by Jamie Petit
Chief Alpha
Wilds of Wynmere
Jamie Petit
Chief Alpha: Wilds of Wynmere Copyright © 2020 by Jamie Petit. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by New Yawk Books
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Author’s Note
Thank you for picking this up! I know you’re going to love it!
For those of you who are returning to the story from Alpha Commander, welcome back. I hope you find more of what you liked.
For those of you coming to the world of Wynmere for the first time—no worries! You’ve got everything you need right here for something filled with tension, romance, and soft sci-fi quirks. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.
(For those that want a recap on the world of Wynmere, click “Wynmere” in the Contents.)
If you want to check out Alpha Commander—featuring a romantic adventure with Andax and Tanner—you can find it here.
If you enjoy this book, please leave a review! It helps a ton :)
And if you are interested in seeing a third part to this story, join the mailing list and send me a message!
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Final Note
Wynmere
PROLOGUE
The curved blade was heavy in Canthor’s hands. Tyllrn was not a weapon of war—stronger, longer, and weightier than any other sword by ten fold. It was an honorable tool of execution, meant to fall hard and fast, to slice through the tough skin on the backs of enemy Wynmerian’s necks. The soft, human flesh beneath its glinting steel would split like the air before it.
The handle felt unsure in his hands as they began to sweat. The camera on him. Billions watching, waiting, expecting. His tribesmen stood just a handful of paces away, staring expectantly, waiting for the moment when Canthor’s swinging arms would end the enemy in their midst and begin the final war for Wynmere.
Canthor licked his lips, looking down at the man with his head on the block. Merrick must have felt his gaze. It made sense—they were connected now. Lovers bonded by the power of the Alpha-Omega bio-genetic rituals. No one in the whole world—this one or Earth—knew what was between them. If the tribal Wildmeres standing nearby knew, they’d have torn the blade from Canthor’s hands and thrust it through him without apology.
Merrick turned his head as much as he could, enough to catch Canthor’s eye. He gave a shallow smile. One that was full of affection and forgiveness. Love, unconditional.
Just days ago, Canthor had been ready, resolved to execute this human—he had been ready to exterminate the whole species. And now this. His whole life turned over in what felt like an instant. All his hates, his fears—gone. Canthor had become something he’d once hated—and he was never happier.
This—to be forgiven his evil, was too much. The sword was heavy, but with Merrick’s trust filling him, it began to turn in his hands like a quill. He turned to the camera, taking a hand from the hilt, spreading his arms, ponderous Tyllrn held in a single grasp over Merrick.
He spoke to his tribesmen in thick, woodsy Wynmerian. “We’ve been wrong. Wronger than I could have imagined. If you are truly loyal to me, and not to your hate, then lay down your weapons and join me with the humans.”
The ultimatums flew back at him fast. He hadn’t expected that to work, but it was worth a try. Merrick had trusted him as much—it was the least he could do for the men he’d grown up with, the men he’d led.
“I will not allow you to do this,” he said to the tribes and the cameras. Tyllrn flashed in the air with impossible speed, freeing Merrick from his binds. “If this ends with blood, so be it. But it will be your own blood in which you drown.”
Merrick got on his toes, leaned in, and kissed Canthor on the cheek. He took the pistol from Canthor’s belt, wrapped a hand around his waist, and pointed at the Wildmeres with a grin on his lips. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
CHAPTER ONE
Merrick
Andax forced an uncomfortable grin. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well, but perhaps we should…”
Tanner waved his objection off. “The Admiral’s university thesis was the bedrock of my own! I simply have to pick his brains!”
United Nations Astronautical Corps Rear Admiral Merrick laughed warmly. “Your partner is probably right, though, we should get to business.”
Tanner pressed his finger against Merrick’s chest playfully. “You’re not getting away that easily! Over dinner then. I want to know more about your thoughts on Wynmerian-human phonetic shifts.”
“Well, if you’ve read Cobbson’s discussion of the romanization of Wym’meln to the more familiar Wynmere, and the retention of the indigenous formulation amongst East Asian speakers, then I have some interesting research to share with you.”
Andax saw that Tanner was ready to go for another round. “Ah, actually, we really should get going.”
“Of course,” Merrick said, turning to the bright-skinned Wynmerian to Tanner’s left. “I didn’t mean to be rude. The war effort would not be going half as well if not for the expertise and, frankly, brilliance of your work here. Please forgive me—I get terribly caught up when I meet a colleague. We are so rare.”
“No apologies, please,” said Tanner, gesturing Merrick down the long and spacious corridor. “Let’s walk and talk, shall we? We’re doing well as you say, yes, but the numbers have been crunched and without a surge from the UNAC fleet, the war effort is doomed.”
