Lycan Alpha Claim 3
Page 3
The hair floats between us and I grab it. “Stop fucking around, Murph. Talyn is missing. Yʼknow—a client, you asshat.”
Murphy straightens. “I don't hit the ladies,” he says in an offhand way, reflective eyes steady on my face.
“Sounds like you're reminding yourself,” I comment slowly.
His eyes glitter at me with dark promise.
I don't scare easily. But this new vampiric Murphy is a different ball of wax.
“I am,” he says. “If you were a bloke, I'd have already bloodied your face.”
My hands drop, swinging loosely at my sides. “Bring it.”
Murphy's nostrils flare.
It's not the first battle of wills we've had. He is my youngling. A position I've not been fair with—or asked for.
But no one gave me the Vampire 101 Handbook.
I made Murphy a vampire to save him.
It's mega unfair.
Turning Murph was also a knee-jerk reaction. Now we're living with the consequences, and it's been rough going.
“You know that I can't.”
My shoulders sag. I'm suddenly ashamed.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper in a voice uncharacteristically humble.
Murphy drags me to him and hugs me.
I don't deserve it.
“I can't hurt you, Narah. You're my sire. And beyond that, you're a woman.”
Painful tears leak from the corners of my eyes and he pulls away. This guy that's been my obnoxious friend since the day I got out of the orphanage is giving me comfort—when he should have kicked my ass instead.
His fingers grip my shoulders painfully, not in aggression, but from sheer lack of knowing his new undead strength. “What is it—truly?”
My mouth opens and closes. The damn cat streaks by with a strangled meow and I jump. His hold gentles.
Murphy scoots down, planting his face in front of my eyes. I can't miss him, or the compassion I see in his gaze. “It can't be that a client's in danger? We've gone that route before. There's always a client in peril. Now that vamps are out in the open, we get more and more work policing what the human lawmen can't master. What might it really be, love?”
I roll to my tiptoes and his hands slide to my upper arms.
I speak it softly in his ear.
No one could hear my softly uttered words but another vampire.
My two vampire mates aren't around. I'm with Murphy and that's my reprieve from the guys.
The guys that don't know my secret yet.
Aeslin and Matthews trust my youngling. As they should. He can't go against his biology of protection.
Even when I beg him to with my immature behavior.
Murph jerks back as though struck, his eyes darkening to a pewter-mercury with surprise and wonder.
“Brilliant,” he whispers in a voice that lacks its usual cocky bravado.
“Not,” I say, and begin to cry in earnest.
I'm not much for tears but hormone overload will do that to a chick, apparently. And I'm not immune to what every other woman feels at a time like this.
Pregnant.
7
Talyn
The Mutables have me trussed up like a turkey.
I really wish I hadn't taken off when the zoo was kicking each other's ass in my house.
I close my eyes, so exhausted and hungry I've gone beyond hunger pains into sort of a numb emptiness.
These jerks are fond of zip ties. I can see why. They're tight and hurt if one tries to wrest themselves out of the compromising position of hostage.
Just as my eyes flutter shut again, something is jammed between my lips.
Straw.
I suck greedily, and cool water slides down my parched throat. Hostage or not, I can't think for my thirst. My hunger begins to abate as the more important hydration issue is tackled.
I sigh.
“Thanks,” I say to whoever gave me the drink.
I finally open my eyes and I'm relieved to see it's not Duncan. A tenseness I didn't even realize clung to me sloughs off a little.
I study the face in front of me and a giggle escapes. I don't mean to. But somehow, his half-donkey face is hilarious.
“Really?” I ask, without any sense of self-preservation, “do you—you couldn't think of a different animal?”
He scowls, and the long droopy ears hike with the expression.
“Think of the comedic potential here,” I add, heaping on insult to injury. I'm giddy with exhaustion, spent adrenaline and insufficient nourishment.
My give a fuck has officially given up.
He slaps my face, the little bit of water that hadn't traveled down the pipe comes up, flying out of my mouth along with enough blood to sober me.
“You're here to be bred, Lycan female. That is all. You can be half-dead for all we care. We're just keeping you barely coherent and in minimal health so we can breed you, then we're on to the next female.”
He smirks.
On to the next female.
His lecherous grin widens. “I'm clever, even if I look like an ass.”
I spit out more blood, giving him a look filled with my hate. “Your play on words is not impressive. Anyone can be on a female if said female is bound. And ass works, even if you're not a donkey in the present.”
His hands ball into fists.
“Go ahead,” I goad. I'd rather miss their rape of me. Just knock me out and turn out the lights.
I don't have any hope that Merck and Arden will find me. What if Duncan's a Masker like Arden?
“Don't,” someone says in quiet command behind Donkey.
Donkey visibly restrains himself from beating a bound woman.
I can see it pains him.
Donkey Dick is a better name, I decide.
“She needs a lesson, Drake.”
The new man—Drake—says, “Maybe, but not by you.”
Donkey whirls, his ears flapping, and I bite the inside of my cheek not to snort hysterical laughter again.
What's wrong with me? I know—death wish!
“She's got a mouth!”
