Her Alphas

by Gabrielle Holly

  Every evening after she was hauled down to the cell, Jenny had furtively popped a couple of the tranqs, then stuffed the pill bottle under the cot mattress. Even though the dosage was meant for an animal five times her size, the effects didn’t last long. But it was enough to take the edge off and win her a free pass from the fledgling cave. It had been hard not to laugh when Gwen commented on the “remarkable” change.

  Stupid cow.

  On the night before the next moon week, Jenny had been initiated into the pack. She could still picture the pathetic look on Gwen’s face when she got left behind. It was official wolf business, and Chaney wasn’t a wolf. Jenny had pretended to feel sorry for her, but it was fucking awesome to see Miss High and Mighty Human Consort knocked down a peg.

  * * * * *

  Two Months Earlier

  On the evening of Jenny’s induction ceremony, she sat on the wide windowsill and admired Sergei as he stood naked in front of the open closet across the bedroom. She swept her gaze over his long lean legs, tight ass and broad back.

  When he turned slightly and reached into the back of the closet, she got a clear view of the tattoo on his right upper arm. It was a triangle with spiral in the middle—the mark of the werewolf. Everyone in the pack had identical ink. The males wore theirs on the right arm and the females on the left.

  Jenny used to have a butterfly tattooed on the small of her back, but it had disappeared by her second moon week, along with her appendectomy scar. Her pierced ears had filled in too. Alex said all trauma that had occurred to the body while in human form was healed once a person was turned.

  Jenny had been plenty stoned when she’d gotten the butterfly at a hole-in-the-wall parlor in San Francisco, but it had still hurt like hell. She wondered what kind of place did the pack’s ink.

  Sergei turned and set a vinyl garment bag on the bed. He caught her checking him out. He didn’t respond when she winked at him. Jenny was just as nervous as he seemed to be—probably more—but still got turned on every time she saw that huge cock.

  He pulled down the bag’s zipper, drew out a floor-length, black hooded robe, and slid one arm, then the other, into the long sleeves of the open-front garment. A single large black button was positioned high on the left shoulder and when he drew up the right panel, he was covered from neck to ankles.

  “Do I get one of those?” she asked, watching his big fingers fumble with the closure.

  “Soon,” he said.

  “Well what am I supposed to wear? Is this a formal thing or what?”

  “It does not matter what you wear,” he muttered.

  Sergei had been acting strangely for days. He’d seemed anxious and edgy and had refused to tell her anything about the ceremony. His secrecy and odd behavior were getting on her nerves. All she knew for certain was that the pack shaman, Jeremiah Morgan, would officiate.

  She wished she could read thoughts like the other werewolves could. Sergei had tried to send her messages, but she just couldn’t get it. He’d also tried to probe inside her mind and had accused her of shielding, but she wouldn’t know how even if she wanted to.

  With no direction from her mate—verbal or otherwise—Jenny had settled on jeans and a T-shirt. Sergei had bare feet, so she hadn’t bothered with shoes for herself.

  They had left the farm at dusk and hiked through the woods on a series of narrow, winding paths. As they walked, Sergei had reminded Jenny how to behave in front of Jeremiah and told her what he knew about the pack’s spiritual leader.

  He had said that though Jeremiah Morgan looked like he was around fifty years old, he was more like six or seven times that. Morgan had been born in Wales where his mother was a healer. He’d grown up with an education that couldn’t be found in books. About the time Mother Morgan had been tried—and executed—for witchcraft, Jeremiah had been turned. He’d knocked around the Welsh countryside for a while, trying to get a handle on his new powers before moving to London. It took another couple of decades for him to find a sea captain and crew made up of his own kind that could make the long voyage across the Atlantic with the provisions necessary to weather the full moon.

