Alpha's Strength

by Rebecca Royce

  “Does it matter what you eat? I mean when you’re in your human form, can you eat anything or do you always have to eat like a wolf?” Betsy’s attention returned to him.

  That’s better.

  “She knows?” Mitchell interrupted before Cyrus could respond to her question. “How did that happen?”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t look familiar to either of you?”

  “She resembles Travis’ mate a great deal, but her smell is different.” Jensen shrugged.

  “Your sense of smell is better than mine. I thought she was Lilliana initially.” Cyrus walked to her and placed his hand on her cheek. “But now I know better. She’s my mate, gentlemen. And, to answer your question, Betsy, we can eat whatever we want when we’re not in our werewolf forms. Our metabolisms are faster.”

  “I see.” He really didn’t think she did. Betsy’s respiration was high; her pupils were dilated. She might even be going into shock. “I haven’t really agreed to be your mate. Don’t you think that’s kind of, I don’t know, presumptuous? Oh, hell in a hand basket, none of this makes any sense. I feel like an egg that just got cracked and stuck in a blender. Yep. That’s how I feel.”

  She said the cutest things. “You don’t have to agree to be my mate. You are she. We’ll work this out. Don’t worry.”

  Mitchell and Jensen both walked inside. They nodded to him, and after a nod from each of them, he stepped back. Mitchell grabbed Betsy. She gasped before his pack mate pulled her into a hug. She stood stiff for a second and then finally hugged the other man back. It should bother him that other males were touching her, would make him nuts if they weren’t pack. But they were all going to want to hug her. That was their way of welcoming her into the family.

  Mitchell let go and Jensen pulled her into an embrace. She hugged him quicker this time, and Jensen stepped back.

  “Well. Okay.” Betsy rubbed her forehead. “This is really such a strange day.”

  “Is she latent like Lilliana was?”

  “Yes.”

  Betsy stomped her foot, her fiery spirit reasserting itself. “Okay. Enough. All of you get out. I’m not latent or a werewolf or pack or whatever. I’m me. Normal human me. And you’re all leaving.”

  Cyrus shook his head. Human women really did think they had a choice in these things. His own female pack mates would have known he understood the best thing to be done and not argue about their own safety.

  “Actually, princess, there’s going to be lot more of our pack arriving shortly. However, Jensen and Mitchell do need to go.”

  “Sir?” Jensen raised his eyebrows.

  “Use that incredible nose of yours and sniff around the apartment. Pick up the scent of the human who lives here. His name is Nathan. He is a threat to my mate, but we need, for now, to keep him alive. Get him. Bring him to the office.” He stroked the back of Betsy’s hair. It was so soft, and he loved how it flowed through his hand. Someday soon he hoped to see it strewn over his pillow while she panted with pleasure.

  “Through the back entrance?”

  Cyrus nodded. “The service elevator.”

  The office building didn’t really have one. The secret entrance through the basement of the building was called that in order to hide what really happened down there. Wolves in the big city had to be creative to hide themselves from prying human eyes.

  “Got it.” Mitchell nodded.

  “Gentlemen, through any means necessary. I need his mouth to work. Not his arms.”

  Betsy gasped and covered her mouth. He waited for his pack mates to leave before he turned to her. “This is a violent world.”

  “Any chance you’ve made a terrible mistake and don’t belong anywhere near me? Any chance you’re going to change your mind?” Did she hope he had made a mistake? Or that he hadn’t? It mattered little. She belonged to him. And he to her.

  He pulled her close, sniffing at her hair. How could she have so many individual scents all at the same time? Cinnamon, vanilla, lilies…

  “Do you really want me to? Ask yourself deep inside where that small, still voice resides. You know the one I’m talking about, the place where you can really hear yourself think. Do you really want me to leave?” He ran his hand up her back. “Or do you actually want me to stay? To be closer?”

  She shivered beneath his hands. “That’s not fair to ask me.”

  “Why not, princess?” His cock hardened. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose all finesse and take her on the floor while the members of his pack arriving waited outside on the front stoop.

