by Victoria Sue
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Map of Askara
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
About Victoria Sue
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The Alpha Heir
Victoria Sue
About The Book You Have Purchased
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to further the plot of this story. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any persons depicted on the cover are models.
Editing and formatting: Story Perfect Editing Services
Thank you for downloading this eBook. This purchase allows you ONE LEGAL copy for personal reading on your device of choice. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution by any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law. Violators of same are subject to criminal prosecution, and, upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to: photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express written permission of the publisher and/or author, and where permitted by law. Reviewers and/or bloggers may quote brief passages in a review or for promotional purposes only. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact the author directly.
The Alpha Heir
Copyright © 2017 by Victoria Sue
http://www.victoriasue.com
Chapter One
Caleb’s heart pounded against his ribs suddenly as the door to his room opened without warning and he scrambled to the back of the pallet as quickly as his chains would allow. Norelle, a human slave, carried in a bundle of clothes and placed them neatly on the wooden floor of his room. Before he could recover his shock at the clothes, he saw the woman standing at the door behind the slave, and his heart that was pounding furiously threatened to stop altogether. What would it be today? More beatings? More humiliation? More reminders that his lot in life was to pay for his father’s betrayal? Norelle scurried out of the room quickly as Jacind-aa advanced on where he was chained up.
Caleb closed his eyes in despair as if he could pretend his aunt hadn’t arrived to torment him some more.
“Caleb?” Caleb opened his eyes as the quiet mocking tone trilled out and his heart sank as he saw the other three wolves that had come in with her. Mason, Aldred and Maer. Alpha Mason it would be in about an hour. Sorin’s heart, but he had hoped they would be too busy today and ignore him … for once. The slaves were forbidden to talk to him, but they often gossiped in his hearing and he knew today was the choosing.
“Get dressed,” Jacind-aa ordered.
“You want me there?” he rasped, words difficult to voice around his dry throat. Why on earth would Jacind-aa or Mason want their shame — as he was referred to — at their feast day? Mason was twenty-five today. Today he got to choose his omega and he would receive whatever Alpha gifts the omega would transfer. He tried not to think bitterly of what this day would have been like in the time before he knew his life was over. It should have been his choosing.
“Of course we want you there. It’s a celebration,” Mason said expansively, “and you are to be the guest of honor. Get dressed.”
Guest of honor? He didn’t believe it for a second and his confusion quickly turned to fear, and then resentment. He could only think of one reason why he would be present at a wolf gathering after being isolated for almost six years. That somehow his punishment and humiliation were now to be made public. Not that all the wolves didn’t know about his father’s crime. He held up his chained wrists silently. He couldn’t dress if they didn’t free his hands.
“Caleb,” Jacind-aa tutted. “Surely a strong werewolf like you can break your own chains?” Aldred and Maer both laughed like the sycophants they were. “Why don’t you try to … oh, I don’t know … shift?” Maer and Aldred fell about laughing and Mason just stood there with a smug, satisfied look on his face. Caleb swallowed his burning shame down to the pit of his stomach where it festered. No wonder he never had any room for what little food he was ever given.
“Go on, I dare you,” Maer baited him and Mason grinned.
“Look, Mason.” Aldred grew daring and reached for Caleb’s chin. “Go on, show us your fangs.” Caleb twisted to avoid Aldred’s grip, only succeeding in stumbling into him. Then he reeled at the force of Mason’s fist as he backhanded him.
“You do not touch,” Mason snarled, yanking Aldred back; the mood went from taunting to vicious in a second. He knew he was forbidden to touch any wolf. Jacind-aa said he was an abomination and not to lay his filthy hands on a pure-bred, but it had been Aldred who had tried to touch him. He had certainly not initiated the contact.
Caleb hardly dared to breathe as Mason unlocked his manacles. He bit his lip as the metal scraped his raw and bleeding wrists. He could feel the alcohol-drenched breath on his face, the sharp sting of claws as they pierced his skin, and the hatred behind it…
“Enough boys,” Jacind-aa purred and trailed a sharp nail down his bare chest. He cringed involuntarily and his stomach rolled. “Caleb will get dressed. I’m sure he’s fascinated to know why he has been summoned.”
Caleb blanched and shakily grabbed the clothes, satisfied that Aldred had retreated to the far wall with an almost puzzled look on his face, rubbing the arm he had stumbled against, although why he had no clue. He certainly hadn’t hurt him and he was hardly a threat to anyone. He trembled slightly as he pulled on some pants and then paused. Even buttoned, the waist hung from his frame a good four inches and sagged around his hips. Bitter humiliation warmed his cheeks at the titters that rose around the room, and he pulled on the undershirt and the white one over it that was also too large. He took a couple of hurried breaths, but even that small expending of energy left him shaking.
