She’d not waited for the formalities to be attended—had walked into the Packhouse and, ignoring a flustered and blustering PA, had stormed straight into the Alpha’s domain.
At her back, Mikkel and Rafe were her sentinels, guarding her, shoring her defenses. Then, the strangest damn thing happened, she heard Rafe speak.
Not verbally. Not with his mouth, those decadent lips of his. No, in her mind.
That damn trick of his just had to make a reappearance now when the headache that had been plaguing her since the challenge had dissipated.
They really hadn’t discussed this new ability of his… why the fuck hadn’t they?
Jacobs, Haraldsson, and Kinnock are the top Alphas in the Pack. There are usually four though, so I don’t know where Dafydd is.
She blinked as she took in the men who were somewhere between gaping, gawking, and glowering at her.
If such a thing existed, that is.
Maybe it had been created just for her benefit, she thought with an inner snort.
Could Dafydd have been knocked out of the leadership struggle?
The question had been aimed more at herself than at Rafe, because she wasn’t even sure how this damn trick worked. When he replied though, she had to blink.
Could be. If I was a betting man, I’d say Kinnock is the one who’ll overtake Stevenson.
Why?
He’s the strongest, and I can imagine Haraldsson and Jacobs conceding to him. He’s a good politician. Stevenson, if he hadn’t been such a douche, should have sent him off to National.
Thalia wanted to rub at her temple, but more than that, she wanted to laugh. Hearing words like ‘douche’ come from her mate’s lips made her want to giggle—Rafe was so dignified. The proud surgeon with the reputation to fit.
Words like douche were for people her age. Not men double that—even if he only looked a few years older than her.
Stevenson growled. “What are you doing here?”
Mikkel’s hand moved to her back, jolting her to awareness, and she realized that wasn’t the first time the Alpha had asked her that particular question.
She tilted her head to the side and murmured, “Making sure all is well, of course.”
Kinnock smiled, and it was so ingratiating, she felt like puking. “Things couldn’t be better in the Summerford Pack,” he told her glibly, making her narrow her eyes at him.
She wasn’t sure why, because sometimes, the things her She-Wolf did made no sense, but the beast urged Thalia forward.
Stevenson, though he was a proud prick, had a relatively simple office. It was an old-fashioned wide desk with an ergonomic chair behind it, and there were club chairs in front of it for guests—one of the three had been borrowed from the corner, where a gathering of four more were clustered around a smaller table that looked large enough to set a few drinks down and little else.
On the floor, there was a thick Persian rug that was patched in areas indicating that the Alpha was a pacer by nature. Behind Stevenson, there were two windows that overlooked the scorched, parched back yard of the Packhouse, and above him, there was a set of antler heads.
One wall also housed a filing cabinet topped with a rather large drinks tray—unusual considering their kind rarely drank as their metabolisms didn’t process it.
She took it all in in a single glance as she stepped behind Kinnock. So close that there was barely an inch between them, her body was so near his that, ordinarily, such proximity would indicate an intimacy between two people. But in this instance, her speed and the jolt Kinnock gave at her abrupt appearance belied that.
She bent down and whispered in his ear, “Are you playing games with me?”
He scowled, straightened his shoulders as he mumbled, “No, of course not.”
“Triskele,” Mikkel prompted. “Of course not, Triskele.”
Thalia didn’t look at him, but her beast purred with approval. Mikkel was being damn slow about it, but her She-Wolf knew the male was coming around and would soon be hers.
Kinnock cleared his throat. “Yes, Triskele. Apologies. It’s a new position and I wasn’t sure how I ought to address you.”
She inhaled deeply, pulling the man’s scent into her lungs. She had no idea why she did it, it was inappropriate and disrespectful but the She-Wolf was in charge—her tongue flickered out over the outer rim of his ear, making him shudder and jerk in response. The beast rumbled with approval at that—she hadn’t appreciated the male’s attitude, not when she herself was stronger than this dick. Then, she clicked her fingers and barked, “Move.” Her hand was aimed at Stevenson, but her focus was on Kinnock.
