by Ann Gimpel
Alice’s Alpha
Wolf Clan Shifters Book 1
Ann Gimpel
Published 2013
ISBN: 978-1-62210-012-5
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Ann Gimpel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
It’s 1936. Thirty-year-old Alice has almost given up finding a man. Between civil engineering and mountain climbing, her interests are so masculine she scares men away. A poor route choice lands her next to horror movie star Lon Chaney’s cabin deep in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. She’s wary when Jed, a strikingly handsome man, offers her shelter.
By the time she discovers he’s clan leader for a pack of wolf shifters, she’s in way too deep to back out. Her carefully tended wasteland of a heart cracks wide open. Her preconceived notions shatter. Snared by the mate bond, Alice discovers passion hot enough to change her forever. She’s just getting used to Jed when his clan brothers show up, and she discovers she’s mated to all three.
Chapter 1
“This way, Alice.” Brent chugged downhill. His tall, well-muscled frame dislodged small boulders and created mini-snow avalanches. Longish, red hair was coming out of the piece of cloth he’d tied around it.
“I don’t think that’s right.” She dug her crampon points into the steep slope more firmly. The metal spikes didn’t stay very well; the snow was too soft. She looked at the angle of the sun, nearly hidden by the steep flanks of an unnamed peak. Hardly any of the Sierra peaks had names. The one they’d just climbed certainly didn’t. It would be dark in less than an hour. Even though it was early March, days were still short.
“It’s not that bad,” floated up to her.
“The heck it’s not,” she shouted back.
“No, really. You have the skill for this. Just take your time. There’s something I, um, need to do, I’ll wait for you on the far side of the creek. If you don’t find me, head for the car as fast as you can. Lock yourself in if you’re too tired to drive, but—”
“What?” Her throat tightened. “You can’t just leave me. It’ll be dark soon—”
“You’ll be fine, Alice. I don’t have any choice.” The sound of him continuing downhill nearly obliterated his last words.
Alice clamped her teeth together. What the hell had he meant about heading for the car as fast as she could? Maybe Brent was losing it. She’d read about climbers who edged into madness, but today hadn’t been that difficult…
She was cold and tired, too, and convinced they were lost. Their ascent route hadn’t been all that great, so Brent had suggested a more direct line going down. The first thousand feet had worked fine, and then they’d run into a band of cliffs. She glanced up. It did seem the cliffs were above them now, but the terrain was perilously steep. She jammed her ice ax into the slope and turned face in. Brent may have been comfortable barreling down like one of the rocks he’d displaced, but she wasn’t.
Alice moved carefully. She planted her ax into the slope, and then found lower purchase for both feet. It took a while. By the time she moved off the steepest part, it was nearly full dark. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Brent.”
He didn’t answer. She yelled his name again. Silence. Panic made her heart thud dully against her ribs; its echo was loud in her ears. She felt sick and dizzy. They should have taken the known route down. Why had she let him talk her into something so foolish, especially with so little of the day left? And what was so all-fired important he had to go off and leave her?
She slid her rucksack off her shoulders and felt around for her calcium carbide lantern. She poured a little of her precious water into the upper compartment, gave it a moment, and flashed the flint. The lantern flickered and sputtered, and then a warm, blue flame steadied. Alice drank some water and worked at convincing herself not to think too much. She settled the light, mounted on its broad band around her head, shouldered her pack, and picked her way downhill.
After about an hour, thick timber surrounded her. The terrain had eased off to maybe thirty degrees. Fallen branches crisscrossed against one another were more of a problem now than steepness. She dropped below the snowline and sat on a downed log to take off her crampons. They just snagged on things, reducing her already slow progress. She bundled the steel spikes and secured them to her pack, then tried calling Brent’s name again. Anger gave way to fear that something hideous had happened. He’d careened down the slope like a madman, but she hadn’t heard him scream. Surely, she’d have heard something if he’d fallen. His exhortation about heading for the car rattled in her mind. Was there some sort of danger here she wasn’t aware of? Was that why he’d abandoned her?
Alice shivered. The temperature was somewhere south of freezing. Her wool top, jacket, and pants were wet with sweat from the inside and from falling in the snow so many times on the outside. Between the two, it would take hours for the thick cloth to dry. Thank God it wasn’t windy. Windchill would add to her woes. She set her lantern off to one side so its hiss wouldn’t drown out something important and listened. Water. If she just kept on downhill, she had to come to the North Fork of Big Pine Creek. “Even if it’s the South Fork, it’s not the end of the world,” she muttered. “Come daylight, I’ll recognize something.”
She settled her lantern back in place, pulled a pair of wool mitts out of her pack, gathered her things together, and worked her way through increasingly thick deadfall. As she down climbed, she thought about Brent. All they were, really, was friends. She’d tried to make it more than that, to flirt with him, but he’d never been interested. He made a most excellent climbing partner, though. At least he had until today.
