Alpha Wolf (Shifter Falls Book 4)

by Amy Green

  “He can’t do that. That’s… insane.”

  “That was Charlie,” Brody said.

  “The humans would never let him win. There are far more of them than us. There would be cops, state troopers, the army—”

  “I know. It was a suicide mission. Humans would have died, shifters would have died, and we would have lost in the end. My brothers and I would never have stood for it. Do you see? That’s why we had to die first. Because we would have stood in his way.”

  She stared at him in shock as all the pieces fell into place. “So it wasn’t random,” she said. “It wasn’t even rage that made you do it. You killed Charlie to save your brothers’ lives, your own life. You killed him to prevent war.”

  Brody touched her cheek briefly, then dropped his hand again. “Don’t ever think I didn’t hate him,” he said. “I did. I wanted to kill him for years. I fantasized about it. But when I learned what his plans were, I had to act. One death, or dozens of deaths—maybe hundreds. Months of violence, people living in fear. So I chose, and I acted. That’s what an alpha does. That’s what I was showing you up on the ridge.”

  “Does—does anyone else know?” she asked.

  “Carson Dunne knew,” Brody said. Carson had been the pack’s medical man, high up in Charlie’s pack. He’d done the coroner’s report on Charlie’s death, and then he’d left town. “He falsified the coroner’s report for me, but it wasn’t because he was trying to prevent war. It was because Charlie was dead and he knew the game was up, and I paid him a lot of money to write down what I wanted and get the hell out of town.”

  Alison’s head was spinning. The secrets went deeper and deeper, it seemed.

  “John Marcus knew, too,” Brody said, naming another of Charlie’s top henchmen. “He was all for the expansion of territory, because he thought it would give him the opportunity for more power. But when Charlie died before it could happen, he tried to take over the pack instead.” His gaze pinned Alison in place. “Now he’s dead, too.”

  Alison nodded. John Marcus had been part of the attempted coup that the Donovan brothers had put down—ending in Ian executing Ronnie Marcus after Ronnie had killed his own father, John.

  So much violence, so much death, running through Shifter Falls like a river buried deep below the ground.

  “So no one knows, then,” Alison said. “Not now. Except you and me.”

  Brody leaned in close, his arms boxing her in against the door, and she could smell his heady wolf smell, feel his breath against her neck. “I’m broken, Alison,” he said. “I’ve murdered. I’ve lied. I’m not fit to lead anyone. I’m not whole. My brain doesn’t work right, and my wolf and I are at each other’s throats. Is that the man you think you want?”

  She raised a hand and touched his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin as he caught the scent of her. “Yes,” she told him. “It is.”

  He went very still. She kept her hand where it was, cupping his jaw.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  “You can’t,” she reminded him, stroking his cheekbone again. “I’m your mate. That makes me the one person in the world you’re incapable of harming, remember? I told you, I’m not scared of you. You won’t hurt me. So here I am. Let me be your mate. Let me help you. Let me help put things right.”

  He closed his eyes. In the shadows, she could see his dark lashes against his cheek. He was wrestling with himself. But instead of the usual argument in his head, this went deeper. He was wrestling with his soul.

  Then he opened his eyes again.

  “You win,” he said. And he kissed her.

  10

  It was amazing, that kiss. She was drunk on it instantly. He tasted wonderful, dark and male. She had never been kissed like this before—she’d barely been kissed at all, in fact, and none of those amateur kisses had been anything like Brody’s. It wasn’t that he was practiced or wickedly skilled. It was that he was hers.

  He kissed her hard at first, and then he slowed down, exploring her. Tasting her as she tasted him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, feeling like she’d never get close enough, like it wasn’t possible. She dug her fingers into his hair, which was soft as silk, and touched her tongue to his.

  He responded by picking her up, an arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, and carrying her down the hall and up the stairs without another word.