  “I make poor decisions when it comes to men, and I always feel bad about it after. I’m not doing that anymore, no matter how desperately I want it. To say I’m not attracted to you would be a lie. I don’t care about it though. Not being a slut means not being a slut.”

  He let out the long breath he’d held. “Don’t ever call yourself that again No one is allowed to insult you. Not even you. Am I clear?”

  She pulled back. “I think that if something is bad enough to use a bad word, then using it is appropriate at certain times. Sometimes I can’t keep my legs closed. It’s humiliating to me, to my family. I’m always sick to my stomach about it after. Maybe I have some kind of illness, but I think slut is the right word.”

  “No.” If she’d been raised as a wolf, as she should have been, she would have understood this better.

  “Look, I get it. Here in New York City it may be acceptable for women to have as many lovers as they want. I get it. I even admire the way people are here, but where I was raised, and based on what we believe, what I do is not okay.” And if she truly believed it, why did he hear doubt in her voice? Not a direct lie—that he would have scented, but her wolf side knew better even if her human half didn’t understand.

  “Oh?” He walked away from her—needing the distance to get his temper under control. How dare she think so little of herself? Touching her was only making his desire to claim her worse. Putting a little distance between them seemed the best course of action.

  “So what happens now?” Betsy cleared her throat, a definite tic. She was as uncomfortable as he.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t let this go yet. You’re not a slut. There is nothing wrong with you. Female wolves go into heat in a different way than their female human counterparts. It has to be handled, and it’s the male werewolf’s pleasure to make them feel more comfortable.” Although, since he’d become Alpha, he’d had to withdraw from the duty. Without a true mating, sometimes wolves mated for other reasons, even knowing they weren’t the other halves of each other’s souls. He didn’t want to ever give anyone the wrong impression.

  She gaped at him. “You guys go around screwing each other? Ooh, a female needs servicing, I’ll go bend her over and get it on? Like it means nothing?”

  He laughed, and she put her hands on her hips. Apparently, she hadn’t meant her statement to be so amusing. Cyrus tried to drop his smile. After a second, he gave up trying.

  “Listen, I think you are getting the wrong impression. We’re not animals looking to rut. If a woman goes into heat, she picks a male to share the time with. Condoms protect against unwanted pregnancies. Mostly, it’s a time shared by pack mates who care about each other. But you needn’t worry, princess. Once a true mating happens, its one man and one woman forever and ever. What do you say? Do you want me to ease your needs? How did you put it? Bend you over and go for it?”

  “You’re an asshole. Did you know that?” Contrary to the fire in her eyes, she dropped her gaze.

  “So, she gets submissive again after she delivers the blow to my ego.” He grabbed his chest like she’d wounded him and moved toward her again. “I can be a jerk. Maybe more than I should be. You can help me with that if you want to. Make me a better wolf.”

  Someone knocked on the door. He sniffed the air. Another four of his wolves had arrived. Securing Betsy’s safety came before anything else. He’d find a way to reach her heart one way or another. He had
to. Anything else was inconceivable.

  “Come in.”

  The four wolves that waited on the stoop entered, including his sister, Lake. She took one look at Betsy and drew in a breath. “She’s not Lilliana.”

  “Congratulations. My entire pack is showing themselves to be more adept than I am at identifying the obvious.” He returned to Betsy and took her hand. “Everyone, this Betsy. Betsy, this is everyone. She is my mate.” He ignored the murmurs around him. There was no time for everyone to have an emotional response to this. “They’ll all introduce themselves later. For now, we have things to do. Lake, I need you to call Travis. Don’t tell him why; just get him here with Lilliana. The rest of you, search this place. I want info on the human who lived here with Betsy. His name is Nathan. His family is threatening hers.”

  The males took off, moving through the house. He wasn’t surprised. His pack was good at determining when he meant business. This was one of those times. Lake, however, didn’t budge.

  His sister stared at him, tears in her eyes. “This is your mate?”

