by Terra Wolf
"No, not usually. Sometimes though. But that usually comes to play when the challenger comes out of nowhere. Any wolf can challenge for Alpha at any time. The deadly challenges have usually been when a young, unhappy wolf decides he wants to take over. Even then it is the upstart who pushes things too far. He can't imagine getting beaten, or decides he will not give up, even after a winner is decided. Those challengers sometimes push it too far. Those usually don't end well. But a bloodline challenge like today? There should be no to-the-death grandstands."
Emma nodded, relieved, and thanked Thomas.
"Hopefully this time there will be no surprises."
Ziva's muttered words made Emma turn back toward them again.
"What does that mean?"
Ziva pointedly ignored her question, looking past her and down at the challengers.
Thomas opened his mouth to answer her, after a chastising glance at his mate, but he would only say, with a quiet laugh, "The last time there was a challenge, it didn't go the way the pack had assumed it would. That is all. Shall we begin? I'm already tiring."
"Yes, of course. Whenever you..." Emma trailed off, not knowing quite what to say.
He smiled at her discomfort, taking the time to soothe her by saying, "Don't worry child. It will be over soon. These things have a way of working themselves out, no fear. Our world balances itself, eventually. You are home. Here, where you should have always been."
Ziva snorted again, but he ignored her.
"Thomas has claimed his mate. I don't know how Thomas would have found Kate if she hadn't come here with you, so things balance out. Maybe Reine was meant to leave for that reason. Or maybe for another. I don't pretend to know the why's of our world. But you are here, now. As is Kate. This challenge will also go however it goes. Relax, watch. There isn't anything you can do, right? So just wait, and see what is."
And with a signal from Thomas, the challenge began.
The men squared off against each other, circling.
Punches were thrown, and blocked. Their deep laughter occasionally drifted up as the brothers seemed to spar like they were training instead of challenging, insulting each other and bantering as they warmed their muscles for battle.
Emma relaxed some, watching what seemed more playful than threatening.
Slowly, though, things got more serious.
The laughter turned to grunts. The punches and blocks were thrown with more intent and less teasing. The urges to fight, and to defend, got more personal.
Emma could tell that something had shifted, now that they were warmed up, and into the groove of the fight. Both men planned to give it their all.
The crowd must have sensed it as well, that the brotherly play fighting had ended, because the mutters of voices had stopped, and everyone's attention was now focused on the two men as they each now tried to outdo the other.
Emma heard Thomas's soft laughter.
"They are evenly matched. I had a feeling this part would be more like dancing, and less like fighting. It won't be until they shift that things will get serious. Their wolves will come out soon, and the human aspects of their brotherhood will recede. This isn't fighting, it's ballet. But their wolves...that will be a different story, I'm afraid."
Emma didn't turn around this time, her focus was on the brothers. She nodded her understanding instead, afraid to look away in case she missed something.
He was right though, they were evenly matched.
And that fact seemed to be starting to irritate Galen.
Galen's body language changed subtly, he was ready to assert his dominance. Emma guessed partially because his new mate was watching, and partly because Elam didn't seem to be just going through the motions, but instead was starting to get into it.
Kate leaned in, whispering to Emma.
"Damn, it's kind of hot, you know? Two gorgeous, almost naked men fighting like that. Is that why girls like those MMA fighters so much? And hockey players? All that testosterone filled fighting?"
Emma laughed.
"When will they shift, then?" Kate asked the question louder, aiming it behind her at Thomas.
"When, how do you humans say it? When things start to get real." Thomas answered.
It started looking more like a bar fight down there. Desperation seemed to be climbing. The two were locked together more often than apart, fists and elbows flying, feet bracing.
With a primal yell, Galen pushed Elam away from him, hard.
And in the space that bought him, he started to shift.
Elam saw it and countered, shifting less than a second after Galen.
Emma barely had time to register the fact that she hadn't yet seen Elam's wolf, and to look him over, before the two were charging each other's throats.
