by Sky Winters
“Yes, tiger, to the hospital,” she replied softly.
“Okay, princess. Let’s go,” he said, scooping her up and carrying her out to the car as if she was an invalid even as she protested.
“You forgot my suitcase,” she said as he jumped behind the wheel.
“Right!” he said excitedly. “Don’t move!”
“Where am I going to go?” She laughed as he ran back into the house and emerged a few moments later with the bag she had packed for her visit to the hospital.
“Okay. Let’s go!” he said enthusiastically.
At 4:10 p.m. that afternoon, two seemingly normal boys were born to Mr. and Mrs. Matt Helford. The history books would not know their names, but they would be legends among a certain segment of the population that knew them to be great leaders. Their parents would be known as pioneers in the push to protect tigers around the world and long after they were gone, their name would be carried throughout forests and along river beds where it was revered as the mark of a friend and savior.
THE END
MPREG: Howl of the Omega
Howl of the Omega
Chapter 1
Brock Stewart slung his guitar over his broad shoulder and took a sip of water before giving a cold nod to his modest audience. Most of them were bikers like himself; men with dark, troubled pasts and unsure futures. But no matter where they were from, they all knew Brock.
“Think fast, fucker!” a deep, nasal voice said from behind him.
Suddenly Brock was hurled against the wall, his cheek swelling with the power of the unexpected blow.
“Watch the guitar, man!” Brock snarled, turning to face his opponent, his fists clenched but trembling with the effort to maintain his self-control. He wouldn’t unleash his full power. Not until he knew what this was about.
“Fuck the guitar!” the man spat. He was shorter than Brock. Squat, with squinty eyes. Even without knowing him, Brock would have guessed the guy to be the type to sucker punch. “You guys owe me!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Brock asked, gently lowering his guitar to the ground. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a gentle confrontation.
“Your worthless brother bought a gram of heroin on credit from me before he overdosed! I’ve been counting on that fuckin’ money!”
Anguish and rage filled Brock from the inside out, and he was immediately blinded by his temper. Still, nothing managed to fill the void left by his brother’s brief life as his fists connected again and again with the man’s flesh, and he had to force himself to stop. If they had been outside alone somewhere it would have been a different story, but he wanted to stay on good terms with the owners of the venue.
Brock stood up straight and stretched before picking his guitar gingerly from the ground. The man lay in a bloody heap, sputtering, and the audience was cheering Brock’s name. No self-respecting biker was tolerant of sucker punches.
Brock glared down at the man, debating whether or not to finish him off. But the cold fact remained, his brother had been a junkie in his final year, and if the man wanted payment for the substance that had done him in, Brock would give it to him.
“What did Jason owe you?” Brock asked down to the man with as patient a look as he could muster painted on his face.
“N-never mind man. We’ll just call it square.”
“No, no. You’re right. You’re owed money,” Brock said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. His heart lurched in pain when he caught a glance of his brother’s face from the picture he kept inside. “How’s a hundred for you?”
The man gagged as Brock stuffed a wad of bills into his mouth, soaking the money with blood. If the bastard choked to death right on the stage, Brock wouldn’t care. He had called his brother worthless.
Soon, a group of men were on the stage, kicking the man in his ribs. Brock took it as his cue to leave. It was out of his hands at this point, and he trusted his fans to take care of the rest. Especially the other wolf shifters. They knew a thing or two about loyalty.
“Thank you and good night,” Brock said. He bowed sardonically before he left the stage, leaving the sounds of the fight behind him.
Chapter 2
Owen McNeil furrowed his eyebrows as he rode his motorcycle past the pub where his brother Drake was howling with laughter. Drake had found a new patsy; a young man from the next town over who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Drake was in the process of getting him high for the third time, what he called a “future investment”. Drake was counting on the boy to get hooked so that he would have another steady supply of money coming in.
Owen’s stomach turned and he sped up, eager to put as much distance between himself and his older brother as possible. He was late for work as it was, but had stupidly been lured to the bar by Drake, who had claimed it was an emergency and Owen had to come right away. Worried that something had happened to one of his brothers, a fight between wolf packs gone wrong as happened sometimes, Owen had hurried over only to discover that Drake was just eager to show off his latest victim.
When had Owen ever given Drake the idea that he was interested in his disgusting exploits? Owen knew it made Drake feel powerful to have so much control over someone’s life, and the big bully thought it was hilarious that he could use his seedy charisma to charm almost anyone into making the biggest mistake of their lives. Drake was the biggest drug pusher in Montana, and although he almost never did drugs himself, he loved getting other people to do them.
To Drake, it was nothing but business, and people who wanted an escape badly enough could come to him for it. He justified it to himself by saying that if he didn’t make the money, somebody else would. He even had the audacity to claim that he was helping people by getting them the high-quality stuff they wouldn’t get anywhere else. There were plenty of dealers out there. Drake just happened to be the best.
But Owen knew that was because nobody else would be quite as dubious as his big brother. Drake went out of his way to get to people, and had big plans for when he finally took over the pack. It wouldn’t be official until he managed to mate with an omega female, but as of so far, the women in the area had their heads on straight. Most of them wouldn’t give Drake the time of day, though every once in a while, there was a woman who couldn’t seem to resist Drake’s sinister charm.
