The Alpha's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance

by Angela Foxxe

  The Alpha's

  SURROGATE

  ANGELA FOXXE

  Copyright ©2015 by Angela Foxxe & SimplyShifters.com

  All rights reserved.

  About This Book

  READ ON TO FIND OUT..

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  The western slopes of the Washington Cascades made for long winter nights. Made longer when blood was spilled, and good people died. Richard Dallas ached in every muscle, in his heart, and in his soul. Four dead wolves lay before him, the last of the Southern Cascade pack. The last of the men and women he once called friends. Hard times had befallen the North American packs, a blight struck some of their members. It was doubly cruel for women, those who survived were left barren.

  The southern clan decided that its best bet was to take what they could, and leave nothing for anyone else. It left Richard feeling hollow, and alone. A quarter of his pack lay dead and dying in the early winter snow, even the famed regeneration of their supernatural line could not protect them from the vicious carving of five inch claws wielded by combatants who trained with them every day.

  "You did what you had to do, boss," Indigo said through heavy breaths. The Spaniard was lacerated across his muscular chest, and several smaller wounds crisscrossed his thighs.

  "It didn't have to be this way," Richard muttered, "damned stubborn Alphas, we could have joined forces, been stronger." Indigo nodded silently, nothing need be said. Their victory came at too high a price. Now the other packs in the region would smell blood.

  The pack transformed from their large timber wolf form to their human ones. Wounds gained in battle were healing, but they showed in bright crimson lines across their skin. No one was untouched. Richard grimaced, acid climbed his throat. So many dead, so many wounded. Had he been able, he would have locked all the women up in the mine shaft they used as an emergency shelter, but without the girls his wolves were outnumbered. Part of the reason why the southerners attacked was the large number of females Richard’s pack claimed.

  Had they but listened they would have known that it did them no good. All but Cara proved barren. The only way to know was to have them mate and see.

  "Trouble, boss," Indigo whispered so quietly that only Richard’s keen hearing could pick it up. The survivors were gathered around the pack’s winter home, a small ski lodge Richard purchased twenty years before as a new home, after their old one burned to the ground.

  Brooks, a tall brute of a wolf, who out-massed any two men in the pack, was shouting at the other members. His back was crossed with cuts and peppered with bruises. He was easily the best bruiser in the pack, if not the smartest man Richard ever met. Bruisers were useful, their size made others hesitate, even if they could otherwise be beaten. Richard used Brooks to great effect, sending him to corner smaller prey, or scatter a mass of wolves to keep them separated.

  They were all naked in the snow, every scar, every muscle, every imperfection could be seen. Richard’s well defined muscles, salt and pepper hair, and permanent five o'clock shadow made him every inch the Alpha. His heart though, the piece of him that others could not see, was tired of the fighting.

  Cara stood next to Brooks. Where he was overly muscular and large, she was lithe and fit, with a gymnast build, and had a thick mane of silky brown hair. She shouted words of encouragement to punctuate each of Brook's statements.

  It was her way, the way of any ambitious woman who wanted power. To have power as a woman, and as a wolf, she would need to be strong, and to attach herself to a strong male who could be Alpha one day. Brooks would never be Alpha, the dim-witted were not suited to the throne.

  When Cara had first joined the pack a few years before, she came on strong to Richard. She was beautiful, and sexy, but she wanted power.

  He wasn't interested in more power, just the power to protect his own. And often that was seen as a weakness. His mind pulled him back to a time when the touch of her hand, the smell of her hair, the smile of her lips would make him quiver, and turn his mind to mush. When it became apparent Richard had no plans to expand the pack, she left him for another, and eventually ended up with Brooks.

  Unless Richard declared her his mate, and threatened to kill anyone who looked at her, it was her right. She could sleep with whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased. It didn't mean that it didn't hurt him to look at her now, naked and beautiful, with a slight sheen of sweat glistening over her body.

  The post battle was almost as dangerous as the battle itself. Endorphins were running wild, the killing lust wasn't quite gone, and anything could happen. It was a dangerous time for any wolf. Many fought or found comfort in the arms of others; or both.

  With an exhausted sigh, Richard plodded through the snow, broad shoulders back, head up, for he must look every inch the conquering hero, or there would be blood.

  Indigo had his back, Richard trusted him more than he did himself. The Spaniard and he had been friends for fifty years, fought in two wars together, and bled in the same mud. What made Indigo the perfect Beta was his complete lack of ambition. He was loyal to a fault, and would do whatever Richard asked without hesitation, but would feel no compulsion against making Richard question his own decisions, to make sure Richard was making the right one.

