Trinity (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 1)

by Serena Akeroyd

  If he’d have known that was all it took, he’d have tried to nap earlier.

  “Mikkel, son. Thanks for waiting. I had to make sure all was well on board before I could call and confirm your orders.”

  Mikkel grimaced, but by no quiver of his voice did he indicate how irritated he was at being made to wait in this goddamn airport for the past six hours.

  Yeah.

  Six.

  Two of which had been spent here, and only regular and large purchases from the coffee shop had stopped him from being on the receiving end of dirty looks. Most people didn’t camp out here. They got their order, headed out. Or, sometimes, stayed and worked.

  Mikkel did neither.

  He’d just been sitting there, staring out onto the concourse, watching the planes take off, eying them as they landed. Each one made him wish he could board that particular flight to avoid his current fate, but of course, he’d learned a long time ago when his father had been KIA, that wishes were bedre en salt slid over sitt eget bord, end en fersk gedde overet fremmed—as his Danish grandmother liked to say. Or, that it was better to eat dry bread at home than roast meat abroad—his wishes being the latter, of course.

  Gods, he missed her. She’d been batshit crazy, way too good at clipping his ear when he misbehaved, and had the weirdest proverbs for the most inappropriate moments, but she’d smelled like licorice, had given the best hugs, and made the most phenomenal Drømmekage, or ‘dream cake’ this side of the Atlantic.

  Thoughts of his Fafa deepened his voice as he told the most powerful man in his ken, “No worries, sire. You’ll be seeing a large Starbucks bill being filed amid my expenses—you have been warned. Is everything going according to schedule?”

  There was a soft sigh. “As well as it can be. There will be opposition to your presence, Mikkel. I need to make sure you’re on that flight and with her at every step.

  “How she mated with a Gamma, I’ll never goddamn know, but she has. And my stupid sons have seen fit to throw her into the pack’s most dangerous Enforcer position. I want you at her back and watching her on all sides.”

  Scratching a hand over his buzz-cut hair, Mikkel grunted—the TriAlpha ruled with an iron fist. For all that, they were actually beloved. They’d messed up the gene pool along the way, and had caused a bit of a stir by giving birth to a single girl child, but aside from that, everyone, save their own parents, liked them.

  Hell, even Mikkel thought they were pretty cool.

  They ruled by the old standards and yet were starting to introduce a more modern means of reign. What wasn’t to like about leaders who had the foresight to see they were no longer in the Dark Ages?

  “Don’t be a chauvinist. Surely they wouldn’t have agreed to her taking on the position if she wasn’t suitable for the task,” he said softly. “She must be stronger than she looks.”

  Hell, that was an understatement. Stronger than she looked? From what his stepfather had told him, Triskeles were ancient and rare.

  Unique, Stephen had told him once upon a time.

  A pack historian, Stephen was perfectly placed to know exactly what the fuck a Triskele was when few Lyken were probably aware of the exact definition of the ancient device.

  Though She-Wolves definitely weren’t to be underestimated, it was hard to imagine a single female being strong enough to take on the meaty role of Triskele. So, while he had disagreed with Louis, he could empathize with why the man feared for his granddaughter.

  Especially as said granddaughter had been cloistered away at the TriAlpha’s palace in Oregon like some kind of hunchback of Notre Dame.

  Half expecting to come face to face with a sub-Lyken monster when her plane landed, he barely refrained from hiding his distaste as he murmured, “But I understand. You wish me to be present at all times.” He coughed. “Even though she’s newly mated.” That had been supplied in the file Louis had emailed him last night.

  He’d read it all, been both taken aback by Thalia’s unusual living situation and disgusted by it too. The way she’d been treated was abominable, and while Louis was whining now, Mikkel didn’t understand why he’d allowed Thalia to be treated the way she had. It was a wonder she hadn’t gone crazy, never mind had had the opportunity to find a mate.