She'd seen Galen's pitch black wolf on the day they first arrived, and quite a few times since. But Elam had never shifted. At least that she'd seen.
She was surprised when Elam's wolf turned out to be an auburn red. She guessed she expected him to match his hair color, a dirty blonde, not to be closer to her own hair color.
She found herself wondering what her wolf would look like, if she was to shift as well. She made a mental note to ask Thomas what her mother's wolf looked like, once this was all over.
She gasped as the two wolves rolled and tried to pin each other down. They moved so fast. Except for the obvious fur color differences, she almost couldn't tell them apart. The black and the red coat colors blurred as the wolves came together, broke apart, and crashed together again.
They never barked or howled. Emma guessed that made sense, since dogs used barks and howls more for communication and warnings. She'd seen domestic dogs fight before, and by the time they had gotten to the actual fighting, all the barking had stopped.
She did hear deep growls rumbling up from the arena floor though, usually when the two were separated for a few seconds, analyzing their next moves before launching towards the other wolf's throat once again.
Each wolf was soon bleeding, both of them landing well placed bites and tearing gashes from the other.
Kate reached over and took Emma's hand, squeezing it tight as she watched her mate fight.
"I didn't realize it would be this..."
"Animalistic? Scary?" Emma fed her the words she had been thinking.
"Bloody." Kate whispered to Emma, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear, and awe.
Galen pinned Elam then. Emma closed her eyes tight, not wanting to watch, but her eyes forced themselves back open, almost against her will. She couldn't help but stare, even though it was making her sick to her stomach to see it all.
Elam's body started and jerked, trying to wrench himself from Galen's weight.
"It will be Galen, then. As everyone said." Kate's words were low, mumbled.
Emma barely heard them as she watched Elam try to get up.
"I will be the Alpha's mate!" There was pride in Kate's tone, in her words, but there was something else in them as well. They were muttered fervently, almost desperately.
And then Elam was loose, and flying at Galen.
Elam's full weight hit Galen before he was fully prepared, and the two bodies collided with a solid thud. A grunt hit Emma's ears, but she wasn't sure who'd uttered it.
The wolves' momentum drove them against the trunk of a large tree, and then they slid to the ground, rolling together.
Soon Elam had Galen pinned, reversing their positions of just a moment ago.
"No!" Kate's cry reached Emma's ear just before Elam's teeth seemed to sink into Galen's throat.
But the wolves rolled again, another blur of fur and teeth. She couldn't keep track of who was winning.
"Are you sure they won't kill each other?" Emma's worried question was fired over her shoulder at Thomas, looking for reassurance.
He took a few moments to answer, during which the brothers continued to vie for dominance, each one seeming to come out ahead, just a heartbeat before being knocked back onto his ass on
ce again.
"They are quite well matched, even more so than I thought. But no, I doubt either will kill the other. It looks worse than it really is, with all the blood. Werewolves heal very quickly. I'm sure some of their initial wounds are already almost healed. It looks bad, I know. Even more so to your eyes. But I don't foretell any fatal strikes, my dear."
"Then how will it be decided? They just wear each other down like this until only one has the energy to stand?"
"Possibly."
Emma could feel both Kate and Ziva pulling hard for Galen. She knew Elam wasn't interested in being Alpha, so she was confused as to why he was fighting so hard. They'd put on a great show. Both brothers were obviously equals in battle. But she knew one wanted it, and the other didn't.
It seemed like any moment now would be a good time for Galen to take it, and for Elam to still come out of this looking like a warrior.
The two stilled suddenly.
Elam was crouched on his stomach, with Galen above him, pinning him down. Galen looked to have Elam's throat in his teeth.
For a second Emma almost giggled. She was sure it was the stress of watching this that turned her mind to silly, inappropriate thoughts, but it almost looked to her like the two were mating instead of fighting.