She turned her gaze to stare at the Alpha when he didn’t comply and blinked. He cleared his throat and shifted his position, pushing the chair back to step away from the desk.
Straightening, Thalia rounded the desk. Standing in front of his chair, she placed her hands on the surface, flattening her fingers out as she looked at the motley crew before her.
Kinnock’s faint taste in her mouth wasn’t pleasant, but the She-Wolf scented and tasted and used the information to discern things that made no sense to Thalia.
The beast didn’t like him.
That Thalia did know.
Pushing her shoulders back as she straightened, she pinned each male with a glance.
Kinnock wore a suit. But it was cheap and poorly pressed. He’d shaved that morning and had a fleck of shaving foam behind his ear—single. Unmated. No mated female would allow their man to leave for an important meeting such as this one with foam sticking to him.
The other, Haraldsson, was as thin as a rake. Uncomfortably so. He scented wrong, like he was ill. But he was Alpha, strong enough to have potentially beaten off this Dafydd—whoever the hell he was. Haraldsson’s shirt was baggy on him and the blue plaid merely enhanced the faint blueness to his lips and skin.
The last one, Jacobs, was younger than the others. Nearer her age, she sensed. He wore jeans, a similar plaid shirt to Haraldsson, and his gaze satisfied her. He looked at her, but though he maintained eye contact, he shifted the level slightly out of respect. Haraldsson and Kinnock’s gaze fluttered all over the place, unsure of where to settle without causing her offense. There was fear in the room. So much in a small space that she couldn’t discern the root source because it swelled around each male thanks to the nearness of their bodies.
“Are you ill?” The question wasn’t snapped out, but it had Haraldsson jolting when she turned her focus on him.
“N-No.”
Thalia tilted her head to the side. “Bullshit.” She cut her mate a look. “What’s wrong with him?”
Haraldsson started to protest when he saw she was looking at Rafe. “Now, see here—”
“Raphael is your pack healer, isn’t he?” she cut in.
“He’s Gamma.”
Stevenson’s sneer had her slamming her hand down against the table. Her She-Wolf helped her out and the move had the table, a solid piece of wood, jolting forward a few inches—Caelus, sometimes, when she and her beast were in total agreement, it was like flying.
The three men seated behind the desk, and the Alpha now standing to the left of it, jerked in surprise.
“You think you’d have learned not to bad mouth Gammas in my presence.” She shot Stevenson a glare. “You’re too stupid to rule.”
“I’ve been the Alpha of this pack for…”
“Far too long,” she interrupted with a hiss. Then, to Rafe, she grumbled, “What’s wrong with him?”
Rafe just shrugged. “I don’t know. Not without examining him.”
“He hasn’t come to you for help?”
“No. I’m not very busy. Most prefer to heal themselves.”
“Well, if that’s what you’re doing, Haraldsson, it isn’t working.” She curled her top lip. “You’re also too weak to rule.”
“I challenged and defeated Dafydd,” the other male said on a low growl.
“That just tells me Dafydd was weaker t
han you and definitely had no place in this meeting.” Thalia snorted at the man’s defense. She screwed up her nose. “Truly, what’s wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he stated on a low snarl.
“Bull. Shit.” She tried to pull in his scent, but the fear was back again, and it clouded everything. “You’re fortunate that someone is shit scared of me and I can’t scent exactly why you’re ill.” Her lips curved. “Funny. In a room of Alphas, the Beta and Gamma are the only ones who aren’t pissing themselves in my presence.”
Rafe and Mikkel’s laughs had her grinning, and she shot them a quick look, and saw all was well with her males.
Mikkel was leaning against the door. He hadn’t moved from the entryway. His arms were folded against his chest and he looked completely at ease—she guessed, considering what he was used to doing, this was a walk in the park.
Rafe looked a little shifty, nervous, she supposed from being around males who’d belittled him all his life. On top of that, his new position as her mate meant he outranked the lot of them—for a man like her mate, she knew that was a lot to come to terms with.
