The two had scrapped with each other since cubhood, and now that they were both competing for the official title of Alpha, tensions were at an all-time high. Cliff had technically been Alpha for years, while their father slowly drank himself to death, but now their father had died, they had to make it official. That meant they had to go through a specific set of trials, according to the pack charter, which had been written three hundred years ago.
Grant walked into the room and stopped in front of Cliff’s desk.
“You speak moron every time you open your mouth.” Grant had a lazy, insolent grin on his face. “An Alpha proposing to his mate and being turned down is blatantly advertising that he isn’t fit to lead his pack. Dominus genes or no.”
“Says the man who can’t even remember the name of the latest bimbo he woke up with this morning,” Cliff scoffed.
“Her name is Candy.” Grant frowned. “Pretty sure. Something that ends in an “i”‘‘ sound.”
A slim, athletic blonde strode into the room. She was wearing a body-hugging pink lycra dress with a scoop neck, and pink spike heels that easily added six inches to her height.
“No, it’s Mandy,” the beautiful blonde corrected him as she walked up to Grant. She didn’t look the least bit put out that he’d gotten it wrong. Why should she? She was dripping in gold chains that had undoubtedly been purchased for her by Grant.
“Of course it is,” Cliff said, shaking his head. “Wasn’t your last girlfriend named Bambi?”
“No, that was Sandy,” Mandy corrected him. “She’s my cousin.”
“She is?” Grant looked surprised.
“For the love of…” Cliff let out a groan of exasperation. Grant was really outdoing himself these days. For him, it was definitely quantity, not quality.
“There’s a difference between being single and being rejected by one’s intended mate. No one has ever said no to me.” Grant shook his head in mock pity.
“And why would they?” Mandy giggled and stroked his arm. “You’re rich and you’re huuuuge.” She glanced at Cliff. “And I don’t just mean his biceps. Although they’re huge too. I mean—”
“Stop,” Cliff ordered her.
She transferred her attention to Grant. “Baby, it’s been hours,” she said. “Are we going to? I mean, it’s been hours since we—”
“I know what you mean,” Grant said. He threw an arm around her waist, winked at Cliff, and sauntered out of the room.
Cliff watched them with contempt as they left.
Grant was a party boy. All flash and no substance. The only reason he wanted to claim the position of Alpha of the Bronson Pack was because Cliff wanted it, and anything that Cliff wanted, Grant went after. Just like they were boys again, scrapping for attention from their mother. Look up from your drink, Mommy. Can’t you see I just beat Grant at catch?
It was stupid, because their uncle Jerrold had showed up and was also gunning to be Alpha of the Bronson pack.
Everybody knew that Jerrold would be a nightmare as Alpha. The Bronson brothers should have been standing together to save their pack, but instead they were at each other’s throats. Cliff had tried to extend an olive branch, and had been soundly rejected. Well, screw it, no more Mister Nice Wolf.
He shook his head. He had so many fires to put out, he didn’t know where to start.
First off, he needed to figure out what was going on with Taylor.
Technically, she couldn’t reject him. He was the Alpha. When an Alpha told a woman that she was his mate, then she was his mate, damn it.
And yet she had rejected him. Or rather, she wasn’t acknowledging that she now belonged to him. And unlike Jerrold, he wasn’t the type to force his attentions on a woman. He wanted her to come into his arms of her own accord. Press herself against him, soft and pliant and yielding. He was desperate to make Taylor feel about him the same way he felt about her – half-drugged with want.
Cliff picked up his phone and called Truman, his head of security. He told him to find out everything he could about Taylor. He wanted to know what pack she was from, and what their mating and courting traditions were.
He hung up, still feeling frustrated. He hated to admit it, but it was possible that James was right. He probably shouldn’t have spoken to his intended so abruptly.
He was still in shock that Taylor was a werewolf, and that she was his mate. He’d heard before that when you smelled “‘the one”‘, you knew it immediately. He’d always dismissed that old wives’ tale with scorn. But the second he’d smelled her, he’d known. All his senses had instantly been on alert, blood had rushed to his groin, and he’d barely been able to think straight from wanting her so badly.