Fortunately, none of those unions had resulted in a pregnancy, so everything was still up in the air.
“You’re late,” Johnson growled at Owen when he jogged through the door. Owen cringed. He was an omega himself, and most people didn’t take him very seriously.
“Sorry, boss,” he said, lowering his eyes to the floor as he tied his apron on.
“Get to work,” Johnson said, handing Owen a heavy meat cleaver. “We’ve lost time. Need this done by midnight so we can get out of here.”
Owen nodded, and wished for the thousandth time that he could have found a job better than a butcher’s shop. Unfortunately, everybody knew his family’s reputation, so getting honest work was a really difficult task. Johnson was the only one who had been willing to take a risk on him, so Owen worked his hardest every day to try to earn his trust. But the one thing Johnson didn’t tolerate was lateness. It always put him in a foul mood.
“Have some paperwork to do,” Johnson grunted, pulling his gloves off. “You’d better hustle.”
Owen sighed. So he was going to be working on his own to meet the quota. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 3
“Rough night, huh?” Brock’s oldest brother Hazel said, raising an eyebrow at his swollen cheek.
“What makes you say that?” Brock grumbled, sucking down the rest of his beer. He had been back at the tavern his family owned for about 15 minutes and had already gone through three of them.
“Something happen at your gig?” Hazel asked.
Brock glanced at his brother, cringing at the strong family resemblance they all shared. Hazel looked just like
Jason, the youngest in the pack. All of them had the same dark, brooding eyes and chestnut colored hair. They had been a big litter, each of the boys favoring their father, who had been the alpha of the area for decades. But ever since he had fallen ill, it had been up in the air about who was going to take over the pack. But those things tended to sort themselves out when the time came.
“Someone Jason owed money to showed up,” Brock said, pounding on the bar to demand another drink. Eddie, second oldest of the brothers, pursed his lips tolerantly and pushed another beer to Brock.
“Might want to slow down a bit, man,” Eddie said. He was the most gentle of them all, so Brock immediately regretted it when he growled for Eddie to fuck off.
Fortunately, Eddie shrugged it off and went back to wiping the bar.
“Listen to this!” Darren, the youngest left living of the brothers exclaimed, waving a newspaper in the air. “They’re talking about tearing down the old pub that Pap built!”
“What?” Hazel growled, fury flashing in his eyes. Their grandfather was Hazel’s idol. “Who’s thinking about that?”
“Says so right here,” Darren said, pointing to the article he was reading. “Town committee thinks it looks too shabby and they’re considering selling it to some developer from Idaho.”
“Fuck that!” Hazel cried, tearing the paper from Darren’s hand and laying it flat on the bar for inspection. “They wouldn’t have any say in it if that was still family land. Damn bankers. We don’t need any jackass from Idaho sticking their noses in our town. Montana is ours!”
The brothers all chorused in agreement.
“We have to work harder on the plan,” Hazel continued. “Before any other interloper drops by and thinks they have a stake in what happens here.”
“We’re doing the best we can,” Eddie reminded him.
“No, we have to work harder. Come on Brock, you’re spending too much time at these gigs. You could be helping us clean this place up.”
Brock grunted. What his brothers didn’t know was that he had a mission of his own. When they thought he was out playing gigs, half the time he was prowling the roads, searching for information on Drake McNeil.
Drake was the scumbag who had gotten their youngest brother hooked on heroin, and Brock couldn’t see any reason to clean up the town when people like Drake were just a howl away. With him in the picture, it would always be filthy. Brock had made it his own, secret mission to avenge his brother and rid Montana of Drake and his pack once and for all. His brothers’ preoccupation with maintaining their pack’s grip on the town didn’t hold the same sense of urgency as he felt about getting rid of McNeil and his good for nothing brothers.
The others were content to let bygones be bygones. As far as Brock’s brothers were concerned, Jason had made his choice and suffered the consequences. But Brock knew the kind of underhanded tactics that Drake used to get people hooked on the foul substance, and he wasn’t going to be quite so forgiving. If that meant letting the town crumble around him, then so be it.
His brothers dissolved into serious chatter about the town and Brock stood, retreating to the doorway that led to the huge house their father had built connected to the bar. He showered, brainstorming about ways he could get back at Drake McNeil. He wanted to make the scumbag’s life hell before he took him on. Even if he died trying to get revenge, he wouldn’t care. Living life the way he was felt like he might as well have died with Jason.
Jason and Brock had always been the closest of any of the brothers, and Brock had done everything he could to get Jay clean. But it was too late. Drake had been too thorough, too persistent. There hadn’t been a chance for Jason to make it. If only Drake could know the pain of seeing one of his brothers suffer the way Brock had seen Jason suffer. He hadn’t been himself at all toward the end. It had been like living a nightmare.
Brock grinned suddenly as inspiration struck him. That was what he could do! If he could fuck with one of Drake’s brothers the way that Drake had messed with Jason, maybe he would get a small taste of what he had put Brock and the rest of their pack through. It would be the perfect revenge, and the dirt bag would surely suffer before Brock put him out of his misery.
