Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle

by Sasha Silsbury

  He squints into the brightness and waits for his eyes to adjust. He is in what is effectively another waiting area made up of a chain-link cage attached to the side of the building.

  It’s a decent size but there’s little shelter from the sun which is mercifully starting to dip in the summer sky.

  Cheap plastic chairs dig their legs into dry red earth, the pale white plastic painted pink with dust.

  The chairs are huddled in the middle of the cage, away from the chain-link. Nervous omegas fill them.

  Not one of them is looking up and making eye contact with the alphas who prowl the other side of the chain link, sniffing and whooping as they take their first look at the omegas who’ll be running from them.

  The air stinks: arousal, fear, excitement, pure terror, and the distinctive reek of starting heats.

  Aaron swallows hard. He wants to hug his arms to himself, suddenly aware of how little that he’s wearing.

  There are so many of them. Choose one. One that looks kind.

  He forces himself to look up and pay attention to the alphas on the other side of the fence.

  A jeer goes up followed by high-pitched whistles moments later as they notice him looking.

  “Look at that one! Can’t wait to get off the starting block. Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Darlin’. Hey darlin’. Look here.”

  Aaron forces himself to keep looking. They all look insane: wild-eyed and whooping.

  And huge. Let’s not forget huge, he thinks. He can’t see a single alpha who isn’t double his body weight.

  From what he remembers about the Red Run, he’ll have a couple of hours head start. He’s going to need it.

  A sudden shiver runs through his body. He can feel somebody’s eyes on him. He turns. There’s an alpha staring at him with an intensity that makes Aaron’s breath speed up. He’s as huge as all the others, tall, blond and bearded with bright blue eyes. The alpha’s nostrils are flared as he picks out Aaron’s scent.

  The alpha opens his mouth to say something, but Aaron looks away. He can’t handle another lurid description of what is going to be done to him.

  Screw the plan. He doesn’t want any of them.

  GREGOR

  car payments and tiny little sandwiches

  Gregor picks Aaron out the moment that he falls out of the door and stands blinking under the glare of the sun.

  They hit traffic just out of Fort Gosford and arrived in Blood Moon twenty minutes after omega registration closed. Dan is checking the registration center and Gregor is here: staring at the boy he was supposed to rescue before he was put into a cage.

  The photo that Ben gave him was a good one, capturing Aaron’s likeness perfectly, but Gregor would have recognized him anyway.

  He’s cut from the same physical cloth as his brother: the same jawline, the same soft brown eyes and dark hair.

  But that’s where the likeness ends. Gregor’s used to Ben’s soft eyes and regular panic attacks and the way he lowers his eyes whenever an alpha speaks to him.

  Aaron’s not doing any of those things. He’s not cowering or folding his arms or trying to make himself look smaller the way his brother does. He stands tall, scanning the alphas crowding the fence as if daring them to even try it.

  Kid’s got a pair, Gregor thinks. The attention is whipping the attending alphas into a frenzy. Although maybe not that sensible, he adds to himself. A flush of protectiveness washes through him followed by a sense of horror that makes his chest constrict. The kid’s going to get eaten alive.

  Look at me, kid. Gregor stares at the boy, willing him to pay attention. If he can let him know that Ben sent him, maybe the kid won’t run a mile when Gregor finally works out how to get him out. It’ll make both their lives a lot easier.

  He flares his nostrils, trying to pick up Aaron’s scent among the thousands of others. It’s there: unexpectedly sweet and heady under the panic.

  He breathes in deep, feeling the honeyed awareness of the omega soaking through the pathways of his brain.

  Aaron is still staring down the alphas, ignoring their jeers, as if he’s going to be the one doing the choosing and not them.

  What on earth is he thinking? Gregor wonders, but then all thoughts shatter.

  Aaron is looking straight at him. Defiant brown eyes meet his own, pupils blown wide with panic. Every assumption that Gregor had flies out of the window.

  The kid’s not calm. He’s so terrified that he’s not thinking straight.