  Oh hell. He hadn’t considered his baby sister’s reaction. It had been the two of them against the world for so long before he’d won control of the Manhattan pack. Maybe Betsy was right. Maybe he was an ass. He should have handled breaking the news to Lake differently. A text message or something. Shit

  “Yes. But she doesn’t agree with it yet. Still trying to deny what’s between us. Betsy, this is my sister, Lake Fennell. Lake, this is Betsy. Lake is the Healer in our pack. That’s a special position. You’ll get all the details of pack rolls and politics later.”

  Betsy extended her hand. “Look, I don’t know if I’m his mate. If I hadn’t seen him shift from a wolf into a human I wouldn’t believe any of this. But, if you can all help me with Nathan and my family, then I’ll be forever grateful. I’m Betsy Webber.”

  Lake took her hand in her own. “I’ve always wanted a sister. If Cyrus says you’re his mate, that’s what you’ll be. Eventually.” She winked at her brother and then closed her eyes.

  “Lake. No.” Seconds too late, he realized what his sister would do. In Lilliana’s presence, Lake hadn’t been able to control her need to heal. It was embedded in the DNA of the females in his family. They had no choice. He should never have let them touch. Lake would feel what was wrong with Betsy and need to make it better, whether the other woman was ready or wanted the change.

  Cyrus rushed forward and grabbed their linked hands as Betsy collapsed with a scream. He managed to detach them and catch his mate before she fainted. He held her slight weight in his arms and stared at his sister’s wide eyes.

  “Is it too late?” Dread settled into his stomach. Betsy shouldn’t be thrown into her wolf life any more than Lilliana should have been earlier that year. Everything it its time, and this was not that time.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down Lake’s face. “It’s done. She’s going to change. Her wolf side is going to finally be free. As it always should have been.”

  Buzzing filled his head. This was happening, whether he liked it or not. “Damn it.”

  “I’m sorry, Cyrus.”

  Betsy jerked against him. He petted her head. “Shove the sorrys, Lake. Help me get her out of here. This is nowhere for a first shift. We’re going to my office.”

  Chapter Four

  Her eyes had somehow been glued shut. Betsy wasn’t sure how, but she couldn’t open them. And someone had placed her in a fur coat and turned on the heater. Otherwise she couldn’t explain why she felt the way she did.

  Betsy groaned, and it sounded more like a whimper.

  “She’s waking up.” A female voice. She’d heard it before. Who was it? Lake. That was right. Betsy sniffed the air, wanting to smell Cyrus’ sister, which seemed weird. But since she couldn’t seem to open her eyes, she gave into the instinct. Lake’s aroma spoke of wind in the trees and sunsets.

  Betsy forced her eyes open. How in the heck had she come up with that phrasing? How would she know what those things smelled like?

  She looked left and right. Everything in the room looked a bit off. The colors were duller. A loud bang sounded somewhere in the distance, and she winced at the sound. Where was she? What was going on? Her heart rate kicked up. Something was wrong…she didn’t know what. Where was she? From the piping on the ceiling, it looked like some kind of unfinished basement.

  “Cyrus. She’s fully conscious.”

  The man who had blown into her life and thrown it onto a tilt-a-whirl walked over to her. She stared up at him. He was so beautiful. She blinked. Women shouldn’t think that about men. They weren’t beautiful…they were handsome. Yet, somehow he was. So lovely, in fact, that she couldn’t look at him for all of his tremendous perfection. She dropped her eyes.

  “Now, now, princess. I thought we’d made some progress in that direction. You were doing a great job looking at me earlier.” He patted her head, and she whimpered. It felt so good to be touched by him, so soothing. He was goodness. He had all their best interests at heart. He would… She whimpered. Her thoughts were so strained, so muddled. What the hell was going on?

  Cyrus sucked in his breath. “Damn it. Lake, you’re on notice for this. Learn control or don’t leave your apartment.”

  In front of her, Lake looked down. “She needed fixing. That’s what I do. It’s like breathing.”

