Alpha Ever After (Midnight Liaisons Book 5)

by Jessica Sims

  Like I'd harm her. I give him another half nod and then race up the stairs, following the unfamiliar scent of cat-shifter that permeates the ramshackle house that the Anderson wolf pack uses as our meeting spot. It's a falling-down Victorian in the middle of nowhere, probably abandoned in the 1950s. There's no power, no water, and the roof's a joke, but it's private even if it's a dump. The dumpiness doesn't bother the pack, though. They like the secrecy of it.

  I normally don't give a shit either way, but today, my nostrils flare when the sagging stairs creak and groan. This entire house is unsafe and she's on the second floor. Goddamn, I am surrounded by idiots.

  I race up to the only room I can think of that has a bed. The door is cracked and I glance in--

  There she is.

  I stop in the hall, stunned by the sight of her. I’m in awe of the delicate oval of her sleeping face, her rounded form as she curls up on the bed, the long lashes sweeping over her eyes. The lithe curves of her body. The delicate hands that tug on the collar at her neck. The pool of brown hair that I dream of burying my face in. The soft skin. Hell, the very feline smell of her. I'm overwhelmed by possessive need.

  I've been in love with Savannah Russell since I was in high school and I first laid eyes on her. She walked into study hall as a wide-eyed, frightened freshman transfer and I was a cocky senior who thought he was hot shit. Now, seven years later, she doesn't know I exist...

  And my pack's kidnapped her. Jesus. I rake a hand through my carefully combed hair, not caring that I'm making a mess of myself. Savannah's here, and I'm the bad guy.

  I have to do something. I have to fix this.

  I push the door open and her eyes automatically flick to me. She wasn't asleep, then, but just pretending. I look around at the room. There's no food, no water, no blankets, no nothing. It's just Savannah, tied up and on her back on a filthy mattress that's probably older than I am. There's a chain and manacle on her slender neck, and her ballet slippers are dirty.

  It's late at night and dark in here. Her eyes gleam, cat-like, in the low light, and I'm sure my own wolf-eyes are gleaming. Her nostrils flare and she takes in the sight of me, her shifter vision letting her see nearly as well as daylight.

  "Go away," she growls. Her hands twist in the ties behind her back, and I catch a faint whiff of blood in the air.

  Uncle Levi told me not to release her, but I can do something about her hands. “Here, let me help—”

  She jerks on the mattress, flinging herself backward toward the wall. "Don't fucking touch me!"

  "Hey Connor," Buck calls up the stairs. "Uncle Levi says don't rape her--"

  Oh my fucking Christ. "I'm not going to goddamn rape her, you idiot!" I look back at Savannah, but now she's staring at me with horror and a little fear. "I'm not going to rape you," I say, putting my hands out to ease her. "I just wanted to ease the ties on your hands, all right?"

  She stares at me, wild-eyed, and her breathing is raspy. She has to be terrified. Of course she is. She's just been kidnapped by the enemy. I extend my hands flat in what I hope is a calming gesture and slowly approach her. "It's okay, Savannah. I just want to help you."

  A feline growl rumbles low in her throat, and she bares her teeth. I see her fangs coming in, and her fingers are claw tipped. She's ready to turn out of panic.

  I take another cautious step or two forward and she tenses but doesn't fight. My hands move to her back, where the ropes are binding her hands together. Her hands are purpling and she flexes them every so often, trying to loosen the knots. I can see welts and swelling where the ropes are cutting into her flesh, and blood where her skin has been broken. A curse hisses out between my teeth. “Damn those stupid assholes."

  There are days I put up with my pack, because we're werewolves and we're related. The bonds of blood draw us tightly together. And there are days where I barely tolerate the chuckleheads, because I'm not like the rest of the Andersons.

  Then, there are days where I actively hate my pack. Today is one of those days.

  I'm seething as I undo the knots on the rope. Thoughtless assholes. They did this deliberately while I was working late, because they knew I'd have something to say about it and--

  The moment Savannah's arm is free, she attacks me.

