Bad Boy Alphas

by Alexis Davie

  “What do you think you’re—?” One of his goons punched Harley in the stomach, cutting his sentence short, and Ivy immediately reached out to him before Larkin stood on her way.

  “Stay out of this, Arco trash,” he snarled, barely looking in Harley’s direction. “This is a family matter.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ivy demanded, her hands clenching into fists.

  “What happened back at the compound was a mistake,” Larkin said. “I admit that my hurry to make things right must have put your father in quite a difficult situation, but it’s clear that he’s far too ill to make any sound judgments! Giving the family to his brother…” He shook his head, and all it did was make Ivy want to rip his throat out. “Nonsense. I intend to make things right, Bunny, but I’m afraid I’ll need your help to do that.”

  “My uncle is a blood relation of my father. What makes you think you’re a better choice? Your arrogance is truly egregious!”

  Ivy wasn’t going to let him speak to her—or speak of her father—with such disrespect again. The time for talking was over, and she did something she should have done a long time ago.

  She transformed into a wolf and pounced on Larkin, her teeth lunging right for his neck.

  Larkin, however, seemed to know what she was going to do, because he shifted into his own wolf form just in time for both of them to fall to the floor, entangled in a brawl. Out of the corner of her eyes, Ivy saw Harley struggling against Larkin’s goons, but she remained focus on the wolf she was fighting.

  “Stop!”

  The voice that called out the order was so authoritative and so strong that the five shifters in the room stopped exactly where they were. Standing at the door of the apartment was a tall, imposing man, whose status as an alpha was so palpable that it made Larkin hang his head in shame and Harley stand still, free of the other two men’s hold. Harley was mid-transformation, his claws out and his fangs bared, as if he had been about to intercede to help Ivy.

  Both Ivy and Larkin shifted back to their human forms, and Ivy wiped the blood off her face from a scratch Larkin had made on her cheek.

  “Uncle Lincoln,” she said in disbelief.

  “Child!” her uncle exclaimed, moving towards her to wrap her in a hug. It was only until he stepped forward that Ivy noticed he was accompanied by several of her father’s attendants. “I am glad you are safe!”

  “How did you know—”

  “That I would find him here?” Uncle Lincoln turned to Larkin, glaring at him. “Alexei told me about what he had said, and he feared that this shifter scum would go after you. Let me remove the thorn in your side, would you, child?” He snapped his fingers, and the attendants grabbed Larkin and his goons and escorted them out of Ivy’s apartment.

  Then he turned to Harley, casting his icy gaze upon him. “Do not misunderstand, Arco. There is still no truce.”

  Harley remained still, which Ivy was thankful for, while her uncle turned back to her.

  “I know you are capable of making your own decisions, child,” he told her, gripping her shoulders. “But if you ever wish to return, we will always welcome you back with open arms.”

  Before Ivy could say something in response, Uncle Lincoln turned around and left the way he had come, closing the door behind him.

  Harley took a deep breath, his claws receding and his fangs shaping back to his human teeth.

  “Your uncle is pretty intimidating,” he said, and Ivy couldn’t help laughing.

  “Oh,” she said. “If only you had met my father in his prime.”

  After they had cleaned up the mess Larkin and his goons had made, they sat down on the couch, since Harley said there was something he needed to tell her.

  “Remember I told you I was looking for a job?” Ivy nodded her head. “Well, I got a really good offer.”

  His grin made Ivy’s eyes widen. “In… here in Houston?”

  Harley shook his head, but the grin remained. “Galveston.”

  “Harley!” Ivy cried, grinning back at him. “Galveston is so much closer than Birch City! We’ll get to see each other more often!”

  “Actually…” He took her hands in his, and he looked down at them before glancing back at Ivy. “About that, I… I don’t want to see you just once in a while, Ivy. I want to be with you all the time.”

  Ivy frowned at him. “Do you… want me to come to Galveston with you?”

  Harley squeezed her hands. “No,” he said. “I want you to marry me.”

  Ivy’s heart leaped into her throat, and she found that she couldn’t form any words. She felt like time was standing still, like her body was paralyzed.

  Her expression apparently worried Harley, because he kept talking, his own words coming out in a stutter.

  “I-I know it’s sudden,” he told her, “and that we haven’t known each other all that long. But you’re the perfect mate to me, Ivy. I felt it from the very first night we spent together, and now I couldn’t be surer. I don’t want to imagine a life with anyone else.”

  Ivy felt like she would burst into tears, happiness and shock mixing within her before a sudden thought occurred to her.

  “W-would we…” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Would we be Arcos, or…?”

  Harley shook his head. “We can leave all of that behind. Galveston is a new start for us both.” He cupped her cheek with one of his hands. “I love you, Ivy, and I want to be with you for as long as I’m alive. And even after that, if there’s such a thing as an afterlife for werewolves.”

  Ivy placed her hand on top of his and leaned their foreheads together, blinking back her elated tears. She couldn’t believe she had met Harley exactly when she had needed him the most, exactly when she had needed someone to fight for—someone who loved her just as she was, who wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. She let out a small, soft laugh.

