What did Drake want now?
He couldn’t linger in the shower. Fang was no coward. That weak boy had died and someone else had replaced him. He toweled off, put on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, and came face-to-face with Drake.
“What are you doing here?” were the first words out of his mouth.
Drake regarded him for a couple of seconds. “I hardly recognized you. couldn’t believe it was you out there.”
Fang rubbed at his temples, starting to nurse a headache. Usually after a fight, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and a quick fuck. Not tonight, though.
“It’s been a while.” Fang hardly recognized himself too. Sometimes, when he looked at the mirror, he wondered who the fuck the hard-eyed scarred up stranger looking back at him was. “Drake, spit it out. What do you want?”
Drake crossed his arms and finally met his gaze. “I need you to come home with me.”
Chapter Four
Drake had thought he’d known his best friend. This tatted-up and ripped stranger, he didn’t recognize. His wolf didn’t like the scent of Fang’s beast either. The war had altered Fang, pushed his wolf near to the breaking point.
All the hairs on his arm rose at Fang’s overbearing presence. It felt hard to breathe around Fang, as if Drake was in the presence of a terrifyingly powerful shifter.
Good. This was what he’d come for, right? Rumors of Fang, of the Beast, were hard to put down. Vicious in the ring and bedroom, Fang had garnered a reputation in the city’s underworld. Drake had followed gossip like a hound on a blood trail, disbelieving this could be the same best friend he’d grown up with.
Fang turned away, as if the discussion was over. The fact that he left his back exposed showed just how much confidence Fang had. He didn’t think Drake was much of a threat.
“Listen to me,” Drake began. Anger sparked inside of him. He started to grab Fang’s shoulder, but the other man moved so fast the next thing Drake knew, his back was hitting the wall. A large, inked hand closed around his throat. He gasped.
Fang shook his head, looking a little confused, before letting him go. “It’s not safe to be around me,” Fang said, sounding guilty.
“Shane needs you,” Drake blurted out.
Bringing out the big guns right away might not be the best decision, but Fang snapped his head toward Drake’s direction. His best friend’s eyes turned crimson, making Drake suck in a breath. He’d hadn’t seen those eyes in ages. Only Fang’s father, the former Alpha, and any wolf from that bloodline, possessed those demon eyes.
“The current Alpha of the Red Manes needs me?” Fang asked in a mocking voice.
“You’ve never been cruel, Fang,” Drake whispered.
“That boy you knew died a long time ago.”
Drake bit his lip. He knew that. One encounter with Fang was all he needed to affirm that fact. “You knew about Shane’s ascension to Alpha. You didn’t care the last time we talked.”
“Unhealed wounds act up.”
Jesus. Was Fang more far gone than Drake had thought?
“I called the old gang,” he continued. Drake wouldn’t lose hope. Fang would come around. He had to believe his loyal friend was still in there somehow.
“What?”
“Talon, Claw, and Razor are on their way back to Red Valley,” he stated. “Fang, the Vicious Claws and a vampire coven have taken over our territory.”
Fang swore under his breath. “Why the fuck should I care? The Vicious Claws killed Clay, and my father was stupid enough to wage war on them.”
Drake curled his hands into fists. “Everyone is dead. Your father, all the old enforcers. Only the weaker members are left, and Shane’s barely keeping things together.”
Snorting, Fang started for the door again.
“They call you the Beast. They say your wolf’s uncontrollable,” Drake stated. He had one last gambit to play. “People say you’re looking for strong opponents to fight, hoping they’ll one day tear your throat out.”
Fang paused, and Drake knew he’d hit the jackpot. It hurt him to think his best friend was this close to turning feral. Shifters who let their animal sides take over became a danger to themselves and society and were put down.
“Shane’s the same. His wolf is broken, just like yours, but he’s still fighting to survive. If you come with me, you can fight plenty of strong opponents, one might even be able to give you the death you badly crave.”
That only got an ugly, jagged laugh from his best friend. No, his best friend was gone and this crazy monster had replaced him.
“I’m heading to the airport tonight. My flight’s at eight. I have an extra ticket with me. I’ll wait for you.”