But it wasn’t just about seeing Drake suffer, though that would be the icing on the cake. There were other boys out there like Jason. Young and impressionable guys who wouldn’t have the willpower to resist the underhanded tactics of an experienced drug pusher. Brock would do whatever it took to protect the rest of the innocent people of Montana from the likes of Drake. But he would have his own fun first.
Chapter 4
“Owen, stop checking yourself out and get over here,” Kirk growled.
Owen sighed as he sat down the washcloth he was using to clean up after a long night of chopping up bloody animals, knowing it was no use to correct his brother. They were always picking on him, and didn’t seem to be happy unless they were in control of something. Owen had learned fast that it didn’t do him any favors to strike back against his brothers. They would gang up on him without hesitation. What had he ever done to deserve that kind of treatment?
But he knew it had less to do with him than it had to do with their pack. His parents had run with a pretty tough crowd, and their father was very encouraging of his more brutish sons. Owen, on the other hand, was a bit of an outcast considering he was an omega and his brothers outranked him in the pack. Sure, his gifts were just as essential to the betterment of the pack as a whole, but nobody seemed to light a candle compared to his brothers in his father’s eyes. Especially Drake, the biggest asshole of them all.
“What do you want?” Owen asked, stepping into the living room of their parent’s house. Most of them had chosen to live there communally after their parents had died, but Owen was just visiting. He couldn’t stand his brothers and their ways, but the old homestead was close enough to where he worked that he could clean up a little bit before he stepped into his little apartment. Besides, it was nice to be back in the house. It helped him feel closer to his mother, who had been his only ally growing up.
Kirk sneered. “No need to be sassy. I want you to tell Alan that he’s a pansy for not hooking up with that blonde girl when he had the chance.”
“Why would I do that?” Owen asked. “Any woman that would date you guys has to have a screw loose. The last thing we need is some psycho running around here making our lives more difficult.”
Kirk pursed his lips good naturedly. “Why you gotta go and hurt my feelings?”
Owen shook his head and turned his back on his brothers, who hadn’t really wanted his opinion at all. They just wanted to make him stop whatever he was doing and pay attention to them, as usual. He couldn’t stand how controlling they were. It’s why he had chosen to move out of the house he grew up in and do everything he could to make it on his own.
Living by himself was a unique challenge, and the struggles he faced on a daily basis were almost enough to make him give up on the world. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was unbelievably nice to have so much freedom. Without the weight of his brothers there, constantly nagging him and trying to make him feel like hell about himself, he was almost happy. Even if it meant he had to work the night shift at a butcher shop and the day shift at the supermarket with the blonde girl his brothers kept talking about.
Owen peeled his dirty clothes off and finished washing, tossing them in a bag before he left the house. It felt so lively there. Even though he couldn’t stand his brothers, he always felt a little bit sad to leave. His own apartment was so tiny and quiet. He wished more than anything that he could find some sort of compromise. A family, but one that wouldn’t try his patience on a minute by minute basis.
“Bye, Ma,” he whispered in the direction of her grave.
None of his brothers acknowledged his comings and goings. They took for granted that he was there at all, so he didn’t bother to say bye to anybody before he climbed into his little car. He had traded his bike in for it to help him
move his things to his new apartment, but frankly his bike had been in far better shape. The deal was a rip-off, but for some reason he had trusted the guy Drake brought by when he asked if he knew anyone who would be interested. The fuckers probably still laughed about what a sucker he was. Was it so wrong to try to have faith in people?
Once Owen got onto the highway, his skin began to prickle suddenly. Something wasn’t right. Whether he was an alpha or not, he was still a wolf shifter and he could sense danger from a mile away. But what could be so bad out on the open road?
He studied his rearview mirror and noticed a single headlight following behind him. A motorcycle. He squinted into the mirror to see if he could tell who was riding it, but they were too far away. What he did know was that it was another wolf shifter, and he wasn’t from Owen’s territory.
Owen put the pedal to the metal, but it barely made a dent in his speed. The car was a lemon, and he had to make do with it whether he liked it or not. The bike behind him was a nice one, and before long the man was riding in the lane beside him, eyes boring through his dark sunglasses and into Owen’s window. For some reason beyond his own comprehension, Owen smiled at the man. He was handsome.
It seemed to throw the stranger off, and he revved his engine and sped off, leaving Owen behind him.
Chapter 5
Brock gripped the handlebars of his bike and dared himself to look back at the car, where the young man who was unmistakably related to Drake McNeil was probably still staring at him. The man and Drake had similar features, but Drake’s younger brother was much more attractive. His eyes were soft and his smile lit up his face like a torchlight. It had been disarming.
But he had heard a lot of stories about the McNeils, and he wasn’t about to be swayed by the vicious charisma that caused so many to succumb to the power of addiction. In fact, it just fueled his fire and brought his temper dangerously close to the breaking point. His thirst for revenge was more powerful than it had ever been before. And the best part about it was that he knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to beat the McNeils at their own game. Brock Stewart was going to out-charm them all.