None of her women friends had the least interest in the mountains. Men thought it was unwomanly for her to don climbing regalia and take to the hills—except Brent. He understood the pull of the Sierras and didn’t think it at all odd she felt the same. She pressed her tongue against her teeth. It was the nineteen thirties, after all. Women were more than baby machines and unpaid cooks and housekeepers. She’d been practically the only female in many of her college classes, especially the math and science ones. Even with a degree, it hadn’t been easy to get a job in civil engineering.
”It’s not your credentials,” she’d been told over and over. “You’re just going to get married and all the time and money we put into training you will go to waste.” She’d been so grateful to the Orange County firm that had finally hired her, she’d practically broken into tears.
Alice shook her head but gently. The lantern was heavy strapped to her head, but it would be foolish to extinguish it with excessive movement. She’d be glad to get somewhere she could stop for the night. She called Brent’s name again every few minutes. If he’d been knocked unconscious, maybe something would get through.
The sound of rushing water got louder, so loud she worried how she’d get across it. If it was the right creek, and it pretty much had to be, the trail was on the other side. She and Brent had crossed the turbulent flow using a rough wooden bridge much farther up the narrow canyon. The hillside steepened again to maybe forty-five degrees. If it got any worse, she’d nee
d to face into the hill to keep going.
She stopped on the uphill side of a fat tree bole long enough to lash her ax to her pack to free both hands. Alice used thick timber to control her descent, wrapping her hands around branches to keep herself from sliding down the muddy mountainside. Bark poked through her mitts and hurt her hands.
“Holy shit.” Her fingers tightened reflexively on slick bark. The creek, running at close to flood stage from an early snowmelt, was right below her. She’d nearly fallen into it. Her heart raced. She’d been careful, but she was tired. Too tired to be in a place where every step required thought. Water swirled around huge boulders ten feet below her. No way in hell to cross there. She looked downstream, but she couldn’t see very far. The beam from her lamp was broad rather than deep. It looked like the water disappeared into a cascade, though. Only one choice left.
Alice picked her way upstream over bushes and branches, staying as close to the creek as she could. Her strength was nearly at its end. She felt ill and shaky. She hadn’t let herself dwell on animals that might attack or Brent being dead, but both rose to taunt her. Just when she was considering getting out her rope and lashing herself to a tree to sit out the night, the angle of the slope eased, and she found herself in a small meadow.
The water was still rushing fast, but the terrain was level enough she could cross here if she were careful. Several flat stones looked promising, though they might be slippery. Alice looked around for something to sit on to unstrap her ax. She’d need it for balance crossing the creek. “I should eat and drink something,” she murmured, close to the end of her tether. She called Brent’s name again, but her voice was drowned by the noise of the water.
She shucked her pack, got a glass water bottle, and bent near the water’s edge to fill it. Alice drained the bottle and filled it once more, then staggered back to her meager stack of supplies. She blew out her lantern to conserve fuel. She didn’t have any more of the calcium-carbide crystals, and she’d need light to cross the water. She gathered her thick, heavy, dark hair and braided it to get it out of the way. Lacking something to secure it with, she stuffed the end of the braid under her jacket. The thought of the trail—and safety—less than two hundred yards from her was seductive, but she knew better than to rush things. Climbers in a hurry ended up dead.
Brent, oh Brent… His tall, broad-shouldered frame and sparkling green eyes rose in her mind’s eye. Even if he hadn’t wanted to date her, they’d been the best of friends and she’d miss him terribly—if the unspeakable had happened. Yeah, if he’s dead, I suppose I’ll have to forgive him for running off and leaving me. But if he’s not, I’m going to give that man a piece of my mind.
She scanned the darkness, blinked, and looked again. A light shone through the trees across the creek. Joy swooped through her. Brent. He was okay after all and had set up camp to wait for her. Drawn by the prospect of not being alone anymore, she bundled the rest of her food and stuffed it into her rucksack. The lantern was fussy. She had to clean some of the sludge out of the lower chamber to get it to light. Lantern on her forehead and ax in hand, she set out for the far side of the creek. If she got really lucky, her feet wouldn’t get any wetter than they already were in their clunky, two layer leather climbing boots. She blessed her six-foot frame. If she’d been smaller—more woman-sized—she’d never have found climbing clothes to fit. Bespoke tailoring was expensive.
Alice kept her gaze on the light. By the time she was halfway across the water, she knew it wasn’t a fire. The beam was too steady. No, it burned like an electric light or a kerosene lantern. That gave her pause. Her earlier elation faded. Probably not Brent. Maybe some hunters who’d packed a camp in with mules or horses.
If it’s a bunch of men, they can help hunt for Brent come morning.
She moved from rock to rock, sinking her long-handled ax into the riverbed for support. It was easier than she’d thought. The last rock wobbled, but she caught herself and leaped to the far bank. The water was a few inches deep, but didn’t slop over her boot tops. Alice didn’t take time to congratulate herself on making it to safety. She headed for the light. A thick stand of trees blocked her vision momentarily, but she kept moving in a straight line. Fifty feet past the trees, she saw a cabin set in a glade. The light was indeed a kerosene lantern hanging from a hook near the door.