That was part of the reason he’d been so irritable with her. He had far too much on his mind to allow himself to be distracted by anything. And he didn’t like feeling vulnerable. Wanting someone, craving someone, made him weak. He had the safety of his entire pack resting on his shoulders. He walked a delicate balance, responsible for the success of his company and the safety of his pack, being a very public figure in a world that could never know about the existence of werewolves.
It was funny – for the past year when he’d talked to Taylor over Skype, he’d always been attracted. He’d found himself making dumb excuses to call her office just so he could look at her face and hear her voice. He especially loved it when she smiled. But he’d never thought it could go anywhere. Unlike his brother Grant, he wouldn’t have meaningless relationships with humans, because he knew it could never end in a mating situation, so why bother? And in Taylor’s case, a fling would only have been asking for heartache when it inevitably ended, so he’d pushed his feelings down hard, brutally suppressing the way his body reacted to her voice, pretending his pulse didn’t pick up speed when he saw the flush of pink on her cheeks.
The fact that she was a werewolf, and unmarked, was an unbelievable stroke of luck. He’d scented it. If she’d been marked, he would have smelled her man on her.
It was very odd that she’d violated pack law and not reported her presence in his territory. She had been working at the marketing firm for the past year, and in conversations with him, she’d mentioned growing up in the area. So she had to be aware of the existence of the Bronson Pack.
She must belong to a smaller pack, one he hadn’t heard of. Still, that was no excuse. All the packs in the region were required to send a list of their eligible females to the dominant pack, so the Alphas could choose a mate from among them. When he found out what pack she belonged to, they were in serious trouble.
Or maybe she was a lone wolf? That didn’t make any sense either. She certainly wouldn’t be working for a firm owned by werewolves if she was trying to stay off the radar. Lone wolves were hunted down and killed because they posed too much risk of exposing the existence of werewolves, and a lot of lone wolves were mentally unstable. If a wolf wasn’t a member of a pack, there was generally a reason.
The heck with waiting for Truman to come up with something. It wasn’t like he could concentrate on anything else now he knew she was a werewolf – knew she could be his. He opened up a web browser and searched for her name. She had a Facebook account – unusual for most werewolves. He and his brothers were prominent public figures because of the company they owned, but if it ‘hadn’t been for that, they’d have stayed out of the spotlight entirely. Most werewolves tried to keep a low profile.
Further searching showed that she’d grown up in the suburbs of Bismarck.. She’d gone to a regular human high school – he found a few mentions of academic awards in the local press. He found mentions of her parents. Her father had died in a shootout with police after robbing a convenience store. Her mother had died a few years ago from cirrhosis of the liver. An alcoholic, maybe? She’d only been in her fifties. Huh. So she had something in common with him.
The fact that their obits were online was also odd. Nobody recorded the births and deaths of most werewolves.
He tried to think which
of the smaller packs she might have belonged to. Not the Fillmoore Pack, not the Red Clay Pack…he stopped by and visited them on a regular basis and he’d met every eligible female in those packs. They would never have defied the law by hiding a woman from him. Hell, the females from those packs practically swarmed him every time he showed up.
So if they didn’t have access to a protected pack property, what had they done every month when it was time for the Change? What had they done in the week leading up to the Change, when they were getting hairy and aggressive, and craving red meat? Taylor, her family and her circumstances were a maddeningly frustrating mystery.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of shouting and swearing outside on the front lawn.
Richard poked his head in the door. “Cliff, you’d better get out here before someone starts bleeding,” he said.
Chapter Four
Cliff hurried outside with a growl of frustration. He ran down the marble front steps, past enormous clay urns dripping with flowers, and onto the front lawn.
Sure enough, his uncle Jerrold was there, with one of his pack members, a big, stupid brute named Junior.
Junior was being restrained by several of Cliff’s pack members, including Truman. A teenager named Alvin, and Alvin’s mother Betty, were cowering behind Cliff’s brother Austin, who was facing Jerrold and Junior with a look of disdain curling his lip.
