Filthy Alpha

by Liza Street

  “Smell her,” Jase said. “Another bear came in. This isn’t anyone we know.”

  “I think,” Blythe said, wincing at the pain in her throat. “I think he was surprised…that I was human.”

  “This is more than just an attack on Alleman,” Jase said. “Nobody would target Blythe—she’s human.”

  “I’ll find Beau,” Stetson said. “Maybe he’ll recognize the shifter who did this. He recognized the last one as belonging to the Jagged Forest Clan.”

  “Good thinking,” Jase said.

  Stetson turned and jogged off, and Jase continued with Blythe in his arms.

  “I’m so sorry, babe,” he said. “So fucking sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” Blythe said.

  He shook his head. “Don’t argue with me, please. Let’s just get you healed up, first.”

  She glared at him. It wasn’t just the pain in her throat that kept her from wanting to argue, but the barely contained emotion in his voice. He was torn up over this.

  Raising his head, he shouted, “Grant! Caitlyn!”

  He kept shouting until they stopped at the edge of the Junkyard, just at the edge of the gravel line. A cabin and an outbuilding rested a couple hundred yards away. Nothing happened while she and Jase waited.

  He shouted again. “Caitlyn!”

  Still nothing. There was a car parked near the cabin, but maybe both Caitlyn and Grant were away.

  Jase rocked back and forth. Then he swore. “We’re mates. We can cross the line.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Holding out one of his hands, he stepped forward, then stopped.

  “The fuck,” he said, pushing against the invisible wall. “But we’re mates, dammit.”

  “Fake mates,” Blythe said.

  “No.” His tone was certain. “It’s real.”

  The sex was beyond fun. She cared about him. A lot. A part of her thought she even loved him, but that’s what good sex did to a person, with all those endorphins.

  A slapping sound reached her ears and she looked up at the same time Jase did. The cabin door had opened and swung shut again. A blond woman hurried toward them, then stopped.

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Someone tried to choke her.” Jase sounded ashamed.

  Blythe wanted to smack him—it wasn’t like he had tried to choke her.

  “Be right back.” Caitlyn turned around and ran for the cabin. Moments later, she’d come out again and carried a big black bag.

  “Hi,” Caitlyn said to her as she approached. “You must be Blythe. I’m Caitlyn.”

  “Hi,” Blythe rasped.

  Caitlyn clucked her tongue, sounding like an old doctor from a Regency novel or something. Blythe loved her instantly.

  “No need to talk,” Caitlyn said. “I imagine you’re pretty sore. Jase, set the woman down, she can stand on her own feet, can’t she?”

  Jase growled, but it was only loud enough for Blythe to feel it against his chest. However, he set Blythe down as Caitlyn requested.

  “Can you get as close to the boundary as possible?” Caitlyn asked her. “I can stick my hands through to examine your neck. None of us escapees have tried to return to the territory and get out again, and I don’t want to experiment with that today…or ever.”

  Blythe did as she asked, and Caitlyn grinned at her, her brown eyes twinkling. She felt along Blythe’s neck. Blythe tried not to wince at the gentle pressure on the sorest areas, but Caitlyn was perceptive and made a hmm sound.

  “Well, is she going to be all right?” Jase was practically bouncing on his toes.

  Looking directly at Blythe, Caitlyn said, “Other than some bruising and a little pain when swallowing food for the next few days, you’re going to be fine. Do you have anything cold to hold against your neck, to help with swelling?”

  Blythe nodded, thinking of the beer in Jase’s cooler.

  “Great,” Caitlyn said, digging around in her black bag for something. Her hand emerged with a little white bottle. “Do that, and here are some ibuprofen. Take some ASAP, and then as needed for the pain.”

  “Thank you,” Blythe rasped.

  “Let me know if anything changes, okay?” Caitlyn reached across the boundary and squeezed one of Blythe’s hands. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way, but I’m thrilled to make your acquaintance. You need anything—laundry, tampons, a bottle of booze, or just a listening ear, come give me a shout.”