He was standing straight, but his shoulders were slumped a little as he pressed back into the wall. In his suit, something Kinnock wished he could afford, he looked like sex and sin personified.
Concentrate.
The word was growled into her head, and she felt the rumble of her mate’s voice throughout her system. Her She-Wolf was close to purring as she chided him, Can I help that you look delicious?
Rafe cleared his throat, and the actual sound had her smirking at him before returning her attention to the Alphas in the room.
“Do you know what I find interesting?”
When no one replied, she cocked a brow. “Well, is no one going to ask me?”
Jacobs coughed. “What’s interesting, Triskele?”
Nodding in satisfaction, she murmured, “Raphael is the only one here who’s made something of himself. Kinnock, your suit looks like it’s from a Macklemore video. Haraldsson, you look like you’re best friends with a bunch of heroin addicts, and Jacobs, well, you’re the cleanest of the lot of them, but you dress like you’re a farmer.”
Though the others gritted their teeth in irritation, Jacobs’s lips curved. “That’s because I am, Triskele.”
She looked at Rafe who nodded. “His family owns a profitable farm near Lady Bird Lake.”
Though she processed that, she turned to look at Stevenson. “And what about you, Alpha?” she asked, her voice a sneer on his title.
The older man narrowed his eyes. “You just said it yourself. I’m Alpha.”
“So? Does that meant you can’t have other concerns? You look like you could use them.” His flannel shirt and boots were beyond well worn.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” he snarled.
“Can they? I thought in Texas you wore those suits with the lariat ties?” She pouted in disappointment. “Yet, to a meeting that I have to assume revolves around the discussion of who’s to become the next Alpha of this pack, you’re all looking very shoddy.” When nobody said anything, she merely smiled and looked deeply into the eyes of each male in front of the desk as she finally settled herself in Stevenson’s chair.
That being said, however, she didn’t bother with Stevenson anymore. He was done. Washed out.
She clicked her fingers at Haraldsson. “What’s wrong with you?” she repeated.
“Noth—”
Though she’d only ever half-shifted in situations where the beast discerned she was in danger, in this, establishing control was as imperative to Thalia’s future as her safety.
As one, every single male—her mates included—jolted when a huge paw snapped into place. She jerked forward, pouncing and grabbing a hold of Haraldsson’s shirt. Dragging him out of his seat, she hauled him upright. Still leaning over the desk, she growled, “Don’t lie to me.”
Haraldsson’s eyes were wide with bewilderment. He stared down at the huge paw that should have been a hand.
The fingers were long and gnarled, covered in thick hairs that were untamed and knotted. The nails had morphed into ragged claws, and the wrist had turned thick with corded muscle. The huge appendage blended into her forearm, the fur cutting off and turning back to the regular light blonde dusting her elbow that coated her body.
The claws didn’t pop out of nowhere, settling on her skin like Mickey Mouse’s gloved hands. No, they merged into her body, and became as one with her arm.
When he seemed incapable of switching focus, she let out a snarl that had everyone jolting once more.
Haraldsson’s hand came out to tug at his shirt, but her hold was resolute. “What. Is. Wrong. With. You?”
“H-Heroin,” he stuttered, his gaze flickering to hers, and he let out a sharp gasp, making her realize her eyes had shifted too.
Funny that she hadn’t noticed herself. But now she thought about it, the world had started to make far more sense thanks to the extra information her senses were feeding her.
Stevenson and Kinnock were the ones bleeding fear, she realized. And Haraldsson did indeed stink of the taint of drugs.
“And you think you can reign over a pack in your state?” She jerked him forward then pushed him back so hard he fell back in his seat. The momentum had the chair swinging back, tumbling down, and taking him with it. Her paw landed on the desk, and though it was mean, she let her claws drag down the wood. Scoring it with her marks until she let the half-shift go and her fingers reverted to normal.
When she gazed at Kinnock and Jacobs, she knew who deserved to be Alpha. Clicking her fingers at Jacobs, whose gaze was loaded with admiration not fear like Kinnock, she murmured, “You’re to be the Alpha here.”
“Now, see here!” Stevenson spluttered, making Thalia slice her head to the side to glare at him.
