Alpha Daddy

by Ava Sinclair

  “Even if you kill me, I bet you won’t find a mate. You’ll stomp around on my land scaring chipmunks, which are the only animals that respect you at this point.” She began to laugh at him, genuinely laugh, egged on as he slumped over. All the while, she kept the desk between them.

  He yelled, turning, and chased her around it. But Carly was small and quick.

  “Stupid fucker,” she said. “You know, Doc called me at school and we laughed our asses off about how he beat you in court.”

  This was a lie, but the effect was instant. Bruce Holder was on the floor now on the other side of the desk and Carly continued to taunt him, telling him how her father had mocked him. He stood, stumbled, fell back to all fours, and it occurred to her that he was about to change, and that she had nothing save the knife she’d pushed into the sleeve of her dress when she’d put her head down on the table.

  And it was happening—not the graceful fluid transformation of the WolfKind. No, this was different. Bear’s skin bubbled and bulged as his bone structure began to change. He cried out in anger or agony or both, and for a moment he turned his face to her, and it was the nightmarish mask of a man possessed, a man tortured, a man who’d forgotten whether he was beast or human.

  He shook all over, vibrated into a blur as he sprouted fur. He stood, roared, shaking the room. Pictures fell from the walls and he took two steps toward her.

  Carly pulled the knife out of her sleeve and threw it. There was another roar as the paws flew to the side of its neck. She did not wait to see how long it would take for him to pull it out. She knew it wasn’t a fatal blow. She knew she would have to act fast.

  She leapt for the gun. In school, she’d taken marksmanship as an elective. She prayed he’d not been simply bragging when he said the gun was loaded. Carly cocked the rifle, raised it to her shoulder. He was coming over the desk. The room filled with the blast. He collapsed—or rather the desk collapsed. Bear was floundering on it, trying to struggle to his feet. He was between her and the door. Carly backed up into the corner, cocked the rifle again. This was it… her last shot. There would be no time for another one. She held the rifle low, aiming for the pink of the open mouth that roared its rage directly at her.

  The floor shook with the force of the animal dropping at her feet. Her ears rang with the blast of the rifle. Bear raised his head and she looked into his eyes, searching for something human. There was nothing there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Even though it was over a mile away, the sound of the rifle blast reverberated through Lakota as if the distance were mere inches. Fear drove him faster through the forest, lengthening his stride as he ran.

  He was exhausted. His muscles were strained from exertion. And somewhere inside him, the voice of instinct warned him that this was not a safe place, that he was exposed here on this land where neither wolves nor WolfKind were protected. The pelt that warmed him was prized by trophy hunters who came down from the city with the dream of killing something rare and beautiful.

  He could have hated humans if he weren’t half one himself. But Lakota knew there were good ones, too. He’d met them, had mourned their passing.

  Please don’t let me be too late. He pushed the dark images from his mind, and when he breached the rise and saw the lights of Bruce Holder’s cabin in the distance, reason told him to stop and observe. He raised his nose to the breeze, catching scents as they drifted his way. Human. Bear. Blood. But whose?

  He wanted to run, but the cabin was in a clearing. If he dashed into the open, if he repeated Caine’s mistake of rushing headlong into unseen danger, he may end up dead before he could help Carly, if she was even still alive.

  He moved slowly through the trees, a shadow among shadows, his amber eyes narrowing. He was using Man Mind even as he relied on his lupine instincts to navigate the situation. He wondered if he should shift back, but reminded himself that it wouldn’t matter to Bruce Holder, not at this point.

  A beam of light shot from the house. A door was opening. He stopped, sank back into the trees, panting as he sat back on his haunches.

  Wait, he told himself. And when a recognizable figure emerged, one hand steadying itself against the door frame, he felt a flood of relief as he took off down the hill.

  She saw him as he came into the clearing and stumbled out, dropping the gun she was still holding in her hand. Lakota bound over and when he was several paces away shifted in mid-stride, not caring that he was naked as he swung her into his arms. Carly was sobbing, her body quaking harder than it had been the day he’d saved her. Something awful had happened. He stepped back and held her at arm’s length, his frantic eyes examining her for injury.

  “Dead…” she said. “D-d-dead. I killed him.”

  “Bruce?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “But he wasn’t… he became Bear.” She began to sob again, and he realized that whatever had happened, she’d held it together long enough to defend herself. Now the shock of her ordeal was catching up with her.

  Lakota wanted to see. He had to see. But as he turned to go in, Carly took hold of his arm. “No,” she said. “You don’t want to go in there.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “He can’t hurt anyone now.”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t…”

  “I want to,” he said, and she nodded as he shifted back into his wolf form.

  Lakota could feel his hackles rise as he entered the home of his enemy. Smells assailed him—the scent of man, the scent of gunpowder, the scent of Bear, the scent of blood. He padded through the rooms, following the smell of his enemy.

  He found Bear’s body first. His enemy looked as tortured in death as he had in life. He’d died in anger, but also surprise, his eyes and mouth still open. But Lakota could not summon pity for him, and he wondered why Carly would fear his seeing the body of his enemy.