  Blythe’s eyes watered. People being nice to her always made her want to cry. Blinking rapidly, she thanked Caitlyn again and they said goodbye.

  She turned to see Jase right next to her, hovering like a worried grandma. Pointing at him, she said, “You overreacted.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just—sometimes little things end up hurting humans more. I wanted to be sure.”

  No one had ever worried over her like this, and it was strangely touching. Still, she didn’t need an overbearing alphahole directing her every move.

  “Let’s go home,” she said, and began walking.

  When she didn’t hear his footsteps catching up with hers, she turned around. He stood with a grin on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Home is this way.” He pointed.

  “Whatever,” she grumbled, and he laughed.

  Taking her hand in his, he linked their fingers together and they walked in quiet. After a long moment, Jase said, “I like that you keep calling it home.”

  She shrugged. It was home, as far as she was concerned. It was more of a home than she’d ever had. He’d seemed upset when he couldn’t shove her over the boundary, but Blythe had been relieved. If she could get away, it maybe meant that she should.

  And she didn’t want to go anywhere.

  Jase stopped walking and cocked his head to the side. He must’ve heard or smelled something, so Blythe waited while he figured that out with his superhero shifter powers.

  “It’s Mollin,” he finally said, as another guy came through the trees.

  Beau Mollin had dark red hair and bright blue eyes, which were currently wide in disbelief. “Yo. Stetson says you want me to smell your mate? The fuck?”

  Jase nodded. “Someone attacked her. A grizzly.”

  “Whoa.” Beau stopped walking and held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, I swear.”

  “I know your scent,” Jase said, “so I know it wasn’t you. It wasn’t any of our guys. But maybe you recognize the bear who did it.”

  His reddish-brown eyebrows lowered in concentration. “You think it’s someone else from the Jagged Forest Clan?”

  “Won’t know until you sniff me,” Blythe said through her sore throat. She wanted to go home and lie down, maybe have Jase bring her two beers—one to hold against her neck, and one to drink.

  Beau stepped forward and lowered his nose to Blythe’s neck. This was extremely weird. Feeling uncomfortable, she looked over at Jase. He didn’t look thrilled to have another guy smelling her neck, but the only indication was his tight jaw.

  “You picked her up, didn’t you?” Beau asked. “You erased nearly everything.”

  “He held me from behind,” Blythe said.

  Beau circled around her and sniffed her shoulders. “I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but he smells like he could be from the Jagged Forest. They hung out at this bar near where I lived. This scent is familiar, and I think that’s why.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jase said to him.

  Beau nodded. He tipped an imaginary hat at Blythe. “Happy to smell you anytime. You have a fruity scent. It’s hot.”

  “Mollin,” Jase barked. “Get out of here.”

  Grinning, Beau turned around and jogged away.

  “Hey, Mollin,” Jase added, “tell everyone else to stay inside tonight, don’t run around the territory alone until we have a chance to meet tomorrow.”

  “On it,” Beau said. Then he blew a kiss in Blythe’s direction. “See ya, beautiful.”

  Jase growled.


  It hurt to talk, but Blythe couldn’t resist winking at Jase and whispering, “Jealous.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I guess I am, babe. I don’t want any others sniffing around you. Let’s go home.”

  18

  The sun was rising, its light visible through one of the cabin windows. Jase held Blythe close to his body, cradling her, careful not to jar her head or touch her bruised throat.

  Frail. Humans were frail—it was a lesson he’d learned long ago, and in the worst possible way.

  His uncle’s voice—“Any shifter could’ve walked away from that, no problem. But a human? No way.”

  And then his pride’s council members voting to put him in the Junkyard. For a mistake. Now that he was older, he saw the move for what it was—a power move to keep him from ascending to his uncle’s position as alpha. The irony of all of it was that he’d never wanted to be alpha. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be the Junkyard’s alpha, either. But someone had to lead, and apparently they wanted the leader to be him. When they found someone better, Jase would step down.

