by Aja Foxx
Alpha Knows Best
Shifter Kings 1
AJA FOXX
Copyright © 2019
Shifter King Montgomery Beck had been doing his duty to the high council for the last twenty-five years as he waits to claim his mate. When the time comes, he doesn't care who he has to fight to get Fagan. The sweet little omega is his and he'd defy anyone who gets in the way.
Fagan has spent his entire life in a monastery being trained to serve whatever master he was given to. The day before his twenty-fifth birthday, someone comes for him and he's shown a world he has no knowledge of, but one he should have been taught about from birth. When he's introduced to a shifter fate says is his, one who speaks to him in his soul, Fagan has to decide if he believes the shifter king's outlandish tale or if the man is just plain crazy.
When their worlds collide, Beck and Fagan go up against those who are trying to keep them apart, but there are forces at work who want Beck out of the way so Fagan can be turned over to the master he was trained to serve. The things they discover as they fight to stay together will shake the very foundation of the paranormal world.
~~~
Warning: Gay erotic romance. The material in this document contains
explicit sexual content that is intended for mature audiences only. All characters
involved are over the age of eighteen, and are willing participants.
Copyright
Alpha Knows Best (Shifter Kings 1)
Copyright © Aja Foxx, 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISBN: 9780463185346
Cover Design by Sinfully Sweet Designs
Editing by Jon Fischer
First Electronic Edition July 2019
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from the authors. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Copyright
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
"See you tomorrow."
Fagan ran his finger over the words written in Braille, almost not believing them. Every year, since the day he was born, he'd received a card on his birthday. Each one had said, "See you in such and such years", with the year numbering down each time.
The birthday cards had no name on them. Just the initials MB. Fagan had no idea who MB was. He didn't know anyone who had those two initials. Truthfully, he didn't know that many people.
The elders who cared for him and gave him his daily lessons. The other omegas in the monastery. The guards who kept those at the monastery safe. And the lawyer—who was nice enough to translate everything into Braille—came once a year to deliver Fagan's birthday card to him.
That was pretty much it.
He'd been delivered to the monastery the week he was born. He knew no other life. He'd read a lot and he'd certainly heard stories, but he didn't know how many of them were true and how many were simply rumors or wishful thinking.
Fagan certainly had a lot of wishful thinking about the outside world. He dreamed of no longer being restricted to life inside the walls of the monastery. He wanted to see what was beyond those walls, or at least experience it.
Even if it was just for a few minutes.
"Fagan, time for your lessons."
"Yes, elder." Fagan tucked his latest birthday card away in his keepsake box then stood and followed after the elder. He had his walking stick in his pocket, but he had walked through these corridors so many times, he could do it in his sleep.
Once he reached his first class, he made his way to his assigned spot and took up the proper pose—one hand clasping his wrist behind his back, head tilted down, eyes lowered, and feet exactly six inches apart. It was a pose he'd been taught from the time he could stand on his own two feet.
When Elder Fallon walked in and stood at the front of the room, he clapped his hands together and said, "All right, let us begin."
He was a man of few words.
Fagan began his stretches, making sure he was loose and limber then settled himself down on his pad on the floor. He crossed his legs and settled his hands on his knees. When he heard the unmistakable sound of the steel grates over the windows lifting, he tilted his face up. The first ray of sunshine drew a quick breath from him before everything in him settled.
He didn't understand many of the elders' teachings, but he loved this one. Every morning, the first thing he did was meditate as the sun was coming up. The elders insisted on it. They said that he needed to center himself in order to maintain a calm demeanor throughout the day.
Fagan wasn't sure how true that was, but he'd been meditating first thing in the morning for so long, he didn't know any other way to start his day. The summer days when the elders opened the doors and the first rays of sunshine that came through with a soft breeze were the best. Fagan couldn't see them, but he sure could feel the sun's warmth and cool morning air as they moved across his face.
Fagan cleared his mind then concentrated on filling himself with calm. He felt the presence of the others in the room, his fellow students and teachers. As his awareness of the cosmos moved out in an ever expanding circle, he felt the presence of more students and teachers, the elders and guards. He felt it all before and was easily able to mute their presence.
There was one presence he was searching for. The one he always searched for. He couldn't see him or hear him, but he knew the man's warmth like a flickering light in his soul. It had been there as long as he could remember, comforting him, soothing him when he was afraid. Fagan feared what would happen if that presence ever left him.