  The surviving twenty members of the pack, eight women included, were gathered in a circle around Brooks. Cara moved into the circle itself as Richard approached.

  He tried not to let his eyes fall to the curve her hips and stomach made, but it was a losing battle. She knew, and her eyes met his when he looked up. As old as he was, as many years as he'd walked the Earth, he still blushed at a woman who caught him staring.

  "Well done, my brothers and sisters," Richard boomed in his baritone. He had to offset the gathering mood of defeat before anyone could use it to spur on more violence.

  "Only by your will and conviction, and our bond as pack, did we succeed tonight, all of you, every one of you," he looked directly at Brooks, square in the man’s dull eyes, "made tonight possible. Let us rest, eat, drink, and praise our fallen, and tend to our wounded."

  It was masterfully done, praising the pack, praising Brook, it should have worked, and it would've, had the bruiser been less of a dullard. Richard would never have chosen to give such a man the spirit of the wolf, but an Alpha did not choose his pack.

  The crowd did not stir. They did not cheer, silence spread out across the still, fallen snow.

  "This is your fault, Alpha,” Brooks spit out the words through clenched teeth. His shoulders heaved as he worked himself into a rage.

  "We should have attacked first, as soon as we knew what they were planning, meeting them to negotiate was an act of submission, all this blood is on yo
ur hands."

  Richard looked at Cara, silently pleading with her to talk Brooks down. She smiled back, her eyes alight with machinations of a would-be queen.

  "Brooks, it doesn't have to be this way, we've won. It's a good victory, let no more of our pack die."

  "You are weak, old man! Weak! And your weakness is going to kill us all,” cried Brooks.

  Richard looks at his brothers, his sisters, and his pack. In his heart he hoped that no one faulted him, but he couldn't truly believe that, since he faulted himself most of all. He found support in their eyes, but the challenge for alpha wasn't a vote, it was a one on one.

  "Alea iacta est, then. The die is cast.”

  "What?"

  Richard’s eyes narrowed, their brown all but disappearing as the golden specks that normally just glinted in the sun, grew to encompass his iris. He could not change, none of them could after such a lengthy battle, but they were not men who could turn into wolves, they were wolves who walked as men. The two were inseparable.

  Brooks was no stranger to fighting, while he could not comprehend what Richard meant, he knew the fight was on. He roared, loud, and to the moon, then charged.

  Richard met his charge with a cloak of stillness. Not moving, not flinching, as the man who stood six inches taller than Richard’s own six two, bore down on him with a victorious snarl, arms open wide, teeth bared like fangs. Not a soul in the pack stirred, they barely breathed. Even Cara, the anticipation of power on her lush red lips, was frozen like a doe in a predator’s gaze.

  As Brooks was almost upon him, Richard side-stepped the lunging man, kneeling hard to his left to avoid the sweeping arms. He left his right leg out for Brooks to trip on, and he did. The big man stumbled and slid through the snow.

  It was past the point where Richard could just wound the man and let it go. It was past the point where he could just kill the man and let it go.

  To challenge the Alpha was dangerous enough, to challenge him after a victorious battle, was an endeavor that could only lead to death. The die was cast, Richard no longer had a choice in the matter, in the outcome, or what would have to happen afterward.

  Brooks roared with anger, his massive shoulders heaved as he lifted his naked body out of the snow. Though he did not charge again, this time he approached with caution, the easy kill was gone, now he had to work for it. Something the larger man was not used to.

  Richard crouched, keeping his knees bent, and his weight shifting from one foot to the other. The bitter cold disappeared as his heart pumped hot blood to his limbs, filling them with oxygen for the coming struggle. Breathe, just breathe, he told himself.

  Even as an old warrior, he still had to train himself to fight longer, and harder, than those around him.

  Brooks took a few jabs at him, not sure of himself now that the fight wasn't over immediately. Richard slapped the first one aside, blocked the next, stepped inside the big man’s reach... and slapped him across the face with a derisive open hand.

  Cara gasped. Others murmured. Brooks’ mouth worked in stunned silence, then his face turned purple with rage. Richard bounced back out of reach.

  He caught Indigo out of the corner of his eye, the man was moving behind Cara. Good, she will have to be next, this couldn’t be tolerated. The thought distracted him long enough that Brooks slipped a jab through, snapping Richard’s chin back sharply. The brute tried to follow through with a hook, but Richard caught it, twisted, pulled, and threw the man over his shoulder with a snap of his hips, sending the oaf flying six feet to land on his back with a grunt.

