Owned by the Alpha

by Sam Crescent

  “Never thought I’d live to see this day.” Roark laughed from across the room. “An ancient sucking face with a witch. And then you went and made her a wolf. Maybe there’s hope for the Eden’s Bayou pack yet.”

  Jordan brushed a hair from Nyah’s face as he pulled back from the kiss. He stared at Roark, unsure of what to say to him. For so long he considered him an enemy, a power-hungry leader of the rival pack. But it was his pack that took care of the witches in the parking lot. Not Jordan’s, as he spied Zeke and the pack walking in unscathed, while Roark’s pack was covered in blood and worse for wear. Bayou Vista made it there first.

  “She’s my mate.” Jordan finally spoke up. “And I’m damn proud of it.”

  Roark tossed him a wink. “You remember that.”

  Jordan stood and offered a hand. “Sometimes we ancients have to learn shit the hard way.”

  Roark smirked and shook his head. “Oh, don’t think I’m going to forget the ass-whooping I owe you from the other night. Don’t mistake my respect for your newly acquired mate for respect for you. But maybe we can work out some kind of deal for our packs’ future well-being.”

  Jordan nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll talk.”

  “We may even come help repair the bar if we get allowed entrance to it. What do you say?” Roark asked, tossing a wink to Nyah.

  “Baby steps, Roark. We’ll talk. But not tonight. Tonight I’m taking my mate home and having my way with her.” Jordan gripped her by the waist and tugged her close to his body.

  “What he means is, I’ll be having my way with my wolf,” Nyah said, clasping her hand to his as she dragged him out of the bar in a run and shifted.

  www.evernightpublishing.com/wren-michaels

  FROZEN HEART

  Beth D. Carter

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Gabrielle Thorpe ignored the crash of the downstairs door as she focused on the latest series of photos on her laptop. She’d been back in the States a total of thirty-six hours from Bhutan, sixteen of which had been devoted to sleep, and she still felt like death warmed over. What she desperately needed was a hot meal and a carafe of coffee, but she was too eager to study the photos to concentrate on anything else.

  “Kenny is here,” Mark said casually. He sat at the other desk, labeling all the photos once she was done inspecting them.

  “Mmm,” she said, not really caring.

  “You think he finally changed clothes?”

  The question distracted her enough to blink at him confusingly. “What?”

  “Remember? Before we left for Bhutan, he’d worn the same clothes two days straight.”

  Footsteps echoed up through the stairway, gaining in volume with each floor passed. Gabrielle and Mark looked at the door expectantly, and a second later, it smashed open as Kenny bounded through. His stringy hair touched his shoulders and the sporadic growth on his face needed a trim.

  Mark wrinkled his nose. “Nope.”

  “Dudes!” Kenny cried. “I’ve got a fantastic hypothesis!”

  Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “Does it include showering somewhere between here and your parents’ basement?”

  “Huh?” Kenny looked down at himself. “What’re you talking about? I wiped myself down.”

  “Wiped?” Mark asked, aghast.

  “Yeah,” Kenny said. “With those disposable cloths. You know, the baby ones.”

  “Oh my God,” Gabrielle muttered.

  Kenny waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that. Let me ask you … what if the Yeti was actually located in the Arctic?”

  He clapped his hands and then drew them apart as if he’d just performed a magic trick. He looked back and forth between Gabrielle and Mark, apparently waiting for their reaction. It was obvious, by the expectation on his face, that he waited for her to be as amazed as he seemed to be.

  Instead, she began ticking off her fingers. “One, shut the door behind you. Two, you will properly bathe tonight because there’s no telling what type of infestation you’re growing. Three, the Yeti is somewhere in the Himalayas, hence my recent expedition into Bhutan.”

  Kenny kicked the door shut with his foot and then hurried over to her desk. He pulled out his laptop from his backpack.

  “Yeah, I know, but I think I found something,” he said, so rushed his words strung together. “No, no, no, I’m positive I found something. Yeti or Big Foot, I’m not sure but the damn thing is too big not to be investigated, Gabs.”