He breathed in a long, slow breath and reached out through the cosmos for the warmth, his golden man among the stars. He was out there somewhere, waiting. He was always waiting. Fagan sucked in a shallow breath when he felt it, the warmth surrounding him.
He often wondered if the others had a golden warrior to warm them. Maybe he was the only one. He didn't know. He certainly didn't ask. Wistful thinking was not allowed and Fagan worried what would be done to him if any of the elders ever discovered his secret.
He soaked in the warmth. If someone had asked him what the feeling was that floated through him each time he connected with his mystery man, he would have been at a loss for words to describe it. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his life. Of course, having lived
his entire existence inside a monastery, that wasn't saying much.
The persistent clinking of the waking bells drew Fagan from his meditative state. As much as he was to stay in the warmth of his sun, he knew he couldn't. He drew in a couple of cleansing breaths then opened his eyes. He waited for the bells to stop then stood to his feet and shuffled toward the door. It was time for his next class.
Tae Bo, Taekwondo, and Tai Chi. By the time he was ready for lunch break, his entire body ached. Tomorrow would be worse. Krav Maga. Fagan doubted he'd go to bed without severe bruising.
Of course, now was better than when he'd taken his first lesson at the age of five. Between the melee weapons training and the hand to hand combat, he'd been knocked unconscious so many times, he was surprised he didn't have brain damage.
Lunch, when it came, was as simple as it always was. Fresh fruit, nuts, sliced cheeses, and a crusty roll. Dinner would be a bit more elaborate, but pretty much the same foods. Omegas did not eat meat. It was something in their genetic makeup. They couldn't process it.
Fagan never really understood it, but he vividly remembered the stomach ache he'd gotten the one time he tried chicken. He thought he was going to die. He'd never had the desire to try meat again.
Fagan finished eating and cleaned up after himself. One of the many things that had been pounded into his head by the elders was cleanliness and not making messes. The students at the monastery were not to create extra work for others.
They were being trained to serve, not be served. Fagan just hadn't quite figured out who they were being trained to serve. Other omegas who had left before him had never been heard from again. He prayed that wasn't an example of what was to come as he was about to reach his twenty-fifth birthday, the day his time at the monastery would come to an end.
There were only two classes in the afternoon, language skills and manners and etiquette. After that, Fagan would spend a couple of hours in quiet meditation in his room before going to evening meal. He had three hours to himself in the evenings, sequestered in his room.
While the classes had changed over the years as he grew older, the schedule was still the same. Fagan doubted he had deviated from it from the first time he understood what a schedule was.
Just once, he wished he could choose what he did with his time. Maybe he'd enjoy painting or reading a book he'd picked out instead of one chosen for him. He'd even enjoy cooking if he was doing it for fun and not because he was being taught to cook for someone else.
Fagan sighed as he pushed open the door to his room and stepped inside. He quietly closed the door and walked over to his meditation pad. After sitting down and finding a comfortable position, he started the timer for an hour then closed his eyes and let the world fade away.
This time when he reached for the warmth, it came quicker than it usually did, but there was a cold bite around the edges that Fagan didn't understand. He'd felt it once or twice over the years, but never like this. Even in his meditative state, he shivered.
He wanted to back away, but he was spellbound. The warmth had always been there for him. He didn't feel right about abandoning it simply because something had changed. He knew, even as he thought it, that his mind had taken a weird direction, but he was willing to explore that path in pursuit of the warmth.
Fagan wasn't sure it would work, but he tried to send out some of the warmth he'd always received, to push away the cold that was invading his meditative state. There was a strange resistance. It caused a pressure in his chest that stole his breath away.
He imagined the resistance like a wall of water that he needed to step through. He pressed his hands together and made a spear with his fingertips then pushed it against the wall of cold. Once he breached the wall, he separated his hands and allowed the warmth from inside of him push through, sending it back to his golden warrior.
The sudden evaporation of the cold and the warmth that flared up, threw Fagan out of his meditative state. He panted heavily as he reeled from the experience. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his life.
He was terrified, yet jubilant, and he didn't know why. There was almost a sense of accomplishment and pride about what he'd done, but that couldn't be right. He hadn't really done anything. That was the dream world. It didn't manifest itself in the real world. Fagan was almost afraid to venture into a dream state in case it happened again.
Fagan turned off the waking alarm. He doubted he'd need it right now. He drew in a couple of deep cleansing breaths then stood and made his way to his bed. He didn't have a whole lot to do until bedtime, but he couldn't go to bed before the night bell went off.