  Cara's smile was gone now, realization began to dawn in her eyes.

  Richard made no move to advance. It was possible Brooks would surrender, leave the pack and go lone wolf. But it wasn't likely. The man was stubborn, foolish, and let his pride rule him. Like most young wolves.

  He was back up, anger contorted his features, his face was beet red from shame, all coherent thought was lost to him, and he charged. Not a calculated rush, but a wild, arms swinging, roaring charge, one that looked scary, but to a skilled warrior like Richard, signified the end of the battle.

  Richard rolled forward, underneath the outstretched arms, and punched Brooks in the solar plexus with both his fists, each with enough force to break bone. Brooks vomited blood and collapsed in a heap. His breath came in haggard wheezes.

  "The pack is strong, because we are united. We are strong because when one of us needs aid, we all come," Richard said.

  He walked slowly around Brooks’ limp, convulsing form.

  "When one person puts their own needs, their own wants, above the pack," Richard placed his foot on Brooks’ neck, his mouth became tight, and he spoke through clenched teeth, "then the pack is weak."

  The snap of Brooks’ neck echoed out across the snow.

  "Wolves cannot abide weakness."

  There was one last thing that had to be done, Richard had prepared himself from the moment he knew Brooks would challenge him. It was just dawning on Cara, she took a step back, and Indigo was waiting for her and held her arms.

  "By pack law, Brooks has lost, what’s his is mine. Find comfort where you can, eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we live."

  Richard gazed at Cara, not an admiring or inviting look, but a look of determination and duty.

  "No please, I didn't mean for it to happen that way,” Cara pleaded.

  Richard stood before Cara, the woman he'd loved for almost a year before he realized she was just using him for power. Now, she was the only potential fertile female left in the pack.

  "Don't make this difficult, Cara, you left me no choice."

  She looked around to her pack mates for help. After Richard’s brutal display against Brooks, no one would help her, nor did they want to. In their eyes, Richard was entitled, it was pack law. He roughly grabbed her wrist, turned and marched methodically to the lodge. She was forced to follow or be dragged, and her pride would not let her be dragged.

  Once in the warmth of the cabin, color returned to her skin, and she became very aware of her nakedness.

  Upstairs, in what used to be the master suite, Richard let her go with a shove. This close to her he could smell her, it raised the hair on the back of his neck and sent goose bumps out across his skin. She held her arms awkwardly in front of her, making a small attempt to cover her bosom, and her exposed front.

  Richard did not want to take her, he didn't want to be forced to violate her. Wolf demanded it though, it howled for it. Had he been a lesser man he would ravage her, then kill her. But his heart wasn't in it. Her fear though, and the power of the old ways, the power of the wolf inside of him, pushed him on, making her surrender intoxicating.

  He closed and locked the door behind him. The rest of the pack was downstairs, music started in the main hall, soon food would be cooked, and drinks shared.

  Richard forced his stiff legs to move forward, his shoulders and neck ached from the fights, his wounds would heal. Cara showed no signs of the night’s struggle, her wounds had already mended.

  Her smell, though, enticed Richard. God her smell, how does she smell so good, even now?

  He walked past her, and a part of his mind delighted at the shudder that ran through her. The scent of fear filled the room. The urge to pounce on her, to treat her like prey... he resisted the call to carnage, he would do his duty, and not one thing more.

  The room's lone bathroom had a huge walk-in shower, with rock tile, several shower heads, and a bench. He turned the shower on full hot. He looked over his shoulder at Cara. She flinched and did not meet his gaze, but her legs, as if by command, walked her to the shower. He closed in behind her, their bodies inches apart, her back to his front, he could make out the goose bumps on her as well.

  They moved together, under the shower, letting the hot water roll over them. For a moment the water ran red with their blood mixed with those of the dead. Richard gently rubbed her back with soap. Her muscles were so tight, she could not move. He slowly l
athered her shoulders, luxuriating in the feel of her skin under his fingertips.

  She shivered as he moved his hands lower, around her waist, encircling it with his powerful arms, pulling her to him, so she could feel his calmness. Not the quivering anticipation of a predator, but the deliberate execution of duty.

  She sighed, the tension leaving her as his gentle nature reassured her that he wasn't going to hurt her. It was within his right, and instincts older than man urged him to violate her, to punish her, to make her beg, but he would not.

  The smooth globes of her ass pushed against him, her legs parted slightly, inviting him, he leaned down, and his tongue darted out, licking behind her ear. She breathed so sharply it raised her whole body.

  "It's okay Cara, it's okay," he murmured.