Prodigal Alpha

by Angelique Voisen

  Fang shoved those memories aside and put them all back inside the box in his head where he kept all the unpleasant shit. If Shane knew how fucked up he really was, Shane would have never told Drake he hoped Fang would still take up the mantle of Alpha someday.

  Pushing himself harder, he picked up speed. Along the way, he left Razor behind, but Razor had his own thinking to do. Without realizing it, he started on the same path he’d taken after his father had left him in the woods.

  He saw his eight-year-old self stumbling along the river bank, missing a shoe, face all scratched up by tiny branches. Further upstream, Fang ended up on the edge of the cliff, right over a long drop. Shane had found him here all those years ago, contemplating defeat. Suicide.

  It took him a long to figure out that Shane had pretended to be his bully, but in reality, Shane had quietly watched out for him. Fang didn’t know anything about leading a group of people. Even in the army, he’d been content following orders. Giving the decision-making to someone else.

  Except Shane needed him now. Remembering the thick scar tissue on Shane’s neck sparked fury inside him. Fang swore to hunt every single one of those bloodsuckers down. He regretted not finishing the king, but Shane had bled out so much.

  Fang didn’t know about being Alpha, but he could stay here for a while, watch over Shane the same way Shane had for him all those years ago.

  Alone, with no one to watch him, his wolf whispered the word he’d been terrified to acknowledge his entire life.

  Shane.

  Mate.

  But men like Fang didn’t deserve love. If Shane knew the real him, would Shane end up running?

  The last hints of sunset disappeared into the horizon. Chilly autumn night air ruffled his fur, but he could barely feel the cold.

  What was he doing out here alone, when he could be snuggled close to Shane, making up for lost time? When Shane got stronger, they could go for a run, coats brushing against each other. They’d stand on this spot and watch the sun set together.

  If Fang were in human form, he’d let out a laugh. One day of seeing Shane and he was already turning into this sentimental asshole. With a huff, he padded back to the house. Razor must have respected his need for space, because his friend tailed him.

  Fang paused, noticing Razor had a freshly caught hare in his muzzle, and decided not to ask.

  Did he need a kill too? Fuck. This was ridiculous, but the competitive part of him didn’t want to return empty-handed. What would Shane think of him?

  Razor waited for Fang to take down prey of his own. It took longer than expected. Fang wanted to claw out Razor’s amused yellow eyes when a hare darted between his paws and back to its borrow. What must have been an hour later, Fang snagged one. With a fat, juicy rabbit in his mouth, they headed back.

  All the lights were on. Laughter bubbled from the main pack house area, stunning Fang. Growing up here, smiles and jokes had been rare. The smell of aggression and protective violence had always tainted the air.

  Fang spat out his prey. He shifted back to human and put on his clothes, from which a slip of paper fell on the ground. Razor swiped it and showed him the message.

  It was written in Talon’s handwriting: After you bastards are done brooding in the woods, come in. We ordered pizza.

  Razor and he traded looks.

  “How long are you two idiots going to stand there?” Talon’s voice rang out.

  Fang couldn’t help it. With their fresh dinner, they elbowed each other on the way in.

  Talon sniffed, then turned, eying them. “Dude, are those rabbits?”

  Razor shoved his into Talon’s arm. Fang did the same.

  Talon nearly dropped them, wrinkling his nose. “Ew, guys. Really? We have fried chicken and pizza.”

  Fang glowered at him. Razor looked like he wanted to murder Talon. This sure brought back old times. Even when they were boys, Razor and Talon had always got into fights over the silliest things.

  The crew was back.

  Talon punched his shoulder.

  “What was that for, asshole?” Fang demanded.

  “Welcome back home, Fang,” Talon said with a familiar wide-ass grin on his face.

  Chapter Seven

  Voices argued back and forth.

  “Who the fuck are these people, Drake?” Kit demanded.

  “These people, as you call us, saved your sorry asses,” Claw retorted. Was that Claw or Jax? Shane couldn’t tell anymore.

  “Kit, we’ve talked about this,” Clara said calmly.