  I don't blame her. If I was in the same position, I'd do the same thing. But I'm also ready for her attack, and I've got leverage. Her arm swings for me and I bat it aside. She may be a were-cougar and strong, but I'm a werewolf male in my prime. I smack her arm down and when her other one raises up, claws flying, I knock her off balance and she lands flat on her back in the bed.

  My hand automatically goes to her throat. Not to choke, but to pin. It's the alpha in me. I can't help it. I respond to a challenge by pinning. My hand flattens on the collar there and she smacks back onto the bed as if I struck her.

  Her eyes go wide and her nostrils flare. Her back arches off the bed, and for a moment, it almost looks like...she's aroused. It's a sexual move, and for the first time, I notice her straining nipples against her t-shirt, the dilated pupils, and the fine sheen of sweat on her brow.

  And then I smell her arousal. Faint but musky, and oh-so fucking delicious that I'm instantly hard.

  I fling myself off of her and stagger backward. My body's automatically responding to hers, even though we're different breeds of shifter. I'm enough of a red-blooded male to recognize when a girl's about to go into heat.

  I don't want to touch her against her will. I push back another foot or two until my back is to the wall. My cock's tenting in my trousers, erect from just that small touch, and as she sits up in bed and jerks at the tether on her neck, I can see she's breathing hard, too.

  Her nipples poke against her shirt, twin beads just begging for my mouth. She gives the chain one more tug and then looks over at me, biting her lip. "Free me?"

  A knot forms in my throat. I would, if it was my decision. I’d drop to my knees and beg her to let me touch her even as I undid the chains. I’d willingly be putty in Savannah’s gorgeous hands.

  But Levi's authority hangs around my neck like a noose. I can't go against him. Everything in my being strains to buck the yoke of his reign, but i'm not strong enough. Not yet. "I can't."

  "You mean you won't," she says bitterly.

  "No, I mean I can't." I glance toward the door, where down the stairs, I can hear my cousins having a laughing conversation amidst themselves. They're having a great time, congratulating each other on the certain soon arrival of a new wolf female to add to the pack. Fuckers. I’m filled with helpless rage. Do they even know the kind of trouble Savannah is in? My guess is no. If they did, they'd make sure to leverage that information against the Russell cougars.

  Or worse...they'd be taking advantage of Savannah. A female in heat has a hard time saying no, no matter the male. My fists clench at the thought of one of my brute cousins touching her again. "I'm going to go downstairs and have a talk with my family. You need anything?"

  "Freedom?"

  I ignore that. "Water? Food? A pillow?" A hand with that heat you're having? I squelch the thought as soon as it enters my heat. Savannah's the star of my wet dreams, but she's terrified and hates all wolves at the moment, and I can't blame her.

  No, my fucking family's ruined me in her eyes. Not that a wolf would ever have a shot with the high and mighty Russell cougars, but a guy can dream. Now I can't even dream.

  She just glares at me and leans back against the wall. "I want nothing from you. I want you to let me go."

  "I'm not holding you."

  Her dark eyes shoot daggers at me. "Aren't you?"

  I fucking hate this. "I'm not like them."

  She snorts. To her, I'm just like them. My anger builds. My fists clench. Uncle Levi's the one in charge of the Anderson pack, but because I'm pack - even though I have no say - I'm the enemy. She's right - I need to do something about this. I've been looking for an excuse to challenge my uncle. I don't like his ways. I've never liked them, but
a lone wolf is powerless.

  I'm an alpha. I've known that all my life. But up until now, I've been an alpha without power, and without reason to fight for power.

  But I'll fight for Savannah.

  It doesn't matter that she doesn't trust me and won't understand why. Every instinct in my body is screaming that I defend her, protect her from those that would harm her -- even if they're my own pack.

  First, however, I need to make sure she's all right. I head toward the bed again and hate that she moves backward. The possessive wolf inside me wants her to submit sweetly to me - not cringe in terror. My nostrils flare, catching the minute details of her scent as I loom over the bed. I long to touch her, but I won't. Instead, I scan her with my gaze and look for injuries. There are bruises on her arms, and the neck of her shirt is stretched out, as if someone grabbed her by it...

  Or if someone tried to yank it off of her.