  She gasped and tried to hold on, but he had her firm. Her heart flipped as she watched the stair railing go by. “I’m still wearing my coat and shoes,” she pointed out.

  “They’re coming off,” was Brody’s reply.

  She shivered. She’d never been naked in front of anyone before. After all this time, he was going to see everything—it was a little terrifying. Then they were in his bedroom—she’d never seen his bedroom, though she’d imagined it plenty of times—and he tossed her gently on his big, wide bed like she weighed nothing. Then he came on top of her and kissed her again, and he was everywhere. Above her, around her, his scent in the bedsheets. Brody Donovan was her drug, and for a second she was so high on him she could barely breathe. Then she hooked her legs around his and moaned into his mouth.

  He unzipped her jacket and undid the buttons on the front of her dress, letting the sides fall open, exposing her bra. It was simple cotton, because she hadn’t thought she’d lose her virginity tonight, but he didn’t seem to care. He cupped her small breast in one big hand as he kissed her again and her body started to light up, her blood pounding under his touch.

  This is actually happening, she thought crazily.

  Brody pulled away and moved down the bed. He pulled her sneakers off her feet and tossed them away as she struggled out of her coat and pushed it on the floor. He slid a hand up her bare leg, to the inside of her thigh, and her knees tried to close by reflex, making him pause.

  Damn. She may as well tell him. “I haven’t done this before,” she said.

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He just sat back, pulled his black t-shirt off over his head, and dropped it. She stared at his beautiful torso in a lust-filled stupor as he propped himself over her again. “Then we’ll go slow,” he said.

  “I—” She was honestly speechless. All those muscles, that smooth, tawny skin, his flat stomach disappearing into the waist of his jeans—she couldn’t even think.

  He inhaled softly, and she knew he could smell how aroused she was. Part of her was horribly embarrassed—could she possibly be more obvious?—and part of her was turned on even more. She wanted him, and he knew it, and he liked it. It was time to stop pretending it wasn’t true.

  His hand was on her bare leg again, moving up her inner thigh. He bent his head and kissed the skin beneath her ear. “I need to touch you,” he said. “Just touch you, that’s all.”

  Her body tried to tense again, but this time she fought it. Still, he felt her flinch. “Sorry,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” he said, kissing her again. And then he said, “It’s me.”

  Her heart flipped. Turned over in her chest. It’s me. Her knees opened, letting him in. This was Brody. No one else. Just him.

  “You don’t mind?” she asked him.

  His finger slid between her legs, past her panties, through her soft wetness, and she bit back a moan of pure pleasure.

  “I care that you’re mine,” Brody said, his fingertips moving gently over her, exploring. “That’s all I give a fuck about right now, Alison. We can wait days, weeks, months. As long as you’re mine.”

  He was driving her crazy. It felt so good when he touched her. It wasn’t embarrassing at all—it was incredible. He was firm, gentle, attentive. Paying attention to her every reaction to his touch. She still had her dress on, her bra. He hadn’t even taken his jeans off yet, and she was still a virgin, and already she was about to climax, go off like a rocket. “I don’t want to wait weeks or months,” she managed to tell him. “I want to los
e my virginity right now, Brody. To you.”

  He kissed her softly, sweetly on the mouth, even as he touched her, and she knew he was telling her he knew what that meant. He honored it. “You will,” he promised against her skin. “We’ll do it right. Now take your dress off.”

  She did, and her bra too, while he stood and dropped his jeans and boxer briefs. Then he got back on the bed with her while she had a heart attack again. I’m naked in an alpha wolf’s bed, she told herself. I’m not sure I can handle this. But it turned out she could. When he lay against her, skin to skin, and kissed her slowly—yes, she could handle it. She wanted more.

  He made her wait a while, stroking his hands over her body, letting everything relax against him. He waited until she was moving against him, pressing up, ready. “Yes?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she panted.