  Jeremiah spent the next few years in an enclave in the Catskill Mountains. The pack was facing a dilemma. They had not one, but two legacy consorts—identical twin brothers who were both heirs apparent to the role. Jeremiah solved the problem by offering to take the second-born, Mathias Chaney, with him to settle a new pack in the west. Setting out on horseback, Jeremiah and Mathias rounded the tip of Lake Michigan then headed north. They had traveled until an early fall blizzard stranded them in a wild region among the pines. Jeremiah named the town Talbot—after a favorite uncle—then built a log cabin and staked claim to the five thousand acres surrounding it. The following spring, the men built a cabin for Mathias and the two waited for the werewolves they knew would eventually come.

  Jenny hadn’t done well in school, but as they neared the shaman’s cabin the night of her induction, she got chills thinking about how the dwelling was older than the United States. She would have thought a werewolf as old and powerful as Jeremiah would have torn down this old place and built something more modern, but it was as if she’d stepped into one of those old pioneer towns she’d seen in movies.

  Sergei and Jenny walked into the cabin without knocking and found Jeremiah sitting at the table wearing a white ceremonial robe and smoking a foot-long pipe. It was just one big room without electricity or running water. She couldn’t believe he’d chosen to live this way for hundreds of years.

  Sergei made a little bow and when he squeezed Jenny’s hand, she did the same. “Shaman, I have brought you the fledgling. She is also my mate.”

  The man blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, then turned his pipe bowl upside down in the ashtray and stood. Jenny was used to men checking her out, but the way Jeremiah studied her was unnerving. As soon as he approached, Sergei stepped aside.

  Jeremiah made a complete circuit around Jenny, and even when he was behind her, she could feel the heat of his gaze. “Nice, Sergei. Very nice. She smells wonderful…wild.”

  “Thank you, Shaman,” Sergei said.

  Jenny could hear the strain in her mate’s voice.

  Once he was standing directly in front of Jenny, Jeremiah bent at the waist and touched his nose to her crotch. He sniffed loudly. “She’s willing too. It should make for an interesting ceremony.”

  Jenny expected Sergei to slap the perverted old fuck across the room. Instead the big Russian just muttered another weak thanks. The shaman’s inspection humiliated Jenny—and Sergei’s deference to it disgusted her. And yet the whole revolting scene turned her on. Her body thrummed with sexual energy and it was all she could do not to reach into her jeans and rub herself.

  A gush of wetness flowed out of her and she could smell her own musk. She was certain the men could smell it too and was glad for it. Deep in her core a primal feeling built. A tug of instinct made her want to wheel around and present her ass to them to invite a sound fucking.

  Jeremiah threw back his head and laughed. “Oh yes, friend, your little mate is wet and ready. I suggest we take her below and start the ceremony before the mood passes.”

  The shaman turned and walked toward the big potbelly stove in the corner of the cabin. Jenny could see that the braided rug had been pushed aside to reveal a hatch in the floor. He glanced at Jenny. “As you were made, fledgling.”

  Though she didn’t entirely understand his words, the meaning was clear. Jenny stripped naked and dropped her clothes in a pile at her feet. Jeremiah yanked on the iron ring inset in the hatch and hefted it open. He nodded at Sergei, and once her mate had descended the stairs, Jeremiah looped his wiry arm around Jenny’s waist and tugged her close. He laid his nose against the side of her neck and breathed deeply before moving his lips to her ear. “I can read your intent, fledgling,” he hissed. “Just be certain you know the risks before you seek your reward.”

  The chamber below the cabin glowed with the
light of countless candles and long shadows danced across the rough stone walls. Jenny realized that the Jeremiah’s home was built over an underground cave. At the far end of the chamber was the mouth of a tunnel and Jenny guessed that was how the guests had arrived. The entire pack—two dozen or more—was assembled in the huge room—all dressed in long, black robes like Sergei’s. Everyone, that is, except Alex. His robe was deep red and he wore a thick gold chain around his neck with an amulet in the shape of the werewolf symbol hanging nearly to his waist.