  He shook his head and furrowed his blond eyebrows. “I don’t accept that. You’re like a child. Do better.” Cyrus turned her attention back to Betsy, and she took a deep breath.

  Everything would be okay as long as he was there. She would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She belonged to him; they all did. He held their…

  Wow. Betsy blinked rapidly. Where had those thoughts come from? They weren’t hers. They had to belong to someone else, someone she didn’t know, except they were obviously her own. Who else could be inside of her head making her think those things?

  “Okay.” Cyrus shook his head. “She’s panting. I don’t want her going into shock.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lake placed a hand on Betsy, and Betsy growled. She did not want the other woman touching her. No one should be placing hands on her right then. Betsy backed up, stumbling a bit. Why weren’t her feet working, and holy cow she had growled. She needed to say something, anything, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Sweat broke out on her neck.

  “I’m going to shift and take care of her. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  Lake retreated further. “Didn’t you tell me that you shifted once today? You’re going to shift twice in one day on a non-full-moon night? That’s insanity. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  He laughed, and Betsy shuddered. There was no mirth in the sound. She could smell something on him she couldn’t identity. It tasted tangy on her tongue. What was that?

  And why couldn’t she make her mouth work? Something was happening to her. She wasn’t dense. She could tell something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.

  “I’m not going to make myself sick. I’m Alpha.” He shook his head. “And I suppose, if I do, you will fix me. That’s what you do, what you can’t seem to help yourself from doing.”

  Lake looked away, tears in her eyes, and crossed to the window. Betsy didn’t know what the history between the brother and sister was, but she knew he’d hurt her feelings. She could smell it, taste it, a bitter pungent scent that burned her nose.

  Distress didn’t smell good. The scent resembled rotten eggs or something similar. She gagged.

  “Have you realized that you’re a wolf, princess?”

  She jolted at his words. No, that wasn’t possible. She whimpered and backed against the wall. This. Can. Not. Be. Happening. It had to be a mistake. Sure, Cyrus was a wolf-man. She’d seen him change. But not her. Not unless Lake had done something to her.

  “No. Apparently, I broke that news to you, and it has placed you in utter terror. If I was worried about shock second
s ago, I’m terrified now. Don’t worry, Betsy. All will be well.”

  Cyrus’ body shifted. In the same way he had become a human from a wolf earlier, he shifted in the opposite direction now. Fur popped out on his skin and his nose, which had been adorable and human, elongated into a snout. She sucked in her breath and jumped when she realized the funny feeling on the back of her rear end was a moving tail.

  She turned her neck to look at it. Oh God, she had a tail. Betsy wanted to cry, and it came out like a howl. She tried to stop, and it happened again. Heaven help her, she was a canine. She howled. She growled. She wagged her tail.

  There had been things she wanted to do, plans she’d hoped to achieve after she settled the Nathan problem and saved her parents. There had been food to eat. Now she wouldn’t be able to even eat any chocolate. She sniffed—unless that rule applied only to domesticated dogs and not werewolves.

  Cyrus had fully shifted into his wolf form. He stared at her for a second, and she wished she could read minds, could know what he wanted from her. Currently, everything she craved most in the world left her in conflict. On one hand—or paw—she didn’t want to look him in the eyes. The floor, the wall, anywhere but his eyes seemed a great place for her gaze. On the other, she wanted his total attention, wanted to rub up against him, to take him somewhere where no one would ever find them—where it would be the two of them alone.

  She took a deep breath; she had to relax. They didn’t even know each other.

  Cyrus growled, and she forced her gaze to his. It felt akin to yanking a boulder skyward using only her neck. Yet, somehow she managed. Maybe it was the way he growled at her. Betsy would probably do anything to make that sound stop. Or maybe it was because he smelled like cinnamon and power. She loved that spice and she particularly liked how it surrounded Cyrus.

  He crowded her until their fur touched. He was dark with gray specks and much bigger than her. Their fur wasn’t dissimilar in color, and she wondered if all—gulp—werewolves were similarly marked.