Heir to the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2: A Tarker’s Hollow Serial
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Heir to the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2
A Tarker’s Hollow Serial
Tasha Black
13th Story Press
Contents
Tasha Black Starter Library
Heir to the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2
Episode 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Episode 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Heir to the Alpha Episode 3 (Sample)
Tasha Black Starter Library
About the Author
Curse of the Alpha: The Complete Bundle
One Percent Club
Copyright © 2017 by 13th Story Press All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: March 2017
13th Story Press PO Box 506 Swarthmore, PA 19081
13thStoryPress@gmail.com
Cover design 2014 by Cormar Covers
www.cormarcovers.com
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Heir to the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2
Ainsley Connor knows three things for sure:
-Her soul belongs to the Tarker’s Hollow wolf pack.
-Her heart belongs to Erik Jensen, the alpha of the Copper Creek wolves.
-Her body belongs to the baby she carries, who will be heir to both packs.
Now a portal is open that threatens them all… and evil isn’t the only thing coming out of it.
Ainsley and Erik must fight to merge their two packs under the watchful eye of the Federation, while her best friends, Grace and Cressida take on a frantic chase to capture the evil that escaped the portal and save the world.
But when the you-know-what hits the fan, will having each other’s backs be enough?
Or will Tarker’s Hollow burst at the seams?
This steamy shifter tale of love and mystery will be most enjoyable for readers who have already read the Tarker’s Hollow serials - Curse of the Alpha and Fate of the Alpha.
A continuing story:
Heir to the Alpha is told in six installments, or episodes, like a TV show. Each episode contains a cliffhanger to entice the reader to tune in for the next one!
“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.”
― J.M. Barrie
To the readers who waited so patiently for this book to happen.
And to sweet little Fergie.
Episode 1
Chapter 1
Grace Kwan-Cortez followed the flashlight beam deeper into the darkness of the cavern, traces of smoke stinging her nostrils and making her eyes water.
Underground again - the last place she wanted to be.
She wasn’t normally claustrophobic. It was more a matter of the fact that she’d had a near-death experience back in Tarker’s Hollow, under the old college field house. It was the worst night of her life, and she wasn’t exactly eager to repeat it.
But she was a woman with a job to do, so she followed the shaft of the abandoned mine, down, down, down, gripping her Maglite in one hand, the other tracing the rough stone wall of the mine.
She suspected most mineshafts would be cool and damp. But then, most mineshafts weren’t sitting atop an uncontrollable coal and natural gas-fed fire like this one. The rising rush of acrid air reminded her of opening a hot oven right after the cleaning cycle.
She tried not to imagine what it had been like for the miners who got trapped in the cavern below.
Her boots tapped the floor, the only other sound her own regular breathing - a forced slowness that belied a calm she did not feel.
The corridor widened, and she saw what she was looking for.
Runes.
The ancient drawings covered the walls ahead. Her skin crawled in the presence of the magic, pure and lifeless.
As she examined the figures carved into the wall, they began to swirl with life, stretching their inky arms to her.
It was an illusion - it had to be - brought on by her own powerful magic, the dark essence drawn to her light.
Still, it called to her, a soundless whisper.
Come. Join the others.
Grace considered how easy it would be to wander further into the mine, to succumb to the oily smoke and let her spirit slip away to join the one she longed for. What peace might she find if she would only let go of her responsibilities?
She felt herself lulled - a toddler looking out the window of her mother’s station wagon. In her mind’s eye, afternoon sunlight flashed through the canopy of trees that made a leafy tunnel out of the streets of Tarker’s Hollow. The purr of the engine and the lumps in the macadam rocked her to sleep as they drove and drove.
With the last of her resolve, she clutched the pendant that hung between her breasts. The tiny shard she wore near her heart was always there. It reminded Grace of her best self - a relic of the short time in which she had known true love, and also of the evil that had stolen him from her.
The evil she had come here to find.
She closed her eyes and for a moment she was back on her best friend’s porch. Ainsley was pouring out the tea, while Julian winked at Grace from across the table. His wry, blue-eyed smile melted her heart, filling her with the sweet wonder of being wholly loved and accepted.
He was gone now.
If she gave in to the soul-sucking creature of darkness beneath this mine, would she see him again?
A jolt from the pendant, like a shock, brought her back.
She still had a tie to this world - her primal need to destroy the thing that had taken him.
She wanted it more than she wanted her next breath.