  None of the others wore jewelry. Jenny had met many of them, but some of the faces were unfamiliar. Her body thrummed with anticipation and she lifted her chin to sniff the air. There were only werewolves here and every one of them was wired with sexual energy. Fear and excitement bombarded Jenny’s mind and she was afraid she would faint from the power of it.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced around the sparsely furnished space. At its peak, the domed chamber was at least twelve feet tall. The stone floors had been leveled and polished smooth. At the center of the room—atop a low stage—was a padded table with adjustable leg rests and stirrups. Jenny could only guess at its purpose but felt certain that she would be sprawled out on it before the night was through.

  The hiss of whispers echoed through the space and the pack members quickly formed a circle around the platform.

  “Let’s begin,” Jeremiah said quietly as he scooped up Jenny’s hand and led her to the center of the group.

  Jeremiah let go of Jenny’s hand and took a few long strides backward. A crackling surge of excitement raced up Jenny’s spine.

  “Show yourself to your pack, fledgling,” Jeremiah directed.

  Gracefully raising her arms above her head, Jenny slowly rotated. All eyes were upon her and the feeling was exhilarating. Sergei towered above the others and when she met his gaze, he gave her a slight nod of encouragement.

  When she’d completed the circuit, two men emerged from the group carrying a huge wooden armchair between them. They set it near Jenny and quickly retreated. When she looked to Jeremiah for direction, he gestured for her to sit. The men who had carried out the chair returned with a gleaming copper vessel on a low wooden stand and positioned it to Jenny’s left. The bowl was filled with black liquid.

  Jeremiah joined Jenny and extracted a short knife from a drawer in the stand. He used the tip of the blade to prick his index finger and squeezed a drop of blood into the bowl. Each member of the pack stepped forward in turn and did the same.

  Alex was the last to add his blood to the mix and when he was done, he passed the knife to Jeremiah, who licked the blade clean and placed it back in the drawer. Two chairs were brought out and arranged opposite Jenny. The alpha and the shaman took their seats. Jenny glanced nervously around the chamber, not sure what she was supposed to do next. She was about to ask for instructions when the group parted to let a tall, broad man pass.

  She recognized Tiny Wainwright from the motorcycle shop where all the pack member’s got their bikes serviced. He carried a short stool in one hand and a small box in the other. He set the box on the ground beside the bowl-stand and flipped open the lid. While he settled on the stool beside her, Jenny peered into the box and saw a tool with a wooden handle, slightly longer than a pencil, and a toothed metal blade on the end. Next to it was a small wooden hammer.

  Tiny reached out and positioned Jenny’s forearm on the chair, then gave it a squeeze, as if to indicate that she was not to move. He grasped her upper arm with both hands, stretched the skin tight with his thumbs then cocked his head from side to side as if planning his next move. About the time he let go and reached for his instruments, Jenny realized that she wouldn’t be getting her tattoo in a modern parlor.

  Jenny’s stomach lurched at the thought of him pounding the ink and blood mixture into her flesh. Mercifully, he didn’t give her time to worry about it. He dipped the metal tip into the pot, laid the blade against her skin, then quickly tapped out the upper line of the triangle. The pain was intense and wonderful. It hurt like hell—ten times more than getting the butterfly with a modern tattoo machine had—but the sensation was incredibly erotic.

  Every time the little hammer came down, it sent shockwaves across her body. The pleasure-pain settled in her breasts and pussy and she let the sensations roll over her. By the time Tiny had completed the triangle, her nipples were rock hard and the chair was slick with her juices. As he filled in the spiral, she moaned and squirmed in her seat, and fought the urge to finger herself.

  When he was done, Tiny collected his gear and disappeared back into the crowd. Jenny was left primed and panting. Her upper arm felt as if it were on fire and she glanced down to admire her new tat. It wasn’t the swollen, bloody mess she’d expected it to be. It looked perfect, as if it had always been a part of her.

  Alex and Jeremiah stood, took Jenny by the hands and led her across the stage to the padded table. Alex leaned in and whispered, “You can stop any time you want to, Jenny.”

  Jeremiah chuckled. “Yes, but you won’t want to.”

