Alpha Daddy

by Ava Sinclair

  The spanking stopped, the building heat of the blows replaced by the sensation of a hard, callused hand resting on the swell of her burning bottom. For several long moments he left her hanging there, limp, over his knee. Then she felt herself gently rolled over and pulled into the curve of his arms, her bottom against his thighs. He held her as she tried to twist away, pressing her face into his chest until she was exhausted from her struggles and could only cry, the sobs of physical pain now joined by sobs of emotion wrenched from the deepest recesses of her heart. It was the raw wailing of grief that filled the room now—the unbidden outpouring of an emotional reserve she’d sought to maintain because she’d not felt that she had the luxury to completely lose it. She thought she’d mourned the day she scattered her father’s ashes. But she realized now she had not mourned. She had not grieved. Not like this.

  “Let it go,” he said. “Don’t hold it in. That’s it. I’m here. Let it go.”

  He was rocking her, his strong arms rhythmically moving her back and forth in a gentle motion. Carly was vaguely aware that the jeans and panties worked down to her ankles during the spanking had fallen to the floor, leaving her naked on his lap.

  But she couldn’t object; nothing could get past the flood of tears that seemed to have no end, and she fell forward onto his neck, sobbing into his long black hair as he stroked hers and murmured comforting words.

  How long did she sit there? It seemed like hours had passed before the sobs were reduced to hiccoughs of breath. Carly’s throat was raw from crying, her eyes bleary from tears, and she tried to turn her head away when Lakota wiped her nose with a handkerchief. He wasn’t having that either, and held her still until he’d mopped the wetness from her puffy face.

  “Have you ever wondered about why Miles Fowler took you from that orphanage?”

  The question surprised Carly, and she looked up at him through her haze of tears.

  “I never really thought about it,” she said. “He said he was doing research in the area when he met me.”

  “That wasn’t true,” Lakota said. “Your father tracked you down because your natural father was the first of our kind that he met. His name was Grey Everson and he was a lone wolf, a rogue. But for a solitary of our kind, existence is pain. He had no pack to protect him, no camaraderie. He learned the best way to dull his ability to shift form was with alcohol. That’s what killed him, but not before he fathered a daughter. You went into foster care after your mother was killed. Miles Fowler didn’t know of your existence until your father told him. He asked Miles to adopt you, to protect you. After that, everything your father did was to protect us.” He paused. “For you.”

  Carly stared in disbelief. “No,” she said. “I’m not one of you. If I were, I’d know.”

  Lakota nodded patiently. “I agree. And there’s half a chance you will not have the gift to change. But half of you harbors the blood of WolfKind. And that means you are among your people.”

  She pondered this. “Do the others know?”

  “No,” he said. “But they will.”

  Carly shook her head. “Oh, my god…”

  “Look,” Lakota continued. “We don’t seek to replace Miles Fowler by taking you in, but honor him. We honor you, too, by giving you a place in our pack. But your place will be within our structure. You will be protected and cared for and guided. If you disobey, you will answer to us, and ultimately to me. Do you understand, my little one?”

  His voice was deep and soft as he spoke in a firm but soothing tone. In spite of herself, Carly was relaxing. Did she have any choice? She couldn’t deny what she’d seen, couldn’t deny the danger she faced. This man and his family were the only ones equipped to protect her. They’d already saved her once.

  But there was something else guiding her toward compliance. As the pain in her bottom receded from a fire to a burning ache, she realized that for the first time she was again under the watchful eye of a benevolent authority figure.

  He rose from the bed, still cradling her in his arms, and laid her down on the coverlet. Carly instantly turned over on her belly, whimpering softly as Lakota picked up a quilt from a nearby chair and covered her with it.

  “You’re going to take a nap now,” he said. “When you wake up and walk downstairs, it will be into the company of your new family. Understand?”

  She nodded, her eyes feeling heavy.

  “Good girl,” he said. And she was asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  His role as Carly’s father figure and protector was one Lakota took seriously, but before he could completely assume it, he had to consult with his extended family.

  He decided it best that Carly not be present when he broke the news to them that she was staying. So as she slept upstairs, Sabine called a meeting so he could bring the Sourwood community up to speed on what had happened.

  All of them were familiar with Miles Fowler. He’d observed the pack in wolf form, and some of the older Sourwood members could remember the kindly researcher bringing his young daughter along with him in the summer to observe the pack from a blind on their hunting land. They were not all aware of her blood ties to their kind. When Lakota told them what he knew, there were questions and concerns. She was half human. How loyal would she be, especially if she lacked the gift to shift?

  But Lakota reminded them that even if Carly did prove unable to shift, the Sourwood pack owed her father. He reminded them that Miles Fowler had closely guarded their secret, and he was certain that Carly Fowler would continue his legacy.

  Ultimately, the others agreed that Miles Fowler’s daughter needed their protection. What’s more, they agreed that as heir to her adoptive father’s conservation legacy and lands, they had a stake in keeping her safe. Bear wanted them off the land, and that would not happen so long as she was alive and in control.

  The sole exception to the unanimous acceptance of Carly’s presence was Sam, who stalked and fumed on the edge of the room where they’d met.

