Royal Alpha

by Riley Storm

  “It’s clear,” Jennifer pronounced. “No magical booby-traps. But I can’t rule out human ones,” she added.

  Just as he was starting to feel relieved, Logan tensed up again. With a growl, he sent teams of three flowing out to the left and right. With their superior vision, they could hopefully spot any explosives before it was too late.

  That done, Logan continued forward. Behind him came the rest of his supporters, more teams peeling off to either side at regular intervals. The generator room was cavernous, and by the time they reached the far side, he was down to a handful of his men, plus Jennifer.

  Heather trotted at his side, never having gone far, always little more than a paw-length back. She wasn’t letting him out of his sight. Which is great, because then I don’t have to try and figure out a way to keep her close.

  He liked having her there. With him. It felt…right.

  That’s going to make your life hellish when you go back to the Manor and she has to return to Leonen. You shouldn’t let yourself get used to it.

  But how was he supposed to fight something that felt so naturally right? Without even thinking, he had just accepted her there. As if she belonged.

  Your feelings for her are going to cause a rift in your House. Another one.

  Logan growled, shutting out the thoughts, but earning him a curious look from Heather. He tried not to return the look, knowing he’d see much of her human side staring back. Not right now, he couldn’t. His focus had to remain on Laurien, on the Tyrant King. His enemy.

  But it’s so easy to let my mind fill with thoughts of her. Of us. Of the future.

  They came to a halt at one last door. It was labelled in red: Reactor Room. Authorized Personnel Only.

  Jennifer made to blast it aside as well, but he moved in front of her, stopping the action.

  Laurien was in there. He could feel it. This was the end. One way or another, things would change after he entered that room. Could the others feel it, he wondered? A great journey had led to this place, to this time.

  With a flick of his tail, he trotted ahead. Heather tried to join him but he gently cut her off, shaking his head. It looked weird seeing a human-style motion coming from the wolf, but it was easily translatable.

  This is my fight, he transmitted to her in a quick thought, trying to put as much into his gaze as he could. I have to do this. Alone.

  He shivered at the gravity of her response. No words, just a stare that said it all.

  You aren’t alone.

  Logan desperately wanted to reach out, to ask for that confirmation, to take what he felt he could have. That she was giving to him. But he couldn’t. No matter how much his body screamed at him, no matter how badly his heart ached.

  She couldn’t be his. Because he, Logan, King of House Canis, had promised her to somebody else.

  The door opened, sparing him any further thoughts of Heather as a shadow lurked within the darkened room.

  Looking at Heather, he started to turn away, to head toward his destiny and the final fight of the rebellion.

  A soft noise stopped him, just barely audible. He doubted anyone else had caught it. His head swung back to Heather and he could see her staring at him, eyes filled with regret.

  Regret and…something else.

  Screw the rules, he thought viciously, trotting over to her so he could rest his head against hers. I know where I stand. We’ll figure something out.

  Heather froze at first as he touched her, fur brushing against fur. Had she not expected this? Was this not what she wanted? Logan started to panic, but after several seconds he felt Heather relax and return the gentle rubbing of heads.

  Behind him several of his followers made noises that could only be interpreted one way.

  Finally.

  He lifted his head slightly so he could view them over Heather’s flank, giving them all a good glare, though he knew full well that wouldn’t quiet a single one of them.

  Even Jennifer was smirking and looking smugly happy about the entire thing.

  Did everyone know except us? He couldn’t help but wonder. Nor did he care. Not right then. If he died in that room, it would be with no regrets. If he lived, well, he would officially be King of his House, and wouldn’t that be something?

  First though, the fight.

  Ahead, he saw the shape of the Tyrant King ripple and then move as he stalked sideways watching Logan’s approach.

  The door closed behind him. There was no pre-amble. No speeches. Not even a snarled growl of challenge. Nothing. The instant the doors closed, Laurien leapt at him.

  It was a coward’s move, designed to try and catch Logan before he was aware the semi-ritual fight had started. Get in a blow early, and hope it was enough to eventually win the fight.

  Unlucky for him, Logan knew that Laurien, despite his bluster, despite his savagery, was nothing but a coward. And he’d expected it. Which was why he was also launching himself forward.

  The two wolves crashed together, both howling in pain at the bone-bruising force of impact as they collided and fell to the ground, both half-ton beasts trying to maneuver around the other, going for the killing blow.

  Logan ripped a tuft of fur from his enemy’s chest and received a paw across the side of his face for his efforts, the claws opening several gashes. Thankfully, none of them was deep as he was already working to roll away from the blow. Kicking out with his hind leg, he returned the favor along one of Laurien’s forelegs.

  The two wolves separated, moving in a circle, stalking one another, looking for weaknesses to exploit. Laurien was a coward, but he was no failure in a fight. Nobody got to be where he was in life without being a capable fighter, human or wolf. Logan had every faith he could win, but only if he fought to the best of his abilities.

  I fight for all those you killed with your greed, Laurien. Their strength infuses my bones, their will drives me forward. With them at my back, I cannot lose. And I think you know that.