  The pack females were outnumbered two to one. The eight of them gathered around Jenny and made sure she was comfortable, arranging her hair above her head and adjusting the backrest until she was reclined at a forty-five-degree angle.

  Violet—a sinewy redhead with a taste for biker leather—positioned herself at the end of the table. She smoothed her long fingers down the inside of Jenny’s legs from thighs to instep, then settled the fledgling’s heels into the stirrups and buckled thick leather straps around her ankles. The woman’s eyes flashed as she smoothly pushed open Jenny’s knees.

  The others guided Jenny’s hands into the loops fastened to the sides of the table. One leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Hold on to these so you don’t accidentally reach out and touch one of the celebrants.”

  Fear and anticipation gathered in Jenny’s belly as the women arranged her for display. Lying there spread-eagle, naked and exposed, turned her on. Everyone was looking at her and she was sure they all wanted her.

  “Any time you want to stop, just say so,” another woman whispered. “But believe me, you won’t want to. This is your special moment and if you surrender to it, it’s the best thing ever.”

  The other females nodded and murmured their agreement, then began massaging Jenny’s skin with warm oil. At first, they concentrated on her arms and legs, but soon moved to her breasts and pussy. They took turns gently pinching her nipples and slowly fingering her wet sex. The first orgasm built gradually and at its peak, Jenny twisted the hand straps, arched her back and shamelessly moaned out her pleasure.

  The women petted her body, then gave her a cool drink of water, letting her come down from the high while Jeremiah spoke. “This fledgling comes to us seeking inclusion in the pack. She has endured her trials in the sacred cave and she has been marked with the sign of the werewolf.

  “The blood of each of us has been mingled with her own, and now she will open herself to every male as a gesture of sacrificing her oneness to the good of the pack. Just as each male among you entered each female on his induction night, so will each of you enter this new werewolf.”

  In unison, the males of the pack—except for Jeremiah and Alex—pulled up their hoods, obscuring their identity. Jenny’s eyes widened. For an instant she considered calling the shaman a sexist prick, but the thought of all those anonymous cocks pushing into her, one after the other, was so hot, she held her tongue.

  “This female has been promised to Sergei Markov,” Jeremiah continued. “Only her mate, the alpha, and I will be allowed to fill her with our seed. For the other males, this is a ceremonial gesture. You will enter her once and then retreat.”

  The shaman’s tone was formal, but his words stoked the fire between Jenny’s thighs.

  Crowding four on each side of the table, the females poured more oil on Jenny’s tingling body, and stroked her as Jeremiah turned and positioned himself at the end of the table between her legs
. Jenny licked her lips when he pulled his robe open and grasped his erection. His cock curved upward and when he pushed into her, she could feel the head caress the roof of her canal.

  Jeremiah slid in and out of her, varying his pace and seeming to concentrate as much on Jenny’s pleasure as his own. She felt herself climbing and he quickened his thrusts. At the ideal moment, one of the women reached down and massaged Jenny’s clit. She came undone and bucked hard against shaman until he jerked inside her and she felt his cum seep onto the leather table.

  Alex was next and he did not meet Jenny’s gaze as entered her. When he closed his eyes and pumped away like some robot, she supposed he was thinking about that fucking human, Gwen. Alex finished quickly and stepped aside.

  Jenny lifted her head and saw the line of more than a dozen men waiting to have their turn at her. Sergei was at the end, and the thought of his enormous cock finishing her off made her forget all about Alex’s slight. She wriggled with anticipation as the next man took his position.

  Though Jeremiah had instructed that each male must only enter her once and then retreat, every one of them made his moment last. They rubbed their cock heads over her slippery opening and teased her throbbing clit before pushing slowly into her. Once inside, each one ground against her pelvis and—with the ministrations of the females—Jenny flowed from one climax to the next.

  At first Jenny looked down as each man approached and opened his robe, comparing long, thin cocks to the short, thick ones. But soon she untethered herself from rational thought, closed her eyes, and let herself float above the ceremony. She had never experienced such ecstasy. Until this moment, she hadn’t even known it was possible.