True Alpha

by Ranae Rose

He smiled, though his chest still rose and fell a little more quickly than usual. “Not a chance. I could make love to you all night in that position.”

  “Guess I’ll be missing you, then.” She pressed her lips to his and lingered until the kiss left her short of breath.

  “I’ll be back by sunrise – before you know it, if you go to sleep now.” He brushed his lips across hers one last time and rose, picking his jeans up from the floor.

  Maybe that would be best – she was certainly tired enough to fall asleep. But another part of her wanted to stay up all night, to keep a lonely vigil as she waited for his return, as if that would somehow affect the outcome of his mission.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said as he left the room. “See you in the morning.”

  “See you then,” she said, sitting up in bed and reaching for the novel she kept on the bedside stand. No matter how tired she was, she couldn’t fool herself – it wouldn’t be easy to fall asleep without him by her side.

  Chapter 9

  “You sure you don’t wanna sleep in?” Jack asked, slipping into the bathroom.

  Mandy spit a mouthful of water into the sink and placed her toothbrush in the cabinet. “I want to get an early start on work so I’ll have time to get everything ready for my mom’s arrival this afternoon.” If she just logged a couple hours on her laptop, she’d be so far ahead that she wouldn’t have to worry about her work assignments for the next three days – just as she’d planned. No way was she going to work on her wedding day. “Besides, you’re the one who stayed up all night.”

  He, Noah and Daniel had returned from their search just before sunrise, surprised by the lack of progress the night had yielded. They’d gone to the place where the outsider had made his austere den, but all they’d found there was a faint whiff of days-old scent. The trail had quickly gone cold – thank God. It looked like the mystery wolf had been shaken by his encounter with Daniel and had evacuated the area, which seemed like the best possible outcome anyone could’ve hoped for. He’d probably been a loner without a place to truly call home – maybe one of the shifters who’d gone completely wolf, like Clarissa had mentioned.

  “I’m fine,” Jack insisted as he placed his hands on her hips, pressing against her from behind. The mirror reflected his slightly-red eyes and the crop of stubble that shadowed his jaw. “And I know you stayed up most of the night waitin’ for me.”

  It was true. After several long, nervous hours, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, plagued by dreams and memories of gunshots and dripping blood. She could still smell the acrid tang of it when she thought about it. “I still got more sleep than you did.”

  “I might lie down for a few hours of sleep, but not before breakfast. I’m starved.”

  “Want me to fry up some eggs and bacon?” She was hungry too – not that that was surprising. It was amazing how hollow her belly could feel despite the fact that it was occupied by a tiny little shifter.

  “More than anything in the world.” He met her gaze in the mirror and slipped a hand lower, cupping one half of her ass, his fingers nearly slipping between her legs. “Unless…”

  She laughed, conscious of the faint, almost pleasant ache between her legs, courtesy of the way they’d made love the night before. “Are you serious?”

  “As serious as you want me to be.”

  “Well, no offence, but I think I might get sick if I do anything physical before breakfast.”

  He sighed in mock-melodrama. “None taken.”

  “Nothing personal – it’s the pregnancy.” Early mornings tended not to agree with her lately, unless she took things slow. The worst thing she could do was forget to eat.

  Leaving Jack in the bathroom, she shuffled into the kitchen and pulled a frying pan from the drawer beneath the stove. Ten minutes later, the kitchen was suffused with the aroma of sizzling eggs and bacon. She’d donned an apron – a must when it came to protecting her protruding belly from flying bits of bacon grease. Her stomach rumbled, and her belly shifted slightly beneath the dot-patterned apron front as the baby wiggled. Could he or she be shape-shifting? Without the unmistakable evidence of a little paw, it was impossible to tell. Still, it was exciting to imagine all the changes going on – only two more months, and she’d be able to meet the baby face to face.