“You will challenge Stevenson, you will win, you will not kill him, you will show mercy. Do you understand me?” she demanded from Jacobs, her eyes on the current Pack Alpha as she declared her wishes.
Jacobs’s eyes were wide. “I do, Triskele.”
“What are you going to do about the situation with the Betas who were running around with Torres?”
“Boys will be boys, dammit,” Stevenson blurted out. “You can’t expect to punish them for what Torr—”
“I can and do expect that. And boys won’t just be boys, not on my watch.” She curled her top lip at him. “That’s why I’m not going to stand by and let you remain as Alpha. You’re the kind of dick who thinks a woman asks to be raped because her skirt’s above her goddamn knee.
“You’re weak-minded and short-sighted. Rafe is a healer, they’re rare in our packs. Did you offer him protection from the bastards beating him? No. You didn’t. I take that as a personal affront because he’s my mate, but I also find it disgusting because that kind of myopic behavior kills a pack from the inside out.
“How many other people have you underestimated? How many Lykens have you browbeaten into a submission that wasn’t yours to demand?”
“Gammas are Gammas,” Kinnock retorted, anger at being overlooked making his fingers curl into the armrest of his club chair. The pleather looked set to crack under the pressure from his fingertips
“Rafe isn’t Gamma.”
“He’s done a good impression of it all his fucking life then,” Kinnock snapped. “We were in school together. He’s always scented lesser.”
Thalia barked out a laugh. “Another reason why you shouldn’t be Alpha.” She shot all her focus on Jacobs. “Tell me what you’re going to do to rectify these imbalances in your Pack.”
Haraldsson, who’d scampered onto his knees the minute he’d fallen backward, declared, “I have a solution. If I were Alpha, I’d…”
“What? So you think I should let you be Alpha because you have a way to broach this matter?” She chuckled. “Alphas can learn. That’s one thing the old ones seem to forget. An old dog can learn new tricks. If the i
ncentive is right.”
Stevenson cleared his throat. “I’m certain of it. If we’re given the opportunity.”
Thalia’s glance was sly. “Oh? And how would you make up for the years of abuse my mate has suffered because you weren’t dutiful in your role?”
Stevenson cut Rafe a look, and his jaw firmed, the muscles bunching as he gritted out, “I can only apologize…”
“Apologize? Do you honestly think that makes up for the years of trauma Rafe as well as the countless dozens who suffered at Torres’s and his ilk’s hands?”
“No, of course not,” Stevenson grated out. “But it’s a start, isn’t it? We have to begin somewhere.”
Thalia smiled. “Indeed. And that’s why I’m going to let you live. Because I am kind and I am benevolent, when I should be as cold and as cruel as you were during your reign.” She smirked. “Be grateful that I’m not like you, because when Jacobs does challenge you and he wins, he will let you come out of it in one battered piece.” She stared stonily at Jacobs. “Won’t you?”
The younger male nodded. “Of course, Triskele. If that’s what you want.”
Slowly, she sank into Stevenson’s seat, then placing her hands around the black plastic armrests, she murmured, “You can leave now.” Her gaze was totally on Jacobs, the rest of the room fading out of her awareness.
When nobody moved, on the same frequency Rafe had opened earlier, she told him, Get them out of here. Both of you stay though.
Rafe cleared his throat. “Kinnock, Stevenson, Haraldsson, it’s time for you to go.”
“This is my goddamn office,” Stevenson roared.
“If you think I’m obeying a Gamma…” Kinnock started, then jolted in place when Thalia leaped forward once again, and this time, both hands shifted as she grabbed Kinnock around the throat. He cried out in pain as her claws tore at his skin. “You finish that sentence. I fucking dare you!” The She-Wolf was incensed, so outraged at that moment she wanted out.
Thalia barely held on to her. Barely maintained control of herself. It only worsened when blood pricked from the wounds she’d caused, and the She-Wolf, scenting weakness, wanted to bathe in her enemy and the enemy of her mate’s blood.
Triskele (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 2) Page 9