Taming the Alpha

by Mandy M. Roth

“My name is Kyran. You look like an honorable woman,” he whispered, practicing what he would say to any prospective mate. “I have a home with my parents and my brother. There we will live and you will be part of our family. Would you like to give me many children?”

  Behind him, the mountain valley air was sweet, a blend of grasses and tiny blue flowers. It mixed with the almost acidic smell of porous black rocks now surrounding him. It wasn’t the darkness that caused the tiny jolt of apprehension in his stomach. His shifter eyes could easily cut through the shadows. It was what awaited him beyond the dark stone walls—marriage.

  Kyran smiled thoughtfully to himself, perhaps simple was best. “Come to my home planet and I will make you my princess.”

  The Draig, Kyran’s people, were a race of dragonshifters. Long ago, they’d escaped Earth, using a portal to come to a place where they could live out in the open, free of persecution. The Var, friends of the Draig people, had come with them. Vars were catshifters and had just as much reason to leave the old world. Only by working together had the two races managed to make a clean start. It was an alliance so strong that Kyran couldn’t imagine it ever changing.

  Perhaps he should try poetic. “You will like my planet. Qurilixen is a wondrous place bathed in almost constant daylight. In the valley near the borderlands, there is a forest of oversized trees—so big that from a distance the taller ones look like your castle homes on Earth. Here we will join and become one.”

  Though he’d never actually been to Earth himself, Kyran had seen pictures of the old palaces in the royal library, and they were very much like the castle he and his family lived in. Only some of the elders could actually remember making the trip across, and they had been little help as to what to expect. A few scouts had been through the portal to study modern Earth and to make sure the trip would be safe. They spoke of tall square castles and loud noises.

  “This will be easy,” he told himself in determination. “Earth has many women. Finding one will not be hard. I have studied the transmissions. I am ready for this assimilation into Earth culture. I am a fierce dragon and will make a fine husband. A woman would be lucky to have me. I will find a princess.” Fear tried to work its way into his brain, but he pushed it aside. He had to stay determined. This had to work—not only for him, but for his people.

  Luckily, Earth had advanced to a state that humans aired transmissions. They called it television, and once the shifters had learned to capture those waves, they’d been able to study the new Earth culture to practice blending in.

  “How-ow-dee-ee,” he sounded out slowly, trying to mimic the wavy intonation of the customary greeting. He liked the cowmen. They appeared to be a tough breed of humans who spent much time outdoors riding funny looking ceffyls around open fields.

  Blending was better than the royals’ original plan of sneaking through the portal and kidnapping human women like the barbaric tribes written about in old scrolls. At least this way, they could get a good look at the females before they snatched them. To some, the idea seemed extreme—bringing women through the portal in order to marry them. It had taken decades before enough of the elders had finally agreed to the plan. Unfortunately, the Draig and Var no longer had a choice. If they didn’t find compatible mates soon, their kind would die out in a generation. The few alien species who had made contact were not mating material for a number of reasons—incompatible biology, conflicting customs, no desire to live onworld.

  For some reason, female shifters were no longer being born. The males thrived, growing stronger, living much longer than before. Couples had even been encouraged to have more babies to up the odds. Nothing worked. Now they had a large generation of men with little hope of marriage. Their best scholars were working on the problem, but until a solution was found, for the sake of their survival, they needed to find brides.

  Historical documents indicated humans were reproductively compatible. This portal was their best hope, a way for the men of their planet to have a chance at happiness.

  Their ancestors had caved in the portal when they’d first arrived on Qurilixen. Apparently, they’d thought no one would ever want to go back and wished to keep humans from following. Only after years of digging had the Draig unearthed it. Prince Kyran would be one of the first four grooms to go through. It was his duty to show the people this plan would work.

  Many elders weren’t happy with the plan to find mates this way, for they still carried the emotional scars from the old days. Human religions had changed, and with their new beliefs had come the idea that all shifters had made pacts with some person named Demon. If there were signed treaties with this Demon, any records had been lost.