That last word echoed in the luxurious hall. Stem to stern, the entire palace where they held their meeting was covered in gold inlaid marble with high windows—as long as you didn’t look outside, you couldn’t imagine that anything in the whole of Wynmere was amiss.
A glance out the windows, though, showed a city besieged. From their vantage point in the palace atop a hill they could look out right to the now crumbling walls surrounding the metropolis. Columns of dark smoke churned from buildings that had been bombed.
That was all at the edge of the city, of course. Andax and Tanner had been coordinating their part of the war effort from the elite circles, far from the battle-lines, safe inside their wealth and prestige.
“Four out of five simulations confirm it, again and again,” said Andax, jumping in. “No matter what
parameters we drop in. And a twenty percent chance of victory is… not our idea of ideal.”
“Of course not,” said Merrick, stopping and pivoting to stand facing the other two. “Listen, I won’t say that the Navy is eager to send its starships and men out here, but they’re also not fighting it. You give me the data you have and I’ll craft the best story I can. We can put this uprising down before Christmas.”
Tanner looked away nervously and cleared his throat. “We have the data. It doesn’t look great. It’s not as bad as it looks in practice, but…”
“But the Admirals in orbit around Earth won’t be interested in any theory,” offered Andax. “That’s why we wanted you to come here yourself. If we can give you a feel of the situation on the ground, and explain this all with detailed models, we can convince you this is a good investment for Earth military forces.”
Merrick laughed. “You’re doing a good job of riding the fine line between scaring me away and selling me. As of right now, my mind hasn’t shifted.” He turned on his touchpad and opened up a fresh file for notes. “Why don’t we start with the bad and work back from there? What’s got you spooked?”
Andax and Tanner looked at each other. Tanner bit his lip, blinked slowly, and then began. “Our best statisticians have looked things over. If the Wynmerians keep fighting… and dying… their population will quickly reach an untenable point. Everything we’ve been working for with this entire race for the last generation would be wiped out. The entire species would likely be wiped out as well. Crippled irreparably, at best.”
“That’s why,” Andax jumped in, “You may have noticed some strange disparities between the casualties, assault forces, battle damage reports, et cetera.”
“Yes, I was going to ask about that,” said Merrick, flicking to another app filled with numbers and graphs.
“The Wildmeres are able to snatch small, but decisive victories because of our need to maintain our populations. Retreat is a frequent necessity.”
“But, if we pull in Earth forces, humans and our drone tech can fight,” said Tanner. “We don’t need to retreat. We’re not in danger of being all but wiped out. We can advance on Wildmere territory with extreme prejudice.”
Merrick nodded, dragging his fingers over the screen, scanning maps. “I see where you’re going with this.”
Tanner pointed to a tab at the top of the screen. “Look there—Earth involvement means a guaranteed victory. The only uncertainty is the depth of the casualties. And those are numbers we’re still looking into.”
“But those numbers might not be crunched to Earth Navy standards before we reach a tipping point,” said Andax. “We need Earth here long before we can give you a fully developed battle plan. At least we need them en route.”
Merrick was still nodding. “Thank you for the honesty gentlemen. There’s a lot I can work with here. I have great love for your people, Andax.”
“Thank you.”
Merrick grinned and winked at Tanner. “I know you know that, and that’s why you requested me specifically.”
Tanner shrugged shyly. “Your research on Wynmerian linguistic patterns relative to meta-dimensional social structure was the foundation for my work at the academy. No one writes like that if they’re okay with seeing their subject vanish from the universe.”
“Let’s grab lunch and see if we can spin a story for the boys back home.”
Andax pointed ahead, leading the way. “The officer cafeteria is this w—”
Andax’s words were swallowed in the sound of shattering glass, erupting guns, and feet marching quickly down the hallways.
CHAPTER TWO
Canthor
“B team has breached,” said a voice in his ear piece. Canthor held a hand up and circled his finger. “Clear. Let’s load in.”
Canthor’s lips tightened into a thin, grim line as he looked up the natural palisade to the palace glowing warmly above the city. The trees to his left rustled as a shower of glass crashed down.
Canthor and his team of three others clipped into a series of ropes and activated the auto-belay system, letting them run vertically up the sheer rock face.
Canthor nodded at his men as they unclipped. The plan was as close to flawless as any should get. Soon, he’d have revenge, as well as a crushing victory for the Wildmeres. He stared at the palace with contempt. If only their species had stayed together, not poisoned its blood with the grotesqueries of alien sludge, he might not have minded the sight of such opulence. Hell, maybe in a different world he could have lived like a prince as well.