  “Use discretion, boy,” Louis said gruffly, breaking into his thoughts. “Don’t need you perving over her in bed. I just meant, anywhere outside of her quarters, you’re to be there.”

  Relief swam through him. Last night, with the way he’d been raging, Louis had made it sound like he expected Mikkel to sleep on a trundle bed beside Thalia Lyndhoven’s side as she rested.

  “Why me, Louis?” he asked softly. “You know you’re taking me away from important work.”

  “No less important than this, Mikkel. She’s the future of the pack, and you’re one of the best trackers and guardians I’ve come across in all my years. You should have been a Lyken. It’s a damn shame for the pack you aren’t.”

  Despite himself, pride fluttered through him. Being compared to a Lyken might seem rude, but it was the highest compliment a Lyken could give a human. And coming from a man like Louis, who had once reigned at the palace in Oregon where his sons now sat? Jesus, it was like being awarded a medal from the President.

  Rubbing his chin, he murmured, “What did she say about my assignment?”

  Louis cleared his throat. “You and I are the only ones aware of what your duties will be.”

  For a second, rage rushed through him. Then, as he did with everything else in his life, he tamped it down, controlled it. “Why?”

  “Because she’d refuse your help of course. I can’t have her going to all these damn packs without some back up. And I’m not talking about some useless Gamma at her side. I mean a man who makes Alphas look twice.”

  “You can’t get around this with flattery.” It had worked a few seconds before, but Louis, as per goddamn usual, had gone too fucking far. How the fuck was he supposed to hide his presence? The TriAlpha princess didn’t sound like a moron; she’d know what he was the minute he showed up.

  Dammit, he screamed soldier.

  His hair was so closely shorn, it was impossible to even discern his blond coloring. His posture was rigid, his light gray gaze constantly watchful. He was stacked and scarred, heavy with muscle and preternaturally aware of what his body could do. A fellow predator would sense another in her presence—Louis was being an idiot if he thought Thalia wouldn’t know exactly what he was.

  The older man sighed. “When you meet her, you’ll understand. I’ve yet to speak to her since she came out of exile, but my brother has. He says she’s just as willful as ever. Maybe more so.”

  With her past, obstinacy, defiance, and strength had to have entwined to create a woman capable of withstanding exile and containment by her parents.

  The entire pack wondered at the minutiae of what had led to that moment when the TriAlpha had deemed their daughter a danger to society.

  Of course, it hadn’t been phrased like that. A whole PR stunt had been spun around the event. But anyone with a brain knew something had to have happened, the public just didn’t know the particulars… simply that Thalia hadn’t been seen or referenced in press releases since.

  For all that Mikkel didn’t give a fuck about pack matters, he had sisters who called him.

  A lot.

  And they told him shit. Shit he had no desire to hear, but was informed of anyway.

  “How long is this assignment going to last?” he asked softly, dreading the answer because he had a feeling he already knew what Louis was going to say.

  “Until she’s no longer Triskele.”

  Flexing his jaw, he closed his eyes in anger.

  All his training was about to be wasted on some spoiled royal bitch, simply because she was too stubborn, too selfish to think outside of her cosseted circle to the bigger picture.

  He hated her on principle, and didn’t even give a damn about how unfair he was being.

&nb
sp; Fuck.

  He had better shit to be doing with his time, and knowing he was locked into this for the foreseeable future, just made his futile rage all the hotter.

  Before he could say something to offend one of the country’s most powerful men, he spat out, “Understood,” then, rude or not, he cut the call.

  It was either that or tell Louis Lyndhoven to go fuck himself. And considering Mikkel had a rep for being mouthy, the prospect wasn’t outside the realms of possibility.

  With a grunt, he got to his feet. The slacks he wore pulled at his body in ways his combat fatigues hadn’t, and his shirt clung to too tightly to his shoulders as he strode over to the counter and ordered half the damn menu.