Fang kept on walking, but Drake hadn’t given up hope yet.
*****
Shane called the pack to attention. Pack. He wondered if he could still use that word when it was more like a gathering of five people.
He eyed the brood under him and scratched at the thick bandage on his neck. Despite his regenerative abilities, the wound never got the chance to heal.
The vampire king always bit him in the same place every time. Shane knew why. The leech wanted him to remember. Each time Shane looked at the mass of scars on his neck, he would be reminded of the fact that Magnus owned him. What kind of Alpha played feeder to a vampire?
He shook his head. Shane needed to get his shit together to conduct this meeting. The Red Manes had once been a force to be reckoned with in town. This pathetic ragtag group was what they were reduced to. Once, every pack member had lived on this piece of property. Now, Shane had the abandoned cabins and the main hall to himself.
Most pack members stayed in town for convenience’s sake. They had jobs and school there. He shifted his attention to his crew. With the exception of Drake, none of them were fighters.
Clara and Beck sat in one corner. Clara rocked three-month-old Will in her arms. The couple didn’t need to drive up to the mountains for the meeting, but he appreciated their presence all the same.
Kit and Grey were new members, brothers who had been recently bitten, abandoned by their maker, and with nowhere to go. They’d approached Shane for help, and he tried to guide them into their new lives as wolves. It still made him angry, how some irresponsible some shifters could be when it came to turning normal humans into monsters.
Last of his sad little group was Dave, a submissive wolf whose brothers and father had been slain along with the former Alpha and his enforcers.
“Okay, looks like everyone’s here,” he said, tone businesslike. Part of Shane was still disappointed. He kept hoping Drake would stroll in and apologize for leaving. But what reason did Drake have to stay?
Drake had stood by him even after what Shane had done to Fang all those years ago. They weren’t friends, not exactly, but they understood loyalty to their pack—through good times and bad. Well, until Drake had decided to leave him after that drunken night Shane bad confessed why he’d let Fang go ten years ago instead of killing him.
Thinking about Fang only summoned old hurts. Who knew where the fuck Fang was right now? Five years could change a man. Fang could belong to another pack now, or he could be dead. No, the latter couldn’t be true. Shane would be able to sense it.
After all, Fang was his mate.
The roar of engines outside broke his train of thought. His pack members traded worried looks. Shane could taste their fear and hated himself again. An Alpha led by example, and yet his wolf stilled inside him when it caught the familiar scent of bloodsuckers.
Even the smell of ash and pine couldn’t rid of the smell of death lingering around the vampires. They didn’t have the right to be on pack land. If the pack had the numbers and strength, the vamps wouldn’t have thought of stepping foot on their mountain, knowing they would face certain extinction.
Shane could hold his own on a fight. He wore the scars on his skin to prove it, but against an entire coven? His wolf counted at least six vampires out there, including Magnus.
Sweat beaded down his back. Death didn’t frighten him. Seeing his remaining pack members injured hurt a lot more.
As Alpha, he held onto the duty to offer his pack mates protection.
“Shane, what’s the coven doing here?” Dave asked, looking pale as a corpse. The submissive wolf rubbed his hands together nervously, gaze lingering on the bandage on Shane’s neck.
Shane didn’t exactly advertise the fact he blood-whored for the king of vampires. The topic never came out directly in pack meetings. No use hiding it, though. Everyone knew about his shame, his penance. He suspected guilt was the reason why they hadn’t walked out on him.
“I’ll deal with them. Meanwhile, I want you all to get the fuck out of here,” Shane said, glad his voice came out steady.
Wolves existed on the top of the food chain. He shouldn’t fear walking corpses with fangs, but each time Magnus sunk his teeth into his neck, the vampire king held the power of life and death over Shane. Over the past few months, Magnus had managed to remind Shane what fear tasted like.
He had no illusions that the coven wouldn’t wreak havoc on the surviving members of the Red Manes. Vampires couldn’t be trusted, especially not the leeches under a sadistic bastard like Magnus. They had broken the deal to stay off pack lands, but Shane only had himself to blame.