  “I still think it’s too risky,” he’d said.

  “Then speak your mind, Sam,” Lakota had said.

  “If we keep her here, it’s like asking Bear to make trouble.”

  “He’ll make more trouble if she ends up dead,” Sabine had said, and the others had nodded. Sam had fallen into a sullen silence.

  Lakota suspected that Sam’s agitation had more to do with his ongoing grief than with any real opposition to Carly’s presence.

  “He’s resentful,” Sabine said later. “It’s the first major decision the pack has had to make since his father’s death. It’s just another reminder that Caine is really gone.”

  A tear had come to her eye, and Lakota had hugged her to him. “I’ll talk to him,” he said.

  He found Sam sitting at the edge of the meadow, by a small marker the pack had erected to commemorate Caine. It still bothered Lakota that the body had never been retrieved, not that it would have mattered. By the time they’d gotten there, the body would have been taken anyway.

  Lakota sat down beside Sam. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand, but I’d sure appreciate it.” The young gray wolf stood, stretched and in an instant, Sam had changed back.

  “You’re getting good,” he said.

  “I get it from my dad,” Sam said. “One day I’ll be able to shift as quickly as he did. He was the best in the pack.”

  “He was,” Lakota conceded. For several moments they sat in silence staring at the trees.

  “I know it bothers you, seeing me make decisions that your father would have made. I can only hope you understand that I try to do what he would have done. We were like brothers, your dad and I.”

  Sam picked up a rock and threw it.

  “It was Miles Fowler’s fault that he died.”

  “Sam…”

  “If my father hadn’t left the protection of our land to go warn Dr. Fowler, then he’d still be alive.”

  “Your father did what he thought was right. It cost him his life.”
r />   “Yeah, and now history is repeating itself. You’d think we’d learn.”

  Lakota tried to fight the impatience he was beginning to feel. “Think of it as symbiosis. It’s like how we leave food for Raven, and in turn Raven warns us of danger. Dr. Fowler protected our land. Now his daughter will. So we will protect her. You must know this.”

  “All I know is that if my father had survived, I’d be in training to be leader.”

  “Sam,” Lakota said quietly. “Is that what this is about—feeling like something has been stolen from you? The position of pack leader goes to the strongest. Leadership is earned, not inherited.”

  “Yeah. Too bad I never got time to earn it before Dad died trying to save a human.”

  He stood, shifted back, and Lakota watched as Sam’s wolf form loped down the hill and disappeared in the trees. He thought about going after him, but instinct made him decide against it.

  “Hey…”

  He turned back and was surprised to see Carly approaching him. Given that he’d just punished her, he was surprised to see her.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sit down.” He patted the ground and she looked at it warily as she unconsciously rubbed her sore bottom. Something about seeing her do that caused Lakota’s cock to surge slightly behind the zipper of his faded blue jeans. Spanking her had felt so natural, and in retrospect hadn’t been the most unpleasant thing he’d ever done.

  Carly gingerly settled onto the grass beside him.

  “I saw Sam change when I was coming down the hill.”

  “Yeah, he went to the woods.”

  She nodded.

  “He doesn’t like me.”

  “It’s not you. Sam is still struggling to make sense of his father’s death. He’s… mercurial. Lakota looked over at her. “I spoke to the pack. They’re all supportive of your being here.” He looked back toward the woods. “Except for Sam, but he’ll come around.”

  “I still feel like an interloper,” she said. “When I woke up I went through the packet of papers Doc had given you. I read my adoption records, his interviews with my biological father. It answered so many questions. But it’s left me with more.”

  “Well, I’m taking over where your adoptive father left off. You can ask me.”

  “I don’t need a father figure,” she said quietly.

  “You do,” he said firmly. “And if there’s any chance that you’ve inherited our special trait, then you need someone to guide you.”

  “And if I didn’t?” she asked.

  “Then you still need someone to guide you,” he said.

  “Fine, guide me,” she said. “But no more spankings.”

  He grinned at her now as he looked at her in the dying light. Her pretty bow of a mouth was pursed in a pout, her large blue eyes narrowed angrily. He knew she was a grown woman, a smart woman, but there was a sweet innocence to her that he realized was sparking a desire stronger than he’d ever felt for any other female.

  “This pack thrives on discipline,” he said. “If we’re in wolf form and another wolf challenges the leader or a senior member of the pack, then they are forced to submit. I intend to have you observe us as a hunting pack, so you can see how it is. But the hierarchy doesn’t just stop when we become human. The structure is still observed, and those who need reminders are punished. When Caine was alive, he had no qualms about putting my sister over his knee.” He paused, allowing for his words to sink in. “I know you come from a progressive human culture, but this one is more patriarchal in nature. My sister is alpha female, but even she answers to me. As the newest pack member, you’ll answer to all of us, but if you break the rules, I alone will punish you. Understand?”

  She shifted where she sat, and even in the dying light he could see the flush come to her cheeks. There was still a challenge in her eyes, but it was less certain now, and Lakota could sense that in spite of her objections, part of her wanted the structure.

  He stood up and stepped closer to her.