  It wouldn’t hurt Louis’ pocket, but he’d be damned if he was going to get on board a plane with a spoiled princess on a half-empty stomach. In this scenario, no way in fuck was he going to be anything other than the Wolf to her Little Red Riding Hood. Lyken or not, he was going to be in charge, and she’d just have to deal. Same as him. But, approaching the situation hungry would make things a thousand times worse.

  At least, that’s what he told himself as he dove into a seared steak, egg and tomatillo wrap and a spicy chorizo, Monterey Jack, and egg sandwich. When chased down with two more coffees and banana nut bread, Mikkel felt a tad better. Not much, but some. And considering his earlier mood, that meant things were looking up for one Thalia Lyndhoven.

  Did she but know it, she owed Starbucks a debt of thanks.

  ****

  Lips curled over the pouting curve of a breast that wasn’t her own. She didn’t feel the touch like she did when Rafe’s tongue trailed wet lines over her nipple. Instead, she could only watch, shockingly aware that it was happening again.

  This wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time she’d dreamed of her mate with another female.

  Of all her so-called gifts, this was the one that hurt the most.

  Being able to see the pleasure her male gave to another woman, when that pleasure belonged to her, was enough to set both woman and beast into a rage that was impossible to quell.

  As it was, even in this half world, Thalia was aware of Rafe, sleeping quietly at her back in the plane’s bedroom.

  They’d come here hours before, stripped down to skin, and had cuddled up as they’d tumbled into sleep.

  His cock was a thick and heavy presence at the bottom of her spine, and the warmth from his sex stopped her from shivering with horror as she watched her nameless, faceless mate start to slip down the wispy bed that both existed in some other place and didn’t exist in her here and now, to settle between the strange female’s legs.

  As she watched a tongue pop out, the tensile muscle slipping through juicy folds like it were a pig on the hunt for truffles, a cry escaped Thalia.

  It was loaded with distress.

  She knew from the staff that these dreams she had sounded like agonized nightmares to those around her as she came out of the dream state.

  That distressed her because she knew it would upset Rafe, who was already stirring at her back—and not in a good way, either. But she couldn’t stop the moans of hurt and anguish flowing from her lips.

  This was a pain that was impossible to describe.

  At one point or another, she’d felt all of her mates with other females. Had even grown to recognize the curves of certain women, which indicated her men were in longer, committed relationships with a single female.

  That had been more agonizing than most. Knowing they were with another when they should have been with her, easing her needs, soothing her sorrow at being banished…

  The sense of abandonment had merely made her dig deeper into her other self. Taking comfort in her beast’s shape to escape the dreams, because only in her wolf skin did she not see her men with strangers.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as a gentle hand shook her to wakefulness.

  Well, that wasn’t accurate. She wasn’t asleep, nor was she awake.

  She existed somewhere in between.

  She’d come to think of it as the Sandman’s home, and maybe it was. Maybe the Sandman or Somnus resided here, and they were her captors. Her jailors, intent on watching her suffer and feeding off the emotional pain that came from being a silent witness to such a sight.

  “Thalia, it’s okay, baby.” Rafe’s voice was soothing, and though she could feel tears trail down her cheeks, she softened and allowed him to drag her from the depths of the nightmare that wasn’t really a nightmare, but was horrifying nonetheless.

  Soft lips trailed over her cheeks, tasting her tears. Tears were precious to Lykens. Old lore said that they housed the full weight of a creature’s powers. Their entire emotional spectrum burrowed within the tiny secretions.

  Though she knew her entire being was safe with Rafe, the gesture stirred her as nothing else could.

  After all, her body, human and wolf, her soul and heart knew Rafe was hers. But her brain? That was another matter entirely. It was still getting used to the fact that Rafe was here at long last, and, she wasn’t too shy to admit that her She-Wolf, having been prodded into remembering one aspect of the mate bond she wished never to repeat but was destined to regardless of her wishes until she found all three of her mates, was pouting.