  There was a bit of furtive fear in the yellow-orange of his opponent’s eyes, and Logan knew he needed to feed it. To stoke those flames into a fever pitch of terror if he could.

  So, he continued to stalk Laurien around and around, in an endless circle, giving the Tyrant King time to wonder what his opponent’s plan was. What would he achieve by not attacking? Logan let the thoughts that had to be filling Laurien’s mind grow wilder by the second. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but Logan was focused on one thing, and one thing only:

  Winning.

  It didn’t matter if it took him five seconds, five minutes, or five hours. If he could leave this room as the victor, then it was worth it. After this fight, it was over.

  It didn’t take long for Laurien to break and go on the attack. Claws scrabbled across the floor and Logan barely leapt out of the way, underestimating the speed with which his foe could move.

  He dodged twice more but was unable to avoid the fourth. They went down again, agony blossoming across Logan’s midsection. In return, however, he ripped muscle and tendon from the same foreleg he’d worried at earlier, rendering it unusable.

  Darting away, Logan panted, trying to force his pain back. Ignore it now, heal later. First, he had to win the fight, or a cut to his stomach would be the least of his worries.

  Laurien tried to get up but he couldn’t. Not with one front leg unable to support any weight. He was a sitting duck if he didn’t do something.

  A second later, his body twitched, and Logan watched as Laurien shifted back to his human form, staying in a crouch, his mangled left arm hanging limply at his side.

  “Well,” the Tyrant King snarled. “Are you going to face me like a man, or—”

  Logan leapt forward, ignoring a fresh blossoming of pain in his stomach as he did. His jaws closed around the soft tissues of Laurien’s throat. Crushing force was applied to the windpipe, then as they fell backward, Logan twitched his neck muscles, ripping his jaws free. Blood fountained everywhere as most of Laurien’s throat came wi
th it.

  They clattered to the floor and Logan rolled free, spitting the chunk of flesh from his mouth in disdain. He tried to get up but his stomach hurt too much. He growled loudly, hoping it might be heard outside.

  Curling up into a ball, he initiated the change back to human form. It was never a pleasant or painless transition as his body reshaped and reformed itself, but this time, with his stomach in the condition it was, the pain was enough that a scream tore from his throat despite his iron will clamping down.

  Seconds later, the door opened and both Heather and Jennifer burst through, teeth bared, staff blazing with magic, ready for anything.

  Heather, with her superior reflexes and speed reacted first, rushing to his side, changing even before she’d come to a halt. Jennifer, meanwhile, started casting a spell. Logan couldn’t see what because his view was abruptly blocked by a beautiful face dominated by fearful brown eyes.

  “Are you okay?” she gasped, looking him over.

  Logan bit his lip and then uncurled slightly to expose his stomach.

  Heather’s hiss told him all he needed to know.

  35

  It was bad. Really bad.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered, looking at the wound as it bled freely on the floor.

  “It’s not good, is it?” he wanted to know.

  She cradled his head, stroking it, uncaring who was watching. “Um. It’s…not good,” she admitted. “But you’re not going to die either. It’s just…well, this is going to hurt.”

  “What’s going to—argh!”

  Logan’s scream filled the room and spilled out into the rest of the facility as she ripped the wolf claw free of his stomach lining and tossed it toward the dead body off to one side.

  “What was that?” Logan gasped, his face white with pain, sweat beading off his forehead. “Was that punishment for something I did to you? Because you need to learn to be a bit more tolerant.”

  “Shut up,” she said, stroking his head. “That was one of Laurien’s claws embedded in, I think, your liver.”

  “Oh,” Logan said stiffly, very clearly still in immense amounts of pain. “That would also explain it. Though what happened to your bedside manners? Can’t I get a warning?”

  Heather shrugged. “That was punishment.”

  Logan hung his head. “Lucky me.”

  “Very lucky you,” she murmured, wiping sweat away before it dripped into his eye. “You have me.”

  His eyes flew open from nearly closed. “We’re in public,” he cautioned, looking around.

  “Right. And when you came over and nuzzled me before your honor duel, that was in private?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words.

  “You know I had to do it this way,” he said, ignoring her main point. “It had to be me.”

  “No, it didn’t, you arrogant ass,” she said, the words empty of true meaning. “None of your supporters would care if we all worked together to bring him down. So that someone didn’t suffer an unpleasant stomach injury due to clumsiness.”

  Logan glared up at her. “It wasn’t clumsiness. It was a tradeoff.”

  “A tradeoff?”

  “Yes. He got my stomach, I got his leg. And then his life,” Logan finished heavily. “I won.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said. “You were quite magnificent.”

  Logan frowned. “You saw?”

  “There are windows on either side of the door,” she said as if that should have been obvious to him. “Did you think we were just going to sit in a circle out there and sing Kum-ba-ya?”

  Logan started to laugh, then turned pale again. “Ow. No laughing. Please. It hurts.”

  “I agree,” she said, very seriously. “This is no laughing matter.”

  “Heather,” he wheezed through several repressed laugh tremors. “Please.”

  She caved. “Fine.”

  “You also should stop that.”

  It was her turn to give him a look. “Stop what?”