  Some shifters hoped time had changed the humans. Because of the controversy, the four princes had volunteered to go first and prove this could work. Prince Kyran and his younger brother, Prince Finn of the Draig, would join Princes Ivar and Rafe of the Var. It wasn’t decreed which of them would come back with a bride, only that they had to start looking.

  “Ready?” Finn asked, coming from behind Kyran carrying a torch. He glanced over Kyran’s outfit and smirked.

  “What?” Kyran looked down. He looked exactly like a cowman with boots, a hat and tight pants. Actually, he’d chosen the style of dress for the tight pants. What better way to show off one of his finer assets? “It’s better than what you picked.”

  Finn grinned. He was dressed as a great warrior. “We shall see who turns the most heads, brother.”

  Hearing a noise, both dragonshifters turned. Prince Ivar’s green gaze glinted from the darkened shadows. When he stepped forward into the torchlight, he wore the native clothing of the catshifters. Fitted black pants pulled low across the hips, showing off a fair amount of stomach. The matching black shirt was laced down the center front, revealing a strip of his chest. Kyran quirked a brow.

  Ivar waved a hand in dismissal. “The tailor brought me a gown and said I was to go to this accursed planet in it. I refused. I much rather receive stares than blend in as a woman—royal Earth custom or not. What is a draqueen anyway? It sounds like your ancestors, not mine, dragons.”

  Kyran shared a look with his brother. Finn shrugged. He didn’t know either.

  “Where’s Rafe?” Kyran asked. “The portal’s about to open.”

  “Here!” Prince Rafe called. His footfall sounded over the cave as he jogged forward. His white pants belled wide at the bottom, matching the white long-sleeved shirt. Rafe glanced at his brother’s non-attire and said distractedly, “Sorry.”

  The more serious Ivar grunted. “You lost track of time before this?”

  “I felt like someone was following me. I doubled back to the borderlands before returning,” Rafe said. Then defensively, he added to Ivar, “You think I’m paranoid, but I’m telling you, not every Var wants to see us marry humans. Arguments are still being made that taking humans will dilute shifter blood and cause us to lose our natural abilities. They would rather we take to the stars and meet other humanoid species or wait for the gods to bless us.”

  “It is not their place to question a Var royal decree,” Ivar stated to his brother. “The elder council had their say. This will be.”

  “Shall we?” Kyran wanted to stop the two catshifter brothers before they began yelling. Moving to walk deeper into the cave, he glanced over his shoulder to see if the others followed.

  “I don’t know why you’re so eager to meet your destiny, Kyran,” Finn said.

  “Aren’t you?” Rafe asked. “I can’t wait to find a bride to share my bed. The women ships don’t come often enough for my taste.”

  “I’ve told you to stay away from those ships. You do not know what diseases the alien travelers carry in their profession,” Ivar said.

  “I only watch them dance,” Rafe defended. He let fur sprout over his nose as he made a face at his brother’s back. Finn hid his laugh.

  “What if you get a shrew?” Ivar sounded reasonable, like always.

  “So long as she’s s
hrewing in my bed, I don’t care.” Rafe winked.

  Ivar grunted by way of an answer.

  Kyran knew Rafe loved nothing more than to aggravate his stoic brother. “Come. The time is soon. Remember, only one is to find a bride this time. They want us to take it slowly.”

  “And I elect Kyran.” Finn laughed, slapping his older brother’s shoulder so hard Kyran stumbled. “This was his idea.”

  “Agreed,” Rafe said quickly, not breaking stride.

  Kyran opened his mouth as he righted himself, but Ivar had said, “Agreed,” before he could get a word in. The three princes laughed. Kyran took a deep breath. He knew his duty, and if he must go first to ensure the future of his people, so be it.

  “Ach! Come on then. Now is as good as later.” Kyran forced a chuckle, not wanting to admit he was nervous. “So help me, when I’m finished you all had better go next. I’ll not be the only prince settled.”