  Gregor opens his mouth to tell him that it’s going to be okay. Ben got his message. They’re going to get him out.

  The fight drains out of Aaron’s eyes as he watches. The kid finally lowers his gaze and sinks into a cheap chair, as quivery as every other omega behind the fence.

  Crap. Gregor inches along the fence trying to find an empty space: somewhere close enough that he can hiss at him, let him know that there’s a plan even if he has no idea what that plan is.

  Someone grabs his arm. Gregor turns snarling.

  “Hey, don’t bite my head off,” Dan says, putting up his hands. “You find him?”

  “Yeah,” Gregor replies. The alphas snarling and jeering at the fence are making his head hurt. He wants to punch every single one of them.

  Dan scans the enclosure, his gaze settling on Aaron. The omega is sitting perfectly still, his head in his hands. His brow furrows in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

  Poor kid is right, Gregor thinks. His first promise as pack leader and he’s screwed it up. He’s going to have to go back to Aylewood and tell that kid’s brother he failed.

  The fog of fear disseminating from the caged omegas is almost palpable while the alphas outside bay like animals.

  If he does nothing, one of them is going to claim the boy with the hunched shoulders and there will be nothing Gregor can do to stop it.

  If he does nothing. He only has one option left.

  “Watch him,” Gregor says, walking away. Even as he says it, he doesn’t know what he’s asking Dan to watch for. The kid’s not going anywhere.

  “Gregor—” he hears Dan’s voice calling after him and ignores it.

  He stalks across red sand around the building towards the entrance. He always hated administering the Aylewood run, but it’s nothing like this. Nothing.

  For one thing, they don’t put the omegas on display like pieces of meat. They restrict the number of registrations for another. They screen the applicants when they come in, and they turn down a handful of omegas every year under the pretext of being oversubscribed whenever there’s a hint that they’re being coerced.

  Gregor walks into a building big enough to be a warehouse. The omega registration desk is closed. Uniformed blood wolves fold chairs and tables, while others rifle through registration papers.

  He heads to the opposite side of the cavernous space. The alpha queue is shorter, but still long enough that he has time to fill out the application form while he waits.

  The form is worse than the Aylewood one too. It’s nothing but bare bones: name, pack allegiance, pack rank, disclaimer and payment details. The payment section is longer than all the other parts put together.

  He scans the payment section and feels his lip curl up in disgust.

  A premium payment to go first? They might as well just line the omegas up and auction them off. The premium amount costs more than Gregor’s truck, and is pretty much all he’s got left in savings.

  His pen hovers over the form. What’s he going to say to Ben if he comes back without Aaron?

  Sorry, Ben. I might have saved him but I didn’t think he was worth that much money.

  Maybe it’s not what he’d actually say, but they’d both be thinking it.

  He presses a black X into the premium check box.

  He hates that he even hesitated. That’s what this place does. It makes even ordinary people count the value of someone else’s life.

  I might need to get you to slow down. Get you to look before you leap. Dan’
s words from the car flash through his head.

  He ignores them. He’s not Dan. He’s not Adam either. Adam didn’t even want to be pack leader. Not really.

  Gregor’s capable of making his own choices. Yes, he makes them fast and this might not feel like a sensible one, but his only other option is leaving the kid to the Red Run and that’s no real option at all.

  By the time, he reaches the front of the queue, he’s in the mood to punch someone, preferably one of the smug Red Run alphas with their stupid uniforms.

  He holds out the form, then folds his arms, keeping his mouth firmly shut so he doesn’t say something dumb and get kicked out.

  The beta on the other side of the desk starts tapping Gregor’s details into his laptop, then he frowns and looks up.

  “Pack leader for the Winterstoke pack?”

  “Yes.” He’s been leader for all of two months but it still feels strange confirming it.

  “Wait here.”

  The beta disappears through a door behind him. Gregor waits, arms still folded. He was expecting something like this.