  Then he looked up and realized that wasn’t why Carly had tried to stop him. A low whimper rose in his throat as he trotted across the room to where Caine stood, frozen in a pose fashioned by his murderer. The eyes were no longer Caine’s, but glass ones. They could not see Lakota as he dropped his tail and knelt in a deferential posture to lick his best friend’s muzzle, whining pitifully.

  Lakota was unaware that Carly had walked behind him. He did not see her stand by the door, allowing him his time with what was left of his best friend, his former alpha, his beloved sister’s mate. He did not see the woman who would become his own mate sob behind her hands as she quietly observed a wolf mourning his friend.

  Lakota lay down at Caine’s feet, looking up at Carly as she walked over to sit beside him. She threaded her hands into Lakota’s thick fur as she buried her face in his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry…” He lifted his muzzle and licked her tears away, whining. They sat in silence for nearly half an hour before Lakota rose and changed back. Carly left him alone long enough to fetch some clothes from a closet in one of the guest rooms. As Lakota dressed, she quietly told him of how she’d taunted Bruce Holder, enraging him until he could not control Bear.

  “I thought about killing him as a man,” she said. “But it seemed wrong.” She shook her head and looked at Caine. “Now I feel like a traitor to the WyldKind. The evil in Bruce Holder was not his animal nature, but his human nature. Animals don’t plunder land or drive species to extinction or give into greed. That’s the work of men.” She looked up at Lakota. “Are you disappointed?”

  “No,” he said. “You did what you had to do, Carly. And you did it for those you love. One day, we’ll have children who will understand both worlds. They may have the gift, or they may not. But the one gift they will have will be the gift of bringing man and nature together. In the end, that’s what matters.”

  She smiled and nodded, then sighed. “How are we going to get out of here?” she asked, looking around at the damage, the dead bear.

  Lakota had pulled his clothes on and stopped to consider her question. �
�There’s a shed out back with several utility vehicles under it. We can take two of them and return them later when it’s safe.” He paused. “We’re taking Caine with us.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Together, they hauled the mount outside, where Lakota cut the dead wolf free with a hatchet. The base of the mount they dumped in the bay before wrapping Caine’s body in a tarp and strapping it to the back of one of the utility vehicles.

  Carly took the gun, not caring that she was breaking the law by doing so. She also took the papers that Bruce had tried to get her to sign. It was well after dark by the time Lakota steered his utility vehicle toward the woods. Carly followed in a second one, guiding hers over rocky terrain as they made their way back toward the Sourwood community.

  They’d not gotten very far, however, when Lakota pulled his vehicle to a stop. Carly coasted hers to a halt beside his, concerned by his expression.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Do you hear that?” Lakota had cut the engine and Carly followed suit.

  “What?” She strained her ears, listening to the whine of the wind through the trees. But then she realized it wasn’t the wind. The sound threading its way through the trees was an animal in distress. A wolf.

  Lakota climbed off the utility vehicle. “Sam.”

  “Sam?” Carly jumped off hers as well. “Out here?”

  Anger and worry edged his voice. “I called Sabine earlier, to let her know I was going after you. She must have told him. Damn fool. It’s just like him to follow…”

  The wind was starting to blow harder, and Carly felt the sting of something pelting her face. Rain.

  “We have to hurry if we’re going to find him,” Lakota said. He turned to her. “I’ll have better luck if I change.”

  “I understand.” Carly stepped back and watched as her lover quickly undressed and shifted, and this time she followed at his heels, using a flashlight she’d taken from the house to light her way. The terrain was treacherous, and the rain-slick leaves made it hard to keep her footing. From time to time, Lakota glanced back at her but kept moving, raising his nose to the winds and pricking his ears in first one direction and then another, trying to hone in on the sound that, to Carly, seemed to come from everywhere.

  When he broke into a sprint, Carly knew he’d located his nephew. She ran as fast as she dared and lost sight of Lakota among the darkness of the forest. When she finally found him, he was back in human form and kneeling beside a frightened Sam, still in wolf form.

  The sight of his mangled paw sickened her. Even among wolf hunters, jaw-tooth traps were illegal. But that hadn’t stopped Bruce Holder from putting them along known wolf paths. Sam had followed one toward the lodge, and yelped loudly as both Carly and Lakota pried the jagged clamps off his leg.

  “Don’t change,” Lakota told him. “Do you hear me, Sam? Stay as you are.”

  “Why?” Carly asked. “Won’t it be easier to change?”

  “No.” Lakota shook his head. “He’ll endure the pain better as a wolf. We have higher tolerance for it in wolf form. It will be better for him to change at back at home where Sabine can set the broken bone and give him herbs to promote healing.”

  She nodded and turned. “Come on, Sam,” she said. “Ride with me.”

  The young wolf looked at her and then back at Lakota, who nodded. Neither of them wanted to explain that there was no room for Sam on the back of Lakota’s vehicle due to what they’d taken from the cabin. Neither was ready to tell Sam that both he and his father were being taken home.