  Anger flares inside me, like a match meeting gasoline. With one last look at the captive woman, I turn and storm out of the room and down the stairs, letting the heat of my rage fuel me.

  I'm not allowing this shit any longer. Not if I can make a change.

  Because the wolf inside me is howling that Savannah's mine. And they've touched what's mine.

  3

  CONNOR

  When I head downstairs, everyone's seated just as I left them. The nearly empty, run-down house doesn't have much in the way of comforts, but there's someone sprawled over every inch of the beat-up couch, and Buck rolls around in wolf form nearby. My uncle is playing dominos with Wyatt on a folding table, and there's a few cans of beer on the table, along with an empty bag of chips.

  So nice of them to have a little party while a woman's chained upstairs, frightened. Fucking kidnapped to be used as a pawn. My anger boils.

  Uncle Levi casually shoves a domino across the table at Wyatt. He glances at me, spits out a chaw of tobacco, and then nods. "She bein' a good girl?"

  "You okay?" Gracie asks me, her voice quiet. She hasn't moved from her spot by the fireplace, but I see tension vibrating in her body. Gracie and I are closest out of the pack, for all that she's a bit of a loudmouth and a flirt. Of course we are. She’s my sister. We're both outsiders here with my cousins - Gracie because she's the only girl, and me because I'm not content with being a redneck bully like my cousins are.

  "Probably got his panties in a bunch over the girl," Wyatt jokes, and moves to put a domino on the table. "You should have seen--"

  The simmering fury I’ve been holding back bubbles over. I grab the edge of the table and flip it, sending it crashing into a nearby wall.

  Wyatt flings himself backward, the folding chair dumping him on the ground. My uncle Levi jumps to his feet, a snarl on his face.

  "What the hell's your problem?" He demands.

  "Taking her isn't right. This is bullshit." My fists clench hard. "I won't be part of this."

  Levi's head tilts, ever so slightly. A predatory gleam enters his eyes. "That a challenge, boy?"

  His words are chosen to get me riled. I'm taller than him, I can bench four hundred, and I'm not a boy. I'm sure not his boy. "It is."

  "Knew it was coming," Levi says casually, but I can see tension in his body. He's preparing. Waiting for me to attack. "Not gonna let you pick a girl over your family, though. Pack comes first."

  "The pack is wrong."

  "You ain't gonna say that when you have a new sweet wolf piece to fuck. But go ahead." He flicks his hand at me, inviting my attack. "Come on."

  I lunge at him, full of anger. He immediately sidesteps, a cowardly move. But that's my uncle - a coward. A sly coward, but a coward nevertheless. I skid to a halt and then turn and head for him again. I pull my fists close to my chest and assume a boxing stance, because I've been taking fighting lessons.

  I've been preparing all my life to challenge him. Because we should be better than we are. We shouldn't be a bunch of piss-ant morons fighting for scraps and bickering over little things. We should be intelligent and powerful and help each other instead of tearing each other down. And we're never going to get better under my uncle's rule.

  He smirks when I fake a jab and he blocks it. That's fine, I'm testing him. I feint to the left, and when he goes to block it, I swing hard on his right, and my fist connects with his jaw.

  He's no longer laughing now. With a snarl, he grabs me by my shirt, and then we're really fighting. Fists flying, punches everywhere, kicking, vicious grabs of skin - any and all leverage counts. He flings me to the ground but I get right back up, rolling over and bounding to my feet. I land a punch in his side and he wheezes, then returns it. Over and over we hit each other, and I can see my uncle is starting to slow. I'm still fierce, though. Still strong and full of energy.

  I've got him.

  His next punch comes in slow, as if he's tiring, and I easily block it, ducking low. Something hits the back of my leg, right behind my knee, and I go sprawling to the ground.

  One of my dickface cousins kicked me, knocked me down when my back was turned. They don't want me to win.

  And I won't, because in the next moment, Levi's foot is on my throat, pinning me to the floor. "You yield?"

  I consider for a long moment. Fury courses through me, but I'm not left with much of a choice. If I don't, he'll crush my windpipe.

  I give him a quick, grim nod.