  “Yeah, you gave us a breakdown about who these people are. You’re all ex-Red Manes, right? Why did you guys only come now, when everything’s shot to hell?” Kit argued, but he wasn’t done. “Look at Dave. He’s hiding in a corner because he knows the new guys you brought with you, Drake, are psychopaths,” Kit yelled.

  “We came for Fang and Shane, for friendship’s sake. That’s all,” Talon said unhelpfully. “You’re new here, pup. You understand nothing.”

  “I’m not a fucking pup. I’m twenty-three. Don’t call me that. What do you mean by that? You left Red Valley, returned, and you’re leaving again?”

  Someone let out a hallow laugh. It sounded like Razor, but last Shane remembered, the crazy-ass wolf was skinning the rabbits.

  “There’s nothing in Red Valley worth salvaging, unless someone says otherwise,” Claw said.

  “Enough fighting,” Drake interrupted, but he was drowned out by the others again.

  Shane shut his eyes and tried to tune them all out. Snarls and a show of teeth and claws weren’t far behind, Shane knew. It didn’t help his throbbing head. He’d let everyone bicker. Once they were sapped out of energy from fighting, he’d cut in.

  “You should be in bed.” Fang’s voice made him open his eyes.

  Fang sunk into the space beside him on the couch without asking. Given that they both weren’t small men, there was no space to move.

  Fortunately, Fang had put on a pair of jeans, but he seemed to have forgotten to put on a shirt. Fuck. Now all Shane could think about was Fang’s sweat-slicked skin sticking against Shane’s sweatshirt.

  Metal glinted under the light. Shane had forgotten about Fang’s gold nipple ring. It would drive him insane, thinking of that thing. If he tugged at the metal, would Fang let out a rumbling groan? His fingers twitched, but he kept them still.

  Shane suppressed the urge to lick his lips. In his mind, he imagined Fang’s impressive chest heaving and those abs rippling when Fang pried his thighs open to sink his dick inside Shane’s ass.

  Holy hell. This wasn’t good.

  “Shouldn’t you be joining the debate?” Shane asked, changing the topic.

  “Zero interest.” Fang rudely stared at his erection instead. Then again, Shane supposed Fang never had any manners to begin with. Apparently, Fang was more interested in Shane—not that Shane was complaining. “Is that boner for me?”

  Shane growled. “What do you think?”

  “Gross. Will you two get a room?” Talon snapped.

  Great. Now everyone was looking at them. He cursed superior werewolf hearing at times like these.

  Shane cleared his throat. Fang began drawing circles on Shane’s left thigh, not helping at all. Why did Shane feel so calm with Fang beside him? He should push Fang away, tell Fang to find another seat, because there were plenty. But his ego was stoked because Fang had chosen to sit next to him, as if Fang knew he’d belonged there all along.

  “What were we talking about?” Shane asked, turning to Drake, who raised an eyebrow at him.

  “While you two were looking at each other al starry-eyed and shit, we’ve stopped arguing and decided we need to check out the coven house,” Drake answered.

  “I volunteer,” Fang said before Shane could argue.

  What the fuck?

  “I’m coming with you,” Shane said, glaring at Fang.

  “Injured wolves should stay in bed.” Fang practically growled the words.

  �
�I’m healing fine. I’ll be perfect and shiny come tomorrow morning.” Fang looked like he was about to protest, but Shane cut him off. “Besides, you have my back. Are you saying that isn’t enough?”

  “Ooh, tension,” Talon joked. Shane wanted to punch his lights out.

  “It’s enough.” Fang grunted, looking into the distance. Shane thought the conversation was over, but Fang gave his thigh a squeeze and cleared his throat before continuing. “Maybe we can get lunch after dusting some vamps.”

  Shane stared. Silence filled the room.

  Someone let out an inappropriate laugh. Probably Talon.

  “Fang, are you asking me out on a date?” Shane asked.

  Fang shoved him in annoyance. Given there wasn’t much space to maneuver, Shane didn’t go anywhere. Their shoulders merely knocked against each other.

  “Lunch,” Fang said. “Not a date.”

  “Okay, that was awkward,” Jax said.

  “Are you saying no?” Fang asked, looking suddenly angry.

  “I’m just surprised. It’s settled, then.”

