by Eva Brandt
It was always difficult to use my Alpha voice on a smaller number of people instead of the whole pack and today, I was pretty exhausted. But I did it anyway, knowing I couldn’t afford to show weakness.
Byron’s presence helped and together, we made our way to the great cavern we’d dubbed the Alpha’s Hall.
By the time I got there, the pack elders were already waiting for me. They must have been here before I’d even summoned them. What pests.
“Alpha Brooks,” Edward greeted me with a nod. “Welcome back.”
“Welcome back,” Sylvia and Deacon echoed him.
“Thank you, Elder Page, Elder Parks, Elder Reyes,” I told them blandly. “I appreciate you keeping an eye on the union while I was away.”
The pack elders were officially my council and advisors. In reality, they didn’t do much and half the time, I didn’t listen to them at all. They could be prejudiced SOBs, and had been against Ulysses’s naming as the pack Omega, preferring Veronica even if she wasn’t as good at it. They’d never completely trusted him since he was a newer addition to the union.
To make matters worse, Edward didn’t like me much. He’d been friends with my parents, but the relationship between us had soured heavily in the years after their deaths. He was Byron’s father and had wanted Byron to become Alpha. It had made sense, since Byron’s white fur had marked him as special from the very beginning. Even if the fur itself didn’t give Byron any extra skills, white wolves tended to grow into powerful fighters and leaders.
In truth, it could have probably worked out. But it took more than strength to be an Alpha. You needed a genuine ability to connect with people, and Byron hadn’t been interested. When we’d been younger, he’d been able to use the incipient Alpha voice, but it made him very uncomfortable and overwhelmed him, to the point of making it difficult to control the wild and erratic abilities of his wolf. And so, he far preferred being my enforcer and tearing apart the people who had an issue with me. It had worked out well, as Byron had reached his full potential as my Beta. But Edward still didn’t realize that and believed that I’d gotten in the way of his son’s greatness.
Sylvia was usually on my side, but today, she’d gotten some bad news. And Deacon… Well, to say that he did not like humans would have been the understatement of the century.
As I’d expected, they’d already been informed about most of what had happened on the mission. “Alpha Brooks, what happened?” Sylvia asked, her voice cracking with grief. “How could this mission go so wrong? How was my son so badly injured?”
Sylvia’s son, Trent, was among the wolves who still hadn’t recovered from the attack. It would probably take time for him to heal, and I couldn’t blame his mother for being upset.
“Unfortunately, there was a demonic force lying in wait there. We didn’t have enough information on it before venturing into the compound, and shadow magic isn’t something we can easily fight.”
“Shadow magic?” Edward asked in horror. “What kind of creature was Vladimir Popovic working with?”
“An ancient demon, Father,” Byron explained in my stead. “He’s gone for now, but I fear he’s still a threat.”
“And how much of that is because of this… human you brought along, Alpha Brooks?” Deacon asked, curling his lip. “I always knew you liked humans a little too much, but—”
“Be silent,” I cut him off. “Don’t even finish that sentence, or I’ll tear off your paws and feed them to you.”
The elders all froze. I wasn’t usually so violent. In fact, I tried to be kind and approachable, since I believed it was better for the well-being of the pack as a whole.
“Let me make things very clear,” I growled. “Imogen Lee’s presence here is non-negotiable. You don’t get a say in it, and don’t believe for a second that I will allow you to harass her.”
“But Alpha… Surely there’s no reason for her to stay here?” Edward asked. “She has her own people, right?”
“We are her people,” I replied. “She was attacked during the battle, and now, her own family rejects her. They attempted to kill her.
“Now, you might think this isn’t our responsibility. Why should we care about one huntress, after all? Well, it’s quite simple. She’s my soulmate. Anyone who dares to harm her will have to go through me.”
The three elders stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “Your soulmate?” Deacon repeated. “A former human turned undead?”
“Yes,” I answered without missing a beat. And if you don’t like it, Deacon, you’re free to leave. Because she is under my protection, and if one hair from her head is harmed, the culprit will beg for death. Do you understand?”
“We understand, Alpha,” Sylvia croaked out. She was still furious with me because of Trent’s injury, but the authority I exerted over her was so powerful it surpassed her anguish for her pup.
“Excellent,” I said. “I’ll explain everything to the pack during our next full moon run, but you’re also free to talk to the other pack members at your leisure.
“That being said, Imogen’s presence isn’t the immediate problem. The new nest of undead might have been destroyed, but it’s still strange and dangerous that they managed to build it so close to us in the first place. Vladimir Popovic is dead, but we can’t afford to rest on our laurels. Now, we won’t be able to coordinate with the hunters again.”
They were wise enough to not ask why that was. Deacon had always hated the idea of working with the humans, so he almost seemed pleased. “We will organize additional patrols, Alpha,” he said. “No creature can go through us, not if we stand united.”
“Indeed,” I said, and marveled at the fact that I could keep my bitterness out of my voice.
The pack was united where it counted, in battle, but here, where we were supposed to be safest, we always bickered amongst ourselves. And I feared that, when it came to my soulmate, I wouldn’t have a lot of allies.