With Elam underneath Galen like that, Galen above him, his weight pinning Elam down, and Galen's teeth at the nape of Elam's neck, it looked to her like two dogs she always saw mating in the front yard next door when she was growing up.
She covered her mouth to silence the giggles she was afraid were about to escape at the thought of this whole challenge turning on a dime into something wholly unexpected.
Her giggles turned to confusion quickly though, as it seemed Elam was suddenly growing.
She heard her confusion echoed by those around her, as Elam started to rise. He almost looked like he was shifting, but his color stayed the same, he just grew bigger.
Things changed, but with Galen blocking the view, still griping Elam's neck and straddling his back, she couldn't see very well.
Elam kept getting bigger. Soon Galen was lifted, still holding on, but his paw's no longer on the ground.
A roar ripped from Elam as his shifting form started to stand up, rising to his back legs and standing tall on two feet.
Only it wasn't a wolf standing there on two legs, with another wolf hanging from his back.
It was a bear. Elam had shifted from his wolf form into a huge, standing, auburn, grizzly bear, with Galen rising farther and farther off the ground as he kept his grip on his brother's neck.
Galen released his hold finally, landing on all four paws and backing away from Elam, who stood tall in the clearing, snout aimed at the sky in a terrifying roar.
"Damn it, can't just one challenge go the way I expect?" Ziva's words were full of venom.
"That can't be good." Kate's words followed right behind Ziva's. "So now what?"
Thomas spoke then.
"I knew that boy was special, but even I didn't expect this. Who in the hell were his blood parents?"
Emma asked, "So is it over now? What does this mean?"
Thomas answered, "Oh, it is over, all right. And it is also just beginning."
Get Alphas Divided Part 2 of 3 Here!
Please check out my other titles
on J. M. Klaire's Amazon Author's Page
Click here for J. M. Klaire's Paranormal Mailing List
or check out all of my author personalities at JKlaireRomance.com.
UNCHOSEN BRIDE
Blackrock Bears - Book Three
Coming Home
By
Alana Hart & Michaela Wright
Mailing List
Alana Hart’s newsletter is the absolute best way to stay up to date with new releases, free books and special offers from Alana Hart.
Sign up here – http://eepurl.com/bwJayz
Would you like to receive Alana Hart’s new releases for FREE, in exchange for an honest review of 20 or more words?
Sign up here for Alana Harts Review Team – http://eepurl.com/bwMfI5
Sign up here if you’d like to be notified of Michaela Wright’s new releases and special offers - http://eepurl.com/bEvGB1
One
“Well, I wanted to see you before I headed out,” Deacon said, his tone betraying disappointment as he clutched the phone to his ear.
“I know, monkey. I’m sorry. Just too much to do to leave early today,” Carissa said, the sound of her office bustling in the background.
Deacon glanced at the clock. It was five in the evening. He’d waited an extra hour to head out, not early, but on time. He didn’t bother arguing further. He was growing accustomed to this kind of conversation. He swallowed. “Alright, well. I’ll text when I arrive.”
“Okay. Wait, aren’t you getting there after ten?”
Deacon exhaled. I am now, he thought. The drive from Boston to Blackrock would take five hours on a good day, six and a half on a not so good one. Being a Thursday, he wasn’t sure which sort of day he was in for. “Yeah, maybe later.”
“Well, I’ll probably already be in bed. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, ok? Alright, I gotta go, Deedee. Drive safe!”
She made the puckering sound of blowing a kiss through the phone and hung up, leaving Deacon to sit in his truck with the phone at his ear, looking like an imbecile as he puckered to a dead phone. He set the phone down on the center console and stared out the windshield at the driveway to Carissa’s apartment. Her apartment was on the third floor of a three story brick apartment building, one of seven cloned structures all lined up beside each other as far as the eye could see. Despite the long drive ahead of him and the disappointment of not getting to say goodbye to his girlfriend before he headed to Blackrock, a part of him was aching to go home. There was something about the smell of sea air that stays with a man, and he was ready to be reminded of that.