  Not long ago, she’d seen a faceless, nameless Rafe with a woman. Kissing and caressing her.

  So yes, the beast was jealous. Even though it had no reason to be, and as a result, she jolted awake with a sharp gasp of breath.

  “It’s okay, Thalia,” Rafe repeated softly against her ear. His breath, his very scent, all of him, filled her senses, removing any traces of the scent of her other mate. It was welcoming and warming to be this close to him after that experience, and even though the wolf’s jealous bristling put the woman on edge, nothing could calm her like being in her mate’s arms.

  She let out a deep breath, whispered, “I’m safe now, I’m with you.”

  He stilled, and she knew her words had touched him. She hadn’t even meant to, not really, but she had nonetheless. She’d spoken aloud to calm herself, to satisfy the She-Wolf’s jealousy, but she was pleased she’d made him happy. That was what she wanted for him, more than anything else in this world.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice husky.

  She smiled, snuggled into him rather than telling him he was ‘welcome’. Preferring to gift him the message with her body rather than her tongue.

  “There will be many times you wake me this way,” she told him softly, her smile dying as sadness filled her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dream of you all,” she whispered, sorrow lacing her words.

  “You dream of us?” Rafe questioned, sounding confused and intrigued at the same time. Then, he seemed to realize what she meant because his tension bled into her—they were too close for it not to. “Bahkir spoke of this,” he admitted. “But he didn’t give me details, and I’d like to understand, sweetness.”

  She nodded, and the back of her head dragged against the hair on his chest, rasping softly. The intimate touch had her burrowing her face into the pillow, grateful that her back was to him, his chest to her spine and his nose burrowed in the curve of her throat where her own scent was strongest.

  She didn’t want him to be looking at her when she spoke of this. She didn’t want her first major meltdown to be over another male when she was in his arms, but she hadn’t expected for it to happen so soon.

  None of her mates had been with regular women of late. They’d all switched females at some point or another, and they weren’t sleeping around regularly. For it to happen today was a nasty portent.

  “How do you dream of us?” he asked when she fell silent.

  “Only when you’re in the arms of another,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Thalia. I’m...” He sighed. “I’m sorry you have to see that.”

  She hadn’t expected an apology and the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected.


  Recriminations? Angry blasts at her intrusion into the most secret parts of their lives? Unintentional though those invasions of privacy might have been on her part; never mind unwanted.

  He squeezed her tightly. “You just saw one of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “His face?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

  “No. No face. Just the back of a head. But I can’t even really see the color of their, your, hair. I get an impression of strength, of muscles, an ethereal measure of the man physically. But that’s it.

  “Truth is,” she admitted on a deep sigh, “my wolf is too embittered to really focus on the men. She’s spitting mad about the females. I could probably pick them out of a line up if I had to.” She hadn’t meant to sound rueful, but that was how her words came across.

  “You’re very brave,” he told her, gently nuzzling her temple with his nose.

  “No, I’m just a survivor,” she retorted, and hated how pious that sounded. So self-absorbed. But it was the truth.

  She’d survived the bleak years of her exile, had found a way to live, even if that wasn’t the path meant for her. Although, according to Bahkir, that path was exactly the one she was supposed to have taken.

  It was disconcerting to think that one of the Gods had decided to mess with her life sometime in the past. But what else could she think when an Elder had traveled miles to come and find her, to help liberate her?

  “What are you thinking?” Rafe asked quietly.

  “That the Gods really know how to pull pranks.”

  He stiffened. “In what way?”

  It amazed her how, in such a short space of time, she knew him. Knew he thought she was talking about his status—that was always going to be a point of contention for Rafe. No matter what he did, no matter what she did, he would never feel worthy.

  And she intended to spend the rest of her life proving otherwise.

  Still, how to answer that without making light of his insecurities?

  Truth was, it was difficult. Not because she was insensitive to his frailties, but because she didn’t recognize them. He was ashamed of his status, where she frankly didn’t care.