Chapter Eight
Legends of soulmates have existed in human mythology from ancient times, but most of them were discarded as romantic fancy, even by artists. A notable example is the Greek legend of mankind having originally been created with four arms, four legs and one head with two faces. According to the story, Zeus cut the original humans in half, leaving the two remnants constantly yearning for each other. But even this legend has been considered by many a parody.
This assessment changed in the mid 20th century, when humans began to learn more about shape-shifters and their lifestyle. While originally reticent to expose such an important element in their culture, the shifters were in the end unable to hide the truth about their social bonds.
Specifically, many wondered why a werewolf would bother to endanger his whole species to save a human. Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s near-assassination still remained a puzzle, but it was the added element of his wife that made things more complicated.
The leader of one of the largest packs in the US, Garrick Cantrell, would later admit that Sophie was her savior’s soulmate. This appeared to suggest that Sophie herself had been a shifter all along. To this date, it is unclear what became of either of them, but we do know one thing.
If the soulmate of a shifter is in danger, they are likely to abandon all previous attachments in favor of rescuing them. Approach with caution.
- Pierce Saunders, “The Rise of Paranormal Politics”, First Edition, McMillan, 1999 -
* * *
Ulysses
“I shouldn’t be here. You should let me go. I shouldn’t be here.”
Imogen clutched her hair and paced, in a complete panic. Since she’d woken up in the healing chamber, she’d reacted poorly to our decision to bring her here. Ironically, it had nothing to do with a general dislike for our species, although that would have maybe been better.
“I’m a monster,” she said, shaking. “I need to die.”
She was still in shock after the confrontation with her brother and every word that spilled from her beautiful
mouth made me want to hunt her family down and tear them apart. But I didn’t. Instead, I stayed and did my best to reassure her.
“You’re not a captive, Imogen,” I told her, “and you’re not a monster. Breathe. If you’re here, it’s because that’s where you belong.”
That might have worked on a shifter. The idea of belonging was always powerful for any werewolf. But getting through to Imogen wasn’t so easy. She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t belong anywhere. I’ll get you in trouble. You deserve better.”
I sighed and walked to her side, pulling her into my arms. I wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of forcing my touch on her, but it didn’t look like she’d calm down anytime soon.
“Shh,” I whispered into her hair. “You’re all right now. You’re perfectly safe.”
Words weren’t enough to reassure her, so I allowed my aura to flow over her. It worked beautifully, and she started to relax in my arms.
“How are you doing that?” she asked, not seeming very taken aback by my power.
“It’s an Omega skill,” I explained. “It’s called ‘the heart of the pack’.”
“Sounds nice,” she muttered, slumping against my chest.
I picked her up and carried her to the bed. She allowed it, although I suspected it was only a temporary respite.
My guess was proven correct less than a minute later. The moment I set her down, she started screeching like she was under attack by some invisible beast. “No! Get away from me! Get away!”
Fuck.
Okay, this was bad, even worse than before. I didn’t know all the details of what had happened in that building, but whatever it was had been traumatic. She looked around with wild eyes, and it was obvious that she wasn’t seeing me or the cave anymore. “Let me go! I don’t want to be here! I’m not yours!”
Power exploded from her fingertips. The spells on the walls held, preventing a cave in, but the same thing could not be said about the bed and the nightstand. As splinters flew everywhere, I tackled Imogen and crowded her into a corner, all the while summoning my power.
Humans didn’t completely understand this, but some werewolves were born with gifts. For prospective Alphas, it was the Alpha voice, a form of telepathy that, if trained, allowed them to connect to the whole pack. Betas usually didn’t pursue that path and instead chose to channel their strength into an individual connection with their wolf. For Omegas, it was emotional manipulation. My particular version was stronger than anything most Omegas could ever hope to yield.
I knew exactly why that was, and I hated it. But this time, it came in handy.
She burst into tears, but stopped screaming. Her power no longer lashed out so violently. I dared to lower the intensity of my aura.
I was at a clear disadvantage here. As an Omega, it was in my power to emotionally manipulate her. But she was a human with a natural tendency to dislike paranormals, and she was my soulmate. It would be very easy for me to influence her into something she wouldn’t normally do or accept.
“I don’t know what’s going on.” She sobbed. “I don’t know where I am.”
“You’re in the home of the Brooks pack,” I replied steadily. I’d told her this before, but I’d tell her a million times if it made her feel better. “During the last attack against the undead, there was an incident that made it impossible for you to go back to your previous home. But Alpha Xander Brooks agreed that it would be a good idea for you to stay here, at least until you’re better.”
What we actually wanted was for her to stay permanently, but we couldn’t ask that of her, not yet. For the moment, she couldn’t really make decisions for herself. If left to her own devices, she’d harm herself or others. But this wouldn’t be forever. The mind was powerful, and in time, she’d recover from her ordeal. When that happened, she might want to cut ties with us.
I shelved the thought for later. “You’ve been through a lot today, Imogen. I can’t say I fully understand your experience, because that would be a lie. But please know that I’m here.”
“W-Why?” she stammered. “Why are you helping me? Why would your Alpha go to such lengths for me?”