  A few minutes later, the beta returns, accompanied by a tall red-haired alpha with a piercing blue eyes. A long scar snakes across his face from hairline to jaw. A pair of big alphas follow a couple of steps behind.

  The alpha gives him a broad grin and holds out his hand to be shaken.

  “Oz Corrigan. You must be Gregor Winterstoke.”

  The red wolves leader, Gregor thinks. He puts a casual smile on his face and shakes the guy’s hand like they’re old friends.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says.

  “Likewise,” Corrigan replies. “Hope you don’t mind me getting to the point, but what are you doing here?”

  The muscle behind him doesn’t move, but Gregor can feel the tension roiling off of them, ready to move the moment their boss gives the order.

  “I mean Aylewood has its own run, right?” Corrigan continues, still smiling. “And it’s a lot more prestigious than ours.” The smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

  Gregor puts a casual grin on his face. “Ah, but that’s no challenge, is it?” He gives the guy a wink. “Running down some omega when I already know the territory and all the alphas know who I am and keep out of my way? What’s the point?”

  Corrigan’s shoulders relax minutely, even if his thugs don’t.

  “I mean, yeah we’ve got the city packs’ stamp of approval, but you’ve got your own reputation: hardest run in the country. Hell, maybe the world. I mean, what are your numbers? Ten alphas to one omega? Something like that?”

  “Sixteen to one, this run,” Corrigan says. “Been a bit of a shortage this year.” He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gregor.

  Poor damn creatures, Gregor thinks, but he grunts as if he’s pleased. “Even better. An alpha claims his omega through those odds and that’s an omega well earned.”

  Gregor wonders if Corrigan has heard about the events of the last few months and the omega railroad that’s been operating through Aylewood territory. If he has, he’s got no chance of getting out onto the run. And little of getting out of here right now.

  Corrigan glances at the form still laying on the desk. “But you’re taking the premium option?”

  Crap.

  Gregor just reacts without thinking. He roars with laughter like he’s been caught out. “Good point.” He leans in conspiratorially. The thugs behind Corrigan tense. “Between you and me,” he says in a low voice. “You have some real sorry-looking creatures turn up on these things if you don’t mind me saying. I figured I’d get a better pick with a head start.”

  He leans back grinning, arms still folded. “If you don’t mind me saying,” he says again.

  Corrigan grins wider, then reaches over and claps Gregor on the back. “You’re not wrong. We got the real dregs this year. Hey, I got a proposition for you.”

  Gregor forces his body to relax. Stay casual, he tells himself. You’re just one more asshole alpha out of a bunch of them. “I’m all ears,” he says.

  “I hear you’re so damned popular, you turn omegas away. How about I wave your premium fee, and after the run, we have a discussion about supply and demand? I bet we could come to a good arrangement.”

  Over my dead body. “I bet we could,” Gregor says, nodding his head like it’s a great idea and grinning like an asshole.

  “Perfect.” Corrigan claps Gregor on the back again, and Gregor has to hold back from punching him. His mouth is hurting from all the fake smiling.

  “Hey, give my man here a free premium pass,” Corrigan says to the beta. “Good to meet you, Winterstoke. Let’s talk after the run.”

  “You too, and I’m looking forward to it,” Gregor replies. He watches the man leave with a sinking feeling.

  Either he comes back after the run to have that talk or he doesn’t. Either way, there is no chance in hell he’s going to be selling Aylewood run omegas to the Red Run.

  Corrigan is not going to be a happy bunny. He puts the thought out of his head. That’s a problem for future Gregor.

  “Omegas are off in twenty minutes if you want to watch ‘em go,” the clerk says, handing over a laminated lanyard.

  Gregor takes it and turns it over in his hand. It’s got a gold ‘PREMIUM’ sticker slapped on it. Even the premium option is tacky, he thinks.

  He draws in a deep breath. That’s it. He’s registered. He’s going to actually do this.

  He makes his way out of the fast-emptying building. Dan is waiting outside, his arms folded.

  “You know the run takes a week, right?” the sheriff says. “I do believe you said day trip.”

