantly, still sitting in bed with the computer in my lap.

Sinclair’s face pulls into a grimace, and he crosses the distance between us, peeking at my screen. Seeing a dozen tabs worth of dry political research open in my browser, he slides his hand around my nape, massaging my tense muscles. “Doing some research?”

I

the edge of the bed, still cradling my head

“Your father explained a little of the history to me, and when I stop and think about all the secrets, conspiracies and crises that keep popping up… it’s hard not to feel like something seriously sketchy is going

on my body. “Am I making you feel

I assure him, closing the laptop and sliding closer to Sinclair. “But I also don’t know who is pulling the strings here. I feel like we’re being swept up in something much bigger than us,

understanding, “I’m scared too.” He admits, shocking

squeak, scooting even closer and practically climbing on top of

the way into his lap. “Of course I am. I have a lot to lose.” He proclaims soberly, squeezing me tightly so that I know he’s talking about Rafe and me. “But that’s not a bad thing. It’s a constant reminder about what’s really important. It helps me keep

his own fears. On one hand it should terrify me to know that he doesn’t feel as indomitable as he always seems, but I like knowing that I’m not alone in this – that I’m not just being silly or

face in my hands. I stare up into his fierce green eyes, brushing

set in a hard line, and I quickly see that he doesn’t want to add to my fears by putting new possibilities in my head. “You must

“If I lose the campaign…” He begins

I nudge his head up, forcing him to look me in the eye again. “But you must have some

territory while I stay behind, I have plans for us being exiled together, for my imprisonment, my death, your capture. If you can think of it, I have a plan for it, sweetheart. But we don’t know how this is going to play out yet, and I can’t tell you which plan

lip quivers dangerously, and I can’t help the fresh bloom of hurt that blossoms in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this worried? I thought we agreed that I can’t avoid danger if I

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