Why had he expected the vamps to keep their side of the bargain?
The vampires didn’t knock on the door or break it down—not yet, anyway. The vampire king loved playing games, and he knew Shane well enough. Sooner or later, the Alpha of the Red Manes would saunter out in one last blaze of defiance.
“We’ll stay,” Kit said, rising from his seat. When Shane began to protest, Kit cut him off. “Alpha, they’ll tear you apart.”
Better Shane than the rest of them.
“I’ll stay too,” Beck said. Beside him, Clara looked scared. Little Will started to bawl and she tried to soothe him.
“No. Beck, your responsibility is to your mate. Get your wife and kid out of here. That’s an order.” Shane made sure authority rang through his voice.
Beck bit his lip and nodded curtly. He hauled Clara to her feet and began nudging her toward the back door. Clara halted by the doorway. Will quieted down and closed his eyes, beginning to fall asleep again.
“Alpha, thank you for all you’ve done. I just want to let you know it was an honor, being a part of your pack,” Clara murmured.
Shane stamped down on the urge to cry. He’d been raised in a pack that prided itself on carrying the title of strongest. Real men, real Red Manes, didn’t shed tears. In the end, all that arrogance had pushed the Red Manes into virtual extinction.
“Go on. Will represents the future,” he told her instead.
With a nod, the couple disappeared. He caught Dave sneaking after them, but he didn’t blame the submissive wolf.
“Fucking coward. Come back here, Dave,” Kit hissed, fists clenched. “Stand with us.”
Proud of Kit for standing by him despite the odds they faced, he walked up to them. It was Grey he looked at though. The older of the Caldwell brothers didn’t speak much. He could sense Grey’s wolf on the surface, eager to sink its canines on the throats of the vampires outside. Grey’s wolf had always felt unstable, untethered, as if Grey had poor control.
Other packs would never take in a werewolf like Grey, but Kit had come to Shane a year ago and told him outright they came in a pair. Shane couldn’t take one brother and refuse the second.
“Grey, take Kit. It’s your job to make sure Dave, Clara, and Will escape safely,” he told Grey, whose nostrils flared.
“You sure?” Grey said in that growling voice of his.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t ignore me,” Kit yelled.
He shook his head. “This is my last order as Alpha. Kit, you and your brother will make good additions to some other pack one day.”
“You don’t understand.” Kit grabbed his arm. “Before you, no one wanted to take us. No one had the patience to teach us how to control our beasts. One look at Grey and they see a threat they needed to kill.”
Shane removed Kit’s hand gently. “Grey, take your brother.”
The rake mark on the left side of Grey’s face twitched, but he led a protesting Kit to the back. Shane wondered how he’d managed to earn the loyalty of those two.
Squaring his shoulders, he turned his gaze out the windows. The vamps stood by their cars, talking amongst themselves. Only Magnus stood apart, silent, his crimson gaze zeroed on Shane. He touched the mark on his neck. Magnus’s cruel lips curved into a knowing smile.
Snarling softly, Shane decided he didn’t want to give these assholes a chance. He would take two or three leeches to hell with him. His wolf exploded from his skin, shredding clothes in the process. He ran at the coven, an unstoppable force of nature. The rotting wood of the front door splintered when he rammed a shoulder into it.
The vampires stopped talking when he picked his first target. Lucius squeaked, hissing when Shane toppled the vampire into the dirt. The vampire flashed his fangs, clawing at him.
The bastard deserved a painful death, but Shane didn’t have the luxury of time. He went for Lucius’s throat, tearing it out and letting out a triumphant howl, before moving onto his next kill.
Chapter Five
Shane tasted copper and dead skin in his mouth. His fur was matted with blood, some of it his, but it mostly belonged to his enemies. His rampage didn’t last long. Gunfire blasted in the air.
He whirled only to feel a bullet hit impact. Pain flared in his gut. He took a wobbly step toward Magnus. Time to end the king. Once Magnus died, his coven would scatter. The leeches would leave his town alone.
“Shoot him again,” Magnus said in a maddeningly calm voice.