“You can run but you can’t hide, you little bitch!” Junior screamed at Alvin. “I’m gonna kill you, an’ eat your guts for dinner, and take your girlfrien’ an’—” He stopped screaming and struggling when he saw Cliff, and stared at the ground in sullen silence.
Junior’s father had died a few years earlier in a pointless death challenge. Junior seemed to be eager to follow in his father’s footsteps – no doubt with Jerrold’s encouragement. To Jerrold, bullying equaled bravery.
Not for the first time, Cliff cursed the day Jerrold had been born. He was just as useless as Lloyd had been.
Weeks earlier, Lloyd had finally succumbed to kidney disease after decades of abusing himself with drugs and alcohol. It had been assumed that Cliff would officially become pack Alpha.
Cliff had been the acting Alpha of the Bronson pack for the least three years, successfully running the business and maintaining the profits they needed to pay property taxes on tens of thousands of acres of forestland. Grant was in charge of the marketing department, and acted as the company’s public face.
But then Jerrold, Lloyd’s brother and leader of a small, failing pack, had showed up at the funeral and announced that he was the new Alpha. Cliff had barreled towards him, ready for a fight to the death. Unfortunately, the Pack Elders had intervened.
Jerrold had a legitimate claim. He had the Dominus genes required of an Alpha, providing superior physical strength. He was a blood relative. And of course idiot Lloyd had been too brain-pickled to think of leaving a will establishing a clear path of succession.
Then Grant had stepped forward and announced that, no, he would be the new Alpha.
Since there were now multiple contenders for the spot of Alpha, all with the Dominus gene and a legitimate claim to the position, the pack charter required that every contender compete in the Alpha Trials. They’d start in a few days; pack members were finishing up the obstacle courses that were an important part of the trials.
In the meantime, Jerrold had the right to stay on the property with his pack members. He and his surly group of thugs had moved into a guest house and had been causing trouble ever since.
Betty rushed over to Cliff, tears streaming down her face. She started to grab his arm, then realized what she was doing and took a step back, dropping her gaze respectfully. “Alpha. Junior challenged my son. He’ll kill him. Please don’t let him kill my boy!” she cried.
Cliff looked over the scene. The Elders were hurrying up now – Herbert, Maurice and Juliette, who favored Cliff, and Sylvester, Minnie, and Phineas, who favored Jerrold. Oswald, the oldest of them, who was neutral, was huffing and puffing as he ran across the lawn behind them.
“What’s going on?” Cliff demanded of Alvin.
“He told my girlfriend to suck his…you know,” Alvin protested. “So I hit him. Then I ran away.” He looked down at the ground in shame at that last part. His face was pale with fright. Alvin was physically weak, but he came from a family with magical talent. They were earth witches who helped grow the pack’s crops.
Cliff stalked over to Junior, and Truman and the other pack members let go of him. Junior let out a low, angry whine and inclined his head to the side.
“Did you really say that?” Cliff demanded. “To a female from my pack?” He was disgusted to see that Jerrold was looking at Junior with pride.
“The stronger male has the right to take any female he wants,” Jerrold growled. “If he can win her, he owns her. That’s how we eliminate the weak from the breeding pool.” Herbert, Maurice and Juliette looked at him with contempt. Oscar stood back with a frown, giving nothing away. Sylvester, Minnie and Phineas nodded their approval. They were old-school, each over a hundred years old, and their mores had never evolved with the times. Minnie still dressed like it was pioneer days and thought that women who revealed their ankles were hussies.
It was going to be a long couple of weeks.
“I stand in for Alvin,” Cliff said coldly. “Let’s get this party started.”
“Aww, no! That’s not fair!” Junior whined. He looked anxiously at Jerrold. “You’re not going to let him, are you?”
“You’re standing in for this weakling?” Jerrold looked at Cliff with contempt. “No wonder your pack is full of rejects and losers. When I’m Alpha, I’ll get rid of the trash and make this pack something to be proud of.”
