Alpha's Strength

by Rebecca Royce

  She regarded her hand. The kind of focus she’d had at the bar flew back at her. All she could see were her fingers. They appeared human, and that wasn’t what she wanted. No, right at that second, she needed claws and fur. The true believers inside the compound would know fear.

  It hurt, but it worked. As she watched, her smooth skin grew fur, and her fingers reshaped into the long, sharp weapons that would kill in a fight. To call the pain agonizing would be too small a word, but she didn’t have time to care.

  Betsy had never met the middle-aged man who opened the door. He had brown hair, graying on the sides, and brown eyes to match.

  She smiled, and he opened his mouth to say something, only he never got the chance. With her shaking, shifted hand, she grabbed the human by the throat.

  “I want Joe, and if you want to see another day of life, you’re going to get him here. Immediately.”

  “Betsy?” She hadn’t cleared this part of the plan with John. It didn’t surprise her one bit that she’d startled him, but he was going to have to get with the new circumstances fast.

  “Do I smell scared, John?” She hissed out her words.

  “No actually.” He shook his head.

  “Then don’t worry.” She turned her attention back to the man whose throat she held. “Did you hear me? Call for Joe.”

  “There’s no need for that, Betsy.” Joe Jones came slinking out from farther down the hall. She caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was lemony and fresher than she would have liked. The man should wear a scent that matched the degradation in his soul. Something coarse and disgusting. Something that would make her gag.

  “Joe.” She nodded to him not letting go of the throat she held

  “I see you’ve found your claws. I’m very disappointed. You were our example of how the damned could be saved. All of those years you never turned, not even when provoked. Now look at you.”

  There were a number of things she could say to that, including questioning him about what exactly they had done to try to provoke her, but she needed to keep her head in the game. Her objective was to find Cyrus and free her parents. Playing a game of words with a man who she knew hated her kind wouldn’t amount to anything useful other than satisfying her growing need for blood.

  The claws must be bringing out her wolf side.

  She smiled, and Joe took a step back. Good, he should feel fearful in her presence. Maybe she could be the monster he’d named her.

  “Joe, you aren’t going to ask after Nathan? In all of this, he isn’t your first concern?”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t believe you’d hurt him or that you’d even be capable of it. My son is a trained werewolf hunter.”

  “Your son is sitting in a cage at the mercy of the Alpha from Boston.”

  Joe sucked in his breath. “I don’t believe you.”

  “John, if you would.”

  Her companion dialed the phone, and Alexei picked up on the first ring. John handed it to Joe without being told to. She was glad he’d gotten into the moment. Directing him was going to destroy some of the mystique she was going for.

  From where she stood, she could hear Nathan whimpering into the phone. Her werewolf abilities were proving to be useful. Joe turned redder and redder as he spoke to his son. She wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact that his son was crying like a baby or that it was the Alpha of Boston who held him captive.

  Without saying a word, Joe hung up the phone.

  “I’m going to imagine that you’ve heard of Alexei before since your people had his females killed.” She didn’t give him the chance to answer. “He’s vicious and mean on a good day. Lately, he’s not been feeling particularly pleasant.”

  Well, she assumed those things to be true based on the way the rest of the pack reacted to Alexei. She’d known him four days and didn’t have much to judge him by.

  From the way Joe’s red face turned pale instantly, she knew she had hit a nerve. “Alexei has agreed to keep your son alive.” Not indefinitely, but she would lie, cheat, and steal to get what she wanted right then. Bending the truth would have to be something she lived with. Somehow she didn’t think it was going to be a problem.

  “Your parents aren’t here. They never were, you stupid girl. They’ve always been with us. Go by your house. They’re living there like they always have.”

  Betsy swallowed. His words really shouldn’t have thrown her off. She should have been prepared to find out her parents had been part of the betrayal the whole time, that there had been no coercion, that she’d always been a pawn. It burned in her stomach. Some day she would cry about it. When she had Cyrus back and he could put his arms around her. That day wasn’t today.