Another bullet caught his left paw. He lost balance and his muzzle tasted the dirt. Rain started to fall. It didn’t escape Shane how ten years ago, it had rained like a bitch when he’d made the worst decision of his life.
By fighting Fang, he had saved his mate, except it had torn him inside out to hurt the other man. Shane had known from the start the Alpha’s son was his fated half. Thinking back, he’d been stupid and young, terrified of giving voice to what his beast had been telling him all along.
He had become a bully instead, because he knew if he hadn’t stepped up to that horrible role, someone else would have. Only Shane could hurt Fang. Crazy logic to that, but it was true. At least he’d kept a close eye on Fang growing up.
If he could turn back time, he would have offered a hand to Fang. They would have both walked away from that fight. Too late to change things now, to find Fang and apologize for all his mistakes.
Pale hands thrust at him, dragging him to the vampire king. Exhausted, Shane let them. He ended up a foot from Magnus’s no doubt expensive leather shoes, covered in blood and mud. Shane felt like some mangy stray on the verge of being put down.
He was so tired. Tired of keeping his pack together, of maintaining the Red Manes’ name. Everyone else had gone back to the dirt—the former Alpha, his father, and the shifters he’d grown up with.
At least Fang was still out there somewhere, breathing, living.
Magnus drove a well-aimed kick to his wounded ribs, making him howl. “Look at you, Alpha. What a mess. What do you say we clean you up? You’ll make a perfect addition to my collection of blood slaves.” Magnus planted a foot on his side.
Like hell. Shane would rather die here like a dog than be reduced to that state of living. He’d seen Magnus’s harem of feeders, blank-eyed humans and weak shifters who sported bite marks all over their bodies. Shane had sworn he’d never end up like them.
Six months of enduring this leech slowing sucking the life of him had driven him to the edge. A man could only take so much. Something snapped inside him.
Shane responded by opening his jaws to take a huge bite out of the vampire king’s left leg. Magnus hissed in pain, trying to shake him off, but Shane stubbornly held on.
>
“Get this animal off me,” Magnus shrieked at his vampires. Hands gripped a handful of Shane’s shirt, jerking him off. A shrill, agonized scream echoed from the nearby woods. The vampires stilled. Magnus gripped his barely attached left ear and stared into Shane’s eyes. “I smell animals. Who did you call for help?” Magnus overpowered him, tackling Shane to the ground. Dispensing with matters, the vampire king clawed and hissed at him like a snake, baring his fangs.
Shane spied another vampire disappear into the nearest grove of trees, probably to check the source of the scream. Help? Shane no longer had any allies. He’d begged other animal groups in the region for help. They had all turned their backs on him after the decimation of most of the Red Manes.
They had valued the strength of the pack when the Red Manes stood at the peak and then abandoned them once they had nothing left to offer.
“Die, Alpha.” Magnus struck his neck, where the vampire had been drinking from Shane all this time. Since the wound never healed correctly, it was Shane’s vulnerable spot. Fangs tore through layers of fur. It hurt, even worse than all the other times. This time, it seemed the king planned on tormenting Shane until every last drop of blood left his body.
Shane struggled to use his claws, but now he lacked his initial strength to fight back. He prayed to God the rest of his pack had managed to cover some ground before the vampires came after them. They would know what to do—keep running until the sun rose above their heads. By then, the vamps would need to go below ground. The pack would be long gone by then.
His vision started to fail. Every muscle in his body started to feel stiff. His neck bled like a bitch. Blood soaked his fur. It must have stopped raining some time back, because he no longer tasted droplets on his tongue.
At times like this, Shane wrestled with regret. Maybe dying would be for the best. Damnit it, he wanted to see Fang one last time. Shane desperately decided to deal with the fucking vampires. He’d leave the pack in Drake’s hands and go searching for Fang.
He never got his wish.
Something red and fast blurred from the edges of his vision. That same monster came at Magnus’s unprotected back with such fury, and it knocked Magnus off Shane. Not it, but he, Shane thought.
Prodigal Alpha Page 3