Her Alphas

by Gabrielle Holly

  Sergei fought to hide his excitement. The wolf within him writhed beneath his skin, but shifting before the ceremony was complete would be unthinkable.

  Seeing Jenny sprawled out on the altar, bound hand and foot, was almost more than he could bear. So many times he’d tried to cajole her into submitting to him and just as many times she’d violently refused.

  With three pack members in front of him, and Jenny’s body glistening with sweat and sex, Sergei was overwhelmed by pride. Their hunger for her was apparent and most nodded their approval to him as they filed away from the writhing initiate.

  He wasn’t jealous of the others touching her—even mated pairs were free to share their bodies as they saw fit. In this world, unions were rarely exclusive. Most often they were established as practical partnerships.

  Like all other werewolves, his instinct was to protect his mate. They would share food and shelter and defend each other to the death against attack. The behavior was hardwired—developed over centuries to survive on the fringes of human society.

  Sergei suspected that his other urges were less common. He longed for a mate who would defer to him, obey him in all things and allow him to lovingly punish her when he saw fit. The big Russian was ashamed of his proclivities—believing they were a weakness best left to mortals.

  He shook away his dark fantasies and focused on the black cloak of the male in front of him. The fabric swayed as he ground into Jenny. When he stepped away, Sergei swept his gaze over Jenny’s body. His cock ached as he approached her.

  The tension in the cave was palpable as each individual fought against the relentless pull of the rising moon. None would find release until Sergei had his. He stepped between Jenny’s spread legs and reached up for the button that fastened his cloak. Saliva flooded his mouth as he let the garment fall to the floor and readied to enter her.

  A familiar scent pulled Jenny back to earth. She opened her eyes and saw an impossibly tall, hooded figure standing between her quivering thighs. Though she knew it was Sergei, she still gasped when he unbuttoned his robe and let it fall to the ground. He was magnificent and he was all hers.

  A wicked smile crossed Jenny’s lips when she saw his beautiful cock poised just outside her throbbing pussy. “Can I touch him?” she asked one of the females attending her. The woman nodded and Jenny let go of the straps. Her fingers were stiff from grasping them so tightly, but she closed them around his hard shaft and guided him into her. Sergei eased her legs from the stirrups and wrapped them around his narrow waist, then slid his big hands behind her back and lifted her against his broad chest.

  Grabbing Jenny’s ass, Sergei slid her up and down on his enormous rod. She clung to his shoulders and let him impale her again and again. The crowd closed in around them and the intensity of their stares was exhilarating. It fed her lust and this time when her orgasm came, she threw back her head and bayed. An instant later, Sergei filled her with his cum and joined her call. Soon the howls of the entire pack were bouncing off the stone walls. Jenny bathed in their energy and knew she was destined to lead them.

  Chapter Four

  Present

  Sergei didn’t stop to unload the livestock trailer at his barn. Instead he drove directly to his house. The phone conversation with Alex had set Sergei on edge. Since becoming alpha, Alex had become more adept at shielding his thoughts, but his worry was clear. Sergei had his own reasons to be concerned. After hanging up with Alex, Sergei had tried to reach Jenny, but she wasn’t answering her cell either.

  The big Russian leapt onto the front porch and burst through the door. He didn’t bother calling out for Jenny. He could sense she wasn’t there. Following his nose through the house, he stopped in the kitchen. Her scent was strongest at the back door. Before he stepped outside, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit redial. Sergei wheeled around and followed the rhythmic buzzing. He found his mate’s phone on the counter under a stack of mail.

  “Dammit, Jenny,” he muttered.

  He had hoped that she would become more responsible once she’d been inducted into the pack, but it seemed she was even more willful and wild. And her mood swings were frightening. One moment she was professing her undying love for him and begging him to fuck her, and the next she was flying into a rage, coming at him as if intent on clawing out his eyes. At her worst, Jenny had a razor-sharp tongue and showed no respect for Sergei—either as her mate or a senior wolf.