  “The day I saw you in the woods alone, I was so surprised. I recognized you right away, you know. I remembered seeing you through the trees when you came with Dr. Fowler in the summers when he was observing us in wolf form. Even then he protected our secret, and even then you knew that we wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “I remember,” she said softly.

  “Sometimes I’d lay at the edge of the woods and watch you pick wildflowers, Carly. You were such a pretty child. And you’ve grown into a beautiful—and strong—young woman. Don’t think that my protecting you means I see you as weak. It is simply the way of my people. Caine said the first time he met Sabine, he felt protective of her.” His eyes moved up and down her slight form. “I understand how he felt.”

  She stared up at him, her lips parting slightly. And was it his imagination, or could he see the peaks of her nipples hardening under the thin fabric of her t-shirt? He could not tell, for she’d crossed her arms and was backing away.

  “It’s getting chilly out here,” she said. “I’m going back in.”

  Lakota watched her go, resisting the urge to follow. He heard a noise and turned back toward the woods. He wasn’t the only one watching. Sam was standing in the shadows, his narrowed wolf eyes fixed on Carly as she walked back toward the house.

  Chapter Twelve

  The deer was struggling up the hill, its bad leg slowing its progress. Up on the ridge, two wolves steered the rest of its herd in the opposite direction, further isolating the injured animal.

  Nature could be cruel, and while the wolves had not been responsible for the injury that slowed the deer, its disability made it the most reasonable target. It had reached the summit now, and three wolves were waiting, driving the frightened doe toward a dead end stand of boulders, and toward death.

  But even when death came, it did not come quickly. Even though it was injured and tired from running, the deer lashed out with its sharp front and back hooves as the wolves surrounded it. The doe’s mouth was open, its breath steamy in the cool air of the Alaskan morning. The wolves moved in, nipping, and retreated as the deer spun to face them. The doe floundered, went to its knees, came up again and tried to break through the circle of predators. When it couldn’t, the wolves tightened ranks. The deer was frantic with fear now as it made a desperate, impossible attempt to leap onto the vertical wall of rock behind it. This last ditch effort gave the wolves their final advantage. When the doe fell, they attacked—a solid wall of muscle and fur. The deer raised its head, giving one of the leaders the opportunity to latch onto the white throat.

  Moments later, the deer’s legs stopped kicking

  Usually, Lakota fed first. But today he broke away and walked into a stand of trees by the boulders. A moment later, he was climbing them in his human form. He sat down beside Carly, who’d observed the whole thing from the vantage point where he’d left her. By now his nakedness seemed as natural to her as their shifting.

  Carly was silent as she observed the scene below.

  “Why not just hunt them as humans?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be more humane?”

  “If we were solely human, we could afford to be humane,” he said. “But this is our heritage, Carly.” He paused. “And yours.”

  Lakota had wanted her to know, so—just as he promised—he’d immersed her in their world. Since leaving Doc’s wrecked home to come to theirs two weeks earlier, Lakota had taken her into the meadows at twilight, so she could observe the pack in their wolf form. He warned her that transitioning was an art—one that young members learned how to control. For those genetically gifted with the ability, it could emerge at any time between the ages of twelve and twenty-one. Those new to transformation found their humanity subverted to what Lakota called Wolf Will. The older pack members were especially watchful of these younger members, who eventually learned to perceive the world with both minds no matter what the form.

  Lakota warned her to be still around the younger members of the pack, who
would react to her as a human. And she realized this was the case. When two young males approached Carly curiously, elder members of the pack flanked her in a protective stance, sending the signal that she was not prey. She could see the differences in their eyes; the gazes of the older wolves shone with human recognition, while those of the younger ones were wilder.

  There were other things he wanted her to see, too. He’d told her that rebellion and disobedience were dealt with immediately within the pack—something Carly saw firsthand when two young wolves sparred over the deer only to be forced onto their backs by more dominant pack members. Within moments, order was restored.

  It was behavior that Lakota knew Carly never dreamed she’d observe. But he was committing to teaching her about their lives, in both forms.

  In an odd way, it was her scientific mind and training that enabled Carly to accept this supernatural reality as natural. Lakota knew that if he’d just told Carly about his people—and about her heritage—that she’d never have believed it. But she couldn’t deny that which she’d observed with her own eyes.

  “I can see why Doc loved studying the pack,” she was saying now. She was sitting on the rock beside him, her knees drawn up under her chin. Her dark blond hair hung in two long plaits and her skin was healthy and pink from being outside, the tip of her pert nose slightly upturned. She turned to him then, her expression puzzled. “How did he learn your secret?”

  Lakota had smiled. “He’d put a trail camera on our paths. It caught one of our younger members shifting. Who knows what anyone else would have done. But your father put two and two together. He knew our community lived apart from most of civilization, so he came one day with the pictures and identified the young member who had changed.” He chuckled. “That member was Caine, and that was years ago. Caine was defensive at first, but your father told him he was a scientist, and wanted to learn more. He earned Caine’s trust by promising to keep the Sourwood pack’s secret. Then his study broadened to researching birth and death records, trying to trace our origins. Somewhere along the way, he found record of a rogue wolf who’d left the pack.”