Deacon flipped through the radio stations until he found the ‘Three for Thursday’ Rock Classics station playing a block of Pink Floyd.
Not a bad way to start the trip, he thought, rolling his SUV out of the parking lot.
What’s your ETA? John texted as Deacon was rolling into the rest area in Kennebunk, Maine.
Don’t rush me, man.
Deacon pocketed his phone, waiting for an agitated response from his older brother. He hadn’t been home in three months, and his brother, John Fenn, was feeling the separation.
Hurry the hell up, dick! I’m staying up til you get here. John said, and Deacon could practically hear his manic tone. He and John were what many around Blackrock called the Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. John was the older of the twins, but he very rarely acted like it.
I’m not getting in til late. Don’t wait up, I’ll see you in the morning.
Fuck that noise! John said less than a minute later.
Deacon laughed aloud in the line for Popeye’s Chicken, drawing looks from the people around him. He had to admit, he missed John, too. It would be nice to arrive that night and curl up for a beer with his brother. Still, knowing John needed to be on a construction site with cousin Kirk and Uncle Terry the next morning, Deacon took pause at the thought of John wielding a nail gun while hungover. He was sure John’s wife, Catherine, might have something to say about it as well.
Tell me you didn’t stop in Kennebunk. You did, didn’t you?
Deacon snorted, holding up his phone to take a picture of the Popeye’s Chicken sign.
Hell yeah, I did.
Deacon took his dinner out to the car and checked the time. 7:36. He had another three hours to go, at least. Deacon cracked open the cover to his Starbucks coffee, and took a sip of the molten liquid. It burned going down, and tasted like the inside of an old shoe, but it was caffeinated, and that was enough for him. Deacon piled into his SUV, the smell of fried chicken and coffee filling the vehicle.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot Carissa a quick text.
Hope you
had a good day and are home safe. Love you.
He started up the truck and pulled up to get gas at the pump. His phone buzzed on the center console, and he lunged for it, smiling.
You better bring me leftovers, ass hat.
John, not Carissa. Deacon set the phone aside and pumped his gas. There was no response when he climbed back into the SUV.
When Deacon pulled up to the gate at the Fenn property in Blackrock, Maine, Carissa still hadn’t responded to his text.
Dawn betrayed itself through the kitchen windows of his downstairs. John groaned in protest from the couch, passed out where he’d settled the night before. Deacon shifted in his recliner, unwilling to move from beneath Aunt Deidre’s handmade quilt. Being mid-Autumn, Maine was happily accosting her citizens with frigid mornings – something she enjoyed especially near the water.
“For fuck’s sake, what time is it?” John groaned from the couch.
Deacon glanced over at the clock. 12:47. He swallowed against the unfortunate taste in his mouth. “No clue. Clock batteries are dead.”
“Faaaaahk.” John rolled off the couch and onto the floor, finally pushing himself up onto his feet with dramatic disdain. He shuffled across the living room to glance into the kitchen. “Jesus, it’s 6:30. Why am I awake?”
Deacon rose from his seat, making his way to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. John slumped back down onto the couch, stealing Aunt D’s quilt to curl back up.
“Isn’t your wife going to wonder where you are?”
John blew out through pursed lips, making the sound of an agitated horse. “Naw. She knew you were coming. I told her I might crash here.”
Deacon nodded to himself. He imagined the ease of that conversation. Deacon knew Catherine well enough to know she wouldn’t begrudge John a late night pow wow with his brother. Deacon cringed at the memory of the same conversation with Carissa, explaining that his grandfather, Patrick Fenn, had requested he come up to visit for Halloween, saying he had important matters that Deacon was required for. Deacon assumed it involved construction work, winterizing the houses, shingling the cabin on Parkhurst Lake, or shutting up the trailer. Whatever it was, Patrick hadn’t been forthcoming with details. This trait wasn’t unusual for the Fenn family patriarch.