  Though Alex had assured him that Jenny had done very well during her final stay in the fledgling cave, Sergei had begun to wonder if it had all been an act. Could she have figured out a way to suppress her wildness long enough to pass the human consort’s test?

  Sergei had fallen hard for the little woman the instant he laid eyes on her. She’d wandered into the enclave, newly bitten and dazed, soon after Alex had unseated Sergei as alpha. Before Jenny had spent her first night in the fledgling cave, Sergei had petitioned the new leader for her. To his credit, Alex harbored no resentment and graciously consented to the match.

  For all of her raging and tantrums, Sergei was determined to make the pairing work. He was certain that things would improve as she matured. Her physical strength had advanced faster than any other werewolf Sergei had encountered. It was her lack of self-control and her underdeveloped psychic abilities that concerned him the most.

  He had tried many times to communicate with her telepathically, but he couldn’t seem to break through to her. When he attempted to probe her thoughts, he was met with a kind of white noise. Alex thought it might have something to do with all the recreational drugs Jenny had taken and he encouraged Sergei to be patient until her brain healed itself.

  Sergei had even toyed with the idea that she was willfully blocking him. He knew it was a foolish notion, but he was desperate for answers. There were times when she seemed more animal than human. A sickening thought rose into Sergei’s consciousness. Gwen Chaney was safe among werewolves because she was protected under pack law. But the law was meaningless to one who made her own rules.

  Stuffing his cell into his jeans pocket, Sergei flung open the back door and bolted through the yard. He quickly located a fresh scent trail at the edge of the tree line and followed it into the woods.

  After finding the pile of bloody carcasses near a brush pile, Sergei bolted through the forest and was on Gwen’s porch in a matter of minutes. It was against pack policy to run full speed during the daylight, lest they attract unwanted attention, but given what he’d smelled in the clearing, he knew he’d have to risk it.

  The unique fragrances of Jenny, Gwen and the pet dogs would be clear to any werewolf. It was the more subtle scents of fear, rage, and murderous intent that made Sergei’s heart thunder in his chest.

  * * * * *

  Even with refueling stops to feed the Stingray’s whirring engine, Alex still made the three-hundred mile trip from Minneapolis to Talbot in half the usual time. An hour from home, Sergei had called to say that he was at Gwen’s cabin and she was safe and sound.

  “All is well, friend.” That’s what the big Russian had said. But it didn’t take a telepath to understand that the words were empty. The strain in Sergei’s voice was apparent and even over the hum of the motor, Alex could hear his panicked heartbeat. He’d asked Sergei to pass the phone to Gwen.

  “I’m fine, Alex,” she’d insisted. “I just had a little scare. Sergei is going to hang out with me until you get here.”

  A little scare?

  He’d have to leave it at that for now. They never discussed pack business on the phone. It was impossible to tell who might be listening. There were too many monster-hunters out there trying to prove the existence of supernaturals. Some of them even had TV series on the same network as Alex’s show.

  A thousand scenarios raced through Alex’s mind. None of them was pleasant. Something had spooked Gwen and he’d have to wait until they were face-to-face to find out if it was animal, human, or something in between.

  For all of
his concern, Alex felt oddly vindicated to learn he wasn’t just overreacting to his nightmare. Alex was great at interpreting animal behavior, but he sucked at dream analysis. He wished he could get Jeremiah on the phone. The old shaman could see the hidden omens better than anyone else. Well, almost anyone.

  The idea came to Alex like a bolt of lightning. “Call Tommy Longtree,” he instructed the wireless.

  The leader of the Cat People picked up on the third ring. “What’s up, Alex?”

  “Hey Tommy, I’m on the way back to Talbot. I’ll be passing your place in about ten minutes and I was wondering if you’d like to take a ride. I want to pick your brain about a dream I had.”

  “You don’t want to do it by phone?” Tommy asked.

  “Not this one,” Alex said. He knew he didn’t have to explain any further. Tommy’s people had the same interest in secrecy that the werewolves had.