  “Okay, two days,” Gregor says. “I’ll get the kid and we’ll leave. No need to hang about til the end. Just tell me where to meet you.”

  “I’m already regretting this. You know that, right?”

  “I know. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me many,” Dan says, then his face turns serious. “Actually, you don’t owe me anything. You made the right choice.” He frowns. “Give me a minute to think.”

  Dan brings up a satellite image of the area on his phone and then points out a suggested meeting area to Gregor.

  It’s right at the edge of the mating run boundaries. Gregor and Aaron will have to run for it, but they’ll be unlikely to run into anyone else. Not if they go straight there.

  Dan shoves his phone back in his pocket, then claps Gregor on the back. “Good luck.” He hesitates. “It might be difficult for me to hang around if you don’t get there straight away.”

  Neither of them discuss the many possible reasons that Gregor might be delayed. Instead, Dan just says, “I’ll stick around for the week. Just in case. And I’ll do what I can. I’ve still got contacts here.”

  He walks off without looking back. Gregor breathes in deep and immediately regrets it.

  The reek of omega fear has risen even further, sticking to the insides of Gregor’s nostrils and making his stomach turn.

  It’s intertwined with the stink of alpha arousal and excitement. He shoves his hands into his pockets, because otherwise he really might punch someone.

  The Aylewood runs have this too, but not like this. Nothing like this, he thinks. On their run, there’s the arousal and excitement on the omega side too, even if it is more subdued.

  They’d tried cancelling the Aylewood run before but people just turned up anyway.

  Now that I’m leader, it might be time to try that again, he thinks as he makes his way through the crowds to the starting area. No more damn runs. Corrigan be damned.

  The sun is going down now, painting the red sand in shimmering black and yellow shadow.

  The section for running alphas is a raised platform high above the omega pen. He follows the arrow for the premium section and holds up his premium lanyard. The alphas guarding the entrance glance at it, then move aside to let him in.

  Gregor climbs steep wooden steps until he reaches the very top. The wood platform is lined with rope. A
dozen or so cushioned deck chairs line the front.

  Premium was the right option, Gregor thinks. From his vantage point, he can see the other alphas mingling on a slightly lower platform below. There are hundreds of them.

  The view stretches off into the distance: to the far north is Thorn Peak, to the left, low hills rising to inhospitable salt cliffs in the distance, and to the right there is a long snaking river.

  The faster he catches up with Aaron, the better. With any luck, he’ll have caught up with him and they’ll be on their way home before the non-premium alphas are even out of the starting gate.

  Penguin-suited betas saunter along the premium viewing platform, offering glasses of champagne and tankards of beer, and even little sandwiches cut into triangles.

  The sandwiches have their crusts cut off. Gregor snorts. These are the hard alphas alright. This is going to be easier than he expected.

  A beta appears beside him, holding out a tray with a selection of drinks. Gregor reaches out for a beer, then grabs a bottle of water instead.

  Easy alphas or not, he’s going to need his wits about him. He grabs a stack of the tiny sandwiches too. If things do go wrong, he’s not going to have proper food for a while.

  He takes a seat at the end of the platform and scans the omega pen for Aaron. His eyes are drawn to him immediately, finding the omega’s dark head and slim form right at the front of the pen, as if he’s raring to go.

  He’ll have a plan, Ben had messaged him in the car. It was one of a dozen as Ben thought of something else that he wanted Gregor to know about his brother. Aaron always has a plan. He’s a complete control freak.

  There’s a white-coated beta moving between the omegas below, but she’s too far for Gregor to make out what she’s doing.

  Down below, Aaron is moving his weight from foot to foot. He’s too far for Gregor to pick out his scent amongst the crashing weight of all the others.

  Suddenly, Aaron’s head snaps up as if aware that someone is watching him, and he stares right at Gregor.

  The horn blows long and loud and the moment is lost.

  Aaron pulls down his underwear in a millisecond and shifts a millisecond after that. He’s a slim dark-furred wolf, ears flat against his head.