  He slid against her entrance, pressing gently. The head inside her, then out again. “Bare?” he asked her, letting her decide. Her bossy alpha wolf, doing her bidding.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” She wanted that. Just him. Shifters couldn’t get diseases, or give them. There was only the question of whether she was on the pill, but he didn’t even ask. He just did as he was told and slid inside her, slow and confident, letting her adjust.

  “Good?” he asked against her temple when he was fully inside.

  It was hard. A little painful. Incredible. “Yes,” she told him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s good.” She squirmed beneath him, feeling every sensation. How had she ever lived without this? “It’s so good.”

  He kissed her mouth softly, a mate’s kiss. “Alison,” he said, her name on his lips. And then he slowly started to move.

  No, she didn’t know how she’d lived without this. She never wanted to live without it again.

  She officially wanted this all the time, forever. The feel of his body on hers, the tensing of his muscles as he moved. She could die like this. She never wanted it to stop.

  And when she went over the edge a minute later, the sparks flying behind her closed eyelids as she gripped him, she thought that for the first time in forever, she might actually get what she wanted.

  11

  Brody left her sleeping and padded silently downstairs. His wolf wanted to wake her up and go again, and then maybe again, finish the mating, but the man knew better. He had to take care of her first.

  In the kitchen, he made two sandwiches from cold chicken in the fridge. He made sure Alison’s had lettuce, tomato, mayo, like she liked it. He wolfed down his own sandwich without bothering, because he was suddenly furiously hungry. Then he poured Alison a glass of milk and carried her sandwich back to the bedroom.

  Almost nothing frightened Brody Donovan, but he felt a quick wave of terror when he caught sight of the beautiful woman in his bed. Terror mixed with elation. She was his mate, and she was his—that was the elation. But he had never had anyone close before. Not anyone who mattered. His brothers mattered, but that was blood and pack loyalty. Alison mattered more than anything, and he was completely unequipped to take care of her, make her happy. He couldn’t be sure he could give her what she wanted, because he didn’t even really know. He had a lot to learn, and it was pretty much guaranteed he’d fuck something up. Which meant she could leave him. That was the terror.

  She rolled over, waking up slowly. Fix it, his wolf said in his head. Make it right. Get to work. He put the plate with the sandwich and the glass of milk down on the nightstand as she rolled over. She looked at him with sleepy eyes. Her gaze was shy at first, and then she looked him up and down and got that look in her eyes, unfocused with lust. He liked that look. If he’d known that getting naked in front of her would produce that look, he would have done it a long time ago.

  He crawled into bed with her and pulled the covers up, curling his chest to her back, rubbing her hip and her belly. “I made you a sandwich,” he said.

  She leaned back into him, and he moved her hair off her neck and kissed her there, softly and seriously, as if it was his job. Which it was. “You didn’t have to,” she said.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I’ve noticed you tend to feed me,” she said, arching up into his kiss a little.

  He kissed her again. “I owe you,” he said. “You’ve been feeding me at the diner for a long time. It only seems right.”

  “Oh my,” she said on a sigh.

  Brody smiled to himself. He might be stupid, but certain things he could guess. Like the fact that feeding a woman was a good way to impress her. “How do you feel?” he asked her.

  “Good,” she said. “A little embarrassed, I guess. I’m not used to you knowing I’m a virgin.”

  “You’re not,” he said, stroking a finger over her collarbone.

  She smiled a little. “I was,” she said. “It isn’t really normal anymore when you’re twenty-four. You’ve probably been with lots of women.”

  “Alison, how long have you known me?” he said. “No. The answer is no.” The few times he’d done it, he’d left town, gone somewhere else, found a bar where no one knew him and picked up a woman. It was so lonely and awful he didn’t even like to think about it. Never again. “It’s fine,” he told her. “If you weren’t, that would be fine. Though I admit I like the fact that there is only me.”