  Tommy laughed. “Oh, got it. Yeah, I’m down at the docks doing a little fishing. I’ll start hoofing it toward the highway and meet you in ten at the County C turnoff. I’m happy to help, but, Alex…man, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what a royal fuckup my last interpretation turned out to be.”

  No, he hadn’t forgotten the last time Longtree had read a dream. The action he’d taken based on that misunderstanding had formed the basis for Alex and Gwen’s relationship.

  “See you in ten,” Alex said and ended the call.

  * * * * *

  A Year Earlier

  Alex should have known from how it began that his relationship with Gwen would never be ordinary. They’d met on a forest trail in the aftermath of a cougar attack. He’d found her and her dog, Jezebel, squaring off against the big cat. By the time Alex had arrived on the scene and scared off the cougar with a warning shot, Jezebel had almost had her furry head ripped off and Gwen had earned a sprained ankle in the bargain.

  He’d brought both of them back to the clinic, sewn up the dog’s neck and bandaged the woman’s leg. As far Gwen was concerned, Alex had saved her life and he’d let her go on believing that.

  She had just moved into the cabin her late grandfather had bequeathed to her and still had no idea that he’d left her a lot more than real estate. In the days to come, she would not only learn that werewolves existed, she’d find out that her family legacy made her next in line to serve the Moon People as their human consort.

  Alex had almost convinced himself that he hadn’t told her about the other shifters because that information was on a need-to-know basis and, at that point, she already had plenty on her plate. Deep down, he supposed he kind of liked having her think of him as her knight in shining armor.

  His connection with Gwen had been immediate and intense. He’d known from the moment she was within his range of sight and smell that he had to have her. And, if she thought the woods were full of wild animals that could harm her, all the better. Her fear would keep her safe until she understood exactly how dangerous the shadow world really was.

  The cougar that had jumped out of the underbrush and attacked her dog wasn’t like anything found in the zoo. It wasn’t even like the werewolves—not exactly. Tommy Longtree and the rest of his clan were an entirely different breed of cat. They were shifters in the true sense of the word. Werewolves merged man and beast—retaining the physical characteristics of both when they were in supernatural form. Shifters retained their human sensibilities, but in all other ways became their totem animal.

  Werewolves were made, but shifters were born. Their supernatural powers were in their DNA. Among all shifters, the Cat People were the most ancient and gifted. They read minds and could see auras of light around humans and supernatural beings.

  Tommy had explained that the glowing clouds that surrounded every intelligent being were more telling than their thoughts or actions. They revealed the true nature of individual.

  “You know that saying, ‘Show your true colors’?” Tommy had asked one night over drinks. “People think that’s referring to the flags of nations or warships. Uh-uh. That’s ours. My people were reading ‘true colors’ long before the first nation—or the first fucking warship for that matter—was ever dreamed up.”

  The instant Alex had stumbled upon Gwen and Jezebel facing off with the cougar, he knew he wasn’t dealing with a wild animal. He could smell Tommy’s unique mystical essence and hear the frantic thoughts from the man within the beast.

  Protect!

  The Cat People had their own set of rules, but one law reigned supreme among shifters—human consorts were not only off limits, they were sacred and to be protected. Even as Tommy Longtree’s razor-sharp claws were slashing away at the golden retriever, Alex knew his intent was to save Gwen, not harm her.

  The rifle blast hadn’t scared Tommy away, it had stopped the attack long enough for him to realize that Alex had arrived and that he would take over from there. No matter what had driven Tommy to attack, Gwen was ultimately tied to the werewolf pack, and—all things being equal—those were lines no other supernatural being could cross.

  Alex had crossed lines himself that night. After he had brought Gwen home, he had been overcome by his attraction to her. When she had reciprocated, they’d been writhing around on her couch, lost in passion, when Alex had felt himself start to shift. He had been out of control and it had scared the hell out of him. Before they could finish the act, he’d bolted into the night and run to Sergei’s home.

  Sergei had eventually calmed Alex down and sent him on his way. It had been the middle of the night, and Alex was so shaken that he’d dialed up the Cat People’s leader—not caring if he woke him.