It was times like this that he wished he was allowed to make his own choices. He'd love to go for a walk or even just sit outside and feel the cool evening breeze on his face. He hated being confined to his room, even if his time was supposed to be his own.
It never really felt as if it was.
"Yes?" Fagan said when someone knocked on his door then opened it. He drew in a discreet sniff before smiling. "What can I do for you, Davan?"
"Headmaster Eithar would like to see you in his office."
Fagan got up automatically and headed for the door. Things didn't go well for students who ignored a summons from the headmaster. He'd tried it once, and only once. He imagined many of the students did. They all quickly learned the error of that defiance.
It didn't take long to make it to the headmaster's office. Granted, it was on the far side of the courtyard near the front of the monastery, but he hurried. He didn't want the headmaster upset with him.
The door opened when he reached the headmaster's office. Fagan stepped inside then took up the rest stance he was so used to. Hands clasped behind him, head bowed, feet slightly apart.
"You wished to see me, Headmaster Eithar?"
"Yes, Fagan," the man said. "Today is your twenty-fifth birthday, is it not?"
"Tomorrow, sir."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well," the headmaster said, "I suppose there's nothing that can be done for that."
"Sir?"
"Tyrnan will escort you to the front door."
Fagan tried not to flinch when Tyrnan grabbed his arm, but it was hard not to. Tyrnan was the headmaster's punisher. If a student needed a reprimand, Tyrnan was the one who dolled it out. Fagan was pretty sure the man enjoyed inflicting pain.
"Am I going somewhere?" he asked as he was pulled out of the headmaster's office. He'd never gone to the front door before.
It was forbidden.
When Tyrnan stopped, he yanked Fagan to a stop as well, and then shoved him against the wall. His breath was hot as it blew out against Fagan's cheek. Fagan turned his face away as a shiver of unease wrapped around him.
"You were supposed to be mine," Tyrnan growled in a voice so low, Fagan doubted anyone could hear the man except him. "They promised you to me, and now you're being taken away from me and being given to that monster."
Fagan had no idea what Tyrnan was talking about, and he really didn't want to know. He loathed the man. He wanted nothing to do with him.
And what monster?
"I will find a way to come for you, pet," Tyrnan snarled. "You will be mine."
The front door was yanked open. Tyrnan shoved Fagan through it with such force, he stumbled forward and fell to his knees. He heard the door slam shut and then nothing.
Fagan swallowed hard as he slowly climbed to his feet. He brushed his pants off and then his hands. He was outside the walls. He wasn't sure why and he certainly didn't know what he was supposed to do now.
Was this a test of some sort? It had to be. It had been drummed into his head over and over again that he was never supposed to step foot outside the walls, and yet, here he was.
Fagan stilled when he heard a noise. It sounded as if something had crushed a leaf. Most people probably wouldn't know that sound, but Fagan had listened to enough leaves fall to know exactly what he was hearing.
"H
ello?"
Chapter Two
"This is him?" someone to his left asked. "This little runt?"
Fagan wanted to argue with the man that he wasn't a runt, but he wasn't sure just how many people surrounded him, and he knew they were surrounding him. Now that he was listening for it, he could hear their different breathing patterns.
"Mind your manners, Jaggar," someone in front of him said.
"Way to be welcoming, Jaggar," a man on his left snapped.
"Hello, my name is Greyson." That voice came from right in front of him. It was a deep voice, soothing.
"Fagan."
"Yes, I know." The man chuckled. "The one with the mouth is Jaggar and this is Dominic and Talon."
"Can you tell me what's going on?"
"You don't know?" Greyson asked.
Fagan shook his head.
"None of this was explained to you?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure what this is. Headmaster Eithar called me to his office, asked me about my birthday, then had me escorted here."
That was pretty much all he knew.
"And that's it?" That voice belonged to the man Greyson introduced as Jaggar. "That's all you fucking know?'
Fagan breathed deep before replying. "Yes, that is all I know."
"Fucking perfect."
He didn't like this guy. He was rude and crude and he gave off bad vibes. Well, not bad vibes, but not warm vibes either.
"Can you tell me what's going on?" Fagan asked. "Why am I outside the walls?"
"Look, Fagan, I don't know why this wasn't explained to you, but we don't have time to talk to you about it right now. We need to go. Time is of the essence."
"Go where?"
"Here, put this on," Greyson said instead of answering.
Something round and hard was shoved into Fagan's hands. He marveled at the smoothness of whatever it was. The surface was cool to the touch, but smooth. And hard. It was very hard.