So there would be no surrender. Not for Grace. Not until the moroi was trapped beneath the earth again. Then she could lose herself, and face the future without Julian and the ocean of despair that she knew was waiting.
Her senses alerted her to something just beyond the reach of the flashlight’s beam.
The darkness was taking on substance. Hands reached for her in her periphery, disappearing when she tried to focus on them.
Grace backed away, heading for the surface. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the rectangle of fading twilight outside growing larger and larger, almost there.
She had nearly reached the opening of the mine when she heard it.
The scrape of claws on stone sounded from the depths of the mine in a desperate scrabble, like frantic spirits trying to escape.
No.
The hair on the back of her neck lifted as she realized the sound wasn’t coming from inside the mine.
She was hearing the echo of a sound coming from right behind her.
Grace spun.
&nbs
p; A pair of intense, glowing eyes studied her.
Cruelly sharp white teeth flashed in the soft beam of her fading flashlight.
Grace’s heart stuttered.
The toothy mouth opened and the creature’s tongue lolled out to one side as it cocked its head quizzically at her.
“Dammit, Cressida,” Grace said, relief flooding her veins.
She clicked off the light and the glow went out of the eyes of the silver wolf, who observed her with what Grace could only describe as a grin.
The wolf stepped forward, her silvery pelt rippling.
One moment she was a wild animal.
The next she was a beautiful young woman.
Moonlight played on her blonde highlights and bathed her lean, naked form in a soft glow. She might have looked angelic but for the cocky half smile that played on her lips, making her look more like a pirate than a cherub.
“You okay?” Cressida asked lazily. She made no attempt to cover her body.
“Yeah,” Grace replied, trying not to stare. God, would she ever get used to having werewolves for friends? “I just got a little spooked. There’s some bad mojo in there, but whatever Erik did when he sacrificed himself to lock it away seems to have done the trick. It’s sealed up tight.”
Cressida nodded sagely.
“I’ll put some extra wards up, because I wouldn’t want someone wandering in there,” Grace added. “But there’s no sign anyone’s been tampering with it. What about you?”
Cressida had shifted to scout the perimeter of the mine entrance in wolf form. Nothing suspicious would get away from that nose.
“Not much.” Cressida shrugged. “There’s a vent up the ridge a little. Signs of a fight there - more recent than what happened when the mine got closed. But it seemed secure to me. I’ll show you.”
“You, um, want to get your clothes?” Grace asked.
“I forgot,” Cressida grinned, getting an obvious kick out of Grace’s discomfort. She bent to grab the pile of clothing from the ledge next to the mine entrance where she had left it. If you could call it clothing.
Grace watched as Cressida slid on a denim miniskirt and a lavender halter-top that barely covered her small breasts. Shoving her feet unceremoniously into a pair of scuffed cowgirl boots with a two-inch heel, Cressida turned back to Grace.
Lack of undergarments aside, the outfit was completely impractical for hiking in the mountains in the dead of winter. Grace had to remind herself yet again that her friend’s shifter metabolism and physical grace made practical clothing a non-issue.
“Ready?” Cressida asked.
“Hang on,” Grace said. “I’m going to place a ward on the mine, just to be sure.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Grace summoned the magic from within herself.
She held out her hands. A globe of humming blue magic whirred between them.
Slowly and carefully she painted the symbols of a protective ward across the mouth of the shaft.
By the time she was finished, she could already feel the price of her magic being levied.
Grace closed her eyes again and felt the waves of desire wash over her body. She clenched her fists as her nipples pebbled against the satiny cups of her bra.
All magic had a price. And Grace’s was the humiliation of sexual desire.
At least the ward was a simple spell, the effects would be short-lived, she hoped.
She opened her eyes and headed up the mountain without looking to see if Cressida was following.
Cressida knew about her affliction. But Grace was still embarrassed by it, and mortified that Cressida might want to talk about it.
She turned her flashlight back on and focused on the rocky terrain. The trees here were so tall, and the mountains made them seem taller still. Half the sky was blocked by their peaks - almost like being half-underground, even up here.
“You thirsty?” Cressida asked a few minutes later.
Grace stopped and Cressida pulled a bottle of water out of her hobo bag. They passed it back and forth as they scaled the mountain in companionable silence.
Few people Grace knew were as easy with silence as Cressida. As far as Grace was concerned, it was one of Cressida’s best qualities.