“Well? I’m waiting,” Cliff said, and started to unbutton his shirt. “What’s the matter – you shy?”
Junior took a step back, looking alarmed. He tried to take another step back, but bumped into Truman, who snarled, making Junior flinch.
“But I can’t!” he whined. Then he flashed a fearful look at Jerrold, who had now focused his contemptuous glower on him instead of Cliff. “I mean… I’m not… Why don’t we wait until after the Alpha Trials are over?”
“Spoken like a cowardly little pussy,” Cliff said scornfully, throwing the words out as a challenge. “If you’re too scared to fight, just say so.”
Junior glared at him with hatred, but tilted his neck to the side in surrender. He mumbled something under his breath.
A crowd had gathered now. James was there with his mate Anita and several of his older children, and dozens of other pack members were standing in a semi-circle, watching.
“Can’t hear you,” Cliff snapped.
“I’m sorry for what I said to the girl,” Junior muttered a little louder.
“That’s not enough,” Cliff gritted out. “You insulted a female from my pack.”
He sent out a wave of power and called forth Junior’s wolf. Being forced to shift was agonizing. Junior shrieked in pain as his bones cracked and reset.
His face pushed forward into a ghastly wolfman snout, fingers curling and contracting into horror-movie claws. Fur sprouted over his body in coarse, uneven patches and he staggered on legs with knees that suddenly bent the wrong way before dropping to all fours. His back arched and shuddered as a tail whipped from the base of his spine. His clothes tore to shreds. He fell to the ground, fully a wolf now, flopping onto his back and whining as he exposed his soft belly.
Cliff released Junior, and Junior shifted back with a howl of agony, his clothing now hanging off him in rags.
“Jerrold,” he whined, scrambling to his feet. “My new jeans. They cost me two hunnert bucks!”
Jerrold answered him with a tremendous kick to the ribs. There was the sickening sound of bones cracking. Junior screamed in pain and fell to his knees.
James’ mate, Anita, hurried forward. She was the most powerful healer in the pack.
; “Let me help you,” she said, gently laying her hands on his chest. Junior slapped them away, which drew a growl of anger from James.
“Get your hands off me, bitch,” Junior wheezed. “I’m not weak. I don’t need any help. That didn’t even hurt.” Then he cast a fearful glance at Jerrold.
Anita sighed and stepped back.
“Oh, didn’t it?” Jerrold sneered. “That was just a love-tap. Get back to our house, and we’ll have some real fun.” He said the “‘our”‘ in a loud, challenging tone. Staking his claim.
Junior climbed slowly and painfully to his feet and whirled around to face Alvin. “When Cliff’s not here to protect your little bitch ass any more…” he hissed, then hurried off in a pained, half-limping trot. Cliff could hear him whimpering with each step.
Jerrold stormed after him. Cliff knew that Junior could expect a ferocious beating. Even with a werewolf’s accelerated healing, it would take weeks for his bones to knit back together.
While he felt sorry for some members of Jerrold’s pack, who were trapped and had nowhere to go, he felt no sympathy at all for Junior.
‘Alvin’s mother put her arm around her son and they slunk off, hanging their heads. If Jerrold won, it would spell their doom.
Truman hurried up to Cliff.
“Nice job,” he said.
“Did you find anything yet on Taylor Stockdale?” Cliff asked.
“No, sir, haven’t started on it yet. I didn’t realize it was top priority.”
Cliff’s face went hairy with anger, and claws shot from his fingertips. “She’s my mate,” he bit out. “It’s higher than top priority. I can’t figure out what clan or pack she belongs to.”
“She’s your mate and you don’t know what pack she belongs to?” Truman echoed in confusion.
“Did I stutter?”
“I will get on it immediately,” Truman said.
Chapter Five
That evening…
Taylor leaned back in the recliner on the front porch of Chantelle’s house and tried not to let panic overwhelm her.
The Billion-were Needs A Mate (The Alpha Billion-weres Book 1) Page 3