Her eyes widened. Lon Chaney’s cabin. She and Brent had passed it on their way in. The thick fieldstone walls were unmistakable. The story of how Lon Chaney Senior had built it around 1930, using mules to drag the huge fieldstones the last distance after the road ended, was legendary. A shudder ran down her back, followed by another. All the creepy roles played first by Lon Chaney, and then by his son, cascaded through her mind. I’m just tired. It’s only a cabin.
Yes, but who lit the lantern? another inner voice demanded.
Suddenly cautious, Alice turned the dial to douse her light. It made a small whumping sound and went out. She faded back into the stand of trees between the cabin and the river and worked her way around to the other side of the building looking for evidence of hunters. A complete transit of the cabin with no horses or mules tethered for the night scared the shit out of her. Had whoever was inside come on foot? How had they carried enough supplies?
Her breath whistled loud in her ears. Brent had told her to hightail it for the car, but she had a feeling something bad had happened to him. No matter how she felt about him running off, it wasn’t right to just leave him. She wondered how late it was. It had been dark for hours. Even if she stumbled the few miles to her car waiting next to Glacier Lodge, she was too tired to drive anywhere. The lodge wasn’t any help. It wouldn’t open for the season for another couple of months. There might be a phone inside, but she’d have to break in.
Alice considered her options. If she made the lodge, she’d crawl into her car and fall on her face from exhaustion. It would easily be midmorning before she got back up here to even begin searching for Brent. Survival in the mountains often hung by a thread. She was the only one who even knew where he was. She couldn’t desert him.
Alice moved toward where she thought the trail was, intent on setting up a fireless camp to wait out the night. She had enough food and a full water bottle. No tent or sleeping bag, but she’d survived worse conditions. A fire would have been welcome, but she couldn’t risk—
“Hey there. You. Show yourself, man.” Light flared, illuminating the forest around her.
Alice stiffened. That had happened to her before—and more than once. People looked at her build and assumed she was male. She considered running, but burdened with her heavy boots, climbing hardware, and the moonless night, she didn’t want to chance a headlong flight. Besides, the man might have a gun.
“Why?” She didn’t turn around.
“What? You’re a woman?” Footsteps crunched over rocks and twigs as the person approached from behind.
Best face him. She spun around, ice ax grasped in both hands. “Leave me alone,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “I’m tired and my friend is … lost.”
“Whoa.” The man held up both hands, one of which gripped a flashlight. “Put your ax down, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you.” He was tall, maybe six foot four with straight, red-blonde hair. Despite his height, he had a slender build. A well-defined jaw and sharp cheekbones suggested Nordic blood. It was tough to tell in the reflected light, but his eyes looked blue.
“Go back inside. You can see I’m not any kind of threat. I’d head down, but I need to be moving at first light to hunt for my friend.”
The man cocked his head to one side. “Big guy with red hair?”
Terror gripped her. Her throat narrowed. Breathing became a struggle. Since she couldn’t manage words, she nodded and steeled herself to hear the words, he’s dead. Alice bit her lower lip and gazed mutely at the stranger.
“Look, I think he’ll be okay. We were out hunting and heard something big falling. Thought it was the deer we’d shot at. Turned
out to be your friend—”
“Awk! You shot Brent!”
The man waved his hands in front of him. “Calm down, woman. Christ, you’re strung tighter than a fiddle. Take a couple of deep breaths. No, we didn’t shoot him. Your friend was unconscious because he hit his head on a rock, so we carried him back here. My two buddies took the horses and hauled him down to the lodge. We only had three horses, which is why I’m still here. Anyway, they were planning to drive him to the hospital in Bishop. I don’t expect they’ll be back much before the middle of tomorrow.”
At least that explains why there’re no horses here. Alice shook her head, digesting the information. “I need to get moving then. I can drive to the hospital and meet them.”
The man held out a hand. “I’m Jed. Jed Starnes. You look beat. There’re mountain cats on the prowl. Shot one a few hours ago. They get worse at night. More aggressive. You got a gun?”
She shook her head and ignored his outstretched hand. He looked chagrined and dropped it to his side. “Well, then, handshake or no, you need to come with me. Got a nice, warm fire going inside. You look wet clear through. Nothing you can do tonight, anyway. Get a few shots of Irish whiskey in you, a little soup, and some sleep. Come morning, you can go after your friend.”
It sounded good. Too good. She kept her ice ax poised. “How’d you get access to Lon Chaney’s cabin?”
Jed threw back his head and laughed. “That’s easy. Ever since Chaney Senior died in nineteen thirty, his son’s been letting some of us who work with him have the keys. All we have to do is ask. Damn shame the old man died right after he got this place built. It’s a beauty. You really should take a look inside.”
She blew out a breath. “What is it you do?”
“I’m a production manager for Paramount.”
“I thought they were in receivership.”
He laughed again. “We are. But we’re still making movies.”