  And the same went for Blythe. When she got out of here, she’d find someone better, and Jase would again have to step down.

  The very notion sent an arrow of pain through his heart.

  He knew she was his mate. But humans were different, and he didn’t think she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. She’d said she felt the same, but she wasn’t a shifter. Humans didn’t have fated mates like shifters did—they couldn’t, could they?

  Her lashes fluttered, and he noted the dark circles beneath her eyes. He hadn’t slept at all, so he knew her sleep had been restless. She’d cried out once during a bad dream and he’d rubbed her shoulders until her breathing evened out again.

  When she opened her eyes and saw him staring at her, a smile grew on her face. “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning. How’s your neck?”

  She rocked her head back and forth where it rested on his shoulder. “A little tender.”

  “Do you want some ibuprofen?” he asked, moving to get up.

  “No. Stay.” Her hand was firm on his chest.

  He lay back down and closed his eyes against the pain shooting through his heart. He had to let her go. After kissing the top of her head, he said, “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah? What about?”

  Her hand relaxed on his chest and she began tracing lines over his skin. He fucking loved it when she did that, but it had to stop. Now. He took her hand in his and held it still.

  He gulped past the emotions trying to force their way up his throat. “We have to talk about the future, where this is going.”

  She sat up fast, yanking her hand away, and scooted back from him on the narrow mattress. “I can hear what you’re doing,” she said, her slate-green eyes wide with alarm. “And I’m asking you not to.”

  “You don’t need me anymore,” he said. “And we can try to find a way for you to get out of here, someplace where you’ll be safe.”

  “That’s fucking ridiculous,” she said, anger tingeing her voice, making it lower and even raspier than before. “You think I’m safe out there? Why do you think I want to stay here in the Junkyard? Out there, I live in shitty neighborhoods and when I come home, dead tired from waiting tables and dodging ass-grabs from smarmy rich dudes, I’m surprised if my door is still locked and my stuff’s still in my apartment. I can’t afford health care because I graduated from college and everything I’d normally be saving money for has to wait until I pay off my loans. So don’t tell me I’m safer out there.”

  “But you are,” he said. “What happened to Alleman proves it. What happened to you yesterday proves it. Humans don’t belong in here. We’re not really mates—the boundary said as much by not letting us through.”

  As soon as he said those words, the fight seemed to go out of her. Her shoulders fell, her gaze lowered. She was giving up. He hated to see it, but it was for the best.

  “That’s bullshit, but it’s not my job to convince you otherwise.” She held a hand to her throat. All this talking was probably hurting her, but she kept going anyway. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t even write to your own mother.”

  Shame bubbled in his gut. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Things aren’t ideal, so you pull away. Fine. Go.” Her voice had gone hoarse.

  He climbed off the bed and found the bottle of ibuprofen Caitlyn had given Blythe. He emptied two pills into his hand and poured a glass of water, then brought them over.

  Blythe refused to take his offering, looking instead at the wall as if the wood paneling held the secrets to the meaning of life.

  “Dammit, Blythe, will you take the pills?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to see you right now,” she said.

  Well, he couldn’t hardly blame her. Except for the fact that she was avoiding his gaze and ignoring the medicine he held out.

  “Blythe, would you just take this?”

  She turned around, her shoulders hunched up practically to her ears. She looked smaller than ever in his t-shirt. He wanted to take back everything he’d just said. He wanted to pull her into his arms and apologize, say it was all lies, and that they were mates and he’d never let her go, he’d never leave her.

  But he couldn’t say those things, because they’d only get her hurt later on.

  Feeling like the world’s biggest asshole, he slammed the glass of water and the two pills onto the table where she did her writing, then stormed out of the cabin.