  Carly exchanged a knowing glance with Lakota as Sam hopped up and settled onto the bed of the utility vehicle, licking his injured paw.

  “I know it hurts,” she said, reaching out to run her hand across his head. “But we’re going to take care of it, okay?”

  He looked at her, and she could see the understanding in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The return home had been an emotional one. As Lakota suspected, Sabine had told Sam where Lakota had gone, but only because he’d overheard the conversation and demanded to know what was going on. He’d taken off to help, and she’d feared that both her son and brother were lost. When they arrived back home, she collapsed from relief before rising to tend to Sam’s injury.

  Lakota had waited until the following day to break the news about Caine. Carly had gone to her room when her mate had taken his nephew and sister to the shed where the body was. Even from upstairs she’d heard them wail.

  Sabine and Sam removed Caine’s skin from the taxidermy form. Tears had streamed down both of their faces as they worked. When they were finished, they cradled all that remained of the father, mate, and pack leader and later that day led the entire Sourwood community down the hill to the cemetery, where they buried the pelt in what had been Caine’s empty grave.

  Lakota had sung a song in a native language lost to mankind, a song of their people that was both alien and yet strangely familiar to Carly’s ears.

  It had been a difficult time, but they were an adaptable people. After a period of mourning and remembrance, they spoke of closure, and of what Caine would want.

  They moved on.

  Rain had come to the region. The cold would follow. In its own way, this was a blessing. Carly and Lakota went with two other members of the community to return the utility vehicles to Bruce Holder’s shed. No one had been there, and his hulking carcass was already in a state of decay. Holder had few friends, and business associates assumed he’d just taken off for a few days, as he sometimes did. By the time an investigation into his disappearance was launched, word had also leaked out that Holder was in debt to some shady lenders in Juneau. It would be spring before someone bothered to check his other remote hunting properties. For years, the mystery of the disappearance of Bruce Holder—and the discovery of a bear carcass in his abandoned cabin in the woods—would be a source of speculation. Most locals surmised that he’d faked his own death.

  Only those involved knew better. The truth of what really happened still gave Carly nightmares, as it did on this night when she awoke crying out. As usual, Lakota was there to comfort her.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, pulling her into his arms, and she clung to him.

  “I need you,” she said.

  “I’m here.”

  She’d gotten better about asking for what she wanted. When Carly told Lakota she needed him, what she was asking for was a display of his strength. Being dominated by him made her feel overwhelmed, and that brought security. For how could anything hurt her when she was in the presence of such power?

  Lakota flipped her over, knowing what she needed. He pulled her hips back, reached beneath her to palm her breasts, and then pinched and pulled the nipples until she whimpered. Early pregnancy had made her breasts especially sensitive; sometimes she came with manual stimulation.

  Carly sighed when he moved his fingers to her clit, rubbing and tugging on the little nubbin of flesh as it emerged from its fleshy hood.

  She pushed back against him, needing to feel him inside her. She was dripping wet, and felt him tease her by sliding the head of his cock up and down the seam of her pussy. Carly groaned low in her throat when he paused with just the tip inside her, and then cried out as he rammed home.

  She’d worried at first that aggressive lovemaking would hurt the baby, but Sabine had assured her it would not. Carly fisted the bedcovers as Lakota slammed into her, driving fear and doubt and insecurity from her mind with each thrust.

  Then he withdrew.

  “Who’s your alpha daddy?” he asked, and she giggled. “You.” But the answer came out in a breathless whisper, and with an edge of sincerity. He was her alpha, her father figure, and soon to be the actual father of a son growing in her belly.

  “That’s right,” he said, pushing his cock now against her bottom hole. She pushed back. One of the other nice surprises since dis
covering her pregnancy was her zest for this taboo form of lovemaking. Carly loved the submissiveness she felt when Lakota buried his cock in her ass. Now she pushed back against his invasion, relaxing the tight ring of muscles as he eased his way in.

  The stinging stretch made her moan. Enduring this for him made her feel all female to his male. She felt helpless, used, blissful. She was his mate, his woman, his to use as he wanted. She felt empowered by surrendering to his inner animal. Even when he took her as human, the strength of wolf was in the room. Their lovemaking was animalistic, feral.

  Carly herself would never know the thrill of changing. Her twenty-first birthday had come and gone and when it became apparent that she would not have the gift of shifting, part of her was sad. But she was still a member of the pack, and would always protect her family, as they protected her.

  Epilogue

  Three years later

  “It’s beautiful.” They were standing outside the Miles Fowler Center for Lupine Studies, and Carly wiped a tear away from her eyes as she looked at the sign Lakota had erected as a surprise the day before. “Doc would be proud,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “We should be thanking you,” he said. “Thanks to your hard work, this land will be preserved for generations, a partnership for humans to learn about the lives of the most famous pack in Alaska.”

  It had taken a lot of hard work to start the foundation Doc had always dreamed of. Carly split her time between the remote Sourwood community and Anchorage, where she’d selected a board of directors for the organization that would study and protect the wolves. Data mined from the Sourwood wolves—known for their tolerance of human observers—had already been published in one book and was the subject of two others.