  He fired up the laptop and turned it around so she could see what he was rambling about. Gabrielle watched as he scrolled through his blog site until he landed on a photo where something big and blurry was framed by the white backdrop of trees, snow, and ice. She pulled the laptop closer and stared through her glasses at the large, upright creature captured in the photo.

  “I’ve never seen this photo before,” she said. As a cryptozoologist, she’d seen and studied every single photograph taken of the legendary Yeti and his supposed footprints. “Where’d it come from?”

  “Got emailed to me from someone who visited my blog.”

  Gabrielle frowned. Kenny ran a site devoted to their study of cryptids, and he was always getting emails and photos from people who swore they found one of the many undocumented creatures she was searching for, although the majority of the pictures were fake.

  She scrolled a little further down, searching for more photos, but paused as she came across a picture of herself several years ago, being given permission to hold a sacred pelt belonging to a nomadic tribe in the Himalayas. It had been when she, Mark, and Kenny had broken off from their expedition to follow a story of a skinned Yeti, only to be included and embraced by the leader. He had said her hair color resembled the holy relic so she must be a divine messenger. His blessing had given her access to take a sample of the fur.

  “Tuaq, Alaska,” Kenny said, bringing her out of her memories. “That’s where the photo was taken. It’s the northernmost edge of the Gates of the Arctic National Park, right under the Boreal-Arctic transition zone where vegetation begins to thin out. What if the Yeti is actually located there? Oh, wait! Or better yet, what if he migrated there?”

  Gabrielle scrolled back up to the photo in question as Mark came over to stand behind her.

  “Oh wow,” he said. “It’s up on two legs. And white. You think it could be the Yeti, Gabs?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m positive the Yeti is somewhere in the Himalayas. This is … I don’t rightly know what this is. I wish it wasn’t so blurry.”

  “That’s the kicker, though,” Mark said. “Photos are always blurry. Or obscure. Just once I’d like a clear picture. Maybe with a big sign that says, ‘Yes, I’m a cryptid.’”

  “Did you do any tests on this?” Gabrielle asked, ignoring Mark. “Photoshopping? Man in a costume?”

  “I would need to see the original to rule out any photoshopping,” Kenny admitted, “but I did do a little research. Seems like the man who took the photo went out illegally to hunt moose, since hunting season was over at the end of September. It was near twilight and he saw this creature running through the woods, going fast. He brought up his camera and took as many pictures as possible. This was the best one of the bunch.”

  “It would be interesting to see the rest of the photos,” Mark said.

  “I’ll have him send them to me,” Kenny said. “There’s a place in Tuaq called the Frosset Lodge located just north of the town, and it’s the closest building to where these photos were taken. And low and behold, they have rooms available since it’s now off season.”

  “I just got back from a trip, Kenny,” Gabrielle said with a sigh. “There’s still a lot of data Mark and I have to sift through, not to mention the college will want a report of our trip—”

  “I believe in this photo, Gabs,” Kenny said, interrupting her. “We need to check this out. I feel it in my gut. This could be the Yeti we’ve been searching for, or at least the missing link.�
��

  She pursed her lips as she stared at the photo. She couldn’t help but be extremely curious about it. “And I’m positive this isn’t a Yeti. This creature has a snout. And it’s white.”

  “So it’s the Abominable Snowman?” Mark asked.

  She scowled at him. “No such thing.”

  “Well, Gabs, most people think there’s no such things as cryptids,” he pointed out. “And although our grant is about hunting for the Yeti, maybe this creature is part of that legend.”

  “Maybe,” she hedged. “But we can’t be rushing off to check out every picture that turns up blurry images of humanoid creatures walking upright. That’s unrealistic, not to mention impossible.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious, Gabs?” Kenny asked.

  Gabrielle studied the photo again. Of course she was, though she wouldn’t admit it out loud. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, taking the moment to think. The trip to Bhutan had been exhausting and time-consuming, and so far, yielded no definite proof of the Yeti. Just some random tracks and unusual scat, which would have to be sent to the college lab for analysis. Perhaps it was time to consider outside-the-box thinking.