  What kind of person would her and Jack’s child grow up to be? Male or female? He or she would probably end up with some shade of brunette hair – maybe cocoa like Mandy’s natural color, or near-black like Jack’s – but it was possible, wasn’t it, that their child might end up with strawberry-blond locks, just like Mandy’s mother? The possibilities seemed endless, and at times, Mandy could hardly wait to hold their baby in her arms and begin getting to know the person they’d created.

  “Mmm…” Jack’s moan of appreciation preceded him, drifting across the kitchen as he emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. “Anything ready yet?”

  Mandy faced him, a slotted turner in hand. His body glistened with dampness, and his dark hair was matted down with moisture. As he approached her, she caught a whiff of the clean, soapy scent that clung to his skin, mixing pleasantly with his natural woodsy smell. “I’ve got some bacon and eggs ready for you. Go get dressed and your plate will be on the table when you get back.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and inhaled deeply.

  “Are you smelling me or the bacon?” Mandy asked, caught in his embrace.

  “Both,” he sighed.

  “Careful,” she warned as she turned over the last of the strips that were left on the skillet.

  But it was too late. Jack muttered a sudden curse as a drop of hot grease leapt from the skillet and hit his hip. Burnt, he retreated to the bedroom only to emerge a few moments later, wearing jeans but still shirtless. This time, he steered clear of the stove and settled down at the table, attacking the plate Mandy had set out for him.

  She soon joined him, carrying a plate that was piled high with scrambled eggs and a couple pieces of bacon.

  “What time will your mother be arriving again?” he asked.

  “Two,” Mandy said, burying her fork in the fluffy heap of eggs.

  “Well, the guys and I will be out of your hair for the baby shower; I told Noah and Daniel I’d take them into town today. They wanna drop off applications for some jobs they found online.”

  “All right. But you’re welcome to come home anytime – I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid the cabin during the baby shower. My mom is looking forward to seeing you again.” Jack and her mother had only met once before, on a day that they’d met in the country along Interstate 40, halfway between Nashville and the Smokies. They’d had lunch at a restaurant and had then gone on a short hike together. Mandy’s mother had seemed to like Jack, and vice-versa.

  “I’m sure she’ll enjoy having some time with you without me around. I know this all—” he waved his fork as if to encompass himself, Mandy, their baby and their home – “must seem sudden to her, even if she is nice about it. It ain’t every day a city girl abandons her life in Nashville at the drop of a hat and finds out she’s pregnant a few weeks later.” He shot her a teasing grin. “And your mother only found out about the wedding within the past week.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Mandy took a sip from the glass of milk she’d poured herself. “Thanks. You’ve been really considerate.” That was an understatement; she knew very well that he’d proposed to her partly for her mother’s sake – there simply weren’t any other non-shifters in her life whose opinions she really valued. And she could imagine the thoughts her mother must be having, even if she was kind enough not to express them. After all, her mother had been caught up in a whirlwind romance when she’d been young, and had quickly found herself pregnant, much like Mandy. Mandy’s father, who’d never married her mother, had abandoned them both before Mandy’s birth.

  “I reckon marrying you is the least I can do after stealing you away from her.” Jack shot Mandy a grin
as he pushed back his chair. “I don’t want her to think that I’ve got any intentions of leavin’ you, like your deadbeat of a father did her.” His plate had been cleared of every last crumb. “There any more bacon?”

  “On the plate beside the skillet.” Her engagement ring sparkled as she picked up her glass and took another sip of milk. Jack would rather die than abandon her or their child. Hopefully, her mom would realize that during the two-day stay she’d booked in a nearby vacation cabin so that she could attend the baby shower and the wedding. It made Mandy’s heart ache to imagine that her mother might be worrying that her daughter would become a victim of the same brutal circumstances she herself had endured – raising a child from birth to adulthood on her own, and never finding anyone to fill the void her first love had left her with.

  “I’m gonna lie down for a couple hours,” Jack said when every last trace of bacon had been obliterated. “Wake me up if you need anything, all right sweetheart?”