  Somewhere on the bedroom floor, his phone beeped. A text. The only ones who ever texted him were his brothers, and since none of them were chatty, it was probably something important. “Hold that thought,” he said to Alison and rolled off the bed, finding his discarded jeans and the phone in the pocket. Behind him, Alison sat up and took a bite of her sandwich.

  The text was from Devon. We have a problem. Need to meet. For some reason, he never had a problem reading texts—maybe because they were so short. He didn’t know. But the words never jumbled in a text, and they didn’t jumble now.

  Tomorrow, he wrote back to Devon.

  Now, Devon said.

  Brody typed a single word in answer. Alison.

  There was a pause. Devon knew what that meant. He had a mate himself. When a wolf took his mate, he needed time alone with her. No distractions. It was important.

  Finally, Devon replied. Tomorrow. But morning.

  Brody typed OK and tossed the phone back onto the floor. Truth be told, he hated the phone too, but it seemed necessary if he was to run an entire pack. He couldn’t just hang out at the Dirty Den like his father had. Those days were gone.

  He turned back to find that Alison had finished most of her sandwich and all of the milk. She was sitting up, the covers over her nice breasts, watching him. “What’s going on?”

  “Meeting tomorrow morning,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.” He hooked an arm beneath her bent knees and slid her down on the bed so her head was on the pillows. She gave a brief yelp of surprise. “We have around nine hours until sunrise,” he pointed out, climbing over her and pinning her down. “What would you like to do with them?”

  She reached around his neck and pulled him down, and he kissed her long and deep, dominating her just enough. He scented the arousal coming off her again, which was what he wanted. They still had things to do.

  He broke the kiss and she ran her hands up his back, her fingers tracing his spine, making him shiver. “I want to finish the mating,” she said. “I want to be yours.”

  “Are you sure? Mating is intense.” He leaned down and kissed her nipple, and she made a little sound that he liked. “We should practice. A few times.”

  Mating, for werewolves, meant that he would take her from behind and bite her during the act, on the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder. It sealed that a wolf and his mate belonged to each other forever. By all accounts—because of course he’d never done it before—it was rough, painful, and very orgasmic. Which sounded good, but not perhaps what a woman wanted when it was only her second time.

  “No more waiting,” she said,
parting her legs, and he reached down between them and touched her. God, she felt good down there. He’d do this all day if that was what she wanted. He watched her body move, the arch of her back, and his wolf nearly came out of his skin. He was an alpha, and this was his woman. She owned him. If anyone ever touched her, he’d rip them open and taste their blood. All he wanted to do right now was fuck her and feed her until they both grew old and died.

  “Brody,” she said after a minute, struggling for control, cupping his face in her hands. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  He paused what he was doing, reluctantly.

  “I’m not on the pill.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “You know?”

  “I figured it out.”

  “You don’t—I mean—it’s okay with you? I should have brought it up, but I—I just wanted—”

  He stopped her with a kiss. “It’s fine,” he said, meaning it. “What you want, I want. Now try and relax. This is going to be wild.”

  12

  “Here’s our problem,” Ian Donovan said. “The police in Grant County have us targeted.”

  It was just after sunrise, and all of the Donovans—Ian and Anna, Heath and Tessa, Devon and Nadine—were in Brody’s living room, sitting on various sofas. Brody had made coffee, but so far only he and Nadine were drinking it. No one was eating, either. Alison sat in a chair near the fireplace with a glass of juice and a piece of toast. Damn it, she was hungry. She’d just had the most athletic night of her life.

  She glanced at Brody. He was sitting on a sofa a few feet away, wearing his usual jeans and plaid shirt—the green one she loved so much—and he was slouched into the cushions, listening. She ached everywhere, including the spot on her neck where he’d bitten her last night. She felt completely, utterly different, and she was sure he did, too.

  Everyone in the room knew they were mates now, of course—Anna had even given her a quick hug when she walked in the door. Aside from the fact that anyone with eyes could figure it out, the wolves could smell it.