The hidden Drake comments, “I can think of better things to do with her mouth than shut it with our fists.”
Uh-oh. My urge to laugh drains away.
Donkey turns, his lips twisting in ugliness as he surveys me on the floor. “Good idea.”
He jerks me to my feet and slams me against the wall. My head bounces, and I find I can't stand.
I've been in one position too long. My teeth float with the need to pee again.
“Bitch,” he seethes.
“Hee-haw,” I croak.
“Alex,” the guy named Drake says in warning.
“What?” he asks between his teeth, hands at my throat.
My eyes roll, trying in vain to find Drake, soft gray edging in at my consciousness.
He squeezes my neck.
“Leave the female for now. Duncan said we each get a piece later tonight.”
Not a good development.
Donkey, who I now know is Alex, punches the wall next to my face. I yelp as my head bounces off the surface. His grip releases suddenly and he grins.
I track him as he stalks off, allowing myself to slide down the wall with a shoulder. My wrists burn, and I wince as I roll my tongue along a swollen and cut lip, courtesy of the last slap from Donkey.
“Hey.”
I look up, and a huge man stands before me.
Drake, I intuit.
“Yeah,” I croak in answer.
I understand no one is my friend in this little palace I find myself in, and I'm not allowing myself to soften toward this guy because he delayed a beating.
“I'm Drake.”
“Okay,” I answer, eyeing him warily.
I guess it doesn't make sense that he'd beat me too—having just saved me from Donkey. So at least I'm spared that. For now.
He reaches out to me and I flinch, trying to raise my bound hands defensively, though I can't get too far
. Drake cups my chin, forcing my eyes to his.
“I won't hit you,” he says through gritted teeth, and I notice he's not a horse's ass.
Sharp teeth line a wide mouth, and lips a shade too full to be within human norms. His eyes are slanted, the pupils are oblong, instead of dots.
Snake.
“Oh my god—cobra man!” I try to scoot away as new panic surges through me. I attempt to wrestle away from him, but his hold on my chin tightens instantly. Painfully.
He could crush my jaw.
I still.
His fingers lessen their bruising pressure.
“I'm not a snake.”
I scrutinize him more closely. His skin isn't flesh-toned, but iridescent. The outline of scales shine in the dim light of the room. Drake turns his head to the side.
His ears lie flat against his head, shaped like an elaborate fan that sweeps up from the back of his head and ends in three points, a swagging split is evident between each point as they ascend in a graduated arc.
Drake's lips part and steam rises from his mouth.
My lips part. “Oh dear God—you're what?”
“You know what I am.” His muscular arms cross, and the barely outlined scales on every surface of his exposed skin morph, flashing prismatic color and deepening.
His eyes sweep upward, the colors of the irises swimming and changing.
I'm dizzy.
“I'm no donkey.”
I nod slowly, in awe of what I suspect he is. In more awe as to the level of finesse he'd need to become a tiny bit more of his animal to reveal his identity to me.
“I thought you guys were Mutable? Any animal?”
Drake nods. “Of course. But our base animal, the one that is our animal in rest, that is the shape we hold form without effort. The other forms we must shift into. And there's the matter of being Alpha.”
My breathing is shallow. Hyperventilating might be an option in my near future.
“Our base form determines the hierarchy of who is Alpha of the colony.”
“That's why Donkey backed down?” I ask.
Drake nods, a smile ghosting his lips. His golden brown hair is a short mat of spikiness tight to his skull.
He smiles. “Dragon trumps Donkey every time, Talyn.”
I duck my head between my knees. It's not easy with my ankles bound but it's that or pass out.
I guess I want to stay awake for my gang rape after all.
Even if Dragon-man extended a temporary olive branch, it's only a matter of time.
And time isn't on my side.
8
Merck
Arden and I lie on our bellies a mile outside of the target area. Our gazes lock on a run-down neighborhood in the slums of the sleepy suburb of Sioux Falls.
Tract houses run together without a break in style. There are no obvious dissenters in the uniformity of cookie cutter living. Every house sits mournfully similar. Unkempt lawns, and crookedly bent cyclone fences surround forgotten yards.
Looks about right.
“Typical Mutable breeding lair.”
I grunt at Arden's assessment. “Nice shifter community you have.”
Arden shoots me a look of sharp scorn. “We're not a community. We're a colony of the only shifters who have more than one animal. Maybe you Changers are so much better because you have your pick of Lycan females and the occasional hybrid female to change. Us Mutables? We have whatever female we can impregnate.”
“Talyn is not going to be bred by Mutables,” I say in a voice bloated with menace and filled with promise.
Arden rolls to his side, elbow bent, palm supporting his head. “Listen Changer—this is Talyn. My best friend in my human existence. But never confuse things. I am Mutable. The breeding fever chokes me—like it's choking them.” His eyes shift to the distant houses. “If I'd been part of a colony, I'd be down there deliberating my hierarchy within the breeding order.”
I jump to my feet. “What?”