“Hurry up,” Mason snapped and grabbed Caleb’s arm. Caleb couldn’t hold in the gasp as pain shot from where Mason had kicked him yesterday. Mason had been aiming for his ribs and Caleb had managed to bring his arm across his chest to try and shield them. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was broken, not that it made any difference. He had lost count of the number of broken bones he had suffered since he had been imprisoned.
The other two sniggered again, but he ignored them as the door opened and Mason yanked his arm again to get him to move forward. The pain made him even more lightheaded than usual and he almost blindly put out a hand to steady himself, nearly touching Maer and not the wall he was aiming for. The fist to his face knocked him to the floor and he barely registered the pain from his knees as they connected with the hard stone. “How dare you,” Mason snarled. “I should tear out your throat for that.”
Caleb nearly whispered please as he was yanked to his feet. But the word wasn’t a plea for mercy, it was Caleb prepared to beg for someone to end his life. He couldn’t stand even one more day of t
orment but he was roughly hauled to his feet and shoved at the door. Jacind-aa swept out regally in front of them and down the corridor to the outside, but then walked quickly to where the rest of the she-wolves were. Caleb knew she was the real power in the pack, but neither Mason nor his father would acknowledge that in front of the other Alphas.
Caleb could hear the voices subside as everyone saw him and the crowd fell silent. He was taken around the edge of the clearing away from the other wolves. He lifted his chin a little and dared to look at the territory elders that were gathered. Alpha Kaylin, a wrinkled old fool, was blinking at him stupidly. He hadn’t been seen in public for five years and it was likely the stupid ass had forgotten about his existence. Alpha Bertram refused to look him in the eye completely but his heir Gage did so, and he was surprised to see the shock visible on his face. Did he disgust everyone, or were they just stunned he was still alive?
“Caleb?” Gage murmured half-standing only to be roughly pulled down by his uncle who sat beside him. Caleb’s eyes roved over the remaining occupants, Maer’s and Aldred’s uncle and father that both would be succeeded today. Warwick was the head of the territory, but it was interesting that there were only four other Alphas here. There were nine packs and in his father’s day, every one of them would be represented at the choosing; not that it mattered to him anymore. He let the thought go.
He reached the end of the Alpha’s table and Mason put his hand on his shoulder and roughly forced him down to kneel on the floor. Two large black boots appeared on the ground in front of him and he slowly tipped his head back until he was looking at his uncle.
He was faintly surprised. He hadn’t seen the man in months — as Mason and his aunt were his usual tormentors — and he looked … weak almost. Strained, as if the weight of all Askara rested on his hunched shoulders. His face was sickly yellow, blotchy red stains ran up his neck and the once haughty scowl now just looked pained. What on earth was going on? Warwick’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Are you ready to offer recompense to the pack for your father’s sins?”
Caleb’s heart jolted. Recompense? What did that mean? A tiny kernel of hope unfurled in Caleb’s chest. He had never been asked that before — ever.
“Uncle?” Caleb whispered, hardly daring to ask, but his uncle had already turned away and the warning glance Mason sent him and the two large human guards positioned behind him kept him on his knees.
“Bring out the omegas!”
They all heard the voice of the grand-beta signaling the start of the procession. Caleb looked towards the pack circle. The large marked out area was surrounded by tables but not as many as there once would have been. The tall Zari trees were overhanging the far edge and looked in desperate need of cutting back. Again, his father would never have risked anywhere a predator could hide near the circle and the pack house. Even if the wolves had a good sense of smell, the Zari trees would soon come into full bloom and the fragrant vanilla scent was very strong. He turned at the noise of the heavy double doors opening, watched as the first ornate chair carrying an omega entered the ring and the grand-beta started listing her talents. Caleb could feel the burning eyes on his back but he didn’t dare look towards where the she-wolves were gathered. He knew his aunt would be watching him. Even when he had been small and safe, Jacind-aa had terrified him. The long black straight hair. The thin blanched lips that never smiled. The disapproving stares. For all the cruelty Warwick doled out, it was his aunt that really scared him. She was one of their sun priestesses but there were rumors, always had been. Some said she dabbled in the old forbidden magic that the humans had once been involved in. Spells that had caused the human wars and led to the near destruction of the planet before the wolves had risen up and taken over. Magic that had been banned for thousands of years.
Their world had two suns, legend being that they were originally sisters, Sorin and Surya, and one had killed the other in a fit of jealous rage. The sun goddesses were supposed to worship Sorin only, but there were enough who practiced the black arts associated with her evil sister.
She had visited his room nearly daily last week and the usual had happened. Four human guards had held him down, not that it had taken four — weak as he was — and his aunt had taken the knife that ripped along his forearm. His blood, red and thick, had run quickly into the jars she carried. She took so much, he barely had the strength to move for hours afterwards. He was covered in scars. His legs and arms were the worse, but she had prodded his abdomen with a sharp fingernail, then laughed as he had cringed. He hoped she wasn’t sizing up the next part of his skin she would tear into.