  Fang nodded, looking satisfied. He rose to his feet, hands on the back of his neck.

  “Fang, we’re not done,” Drake called, but Fang only gave him the finger and continued walking.

  “Okay.” Shane let out a long breath.

  He felt so much better already. Tonight was a little surreal. Had he imagined Fang asking him out? Fang looked cute. Never in a million years had Shane expected this side of Fang.

  He looked at Drake, deciding to take matters more seriously now. The power structure in town had been rattled when they’d gotten rid of the vampire coven. There were the werehyenas and other, smaller rogue shifter groups to deal with.

  “Shane, are these guys staying?” Kit asked.

  “For now. We need their help,” Shane confirmed. There were no certainties when it came to the future, but he could live one day at a time. “Drake, what’s next?”

  *****

  Fang killed the engine of his Raptor and glanced at his GPS. “This the location?”

  Shane looked spaced-out. Still did, even after the entire drive from the mountains and into town. He snapped his fingers at Shane, who blinked. Fang’s nostrils flared, scenting fear from Shane. He didn’t like that at all.

  His gaze dropped to the old scars on Shane’s neck, and his anger spiked. Knowing what Shane had done so his pack could survive made him furious. Shane was strong, a good leader, and Shane’s beast was a force to be reckoned with.

  Fang’s mate shouldn’t smell scared, shouldn’t fear these sickening leeches.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, cracking his knuckles.

  Shane blinked and then peered out the windows at the iron gates. They were wide open, no guards either, so Fang assumed the remaining vamps had fled.

  “We’re here,” Shane confirmed. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

  “Get it together,” Fang said, debating whether to slap Shane’s shoulder, then thought better of it.

  Buddies did that, but Fang didn’t want Shane to be his friend. Not anymore. He wanted to comfort Shane. Instead, he brushed his hand against Shane’s day-old stubble and leaned over for a kiss. When Shane didn’t pull away or protest, Fang brushed his mouth against Shane’s, tentative, feeling for Shane’s reaction.

  Shane gripped the collar of his shirt, tugging them closer.

  Heat exploded between them. Fang’s dick twitched inside his jeans. Normally, he wouldn’t let his guard down in enemy territory, but it was daylight. He cupped Shane’s cheek, thumbing Shane’s leaping pulse. His insides turned to mush. The kiss became rough, hard enough to draw blood, but it only turned Fang on.

  Until then, Fang hadn’t known a kiss could wreck him. Their tongues and teeth tangled. Fang pushed his tongue down Shane’s throat. A rumbling sound tore from Fang’s chest when they parted. Shane no longer looked blank-eyed or defeated: lust blazed into those eyes.

  Fang unbuckled his belt. He wanted to see it, Shane’s face looking languid, relaxed. He reached over and flicked the button of Shane’s jeans open and unzipped him.

  Shane closed a hand over his wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you relax.” Shane let go, but he still looked uncertain. Fang drew out Shane’s dick from his boxers and found it already thickening. He licked his lips, leaned over, and licked the pre-cum from the glistening tip.

  “God, Fang.”

  Oh, he liked Shane uttering his name like that. In pleasure, not pissed off or cursing him. Fang tongued the slit, curling his hand at the base of Shane’s dick. He swiped his tongue lower, over Shane’s ridges, savoring the taste of him.

  Fang seldom sucked another man’s dick, but this was different. This was Shane, and he’d fantasized about giving Shane a blowjob since forever. Opening his mouth, he slipped his his lips over Shane’s prick. It took a while, but eventually, Fang got used to Shane’s girth.

  Shane spearing his fingers into his hair and pushed Fang into applying careful suction. Shane tasted like silk stretched over heated steel in his mouth. Once Shane’s tip reached the back of his throat, Fang pulled out and repeated the motion.

  “Your mouth feels fucking amazing,” Shane managed to tell him.

  Shane started to pant, and his groans sounded like music to Fang’s ears. Fang would have preferred a more intimate setting, maybe someplace nice. Shane deserved it, and Shane wasn’t like all those faceless men who warmed Fang’s bed. Hook-ups served to chase his loneliness away, but that solution had been temporary.