He stands too. “Haven't you been listening? The Mutable colony has a scout. He goes out, taps into any female heat signal he can find, and brings the rest of us. The best breeding males are sent. They breed the female. If the pregnancy takes, they leave. If it doesn't, they come back when she cycles again.”
“So there's no one who takes care of her? The female's just bred and left with young to care for—no mate, pack or anything?”
Arden shakes his head. “I didn't make the rules, Merck. This is what the one Mutable I ran into explained. He couldn't believe I'd bonded with a female. He behaved as though it was sacrilegious or something.”
I give him a tight look. “It shows that females can be more than breeding vessels for Mutables. How many females have been broken, and bore young they're unable to care for? How many are raised in broken homes or in the criminal foster system?”
Arden shrugs. “I'm not being blasé here. I know it's a faulty system. I didn't create it, and for the record, I adore Talyn. Clearly I wouldn't have hung around until her heat cycle if I'd just wanted to be part of the colony and its ways.”
He turns his head in the direction of the house where Talyn's scent vaguely clings.
I know we can't just charge in, but my palms dampen with the need to react immediately.
“And I know my position would be high.”
What? My face swivels to his. “High?”
“Alpha. My base animal is snow leopard. Rarity and power count within a Mutable colony. Some males get stuck with a really weak base animal.” A low chuckle escapes his lips.
Arden sees my expression and laughs again. “Sure, and an elephant can stomp on a hyena, but the hyena is faster—has survival instincts at the top of the food chain.”
I grunt. “So it's good that you're a cat?”
Arden heaves an exasperated exhale. “Large feline and rare.”
I frown. “What's more Alpha than you?” Being Lycan seems much simpler.
Arden's face closes down. “Anything prehistoric would be a problem.”
I jerk my chin in the direction of the derelict neighborhood, mouth agape. “You think that's down there?”
I feel like being a Lycan warrior is plenty enough to bring to the party. Not that a little grizzly back-up hadn't kicked ass, I reflect.
“No,” Arden replies. “Prehistoric is so rare...”
“But things have been fucked up from the beginning of this change,” I say almost to myself.
“There's that. It seems like every time I progress, something comes up to separate Talyn and I.”
“Like me?” I say in a low voice.
The tension thickens between us like molasses.
We square off.
“I don't have time to fight you now. And as you found out—we're better together than apart. And yeah, in answer to your question, your timing sucked. I could have had Talyn already transitioned if you hadn't come along.”
I circle him, talons sliding out of my fingertips. I welcome the pain of my half-form. The transition to—wolfen—keeps thoughts at bay. I need to not intellectualize shit right now. I need to be reactive, get to Talyn—and somehow—get rid of Arden in the process.
His grim face notes my hands. “The enemy's down there, Merck.” He jerks his head in the direction of the forlorn houses below.
“You know who I trust, Masker?”
His lips thin.
“Me.”
“Then trust your instincts. Do your instincts tell you we want to save Talyn?”
He's right, of course. Arden's no fool. He understands if he keeps mentioning Talyn, he'll get a stay of execution until she's out of harm's way.
“Yes,” I finally spit out my answer.
“Then let's go.”
I flick a glance at the horizon. Twilight has bruised the sky plum, clouds skittering across the bluish-purple blanket of encroaching night like escaped smoke.
I don't reply, glancing over my shoulder at the enemy who's my friend.
For now.
“I've masked us.”
I growl.
He better have, or they'll smell us already.
9
Narah
Murph pulls away, his eyes searching mine.
“Narah, don't tell me the fellas don't know.”
I inhale deeply—let it out slow. “They don't know.”
He hisses, his breath whistling between clamped teeth, a sliver of fangs showing. “Awful news, Narah.”
I press my lips tightly.
His inky brows come together, once a golden-brown—his appearance having changed so much since I turned him.
More guilt strikes me like a well-honed weapon.
I did this.
Murphy gives my shoulders a soft shake. “No. Don't—I can feel your guilt. This isn't about me.”
“You were mad at me.”
Murphy silvered eyes swing heavenward. “Not mad. Rage-inspired.”
My lips quirk. “Same thing.”
He shakes his head, a strand of hair breaking loose from his hairband at his nape. “No. Being a vampire, as lovely as I am—” his lips curl, and my eyes narrow, “takes some getting acquainted with.”
His gaze meets mine with impunity. A human wouldn't want that silver stare trained on them. It could mean thrall.
Which could mean everything a human being doesn't want.
“I wasn't saying you having a babe was the bad news, love. I said that I'm fond of keeping my limbs when Aeslin and Matthews find out you told me before them. They're your mates,” he thumbs his broad chest, made even more so with him being a vamp, “not me.”
“Can't we just grow arms and legs back if they're plucked off?” I keep a straight face.
Murph glares. “I'm not keen on finding out. I'm a vampire, not a starfish.”
I burst out laughing. “You don't care if I catch the bad guys?” I ask, changing the subject.
Murphy's hands leave my arms. “I love you catching the wankers. I love catching them. However, I don't fancy you getting your pregnant bum beaten.”
I fold my arms across my narrow chest. “Thanks. You sound like a typical dude. Chicks can't give back what they get. Is that it?”