  Mandy nodded, rising from the table and placing her dishes in the sink. She’d wash them and do a little tidying up after she got some work done. Then, she’d be free to devote the rest of the day to celebrating the baby’s impending arrival. After the fretful night she’d spent worrying over Jack, the idea of losing herself in a couple hours of games and festivities sounded perfect.

  ****

  As soon as Jack left, pulling out of the driveway with Noah and Daniel in his truck, Mandy seized the broom that rested propped against the wall by the fridge. Clarissa, Violet and April would be doing the decorating for the baby shower, but she wanted to make sure the cabin was perfectly clean. Today would be the first time her mother had ever visited her and Jack’s home.

  She was halfway done sweeping the floors when a knock at the door interrupted. Probably Clarissa and the girls come early, which was fine, as long as they didn’t try to kick her out of the cabin while they decorated. More cleaning still needed to be done.

  When she turned to face the door, it wasn’t Clarissa who waited on the other side of the screen. A tall, masculine figure stood on the porch, and Mandy’s heart jumped at the unexpected sight. All of the Half Moon males were gone, on their way into town in Jack’s truck, and this man’s lean build could never be mistaken for Ronnie’s. The sight of him triggered something in Mandy’s memory though, and she gripped the broom handle tight. “Yes?” she called, making her voice as loud and clear as possible.

  “Mandy?” Hearing the man speak her name was a surprise; he was a total stranger.

  “How do you know my name?” She took a couple steps toward the door. It was locked – thank God – but they could hear each other easily through the screen. Still, she maintained a firm grip on the broom – in a pinch, it would do as a makeshift weapon.

  “I heard your friends call you that.” It made sense, though he sounded slightly unsure of himself. “Do you prefer Amanda?” He spoke with a Southern accent, but he didn’t quite sound local.

  She ignored his question. He hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that he’d been watching her. His tall, lean frame belonged to the same man she’d noticed in Gatlinburg, sitting at a table near hers and then later staring at her through the wedding store’s display window. As if that wasn’t proof enough, he wore a green backpack slung over his shoulders. “Who are you?” She dared to take another step closer, silently praying that he didn’t have a weapon of any sort. His hands were where she could see them, hanging at his sides. As she focused on his face, it triggered a long ago memory, and she stopped in her tracks, her palms breaking out into a nervous sweat, compromising her grip on the broom handle. Was it even possible?

  “I’m your father.”

  His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and all her emotions seemed to freeze, yielding to sheer incredulousness. “Who are you, really?” But she stepped forward, daring to venture within a couple yards of the screen that divided them. His trim figure had led her to gauge his age incorrectly; she’d pegged him as being in his forties, but up close, the faint lines around his eyes and mouth, along with narrow streaks of grey in his hair, told a different story. He was probably about fifty. Old enough to conceivably have a daughter her age.

  He just stood there, his blue eyes meeting hers. She recognized the shade – she saw it every morning when she looked in the mirror. His brown hair was close to her original color, too, but those things didn’t mean anything. Not necessarily – lots of people had blue eyes and brown hair. What really sent her heart racing was the fact that she recognized him; not just his coloring, but his face. It had been an accident that she’d even seen it in the first place…

  When she’d been in grade school, she’d found a picture of her mother with a man, the 5x7 drugstore print stored in a shoebox on a shelf in the hallway closet, where they’d kept the board games. When she’d failed to come back to the kitchen table with the game board in time, her mother had come to check on her. Mandy could still hear her mother’s sharp gasp when she remembered standing on top of a chair she’d dragged into the hallway, mesmerized by the photo. “Mom, who’s this?” she’d asked.

  Her mother hadn’t hesitated to tell the truth. But she’d sounded so heartbroken when she’d told Mandy that the man in the photo was her father that Mandy had put it back and hadn’t broached the subject again. She’d returned to the closet and pulled down that shoebox quite a few times over the years though, always when her mother was asleep or at work. She hadn’t been able to resist examining the photo, looking into the eyes of the man who’d left them behind. As a child, she’d been perplexed and fascinated by how happy her mother and father had looked in the photo, smiling at the camera with their arms around each other’s shoulders.