  “Who said anything about my parents? You think we didn’t know?” Her throat felt scratchy, and she ignored it. “I want to know where the local werewolf pack is, Joe. You tell me that, and Alexei won’t slit Nathan’s throat and don’t act like you don’t know. There’s a werewolf pack here and for some reason you haven’t been able to kill them yet. But I bet you know where they are even if you haven’t been able to kill them.” She tried to steady her breath. Bluffing wasn’t easy for her.

  For tonight anyway. She raised an eyebrow, begging him to challenge her. If it hadn’t been Cyrus’ head on the line, she might even want him to dare to call her bluff. Because she wasn’t bluffing—the whole lot of them could rot in hell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m going to kill you, Beaux. Just so you understand that. I’m going to eat your insides.”

  Cyrus hadn’t seen Beaux Nelson since the third year on Lucian’s farm. Beaux hadn’t been back the next year, having not been invited to join them again. The fact had surprised Cyrus because Beaux had been a top werewolf, and Lucian had seemed to favor him in year three. And then nothing, not even a blip of anyone’s radar until the man’s pack had jumped their cars and dragged Cyrus and his people into a fight in the middle of the road. It had been bloody. He studied his pack members. Thirteen of them were in various states of capture and distress. Some of them needed a Healer, and Beaux had certainly not offered one.

  Betsy. By the moon, he wished he knew what had happened to her. He’d ordered her to run. Had she? She isn’t dead. He couldn’t allow himself to think about that. Sending her off had saved her life. Lake would find her, assuming his sister was functioning properly and not lost in her own needs. He’d been so distracted with trying to keep Betsy safe that he’d not seen the attack by Beaux coming.

  The other man had struck him with something on the side of the head. He’d awakened tied up to the wall.

  Beaux shrugged. “I imagine if I untied any of you that you’d certainly try to kill me. That’s why you’re all confined.”

  Cyrus growled, disliking Beaux’s nonchalance more than anything “Why did you do this in the first place? We were not here to bother you.”

  Beaux clenched his teeth. He’d always seemed a man on the edge, but it seemed he had gained some measure of control.

  Beaux liked the “old ways”, as if they should all be romping through the woods communing with the trees and hiding from human ways. When no one else had seen things the way he did, he’d grown bitter and angry.

  He’d been the best fighter among them. And now here he was. In Montana.

  “Is it customary in New York to allow a group of werewolves passage into your territory without them asking permission of the Alpha first?” Beaux growled his words.

  “I had been told there was no Alpha in Montana. Lone wolves, no pack. It isn’t necessary to request anyone’s permission when dealing with a bunch of rabid dogs.”

  Beaux launched himself forward, getting in Cyrus’ face. “You won’t talk to me like that. Not now. Not ever. You are on my land. You will respect me.”

  Cyrus lowered his voice to keep from shouting. He needed to treat Beaux like a child, a misunderstood youth who needed to be taught. “It’s easy to demand respect while you have my people injured, ha
ve not offered them care of a Healer, and have me tied to the wall. It’s easy to demand respect when you hit me over the head so I can’t take you on properly. I’ll respect you when you’ve done something to earn it. There is no Alpha in Montana. You’re a pretender to the role. Pathetic actually.”

  “How dare you?”

  “My Alpha.” One of the wolves who’d fought beside Beaux entered the room. The wolf had to be over six feet seven inches tall. Cyrus didn’t know if he’d ever actually seen anyone that large before. His mouth fell open before he realized it, and he closed his lips together. “May I see you for a moment?”

  Beaux snarled through his nose when he spoke. “Right now?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s imperative.”

  It didn’t bode well for his you’re-not-an-Alpha argument if the others were referring to him as Alpha. If Cyrus were wrong about Beaux’s status, he’d apologize later. What he needed was to get off the wall, free his people, find out what had happened to Betsy, and then beat Beaux into the ground before he handled Betsy’s family situation.

  He tugged at his restraints. Beaux had been thorough; that was for sure.

  “My Alpha, don’t worry about this,” Lachlan called from the back of the room. “We don’t require his assistance.”