  “So here’s what we’re going to do,” Jase said. “Nobody, and I mean fucking nobody goes out alone. Pairs or threes, everywhere. We’re going to hunt down this sonuvabitch and get to the bottom of this.”

  “What do you think is happening?” Vezirov asked.

  Jase shrugged. “Mollin might have told you, but he thinks it could be another guy from the Jagged Forest Clan. Initially, we thought it was someone with a grudge against Alleman and that was it. But given they’re the ones who didn’t send our food that one week, and someone just attacked Blythe, I’m wondering if something larger is at work.”

  Ephraimson spoke up next. “So let’s go get this asshole and find out. Nobody messes with our alpha’s mate and gets away with it.”

  Stetson nodded, slow and silent.

  Jase was a hundred percent in agreement with them. “Break into four groups. One of you should remain in your animal form during the search. We’re dividing up the Junkyard into four quadrants.” He drew a circle on the ground and put an N at the top for “north,” then divided it into quarters. “When you find the guy, do not kill him. We need to ask him some questions.”

  “But we can rough him up a little, can’t we, boss? He sure as fuck deserves it for what he did,” Barnum called from the back of the group.

  “For harming up my mate?” Jase said. “Definitely. Teach him the Junkyard means pain.”

  He looked at his men—his pride. Their expressions ranged from determination to outrage, and that outrage wasn’t just that they had an intruder in their territory; most of that outrage stemmed from that intruder attacking Blythe.

  He met everyone’s gaze in turn. “All right, guys, you know what to do. Let’s find this asshole and take him down.”

  19

  Of course, she thought dully, he didn’t want to keep her.

  That was pretty much the same luck she’d had her whole life—get comfortable, start thinking things were going well, and then bam she was out on her ass again.

  Two days had passed since Jase had essentially told her he didn’t want to be together. He hadn’t returned to the cabin for longer than five or ten minutes at a time, just to check in on her. He’d informed her that guys were posted around the cabin to make sure she was safe at all times.

  The cabin felt empty, bereft. She wished for some kind of indoor sound, like the ticking of a clock, or the hum of a refrigerator, but there was nothing except the space Jase usuall
y took up when he leaned back on the bed or rummaged in the ice chest.

  She missed him, and she hated that she missed him. She’d let herself get attached. Rookie mistake. She should’ve known better.

  They were still looking for her assailant—she’d seen the Junkyard shifters in twos and threes, walking through the woods, pausing to sniff the air or look for tracks. Usually at least one of them was in his animal form.

  Currently, Damien Buenevista and Konrad Vezirov were walking past, while a leopard skulked ahead of them.

  “Do you think it’s some kind of spell?” Konrad asked in a low voice.

  “No idea.” Damien kicked a pine cone and the leopard—Ronan, or maybe Barnum—looked around in alarm before returning his green gaze to the tree branches above them.

  “Maybe he isn’t even here anymore,” Konrad was saying. “It’s been three days, yeah? Maybe he had some key to get in and out.”

  Buenevista growled. “Or maybe you’re just talking too much and keeping me from looking properly.”

  They bickered like an old married couple, the leopard pacing between them, as they went by Blythe’s cabin. She looked down at her notebook and the pen she held limply in her hand. Notes for a half-written scene stared back at her.

  The cabin was empty except for the aching loneliness that surrounded her.

  Footsteps outside caught her attention—purposefully loud. She didn’t need to look up to know it was Jase, making himself noisier than usual so she wouldn’t be surprised.

  Even though she didn’t need to look out the window to confirm it was him, she looked anyway, unable to resist. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his eyebrows were pulled low in a scowl over his green and gold eyes. She loved his eyes—she could stare into them for days. He was the first person she’d ever met with mismatched eyes and they fascinated her. Every time he glanced at her, she watched them darken with lust or lighten with affection.

  But on the few times he’d come to check on her, he’d barely looked at her.

  She absently rubbed her aching chest and waited for him to knock on the cabin door.