I hesitated, not knowing what to tell her. Nothing had changed since earlier. If anything, now was even a worse time for romantic confessions.
“You don’t deserve to suffer just because an evil asshole attacked you. We’ll protect you if we can.”
It was true, although it wasn’t the whole story. Oddly enough, Imogen knew that. “That’s not all there is to it, right? If you’re doing this, it’s because I’m your Alpha’s soulmate.”
I stared at her in shock. How could she possibly know that? Had she sensed the connection too? No, that couldn’t be it. Her new abilities stemmed from a vampire bite, and vampires didn’t have soulmates.
I must have said at least some of that out loud, because it was her turn to explain. “Your Alpha mentioned it, when we were still there. I think he didn’t mean to. He just blurted it out and took it back a minute after.”
The latter sentence was spoken more softly than the others. I flinched. I could understand Xander’s logic and see why he had acted that way. He obviously didn’t want to pressure her. But she seemed to interpret his attempt to give her some well-deserved space as rejection, which was the last thing she needed right now.
“Trust me when I say that he never would have taken it back if the circumstances had been different.”
“If I wasn’t a huntress turned vampire, you mean,” she said, sounding almost heartbroken.
“No, that’s not it. You’re just…” Not in your right mind? Not prepared for a soul bond? What the fuck was I supposed to say that wouldn’t sound cruel, condescending, or both?
Thankfully, my Alpha rescued me from having to come up with a way to finish that sentence. The door to the healing chamber opened, and Xander and Byron walked inside.
They looked a little out of breath, which was funny, because it took a lot of effort for that to happen in two Alphas. I assumed they’d sensed Imogen’s emotional outburst, even if they hadn’t been in the same room with her.
“Is everything all right?” Xander asked. “Imogen?”
She didn’t reply, so I decided to take the proverbial bull by the horns. “Imogen is confused. She doesn’t understand why we brought her here and why we’re helping her. She also seems to believe that you taking back your soulmate confession means you’ve rejected her.”
I tried to stay calm, but the words came out biting and reproachful. It was inappropriate for an Omega to behave in this way toward his Alpha. But Xander and I were more than Alpha and Omega. He had been my lover before he’d become my leader, and that had never really changed.
It was why Byron and I were the only ones who called him by his name while in the pack. It didn’t matter how close the others were to him. They could never compare.
And I loved him—I loved them both—but that didn’t change the fact that both he and Byron had fucked up.
Xander’s eyes went comically wide and Byron’s breath caught. “Of course I didn’t reject her,” Xander said. “It’s complicated. You know that, Ulysses.”
I arched a brow at him. Yes, I did know, but I doubted Imogen wanted to hear that explanation from me. She was already giving me a surreptitious, wary look.
Most likely, she found it strange that an Omega was mouthing off at his leader like this.
I didn’t need to tell Xander anything. He understood what I meant and what he needed to do.
“Look, Imogen, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s a huge misunderstanding. Here’s the thing. Werewolf relationships are complex. Since you’re a human, I don’t think the knowledge you have is very accurate. Don’t get me wrong. That’s not your fault. It’s something we’ve more or less encouraged, since we never wanted outsiders to know too much about our soul bonds. But you obviously need to understand now.
“When I looked into your eyes at the compound, I instantly knew you were my soul
mate. That’s how shifters identify their mates, through eye contact.”
He paused and gave Byron and me a little nudge. It wasn’t a physical thing, or even an aura like mine, but I still felt it at the back of my consciousness.
“So did I,” Byron said.
“And me,” I added.
“All three of you?” Imogen asked, shocked.
“It’s not unusual for shifters who’re already in a relationship to bond with the same person,” Byron replied. “That’s the rule for most polygamous paranormal creatures, at least.”
“Yes, I know,” Imogen said. For the first time in my life, I was grateful that humans had at least some correct information on our world. “But… I’m not… Well, I don’t belong to your pack. You don’t even know me. How could I possibly fit in with you?”
Xander walked up to us, but didn’t reach out to touch Imogen. “We might not know each other now, but our souls still match. But that’s just it, Imogen. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. The bond between me, Byron, and Ulysses is romantic, but it can be perfectly platonic with you. That’s why I didn’t want to dump all this on you at the compound, because it’s a complex dynamic. But you have a choice.”
“A choice,” she repeated, as if those two simple words hypnotized her. A single tear trailed down her cheek, so different from her earlier, desperate sobs. “A choice.”
As she fell silent, Byron, Xander and I shared a concerned look. I was tempted to reach out to her with my aura again and try to soothe her. But something told me to hold back.
Like Xander had said, she had a choice, and in this, we would not falter.
* * *
Imogen
For as long as I could remember, the choices I’d made for myself had been limited. I’d wanted to become a huntress. I’d chosen to be part of my brother’s team. But beyond that, I didn’t think I’d ever made a lot of individual decisions.
In a way, the moment I’d agreed to step on that path, the choice had been taken out of my hands. My brother had allowed me some eccentricities—like my hair color, even if it stood out—but beyond that, he’d pretty much controlled everything.