  “Okay, listen,” she said. “First, we have to examine the rest of those photos, and if they seem in order, we’ll go.” When the two men high-fived each other, she held up a hand. “But only for a few days. We’ll interview Kenny’s source and search the area for any proof of this creature. If we come up with nothing, then we’ll come back home and I’ll present our findings to the college board and hope they give us more money to keep going.”

  “Thanks, Gabs,” Kenny said.

  “Don’t thank me. We’ve got to find something proof positive, Kenny. Otherwise we’re out of money.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have a good feeling.”

  Chapter Two

  Jaeger walked through his lodge, eyeballing the place to make sure everything was in order. Hunting season was finally over and he was able to breathe a little easier. Even though he had three guests booked, scheduled to arrive later in the afternoon, it would be a relief the tourists wouldn’t be traipsing through the forest with rifles.

  “You need to be more careful,” Agathe said from the doorway of the kitchen. She spoke in her native tongue, a mixture of Greenlandic and Danish.

  “I’m always careful,” he replied in the same language.

  She raised a wrinkly finger and pointed at him. “You were out running the other night. You risk yourself when it isn’t a full moon.”

  “Stop, you worry too much.”

  Agathe threw her arms up in the air, making the two gray braids of her hair bob around her head. “Well, who am I to warn you? I’m only your den mother. Raised you, took care of you and your brothers. Protected you when you wanted to run through the night and had warm milk waiting for you when you came home.”

  Jaeger placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right, Agathe. You are the mother of my heart, but you worry too much.”

  She sighed and patted said heart. Since the top of her head only came to the center of his chest, it was about as high as she could reach.

  “You are all that’s left of the Frosne Hjerte pack,” she said. “Your brothers have joined other packs for their mates. You must now give me little pups to supervise and to carry on your ancient name.”

  He rolled his eyes and walked away. “We have guests coming today, Agathe.”

  She placed her hands on her rounded hips. “You are avoiding the conversation.”

  “Yes, I am,” he admitted, heading toward the grand staircase that swept from the foyer to the second floor.

  “Hunting season is done. Why are they coming?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, but while they’re here, behave yourself.”

  She snorted. “And you better be careful when you go out running at night.”

  He bounded up the stairs to do one last inspection of the rooms. “I’m always careful, den mor.”

  Her harrumph could be heard through the whole lodge.

  A little after one that afternoon, a truck arrived with his guests. Jaeger watched for a moment at his office window, observing the two men who got out of the back and the woman who emerged from the driver’s seat, bundled up for the cool Alaskan temperature. October rarely got warmer than twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit during the day, and with the sunlight hours growing steadily shorter, warmth was hard pressed to be found. Most inhabitants of Tauq, Alaska, stayed indoors around fire stoves, swapping stories and drinking coffee.

  The smaller man unloaded some black equipment bags that looked like they held cameras. It made sense to wait until after hunting season to take nature photos. Alaska was breathtaking this time of year. Jaeger left his office and hurried outside to greet his guests.

  A slight breeze was blowing, bringing with it a touch of frost. Snow had already fallen, giving about a foot where the drifts lay the highest. More snow was coming. Winters were hard in the Arctic and only the strong survived. His ancestors had adapted long ago to not only survive, but thrive. As Jaeger stepped out from the warmth of the lodge, the woman turned. She had a plastic smile on her face, one he recognized because he had the same bland greeting gracing his own mouth. He quickly identified she had strawberry-red hair, hazel eyes, and a spattering of freckles over her face before the breeze shifted and her scent drifted by, teasing his nostrils. Suddenly, every nerve in his body came alive, as if he’d touched a live wire, and for the first time in his life, the wolf deep in his soul stirred awake while he was in his human form.

  Jaeger narrowed his eyes as every molecule in his body focused on her. She stopped in her tracks as their eyes met, gazes locked. He plummeted into the depths of her eyes and saw the future. What could be, or maybe what should be, visions of them traveling through the clouds and soaring through the heavens. His wolf locked onto her scent and pawed, wanting free. His incisors grew and he had to clamp his lips shut to keep them hidden until he was able to will them to settle.