  “You let me judge what you do and do not need.” What Cyrus needed was a jackhammer. Or a stick of dynamite he could stick up Beaux’s ass. Lit.

  Beaux reentered the room. “Who is Betsy Webber?”

  The entirety of Cyrus’ pack trapped in the room erupted in growls. No one liked hearing her name on Beaux’s mouth. Cyrus would have smiled if he hadn’t wanted to rip the other man’s face off. Cyrus’ pack had accepted and protected his mate.

  “Where did you learn that name?” He was going to shift and get out his chains. He’d been holding off doing so, trying to figure out what Beaux wanted, what his objective had been. But the time for talking had ended. The cuffs on his wrist wouldn’t hold him in animal form. And then he was going to tear Beaux’s heart from his body.

  “She’s at my door. Or so my people tell me. Four other werewolves accompany her, and she’s offering to trade some kind of information we need for your release. Who is this woman? Is she the one you helped to flee from my men?”

  When he got a hold of John, Lake, and the other wolves who should have been protecting her, he was going to string them up by their toenails. What were they thinking letting her come here? How did she even find this place?

  He forced himself to take a deep breath. “She isn’t going to trade you anything. She doesn’t know anything. Get her gone.”

  Cyrus would protect her whether she wanted to be or not. Betsy needed to be far, far away. India might be far enough.

  “Who is she to you?”

  “That’s not your concern.” He wouldn’t let Beaux make her a bartering chip. Not in this lifetime or any other.

  “Let’s say I make it my business. She’s an attractive female, and she smells like heaven. We don’t have an abundance of females here. Perhaps one of my wolves would like to woo her.”

  The pack growled again, and Cyrus narrowed his gaze. He was going to have to be cleverer with this man. Beaux had always lived by the old rules, the ones that had worked before they embraced their human side. There had to be ways to get them to favor Cyrus for a while.

  Much as he wanted to kill him right off the bat, he was going to have to let his human side rule for a few minutes. As hard as that proved to be.

  “Your pack doesn’t want me putting men in front of her. Why is that? Have I been misinformed? Is she not attractive?”

  Cyrus took a deep breath. If his idea didn’t pan out, he was royally screwed. He’d have no choice but to shift and end all of Beaux’s guys where they stood. For the sake of peace, it was worth a try.

  “She’s my mate. My pack objects to their Alpha’s woman being discussed at all.”

  Beaux crossed his hands over his chest. . “She didn’t identify herself as such.”

  “Betsy wouldn’t know to do so. She’s new to this. It’s a very long story and one I would be happy to share with you if you would let me go”

  Beaux shook his head. “I never would have imagined it. What happened? Did you need a new political alliance now that someone finally took out Lucian? Is her family well connected? Isn’t that what you guys do? Take over packs for political reasons; marry to assert your power? Act more human than the humans themselves?”

  The dig at Lucian’s death had clearly been meant to raise his ire. But Betsy stood outside at risk. He couldn’t afford to give into temper. Not yet anyway.

  “Actually, we’re true mates. I found her in a coffee shop.”

  Beaux opened and closed his mouth. So he’d finally managed to stun the man. Good, then they were moving in the right direction.

  Beaux hissed out his breath. “Are you telling me that the moon gifted you with a true mate? How could that be? You’re so undeserving.”

  “And you’ve always managed to be holier than thou, haven’t you?” Cyrus shook his head. “Regardless of whether or not I’ve earned a true mate, I got one, and I’m going to call on you to give me mate protection. She is not to be touched, molested, or in any way harmed in whatever is going on between us.”

  Beaux groaned. “You played me like a fiddle.”

  “Do I have your word, Nelson? You won’t harm one hair on her head and neither will any member of your pack?”

  The other man nodded. “You have it. The true mate of an Alpha is always exempt from any Alpha challenges.”

  “I don’t want your damned pack, man. I don’t want anything to do with it. That isn’t why I’m here, and had I known you were now Alpha of Montana—something I couldn’t possibly have foreseen considering: a, you never announced it and b, are from Ohio—I would have made a proper request for travel over your lands.”