  “Stroking my face,” he said, reaching up to place a hand over hers, putting a stop to a motion she hadn’t even been entirely aware of doing.

  “Why?” she wanted to know, not moving her hand out from under his. The warmth was nice, she decided as justification.

  “Because, like I said. We’re in public. There are people around. People who could talk,” he said quietly. “You’re—”

  “I’m very well aware of what I am,” she said sternly. “I’m also aware of what I could be, if you would get your shit together.”

  Logan’s mouthed moved but no sounds came out of it.

  “The correct answer is, ‘yes ma’am,’” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Logan said dutifully. “I will, um, I’ll figure something out.”

  “You had better,” she said under her breath. “Because I’m tired of waiting for you.”

  He nodded quickly. “Got it. Will do. But I have something else I need to do first,” he said, putting a hand under him.

  “Hey, wow. Give that some more time to heal,” she said, trying to stop him.

  But Logan was done being lame and he casually brushed her aside as he got to his feet—and then promptly reached out to use her for support as he nearly caved.

  “I told you to wait,” she said, knowing it was pointless when he was so obviously set on something. “Where are we going?”

  “Outside,” he rumbled. “To pay my respects to our fallen.”

  Heather nodded but before she helped him, turned to face the Magi.

  “I’ll handle the mess,” the mage said with a sigh as her spell continued to work at removing the blood and gore. “You two go on ahead.”

  “Thank you,” she and Logan said in unison, both looking startled at the other.

  “Oh, God,” Jennifer groaned, watching them with a huge grin. “Just get out of here before I vomit at the pair of you. Please.”

  They left, hobbling upstairs, Logan supporting her. She knew his system would heal the wound, but it had been deep and the claw stuck in it had done some serious damage when he’d twisted at some point. He would be hurting for a few hours at least.

  The two of them didn’t say much on the journey up, and anything she might have wanted to say was stripped as they emerged back to the surface. Several members of their strike team had pulled the bodies into two piles. One for their members, and a much larger one for the last of the Kraits and shifters who had supported the Tyrant King.

  “Blessedly few, at least,” she murmured, helping Logan to one knee.

  “Still too many,” he replied, bowing his head in thought.

  She stayed at his side, not interrupting until he was done.

  “Now what?” she asked as they stood, Logan leaning heavily on her shoulder still.

  “Now we go home, and we put our House back together again after all the damage that asshole did to it,” Logan growled, pointing below them.

  She nodded but he wasn’t done.

  “Now we begin to heal.”

  36

  They pulled up to the main entrance of the Manor instead of moving to park underground. Logan wanted to call for a general meeting where he would address all the members of the House present on the grounds and announce to them that it was over at long last.

  “Thank you,” he said as one of the guards out front came over and opened the door for him.

  Heather came around and he used her to help himself out of the car, wearing only sweatpants. His stomach wound was healing, but it was taking its sweet time, partially because of all the movement he insisted on doing which kept tearing at the edges, slowing the healing.

  The guard just nodded at him and stepped back.

  That struck him as slightly odd. He gave the man a frown, noticing the guard was doing his very best to avoid looking directly at him. A quick glance showed the other guards at parade-ground attention, their eyes unfocused, staring off into the distance.

  “Is it just me,” he muttered to Heather as they moved toward the stairs
. “Or does it seem like everyone hear is constipated? Or perhaps unhappy to see me?”

  The guards, all of whom could hear the words, stiffened, but none of them moved or said anything in return.

  “It does kind of seem that way, doesn’t it?” Heather replied after taking a look around. “They look unhappy, I want to say.”

  “Sorry I didn’t die, boys,” Logan said light-heartedly. “Back to work for you all, I guess, right?”

  He’d left much of his guard detail behind, having convinced them that the likes of Lucien, Liam, Linden and his other supporters would do just fine as a guard detail while he was gone.

  None of the shifters laughed at his comment.

  “What the hell?” he grumbled. “If this is their way of playing a practical joke on me, it’s not funny.”

  “Not yet,” Heather said. “Maybe it will be once you get inside.”

  “If you say so.”

  With her help, he hobbled up the stairs and into the main hallway, making a beeline for the Throne Room at the best pace he could manage. The other guards manning the doors were also unusually alert and seemed to be doing their best to ignore him.

  “I’m really confused,” he said. “If you get any ideas or suggestions, let me know. I’d value your advice right now.”

  “About time,” Heather whispered.

  He looked down at her and grinned. “Better get used to it. I’m going to be seeking a lot of it when you’re Queen of House Canis.”

  That had the desired effect. It wasn’t often he got to see Heather completely speechless, but this was one of those times and Logan basked in it, knowing it wouldn’t happen again for quite a while.

  In the end, she didn’t respond. Not with words. Instead, she leaned into him somehow, even though he was already half draped over her shoulder. Yet somehow, she managed to make it even more intimate as they slowed to a halt at the main door to the Throne Room.

  Logan nodded at the guard for him to open the door for them. To his utter surprise, the guard hesitated.

  “Open the door,” Logan said, letting a bit of ice slip into his tone. It was one thing for them to pretend to ignore him, but when he gave one of them a command, he expected it to be obeyed.