  “Well,” she murmured. “I guess we’ll find out together.”

  Harley’s grin was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  * * *

  THE END

  The Lost Shifter

  1

  The moon hung high in the sky, silver and beautiful, its light glimmering over the forest. The looming tall trees, with their ever-reaching branches, broke the light up into majestic patches in front of him. The world around him was perfectly illuminated, and even with his perfect night sight, he was amazed at how the brightness was almost too much for his eyes—the gleam cascaded off the trees and the leaves on the ground in front of him.

  Caleb Saunders inhaled deeply, breathing the open air into his massive lungs and letting his chest pump and stretch to its absolute limit. He loved the way it felt to be alive, and he never felt more alive than on the nights with a full moon. The sweet scents that flooded his head were magnificent, and he loved to taste every single thing Mother Earth had to offer when he was in his fully shifted form.

  It was during nights like this that he found himself gladder than ever to be a werewolf. He’d been born a wolf; he’d never known anything else, although, as a younger wolf—and especially as a child— he’d often wished that he could experience what it was like to be normal. It wasn’t until maybe the past twenty years or so that he’d realized how lucky he was, and he had finally grown to truly appreciate being a wolf.

  Caleb emerged out of a legion of trees into a stretch of open land. The grass was dying and shorter than usual under the October sky. He loved this time of year. Everything seemed to be winding down and going into hibernation: the color of the trees, the smells, the sights and sounds—all of it was intoxicating to him. His feet began to thump harder against the cool ground as he started to sprint across the open field. In the distance, he could plainly see where the forest wrapped back around, the way it would soon engulf him in a warm embrace of trees and shrubbery.

  Caleb welcomed it all. As a creature with one foot in the supernatural world of being a werewolf and the other foot firmly rooted in the realm of being h
uman, he was able to experience and truly appreciate the best of both worlds and everything that each had to offer someone like him.

  He wondered what the rest of his pack was doing tonight. Many of them did not seem to share his enthusiasm for experiencing everything through the eyes of a shifter. Most of them had long ago become disillusioned with their immortality, but Caleb still found new things in this ever-changing world to be surprised and inspired by. Perhaps it was because he was a young wolf still, barely two hundred years old, or maybe it was because he was now the alpha.

  He’d been born to his pack’s last alpha, David. His father had been killed by a silver bullet while out one night on a routine surveillance route. Caleb knew that the murderer belonged to the Manzweil pack, a werewolf clan with a long-lasting feud against his own—he knew, deep in his bones, that his father had been a casualty of that feud. But there had never been any actual proof, and Caleb had never been able to find anything, even after more than thirty years.

  Human hunters were also out there that could be blamed for any tragedy surrounding werewolf packs, but their numbers were very. The lycanthropes had tried to keep a low profile for the entire span of their existence, but some humans did occasionally stumble onto them. These people were a nuisance and had to be swiftly and carefully dealt with.

  Caleb hated the idea of killing anyone, even more if it was a human, but if a human came at him or his pack to destroy them, then he would do what had to be done. It was simple self-defense at that point.

  As much as he and the rest of the pack knew that the Manzweils had murdered his father, nothing could be done about it. The feud had lasted for almost five hundred years, but the packs had been quietly coexisting in the same region for that the last few decades.

  No one wanted an all-out war. It would draw the wrong kind of attention, and bloodshed was something Caleb’s father had forbidden if it could be avoided. Caleb was doing his best to uphold his father’s wishes, even though certain members of his pack had tried to convince him to end the feud by any means necessary. While he understood their feelings, and while he agreed that the Manzweil pack was dangerous in more ways than one, he just did not want to start anything that would risk even more lives. He knew that if his father were still with them, he would not accept it, no matter what.

  Caleb was almost to the edge of the forest when he spotted… something out of the corner of his eye. At first, he thought it might be a member of the Manzweils. Instinctively, he crouched down in a defensive position, ready for whatever might be coming his way. As an alpha, his reflexes were far superior to that of an average werewolf, but he knew never to underestimate an opponent, no matter how weak they appeared to be.

  After a few moments without anyone or anything jumping at him, Caleb approached the patch of grass where he thought he’d seen the threat. But what he found was no threat—it was a woman.

  She was lying face-down on the ground, her body shaking from head to toe, leaves tangled in her hair, wearing little clothing, and as Caleb moved closer to her, he could see a bad wound on her shoulder.

  It only took him a moment to smell the silver. It permeated the air surrounding the woman, emanating harshly from the wound itself. Caleb could see that the bullet had not penetrated the flesh, but merely grazed her. If it had actually hit her, she would have been dead.

  Which could only mean one thing: the woman was a wolf, like him. He was certain of it. No one else would have been shot at with a silver bullet.

  As Caleb knelt down to lay his hand on her, he could feel her life slowly fading away. She was going to die soon if he didn’t help her.