  Chapter Two

  Cleveland, Ohio, Earth

  Smoke filled the club, but Eve Minott ignored it from her place on stage. Slinging her guitar over her back, she grabbed the microphone, closed her eyes to the bright spotlight and sang her heart out. The beat was heavy, pounding, vicious—and she loved it. No whiny, poppy, girly music for her. She played hardcore in-your-face rock.

  The club was one of many in a section of the city known as The Flats. The strip of underground bars and restaurants ran along the banks of the Cuyahoga River. At night, lights lit up the area and gleamed off the water, back-dropped by the industrial arches of a bridge.

  Cleveland was just another stop on the map for Eve. She wasn’t famous, but she didn’t care. She adored music and was happy doing what she loved. Besides, living the night life meant she didn’t have to get up early in the morning for a boring day job.

  The song ended abruptly. The crowd cheered. A man whistled. Eve threw her hands up into the air and grinned, loving the attention. Instantly, the drum beat sounded again, kicking off the next song. She banged her head to the fast tempo as she whipped her guitar around and began playing along. The lights dimmed, not as blinding as before and colors swirled over the sea of heads before her. The smoke cleared and she was glad for it. She was able to make out more of the crowd now.

  Her skimpy tank top clung to her sweaty flesh and her tight vinyl pants were hot as hell. Even with the doors open, the hot breeze did little to cool the stage. She felt strands of her long hair tickling her back even though it was pulled up messily on top of her head.

  Endless faces moved, bouncing before her as the crowd jumped to the beat, their hands tossed up in tribute of the old classic Eve had reworked. She turned, grinning at her band mates—all women except for Paul on the drums. They teasingly called him their sex kitten. Paul winked, his drumsticks flying through the air like a baton for a moment before he caught them. Eve laughed before turning back to her mic.

  Belting out the words, she watched the crowd part before her. The movement caught her eye and it was all she could do not to laugh over her words. Four very large, very odd men stood motionless surrounded by swaying bodies close to the stage.

  The first, dressed as a sailor from the fifties in white bell-bottoms and a matching shirt, was grinning like a fool as he watched some nearby women dance—or more accurately, as he watched their breasts jiggle as they danced. He stood next to a black-clad ninja with dark brown hair and sinfully dark eyes. It was impossible to see most of the ninja’s face under the mask.

  Next to the ninja was the biggest of the men in a vest minus an undershirt. The expanses of his bulging muscles were easy enough to see from the stage. His tight, hip-hugger pants dipped so low she saw his flat stomach and hip bones in the flashing light. Naughty biker, perhaps?

  Last in line was a cowboy. Eve’s voice dipped, ending too fast on a note. She quickly recovered, screaming into the mic. The cowboy flinched at the sound even as the crowd went wild. She guessed he was more of a country fan. Eve again tried not to laugh as she tore her eyes away for a brief moment before looking back.

  The sexy cowboy was staring at her intently, his arms folded over his chest, his body unmoving. His bright eyes shone in the dimmed lights, as if they held an inner glow. They were light in color—blue, perhaps green. Rich black hair flowed to his shoulders from beneath his white hat. Long sideburns trailed down his jaw, framing his full, kissable lips. Eve felt a twinge of desire in her stomach, making her nerves all that more alive. She ignored it, tearing her eyes from him.

  In truth, all four men were hot male specimens—even if they wore flamboyant costumes in the middle of summer. They only spoke to each other, though women did try to get their attention. However, sailor boy’s head was bobbing along with the dancing breasts.

  The song ended, the notes trailing off amongst the cheers. Eve bowed, holding on to her guitar. She flashed an impish smile at the crowd. Sweat made her skin glisten and she was out of breath, but she didn’t care.

  A slower melody started signaling their last song of the night. She might not be the king of rock and roll, but she sure as hell was going to sing like she was the queen. The cowboy lowered his arms slowly to his side and tilted his head to stare at her. She found herself staring back, unable to look away, singing directly to him. Emotion always filled her when she sang, and she felt it pour out of her into the mystery man. It was only the cheering of the crowd that made her realize the song was over. She took several deep breaths, smiling as she tore her eyes away from the cowboy.