They had become close in these last weeks. Though they’d been practically neighbors all their lives, they’d never really crossed paths until Grace’s best friend Ainsley became the alpha of Cressida’s pack and the two were thrown together in a series of misadventures.
On the surface, Grace and Cressida appeared to have very little in common. But as a police officer in a small town that was home to a secret enclave of magic and shifters, Grace had learned long ago that it was best to let go of her preconceived notions about people.
“Here,” Cressida said at last.
They stood atop a cliff, overlooking a long drop to a winding creek below. In the last light of the day, Grace could see that a huge oak tree had been toppled across the running water.
Her skin tingled. Someone had used magic here, not so long ago.
She leaned forward, squinting for a better look at the fallen tree.
A bird burst from the undergrowth beside her in a squawking flash of wings.
Startled, Grace took a small step and lost her footing in the loose soil on the edge of the cliff.
For an agonizing instant, she felt gravity begin to win the battle against balance.
Then Cressida’s hand shot out, quicker than Grace’s eyes could follow, grabbing her by the shoulder to steady her.
Grace let her breath out in a puff.
“Thanks. That would have been ugly,” she said, eyeing the straight drop.
“You wouldn’t be the first one,” Cressida remarked.
“What do you mean?” Grace asked.
“Look.” Cressida pointed over the edge to the ground below.
Grace studied the brambles, the tall grass, the creek.
“I don’t see anything,” she admitted at last.
Cressida held out her hand and Grace passed her the flashlight.
They both studied the landscape below as Cressida trained the beam on several broken branches and turned up patches of earth that marked the path of someone taking a nasty spill down the steep slope.
“You see the branches, the dirt, the brush, the footprint on the edge of the creek?” Cressida listed.
Even with the flashlight as a guide, Grace could only see about half of what Cressida pointed out. The girl’s skills were remarkable. Grace was reminded of the Sherlock Holmes stories she’d loved as a kid, where the famous detective would point out the important clues that everyone else had overlooked.
“How did you learn to notice stuff like that?” Grace asked. She knew wolves had heightened senses, but this was something more.
Cressida shrugged.
“I used to go hiking with my grandfather when I was little. He was always trying to teach me stuff like that. I guess some of it sunk in.”
Grace had the distinct feeling that there was something more to it. But Cressida had never been very open about her past. Grace could respect that. She had secrets of her own.
“There’s more,” Cressida said, heading back into the trees.
When they reached the mine vent at the top of the ridge, Grace could almost taste the magic in the air.
“Someone used a good bit of magic here,” she told Cressida. “Someone who knew what they were doing.”
Cressida nodded and pointed to the ground.
Even Grace could detect the signs of a fight in the dirt and weeds surrounding the mine vent.
But there was no sign of anything amiss.
Grace stepped over to the vent itself. She reached out to sense its depths in order to put a proper ward on it.
But someone else’s magic sprung back to block her, the surface quivering like jelly then smoothing out immediately.
Someone had already put a ward on it. And done a good job.
Grace turned back to Cressida, lettin
g her shoulders slump.
“So what now?” Cressida asked the very question Grace had been dreading.
Grace pressed her lips together.
She had known it would be too much to hope that they would find what they were seeking here.
After the moroi fled Tarker’s Hollow, they knew its first priority would be to try to free its brothers, trapped in underground portals around the world. Copper Creek was close, and the portal under this mine was already compromised. This should have been the first stop for the creature.
But there was no sign it had even been anywhere near the mine.
They were back to square one.
Grace felt the weight of it trying to press in on her as the last light of day slipped away.
But she would not give in. It would be too easy to wallow in loss and self-pity.
Grace Kwan-Cortez doesn’t wallow. She gets shit done, she told herself.
They just needed to make a new plan.
Maybe it was time to ask for some help.
She clutched her pendant. If only Julian were here. He had dedicated his preternaturally long life to studying the moroi. He would know what to do, how to advise them.
But of course he wasn’t. In the end, the moroi had been his undoing.
“We’ll head home to regroup,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Then we find this thing, and bring it down before it can hurt anyone else.”
Chapter 2
Ainsley Connor was not feeling like an alpha today.
She squirted lemon polish on the wooden mantel and rubbed it vigorously with a rag.
The new federation contact was coming today, which meant that she was about to deal with a wolf who outranked her.
The thought of submission to anyone made her skin crawl, but she remembered too well the visit from the last federation official, and how quickly she’d been brought to heel.