  Now, she recognized the man whose photo she’d poured over so many times, though about thirty years had passed and he no longer smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  “See me? You already saw me in Gatlinburg.” She lifted her chin, refusing to break eye contact. “You were following me.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to meet you.”

  Standing there, scarcely three feet from the father she’d never met before, everything felt almost surreal. “After all this time, you want to meet me?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t back down when she narrowed her eyes, didn’t move. He just stood there, staring with eyes that were a mirror image of her own, save for the faint lines that time had etched around their corners; she hadn’t lived long enough to acquire those yet.

  “Why? I’m twenty-nine years old. You—”

  “I know how old you are. I—”

  She raised her voice a little, cutting him off as he had her. “If you wanted to be a part of my life, you could’ve stepped in at any time. Why would you be interested in meeting me now?”

  “You’re my daughter. My only child.”

  Well, at least he hadn’t run off and had a family with someone else after abandoning her mother. What had he been up to over the past thirty years? A part of her wanted to ask, but she had a feeling that was what he wanted, and why should she give him that after what he’d done? Loyalty to her mother had gotten her hackles up as soon as she’d realized who he was. Besides, there was one burning question she had to ask. “You’re a shifter, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He shifted his stance and readjusted his backpack.

  He answered so casually, as if he hadn’t knowingly passed on a condition to his daughter that could’ve shattered her sanity, not to mention her life, and then left her with no one to let her know who she really was, or how to cope with it. But that was in the past; things had worked out fine for her, and if he’d cared at all he never would’ve abandoned her in the first place. Just because he’d emerged from the shadows of the past to strike up a conversation with her didn’t mean he was truly interested in her life or welfare. Maybe he was experiencing some sort of mid-life crisis. “Have you by any chance been hiding out in the woods at the edge of Half Moon territory?”
/>   “I have.”

  Just as she’d begun to suspect over the past few minutes. “Then you’re the one who hurt Daniel.”

  He raised his hands, palms facing the screen. “I was under the distinct impression that if I didn’t defend myself, that wolf would rip my throat out.”

  “Well…” Mandy lowered the broom just a little, suddenly aware that her arms were aching. “Look, I don’t know why you decided to make an appearance after so many years, but this isn’t a good time. I have company coming over soon, and if any of my packmates find you here, they’re going to be upset.” That could prove to be the understatement of the year, depending on who showed up. She could only imagine the disaster that would ensue if Jack, Daniel and Noah came face to face with the mysterious outsider who’d kept them all on edge for days.

  “I’m not here to hurt anybody.”

  It was decidedly too late for that, but Mandy bit down on her inner lip, choosing not to voice the obvious. “What do you want?”

  He gripped his backpack straps a little more tightly. “Can we talk a little more?” His gaze swept past her, searching the cabin. “Can I come in?”

  If only he didn’t sound as if he really wanted to talk – as if he feared that she’d say no. She was starting to feel bad for him, though she knew he was the last person who deserved her pity. And then there was the curiosity she was trying hard not to give in to; here, right in front of her, was the man she’d wondered about all her life, the father she’d often longed for. As an adult, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d only ever have one parent. Then she’d met Jack and discovered her true nature, and she’d started wondering about him all over again. He was a shifter – had her human mother simply been a dalliance, a fling he’d abandoned after it had become more serious than he’d intended? Did he belong to a pack? “Wait right here.”

  She retreated to the bedroom, faced the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Beneath layers of lingerie, two sleek, cool items contrasted with the soft textures of lace and cotton. She left the gun where it rested and picked up the second item instead – pepper spray. She’d often carried it in her purse when she’d lived in Nashville. Now, she tucked it into one of her pockets. Letting a stranger into her house seemed risky, even if the man was her biological father. She wasn’t going to take any chances with her own or her unborn child’s safety.