  “Then what are you doing here? I know your games. I watched Lucian play them, and I saw through them even then. I won’t be used as a ploy, and neither will my pack. We will not submit to another Alpha Prime and certainly not to you.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I am not looking to be Alpha Prime. I never wanted it, and I never will. I do not desire that kind of power. I am Alpha of Manhattan. I have enough on my plate, and I would not abandon my pack to go running around taking care of hunting rights in Iowa. I don’t want Montana. I want to do what we came here to do, and then I want to get out of here, never to return or to look at your ugly face again.”

  “I might almost believe you if I didn’t know what a manipulative bastard you are.”

  Cyrus had enough. He’d tolerated more than he ever would have in the past for Betsy’s protection, but if he took any more of the werewolf’s puny excuses for abuse, he would look weak in front of his pack and feel pathetic as a man. Neither of those things could be tolerated.

  “Let me out of here, and we’ll talk like men. Or you could continue to act the coward. I suppose it’s up to you.”

  Beaux growled, and Cyrus suppressed a grin. Sometimes it was too damn easy.

  “I have never been a coward, and I took you in a fight. You’re my prisoner.”

  Cyrus shifted into his wolf form. Really, enough was enough. His pack responded in kind, filling the room with the sounds of their tempers and excitement. He had one moment to see Beaux’s eyes widen with what amounted to respect before he himself shifted into his werewolf form.

  Well, maybe the son-of-a-bitch really is an Alpha. Only an Alpha could shift like that outside of the full moon.

  He snarled, letting his wolf take over. He didn’t need reason and logic, not when he meant to tear the asshole’s face to shreds. Cyrus leaped forward, knocking Beaux backward onto the ground.

  No one fucked with him or threatened what was his. No one lived who harmed his pack. Cyrus sniffed the air. He’d bloodied Beaux. There would be more where that had come from.

  Beaux lunged toward
him, and Cyrus ducked right but not before Beaux got a swipe at him. It burned, but who cared for small pain when there was death to doll out?

  “Stop it.” Betsy’s soft smell drifted over him as her words filled the room. “Don’t hurt each other. We need to work together on this.”

  Cyrus wanted to look up and see his mate, but he didn’t dare. If he looked away from Beaux, the other wolf would wreck him.

  “Oh my gosh.” Lake choked on her words as she saw his injured pack. “You all need some help. Here, let me. John, help me.”

  He was glad she’d see to them. Perhaps Lake could be counted on again.

  Beaux yelped and jumped back as though Cyrus had struck him. Only he hadn’t. For at least thirty seconds, neither of them had moved. What the hell had happened?

  In the blink of an eye, Beaux had transformed back into his human form. He now sat, open-mouthed, staring at Lake.

  Cyrus couldn’t attack another werewolf in wolf form if the other wolf wasn’t covered in fur too. It didn’t seem a fair fight, and his animal instincts didn’t like it. With a real threat, he couldn’t justify the assault.

  He concentrated on shifting back until he, too, had regained his human physique. “What’s the matter, Beaux? Never seen a Healer before? Can’t your so-called pack manage to bring one in?”

  His sister stood facing away from him, her back stiff as she checked on several members of his pack. She jolted when he spoke but didn’t turn around while she got to work on someone’s torn leg. What was wrong with her?

  “This is your Healer?” Beaux’s voice sounded strained, edgier than it had earlier. Cyrus hadn’t swiped at him that hard. What the hell is going on?

  “Yes.” Cyrus stood up. “And my sister, as it happens. Beaux, this is Lake. Lake, this is Beaux. Apparently he’s Alpha here, but that’s still up for debate.”

  Cyrus had no intention of letting that chestnut go. Not for a while at least.

  “Hi.” Lake didn’t turn around, which was horribly rude. But maybe she was really involved in who she was helping? How badly injured were his pack mates? Cyrus stared at Betsy, and she shook her head. Either she didn’t know, or she wasn’t going to talk about it right then.