  Fang’s wolf had always longed for someone else. He’d given his heart to another boy long ago.

  “Going to explode soon,” Shane gritted out, tugged at his hair, but Fang kept sucking stubbornly. When Shane reached climax, Fang swallowed all his load, not spilling a drop. He sucked Shane’s softening dick, cleaned him up, and sat upright, licking his lips.

  Shane looked at him from beneath half-lidded eyes, and Fang wanted to preserve the image forever. When Shane took up the role of Alpha and addressed his pack mates, he was hard-eyed, ruthless. Like this, in private, Shane was something else—vulnerable, raw. His.

  “You look like a self-satisfied cat,” Shane grumbled eventually, zipping up his jeans. “I’ll return the favor some other time.”

  “Looking forward to it.” They got out of the car. Fang noted with approval that Shane looked sharp-eyed and alert again. “Happy, wolf?”

  Shane scowled at him. “You’re lethal distraction, Fang.”

  “Good. Better than any other blowjob you’ve got?” Fang asked.

  “Wait a second,” Shane began. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?”

  They walked past the iron gates. The overwhelming smell of roses made Fang wrinkle his nose. Stupid vamps and their love of flowers.

  Fang didn’t answer, pissed, until Shane snuck a kiss to his cheek. It was quick, a peck, but it warmed his insides instantly. His inner wolf let out a happy growl.

  “The best,” Shane said.

  Past the driveway, Fang noticed the front door hung open too, just like the gate. His animal told him there weren’t any vamps inside. Leeches smelled different from other warm-blooded paranormals.

  “You’re just saying that to get another blowjob,” Fang said with a snort, pushing the door open wider.

  He expected some kind of nasty surprise inside, but the place was deathly silent. All the furniture, even the carpet, looked overturned, as if a hurricane had swept through.

  “Fang, I’ll compliment you later. I need to focus.” Fang crossed his arms. Shane halted and sighed. “You’re distracting me. I can’t think that clearly when we’re talking about sex.”

  Good enough for Fang. He didn’t want Shane thinking about another man while he was here. Fuck, Fang would make sure Shane never wanted anyone else but him.

  “Let’s split,” Shane said. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

  “Bossy,” Fang pointed out. He didn’t mind, though. Fang ha
d said that to get a reaction out of Shane, but it seemed the other man wasn’t buying it.

  “I’m getting the impression you like me giving out orders,” Shane said.

  Fang flashed him a glimpse of his sharp white teeth. “Not in the bedroom.”

  Shane groaned. “Seriously? Let’s finish scouting the place so we can have lunch.”

  “Fine. I’ll take upstairs.” This place was larger than Fang had initially thought. Sniffing up a vamp nest wasn’t part of his plan to make Shane his, but it was the only way he could get out of that place.

  Every room Fang passed was the same—empty. He wandered past the kitchen and down to the basement. The smell of old blood lingered here. If he were in wolf form, he would have raised his hackles. He scented Shane down here.

  The stench of death and lingering violence was unbearable.

  He mentally steeled himself for worse.

  Chapter Eight

  If upstairs was spacious, downstairs was even bigger. The basement housed cells. The scent of decay hit his nose now.

  He growled under his breath, nearly bumping into Shane’s broad back. Shane turned, eyes glowing gold, but he relaxed upon seeing it was only Fang.

  “Nothing upstairs,” Fang reported. Nothing smelled alive here either.

  “They cleared everything out,” Shane said, nodding to the empty cages. “Even the human feeders.”

  “Do you think the vamps killed them?” Fang asked.

  The thought tightened his insides, but he’d seen plenty of awful things during his time in the army. Seeing Shane’s shoulders shaking, Fang walked up to his mate and pulled Shane into his embrace. Tension ebbed away. Fang nosed his way from the space between Shane’s shoulder blades and kissed his nape.

  “The bloodsuckers are gone for good. Let’s get the fuck of here,” Fang suggested. “I’m starving.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Shane didn’t say a word when Fang linked their hands together and led him back upstairs. Once they were back in the car, it felt easier to breathe. Shane cranked the radio on and rolled down his window. Fang steered the car into the town proper. By this time, plenty of small cafes served brunch.