  He shakes his head at me. "You need to learn, boy. I'm in charge around here." He slaps my cheek lightly, looks over at my cousins, snaps his fingers, and points at me.

  To a man, they pounce. All except Gracie, who watches near the fireplace with a frown on her face, hugging her knees. They kick me and pound their fists on me until my entire body is aching and battered, and I'm pretty sure I feel a rib crack. I endure it as my punishment for failure.

  It’s an asskicking for daring to challenge. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll never give up until the day my hand is on my uncle’s throat.

  Soon, I tell myself as another boot smacks into my ribs. Soon.

  After a few minutes of the stomping, Levi seems appeased. "Let him up."

  They stop pounding on me long enough for me to stagger to my feet. I do, my body aching and blood trickling out of my mouth and nose. Even beaten, I'm still bubbling with barely contained rage. If I had the strength, I'd challenge Levi again, right this second.

  "Show me your throat," Levi growls.

  It fills me with anger, but I know if I challenge again in such a short period of time, they’ll try to figure out what has me so riled. They’ll know it’s Savannah, and they’ll try to punish me - or her - for it. And I need to be close to her to protect her. My nostrils flare and I tilt my chin a little. Just enough to be submissive. For now.

  He slaps my face lightly again. "Good boy."

  I grit my teeth. I hate that I have to take that.

  "You're so in love with our captive, you're in charge of her," Levi says. "You get nights. I'll have one of the boys watch her during the day."

  I nod slowly. To him, that probably sounds like a punishment, but I think it sounds fine. If I have to hold Savannah captive, at least everyone won't be hanging around at three am. I turn to leave.

  "Where you goin'?" Levi asks. "I said you had to watch her. That starts tonight."

  "You feed her yet?” I don't turn around. My fists are clenched so hard I'm digging wounds into my palms, but I don't care.

  "Naw."

  "Then I'm going to go get her something to eat. Just because we’re holding her hostage doesn’t mean she has to starve.”

  Levi snorts.

  “You said you wanted her whole so we could do the trade, right?”

  He just raises an eyebrow at me.

  I show a hint of throat again just to appease him. “I’ll be back shortly."

  Right after I catch my breath and pound my frustrated fists into the bark of a tree.

  SAVANNAH

  I must be dreaming, because I
smell french fries and hamburgers. My mouth waters and I sit up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes a few moments before Connor Anderson comes into my dark room again.

  I recognized him the moment I saw him. The only Anderson 'worth not killing' according to my brothers, Connor's the only one out of his unruly pack that has ever reached out to the Alliance. I heard he got slapped away again, and it never turned into anything, but i recnogized him from a few Alliance functions. He's quiet, with dark eyes and dark, curly hair. Very Henry Cavill. Strong, square-jawed and silent.

  Our paths have never crossed much. He is part of the wolf pack, and they do their best to stay separate from all things Alliance. And since my cousin Beau is the head of the Alliance, well…we run in different circles.

  The man that enters the room isn't the same man that came up just a few hours ago. His pressed linen shirt has been near-shredded and is covered with grime and what smells like blood. His pants have a rip at the knee, and his usually well-kept short hair is mussed. His face is wrecked, too.

  I want to wince sympathetically, since I'm pretty sure his is the ass-kicking I heard downstairs earlier. He tried to stick up for me, and I'm grateful for that. I keep my expression neutral, though, until I figure out if he's going to take out his frustrations on me. He's an Anderson; I wouldn't put anything past him.

  Instead, he holds the bag of food out to me. When I don't take it, he walks past me, sets it on the corner of the mattress, and then goes to the opposite side of the room and sits down on the floor. He leans back against the wall and just watches me, wolf eyes glowing in the darkness.

  I haven't eaten since lunch, which was probably well over twelve hours ago. Shifter metabolism is crazy fast, and I'm starving. I peek into the bag and the smell of fast food fills the air. I glance at him and then shove a few fries into my mouth.

  He just rubs a hand down his face. "Sorry it's not anything better. Not a lot of places open this late."

  "It's fine," I say between bites. There's a water bottle at the bottom of the bag and I open it and take a huge gulp. So good. "Thank you."