  It had been a stellar performance and she’d sung like it was her last show on Earth. After a few moments, she yelled goodnight and sauntered off the stage. A small room in the back was reserved for the band. Eve dropped off her guitar, knowing she’d probably crash on the old couch for the night. It’s not like she had an apartment to go back to. It was either the old couch or camping in Paul’s van.

  “Good set, baby,” Paul said, coming in after her. He tossed his drumsticks next to her case. He’d long since thrown off his T-shirt and stood next to her in a pair of old denim jeans. They were so faded and worn that the legs had holes in them that he’d safety pinned back together.

  “Shit, it’s hot tonight,” said the bassist, Kim. She wore a tight skirt and a blood-red corset. “I need a drink.”

  “Mm,” Eve laughed. “Me too.”

  “Me three,” Joan, who also played guitar, agreed. She scratched her short red hair, causing it to spike. Kim slung her arm over Joan’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. They shared a loving look.

  “Me four,” Eve said. “And five.”

  “Come on, baby, let’s get a drink.” Paul grabbed Eve and slung her over his shoulder, her slender frame no match for his bigger strength. Kicking her feet, she squealed with laughter as he carted her into the crowd. Cheers sounded as people saw them.

  Paul slapped her ass playfully before setting her down next to the wooden bar. Eve grinned as he yelled at the bartender for a couple of beers and shots of tequila. Since the beginning—which truth be told, was only three months ago—there had never been anything between them, only friendship born of a shared wanderlust. “I think it’s time for a birthday toast, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Damn straight, pussycat,” Eve yelled, raising her voice over the noisy juke box that had taken over their job of inciting the crowd. “Let’s show these savages what rock ‘n roll is all about!”

  Chapter Three

  Kyran glanced around the noisy club. The humans seemed happy to be there, even though the music was loud and angry. Still, there was something very raw and primitive to the beat of it—not to mention the very sexy woman who’d been singing. Though during the last song, the slow one, he’d found he enjoyed the strange melody and softer caress of her voice.

  Too bad the singer looked like a bundle of trouble. When she’d belted her first songs with such pent-up anger and aggression, he’d known he’d be better off finding another to take home with him. Moreover, her dark brown hair was growing blue in places. There w
as no telling how humans had evolved. It was quite possible the blue was a mutational defect. It wasn’t exactly a look suited to a future queen of the Draig—or his heirs for that matter. What if his sons had blue patches on their heads when they shifted?

  “Have you decided?” Finn asked, eyeing a group of females.

  “Point her out so we can grab her and leave.” Ivar shifted his weight as he looked dispassionately around. “This world is more savage than I feared. I’m not sure it makes much difference if you pick one woman over another.”

  “What? We get off Qurilixen and you don’t want to have some fun? Who’s to know if we test the fighting skills of some of these men? Or if we sample the finer wares? Many of these women appear willing.” Rafe laughed. “I say take your time, Kyran. There’s no reason to rush this. Mating is forever, you know.”

  “The gods will show me,” Kyran said, certain of that fact. “I’ll feel it.”

  “It would be nice if there was something to help you decide,” Finn mused. “Like a rod that heated up when pointed at your mate. Then you could aim it around, find a suitable match and be done with it. I don’t like this random, glance around, pick a pretty fea, grab her and hope for the best for the rest of your life. Perhaps we should take several of them and then decide later.”

  “Ah, now that’s an idea.” Rafe nodded enthusiastically. “Can we please?”

  Kyran’s stomach knotted. He’d been thinking pretty much the same thing. Though instead of agreeing, he said, “You must trust in the gods to lead you down the right path. That is why we spent last week at the temple.”

  “Mm, I thought that was because of the priestesses.” Rafe grinned, giving a nearby group of ladies an audacious wink.

  “Can’t you at least take the gods seriously?” Ivar frowned.

  “Why?” Rafe mumbled, his eyes caught by a woman in a short skirt as she walked by. She turned her head and her gaze lingered on Ivar. The man didn’t notice. Rafe sighed, shaking his head. “You take things seriously enough for everyone.”