Months ago, Andax, former Captain of the Trothor, has tossed him from the edge of a cliff and later slaughtered his men when they came for vengeance. He’d further sullied his name as a Wynmerian by becoming one of the many pigs who’d taken on a human Omega. In fact, it was for that Omega’s sake that he’d killed so many fellow Wynmerians.
That was not something he could abide a fellow Wynmerian. He would have revenge—he would have blood—and he would have a victory for the Wildmeres.
Wildmere. That was a name he was beginning to despise more every day. The endless propaganda that rushed through the cities painted his people as mere savages. But they were not savages. They were guardians of the blood—the blood that had been with their planet since the beginning of time, the blood that had built the cities and the walls that now shunned those same architects.
He’d wanted nothing more than to live inside the city. Warm rooms, warm beds. Fresh, hot food, beautiful, pure mates. They had to live outside because they were pressed out by the species-traitors.
They were painted as unsophisticated, unintelligent brutes without the resolve. Well, that would all change tonight. Tonight, the citizens of the cities of Wynmere would meet the true, uncapped rage and power of the Wildmeres.
Tonight they’d see what pure blood could do.
From time before time the Wynmeres had been one blood—to mix it was unspeakable. If he had his way, Canthor would kill every Alpha whore and slaughter every mix-breed human he could find. He’d raze all Earth to ash if that’s what it took.
And if that meant one day the Wynmere race would go extinct? So be it.
Hyar’eht, Oorr’eht, Bver’eht.
Live pure. Love pure. Die pure.
After almost a year of brutal guerrilla warfare, their fortunes had changed. Someone of pure blood and great wealth had taken a liking to them. And now with the backing of a city-dwelling Wynmerian, they were wrecking true havoc on the capitals of the planet.
Now it was time to show just how powerful they’d become, and exactly what would come to those who betrayed their species.
Canthor could almost taste the blood. He would capture Andax and Tanner, the most famous—and arguably most powerful—couple on all of Wynmere. He would torture them—beat them, destroy their dignity and will. Then, in front of cameras broadcasting to the whole planet and relayed out to Earth, he would execute them on the chopping block.
CHAPTER THREE
Merrick
“That’s not good,” said Merrick. “Is it?”
Andax’s hand shot out and grabbed Merrick by the elbow. “We need to move you to a more secure location.”
As Andax made to hurry down the corridor—away from the intrusion—Merrick, jogging behind, brushed the hand on his elbow away. “I appreciate the concern, Captain, but I assure you I can keep up. Lead on.”
Andax used his free hand to pull an ornate blade from the scabbard hanging at his side. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t chosen to wear his formal clothes to welcome the Rear Admiral—right now he wished he had his standard rifle slung over a shoulder. No matter. The sword may have been intended as decoration, but it was strong and it was sharp.
Tanner and Merrick unholstered their pistols, keeping them pointed slightly in front of them as they ran. Tanner was trying to determine how long it would take backup forces to arrive. Most of the men with the big guns were down at the wall, repelling a Wildmere atta
ck. The few who were still stationed at the palace were eight floors down and would have a hard time determining the exact point of intrusion.
They were on their own.
Another explosive crack and the sound of glass raining over stone. Again, ahead of their position. They were now hemmed in.
“What’s the plan, gentlemen?” asked Merrick, trying to keep his voice light.
“Roof. There’s a heli and a weapons stash,” said Andax. He pointed down the hall. “That door there.”
“Run hard,” said Tanner. “If we get cut off again, we’re good as dead.”
“Then get ready to fight like dead men,” snapped Merrick as his eyes fell on a squad of Wildmeres rounding the corner.
These weren’t the typical grunts. Instead of the usual heavy furs and leathers across their bodies, these fighters had only a single stole affixed over their necks. The rest of their bodies were strapped with tactical armor and pockets full of ammunition. On their right hips were sub-rifles and on their left were close-quarters Tyvvan blades.
The roof access door was still some twenty meters away.
Merrick fought the cold that washed over him. Even in his half-panicked hurry, his brain registered something even worse than the imminence of his own death. He saw defeat of his whole mission. Those Wildmeres should not have any of that equipment. It was too new. If they’d stolen it, you could tell. But this was all provided for this mission—and Wildmeres don’t have the kind of cash to go around snatching up high-tech tactical weaponry. They were being financed. And if they were being financed, they suddenly became a lot more dangerous.
Once, in his youth, Merrick had been a fantastic soldier, full of courage and natural talent. But in battle you are allowed no mistakes. And even someone like him, with skill and heart, could fail once.