  Caleb carefully scooped the woman up in his arms. As he did so, she opened her eyes, only briefly, and he got a good look at her face for the first time. She was beautiful; angelic, even. Her long blond hair perfectly cupped her smooth facial features and her soft, perfect mouth. Her body was curvaceous, but athletic. And Caleb couldn’t help but notice her large bosom, now pressed against his chest as he gently cradled her. Looking into her eyes, he could tell that she probably didn’t know what was going on. Her gaze was hazy and unfocused; it was only a survival instinct. Then she passed out again, her breath becoming shallower by the second.

  Caleb ran at full speed, carrying the woman through the woods as he dodged trees and plants, using his perfect vision and supernatural athleticism to ensure her safety.

  His first instinct was to take her to his pack, but then he thought better of it. While she wasn’t part of them, he didn’t think she was part of the Manzweils, either. He wasn’t aware of any other packs in the area, though. He needed to find out more about who this woman was exactly, so his cabin, a small yet cozy cabin in the middle of the woods, would be the perfect place.

  He often used it during the week of the full moon so he could better commune with nature, and it just seemed to help him feel closer to who he really was without having to constantly pretend to fit in the modern society all around him.

  Once they reached his cabin, Caleb quickly bathed the woman. He poured in several different concoctions into the water. The pack doctor had given each pack member remedies to help if they were ever poisoned with silver. Caleb was glad he had them on hand. It was important that he extract every little trace of silver from her wound and skin.

  Even though the bullet had only grazed her, just those microscopic particles were enough to nearly kill her. It would have happened over a long period of time, so he figured this woman had been lying there for at least a day. She was strong; it was a miracle that she was still alive.

  After the bath, Caleb dressed her in a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt. He felt very odd about seeing this woman nude, and he did his best to overt his eyes to respect her privacy, but in a matter of life and death, privacy often had to go out the window. He just hoped she would also see it that way when she recovered… if she recovered.

  The next twenty-four hours were going to be crucial. He would have to stay with her and monitor her condition nonstop.

  Once he had put her to bed, Caleb mixed together an elixir containing ginger root, wild lavender, and marigold. Next, he added the most important ingredient: wolfsbane. Even though wolfsbane was actually poisonous if ingested or injected on its own, it bolstered the immune system of werewolves when mixed with specific plants.

  Using a dropper, Caleb carefully gave the potion to the woman. Then he sat down with a book beside the bed and waited to see if she improved… or if he had been too late.

  2

  “Where am I?”

  The voice startled Caleb at first. It had been so quiet in the cabin, and he was so used to his solitude, that he’d almost forgotten about the sleeping woman in his home. He set down the bottle of juice he’d just grabbed from the fridge and walked into the bedroom. The woman was sitting up in bed. Her eyes, now staring at his frame standing at the doorway, were still slightly unfocused, but she was definitely awake.

  The question had been posed almost as if she were just talking to herself. She seemed genuinely surprised that someone else was there, and she tried to scoot back a bit on the bed.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Caleb said, raising his arms in front of him. “You’re safe here.”

  The woman did not speak. She looked at the oversized clothes on her body and peered at her surroundings. Caleb tried to empathize with her confusion. She must be terrified, and this was surely disorienting for her.

  “Where is ‘here’?” she asked softly. “Who are you?” She put a hand up to her forehead and she winced slightly.

  “Ah, you’re probably dehydrated,” Caleb said. “I’ll get you some water.”

  “Wait,” she said before he could turn away. “Answer my question. Who are you and what am I doing here?”

  “My name is Caleb Saunders,” he told her. “I found you last night in the woods. You were almost dead. It appears that a silver bullet grazed your skin and you were suffering toxic shock. You’re very lucky to be alive.”

  “Wh
at?” The woman blinked at him. “I… I don’t remember anything about that,” she said.

  Caleb frowned. “You have no idea who might have shot you or why? Did they discover that you are a lycan?”

  “A lycan?” she repeated in disbelief. “What is that?”

  Caleb didn’t know if she didn’t trust him enough to tell him, or if she was just playing dumb. This woman was bound to know that she was a werewolf, right? She was a shifter like him, he could sense it.

  What was going on?

  “What’s your name?” Caleb asked, moving to the corner of the room—where he kept a mini-fridge—and grabbing cold bottle of water. He opened it and handed it to her.

  The woman jerked the water bottle from his hands and chugged it down in only a few gulps. He then handed her another one, which she sipped much more slowly than the first.

  “Thanks,” she said after she had finished her second bottle of water.

  “So, do you have a name?” Caleb asked again.

  The woman thought for several seconds. She looked up at him with a mix of fear and total confusion.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, her voice small and soft. “I… I can’t remember anything about myself.” She dropped her head onto her hands. “What’s happening?”

  Caleb sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “It’s okay,” he reassured her. “I’m sure your memory will return in time. You’ve been through a horrible ordeal.”

  The woman turned to him again. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “No problem,” Caleb replied. “Well, until you remember your name, I have to call you something. How about Olivia?”

  She thought for a moment and then smiled slightly. “Olivia is fine. I like that.”

  “Good. Are you hungry?” Caleb asked.