Caleb sighed as his stomach flip-flopped sickly. At least the feasting was finished and he didn’t have to watch people eat what he couldn’t have. His mind drifted as the omega’s talents were called out. Nothing startling. One was a breeder who had come from Niandes as an arranged match. He assumed Mason would choose her, as she-wolves only came into heat every three years and a pregnancy was risky and fraught with problems. A breeder would have constant heats once mated until their Alpha’s seed took, and the resulting pregnancy was always a guarantee. The omegas were paired off to the Alpha-heirs very quickly. There were only three in the procession. Tethra was the smallest territory, not by much but its western border with Niandes was all but overtaken by them. Alpha Warrick and Alpha Cain were allies. No one dared touch Tethra, but Warwick sacrificed so many young wolves for Cain’s army he might as well have the whole territory. Caleb looked tastelessly at the wine and sweet delicacies as they passed, but the hope that had carried him for years was fading along with his appetite. He had been restrained and weakened for so long he barely had the strength to stand. Kneeling as he now was, he was losing the feeling in his feet.
Humiliation and sorrow burned with matching intensity as he was forced to stay on his knees. This should have been his day. When he was a child he had felt his wolf — talked to it even as if it could carry a conversation. Then as each year had passed and he hadn’t shifted, the small voice had eventually fallen silent along with his dreams of becoming the Alpha. On his nineteenth birthday he had gone to see his father but had found him talking to Warwick and Mason. His father had gazed at him with sorrowful eyes and in a halting voice he explained he was going to tell the other Alphas as they arrived that Mason would henceforth officially become his heir, as they could no longer wait for Caleb to have his first shift. Caleb had felt the blow as if his father had taken a knife to him. He had watched as Mason had gazed at him in triumph and Warwick had preened in glee. That night he and his father had exchanged bitter words. They had been so close as he had grown. His mother had died giving birth to him so he never missed what he never knew. But safe in his father’s love, he had never felt her loss right up to that day. He had accused his father of giving up on him. Of being ashamed. Of not loving him.
His father had tried to calm him and simply said he had no choice. He had to act for the good of the territory and they needed a strong Alpha to deal with the increasing problems with the human rebels. He would always remember his father’s reaction after he realized what he had said. He tried to smooth things over but it was too late, and Caleb had run to the forest, not being able to witness Mason gloat over what should have been rightfully his. His father had become increasingly absent with the rebel attacks for months prior, and Caleb, even though he begged, was never allowed to accompany him on patrols or hunts. They had been growing steadily more distant as each moon cycle passed and Caleb still didn’t shift. Behind his back he knew the wolves despised him; the humans were frightened of him, and he spent much of his time alone. Caleb had hated his father when he was imprisoned. His hate had kept him strong for the first year and most of the second. Then, as he started to let it go, sorrow had replaced the empty hole where his heart had once lived.
“Alphas,” Warrick called out. “In honor of my son’s birthday and my subsequent retirement we have arranged some entertainment for you.” Everyone looked up. This was differe
nt. The wolves were usually so drunk by this point they were incapable of anything more than staggering to their beds. “Bring out the prisoners,” Warrick called to the human guards.
Prisoners? Caleb hadn’t heard they had taken any prisoners. He had heard the slaves speak of a skirmish yesterday with the local human rebels they had been having problems with alongside their border with Caedra, but he assumed their opponents had either escaped or been killed. Warrick never took human prisoners. Could they be wolves?
Caleb gazed as three prisoners were led out, all chained together. Three human prisoners. He may not be able to shift and his body was weak, but he had always had his wolf’s sense of smell. He knew instantly there were no wolves within any of the men. The first one was covered in lash marks and so much blood he was barely recognizable and could barely stand. The second one as equally bloody, but much bigger and half carrying the first prisoner. In fact, if Caleb didn’t know better, he would have said by his size alone he was a werewolf. The third, not quite as battered, shuffled behind him. The first prisoner stumbled and the second paused to hoist him up. Caleb gaped in shock as the guard yanked impatiently on the chain attached to the choking collar around the second man’s neck. Choking collars were never needed for humans, but it was the only way of containing a werewolf because the shift would cause the collar to tighten and cut off their oxygen.
“As part of our celebration I am instituting the old tradition of first-blooding,” Warwick announced. Shocked murmurs were heard in the crowd. First-blooding? Surely not. First-blooding was the name given to an old rite of passage after a wolf had their first shift, usually around eight or nine years old. In years gone by it had been bloody and vicious but it had faded to barely a childhood game. The older wolves of the family would take the new pup on his first hunt. An animal would be caught, often no bigger than a rabbit and it would be slaughtered by the pup. The slaves had told him, under his uncle’s encouragement in the last few years, the animal would often be brought back alive to the circle to be tormented as the Alphas laughed until it eventually died. That was bad enough, but first-blooding wasn’t a grown wolf slaughtering a chained human; unless they meant to untie him so he could run but even then, the first man had been beaten so much he could barely stand and while his uncle loved hunting humans for sport, this one would give no chase.