  “What the hell, Longtree?” Alex had screamed into the phone.

  “Listen man, I was just working with the information I had. Markov told me the new human consort was in town, and I had this dream—”

  “You scared the hell out of her and almost decapitated her pet, Tommy!”

  “I’m sorry, Alex. I thought she was in danger. My bad.”

  “Your bad? Stay the fuck out of our territory, Longtree!”

  Alex had hung up before letting the man-cougar explain.

  * * * * *

  Present

  The tall, lean leader of the Cat People was exactly where he’d said he would be—standing at the junction of the two-lane highway and the rutted county road. Alex swung the ‘Vette onto the gravel shoulder and reached across the passenger seat to push open the door.

  “Where should I put these?” Tommy asked, holding out a stringer heavy with sunfish.

  “Throw ’em in the ditch,” Alex muttered.

  Tommy glanced at his catch. “No fucking way, man. This is dinner.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. Fucking cats.

  “I heard that, dude,” Tommy said, then folded his long body into the sports car and laid the still-flopping fish on the floor mat between his boots.

  “Where’s your rod?” Alex asked.

  Tommy grabbed the inside of his upper thigh. “Right here, motherfucker!”

  Alex chuckled in spite of himself. The leader of the Cat People had been walking the earth for centuries, but he still looked and acted like a college kid.

  “Your fishing rod, moron.”

  Tommy smoothed back his silky waist-length black hair. “Oh, that. I left my rod and tackle down at the docks. Nobody will take it. And if they do, it just means they needed it more than me.”

  “What’s that, some kind of ancient Indian wisdom?”

  “That’s Native American wisdom to you, dog breath.”

  Alex shook his head and grinned. The tension that had consumed him since he’d woken up in a cold sweat from his dream seemed to drain away in Tommy’s presence. The Cat King always had a calming effect on Alex. He’d been introduced to Tommy soon after his induction into the wolf pack.

  Sergei had told Alex about the bears and other shifters, and explained that they mostly kept to themselves. But the Cat People, he’d said, were unlike any other supernatural beings. Their hierarchy
wasn’t determined by challenges or even lineage. There was just a cosmic understanding as to who their leaders were. It was preordained and undeniable.

  The U.S. population was divided by the Mississippi River and Tommy Longtree was the undisputed leader of the eastern clan.

  The two men rode in silence for a few miles and Tommy didn’t flinch when the speedometer hovered around one-hundred-twenty. Finally the Cat King spoke.

  “So, this dream…”

  Alex ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ll get to that. First tell me about yours—the one you had before the…incident…with Gwen and her dog.”

  Tommy paused and cleared his throat. “About that, man, like I said, I just misread the signs.”

  “Just tell me what you saw, Longtree. What the hell possessed you to nearly knock the block off of a fat golden retriever?”

  “Okay, so the night after Markov told me about your new human consort, the old one—John Chaney—came to me in my sleep. God, I liked that old guy. He was very chill and the dude had a killer wine collection.”

  Alex huffed out an exasperated breath. “Focus.”

  “All right. So in the dream I’m out in the woods, feasting on some sweet rabbit meat and Old Man Chaney comes limping out of the trees. He looks fine except his leg is torn to shit like he’s been in a dog fight…oh, fuck, no disrespect intended, dude.”

  “None taken. Go on.”

  “Right, so John comes up to me and he goes, ‘The line has been compromised. The progeny is in danger. Beware the yellow dog.’ Then he turns around and heads back into the forest, except it isn’t him anymore; it’s a fucking snake—a rattler I think.”

  Alex kept his eyes on the road but inclined his head to the right, waiting for Tommy to go on. When the Cat King didn’t elaborate, Alex said, “That’s it? That’s why you shifted, went charging through the forest and took a hellacious swipe at some powder-puff golden retriever?”

  “Like I said man, my bad. Dream omens aren’t like telepathy. They’re symbols, not literal signs. And they aren’t time-sensitive. The dream could have been referring to something in the past, the present, or even the future. It’s an art, dude, not a science.”