  “Hello!”

  One of the men called out a greeting, shaking Jaeger out of the unexpected lust he found himself in. The woman blinked her big eyes, and it was enough to pull his attention from her and salvage what little sanity he had left.

  “Hello,” he responded. “Welcome to Frosset Lodge.”

  He forced himself to glance at the others, the two men traveling with her, but like a magnet, his gaze kept being pulled back to her.

  “I’m Jaeger Larsen,” he said. He meant it to everyone, but he only had eyes for her. He waited for her name.

  She smiled and walked toward him with her hand out. “I’m Gabrielle Thorpe. This is my team, Kenny Smith and Mark Pope.”

  He took her outstretched hand, and electricity tingled up the nerves. It struck him hard, the awareness it brought, and along with it a new problem, because his dick went hard as stone. She must have felt the spark between them, too, because her lips parted and her heartbeat skittered out of control. He could hear it, hell, he could feel it beating wildly. For him. For them. Through his head rolled one word.

  Mate.

  ****

  As soon as they had landed at the small Nome Airport, Gabrielle considered staying on the small plane until it took her back to civilization. She’d just come back from trekking through the Himalayas in Bhutan, where the thin air stole most of her energy and the cold settled in her bones. Alaska wasn’t as cold as twenty-three thousand feet, but it was still too soon. Her bones hadn’t yet thawed.

  At least the chartered plane from Nome to the small runway just outside of Tauq was quick. Gabrielle watched the landscape scroll by, mesmerized by the beauty. The Himalayas were majestic, breathtaking, and to most people Alaska couldn’t compare. However, she realized she preferred the more simplistic vastness on display below.

  As she stepped from the rental Jeep that had brought them from the airstrip to the lodge, Gabrielle took a deep breath. The air was cold and hit her lungs hard,
momentarily freezing her breath. The lodge was beautiful, the quintessential rustic cabin, except this one was two stories tall and must have had about four thousand square feet of real estate. A verandah wrapped around the whole house with a stone chimney rising through the roof, and she could just imagine sitting on rocking chairs and watching the sun set on the vast Alaska horizon.

  The door opened and she turned, and her gaze locked onto the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. Her belly did a strange little jiggle that radiated out to every nerve ending and pushed her heart to beat double time. She had this overwhelming urge to rush up to him, grab him, and kiss him until they both needed oxygen. Big, handsome, pale-blond hair and dark, dark eyes, she tried very hard not to stare but couldn’t pull her gaze off him.

  Words went on around her. Hellos and greetings, pleasantries that had her focusing on the man’s lips. Jaeger Larsen. She held out her hand, wanting … no, needing, to feel his skin on hers. When he finally touched her, it was like coming home. One word blasted through her mind.

  Fate.

  “I’m Gabrielle Thorpe. This is my team, Kenny Smith and Mark Pope.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Welcome.”

  She smiled. “Your lodge is absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned in closer to her. “Please feel free to explore it. You are the only guest here at this time.”

  His words meant one thing, but the promise in his eyes meant something else. He looked over her shoulder, straightened, and nodded toward the men behind her.

  “Of course, I meant all of you.”

  Gabrielle grew a little warm and knew she had to be blushing. She hoped it would just look like a little wind burn from the cold breeze. Jaeger picked up her suitcase resting next to her leg and gestured for her to enter the lodge.

  Once inside, the warmth wrapped around her and helped chase the chill away. A large staircase wound up the center of the room, its mahogany banister polished to a shine. A bank of windows rose from the ground, stretching up to the second floor. On the deck outside, a round fire pit, now empty, was waiting for someone to come out and utilize it. The décor could have easily sunk into antler chandeliers and taxidermy hell, but Jaeger Larsen seemed to have abandoned that stereotype. Instead, bookshelves lined one wall, filled with all types of tomes. Plaid furniture in rich warm colors complemented the bold rug patterns lying on the floor. Paintings of the Alaskan wilderness, with and without snow, hung on the walls.