Possessing the Alpha: A Wolf Shifter Romance (Southern Shifters Saga Book 1)

by C. J. Beaumont

  Chapter 8

  "Are you sure that's the route you want to take?" Brandon crossed his arms and frowned at me like some kind of disapproving big brother.

  What other route did he imagine was open to us? Letting the coyotes get away with that they’d done without any sort of retaliation or retribution? No way. Not gonna happen. If we didn’t make them think twice about attacking us unprovoked, then what was to stop them from doing it again? They’d already made it clear that they believed this territory should be theirs. We couldn’t let them think we’d allow them to take it from us without a fight.

  I scowled at Brandon, running through at least fifteen scathing responses in my head. Charlie spoke up before I had the chance to retort.

  "You heard the lady, Brandon."

  Something deep inside me glowed with warmth and hummed to life at the show of solidarity from Charlie. Especially when I hadn’t been expecting that. Not after the years of him seeming to be against me. But obviously not anymore. Or maybe I’d been mistaken about his feelings toward me all along. Was he actually on my side? I might just have a shot at one day being the Alpha my pack needed with a strong wolf like Charlie at my back. Something about the sensation begged to be explored, but I had bigger problems on my mind.

  Just as Brandon opened his mouth to say something else, a knock at the door made us all freeze where we stood. I didn't bother to stifle the groan that ripped out of me. The mere thought of having to set my need for revenge aside long enough to see who the hell was at the door drained my energy to an all-time low.

  Who would be insensitive enough to bother me on the day of my father’s funeral? Or was it someone who didn’t know that I’d just buried my dad? Whoever was outside the door, I really didn’t want to deal with them right now. Not even to tell them to leave me alone.

  I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes with a forceful sigh. I could feel Brandon and Charlie standing there, staring at me as whoever it was knocked again. They were both clearly waiting for me to do something. I should be the one to answer the door since it was my father’s house—my house now. But I couldn’t force myself to move. At least, not yet.

  I silently wished one of them would open the door and see who it was, since it seemed whoever was outside didn’t intend to go away.

  I jumped a little when I heard the soft rustle of one of them moving, followed by the shudder-inducing metallic scrape of the old doorknob turning. I cracked my eyes open just wide enough to see who'd practically read my mind, and was surprised to see it was Charlie. But maybe I should have expected it after the recent shift in his attitude toward me. Ever since my father had died, Charlie seemed to be attuned to what I needed—even before I realized it myself—and not once had he hesitated to provide it.

  "Can I help you?" Charlie's voice was suddenly devoid of the understanding warmth it held at the cemetery.

  His words were clipped, sending the distinct message that he was already out of patience before the conversation even began, and I wondered who was the cause of the sudden change in him.

  I wished I could see through the open door from my position leaning against the wall. I wanted to know who was getting the all-business treatment from my pack's Beta. But Brandon had moved forward, standing just behind Charlie and blocking my view completely.

  "I sincerely doubt you can help me.” The sneering voice was unfortunately familiar. “I'm here to speak with Ms. Blackburn, not a pair of overly-beefed-up lackeys."

  I had to suppress a growl that rose up from the depths of my soul. My inner wolf recognized the Sterling pack messenger's voice, and she cried out for justice. How dare he show up here on the day of my father’s funeral, when the coyotes were responsible for his death? He had to know that I was just as likely to tear out his throat as talk to him. Yet he acted as though he had nothing to fear. Or maybe he was just too stupid to realize that he should be afraid. That he was taking his life in his own hands by coming here, now. My fingers curled into fists as my wolf fought to get free.

  The only thing that stopped me from ripping the door off its hinges to get to the messenger was the picture of my father hanging on the wall opposite from me. He had a half-smile on his sunburned face and an arm around my shoulders. There was no cane. No limp. He wasn't thin and worn. The picture was from a couple years ago, shortly before he got sick. That picture stopped me in my tracks, and his voice flooded back into my mind. Every lesson he'd ever taught me bubbled up to the forefront of my mind.

  I needed to think things through and not allow emotion to cause me to act without considering the possible consequences. Not only to myself, but to my pack. As much as I wanted to start a war over what the coyotes had done—as much as I believed that they had already started a war with us—I had to be smart. Had to control my rage and grief in order to strategize my next move, rather than just reacting impulsively. I didn’t want to play might into their hands by making a snap decision that might come back to bite me.

  I quieted my inner wolf and composed myself as I slipped the black pumps back on. I smoothed my still-tender hand down the front of my dress, then squared my shoulders and joined Charlie and Brandon by the door. As I slipped past Brandon, I could feel tension boiling off Charlie in waves, and I reached over, settling my hand on top of his for a moment. I didn't speak, didn't ask him to calm down. Not with words, anyway. I just silently willed him to understand my intentions and to not fight me on it. He shot me a confused frown for a moment, but then his gaze flicked to the picture I'd been staring at of Dad. Understanding dawned on his face and he nodded, taking a half-step back as I moved forward.

  "You wanted to see me?" I looked the messenger over from head to toe as hatred and cold detachment battled for dominance inside me.

  You weren’t supposed to shoot the messenger. But he was more than just the coyotes’ messenger. He had been there that day. He was just as much to blame for my father’s death as any of the others—even the one who had ripped out my dad’s throat. I pushed that image away quickly, before it could undermine my resolve not to kill first and ask questions later.

  Only my memories of my father—of the man he had been and the person he’d taught me to be—gave me the strength I needed to remain outwardly calm despite the storm of emotions raging through the deepest reaches of my soul.

  "Yes, ma'am," Ethan drawled with a wide smirk.

  I wanted to rake my hand across his face with claws extended, but I fought down the urge. "Very well. Say whatever it is your pack sent you to say." I crossed my arms, struggling to keep a lid on my emotions in the face of his insolence. "I'd very much like to get back to mourning my father's murder in peace, if you don't mind." Or even if he did mind, I didn’t much care.

  His smirk wavered at the word "murder," and he dropped his gaze, staring down at the welcome mat instead of trying to look me in the eye. Could he actually be feeling guilty for what his pack had done? Somehow I doubted it. Not when he had come here acting so smug and superior.

  So then, what was with the show of feigned remorse? I didn’t bother to ask, since I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer from him. Just more manipulation and lies. Which wouldn’t provide any clues as to what the coyotes’ end game really was.

  "Maddox requires a meeting with you."

  "Requires or requests?" Charlie growled beside me. "You would do well to choose your words much more carefully, especially when dealing with a pack in mourning."

  I heard Brandon rumble his own displeasure as he moved to stand at my other shoulder. I watched the coyote messenger through narrowed eyes as he digested the new dynamic unfolding in front of him. Faced with three wolves, when he had no one to back him, maybe he hadn’t expected to find Charlie and Brandon here with me. Had he imagined that he would catch me alone and be able to easily intimidate me into agreeing to a meeting with Maddox? Well, that was his mistake.

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking when he swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple bobbed nerv
ously.

  Maybe he was finally realizing it hadn’t been a good idea to come here like this. That we might not be feeling particularly civil toward any coyote just now—and three to one odds wasn’t something he wanted to face. Or had any hope of coming out unscathed.

  "Requests," Ethan amended, scrambling to recover his composure. "I definitely meant to say requests."

  "And what does Maddox think is so important that it couldn't wait a day or two?" Brandon snapped.

  I held up a hand and instantly cut off his tirade. I didn’t say another word, my mind racing as I tried to consider the situation for all angles. I didn’t want to make a mistake that would adversely affect the pack.

  Every gut instinct I had howled at me to tell the messenger to tell his boss that he could take his entire pack and fuck off. I didn't want to hear anything any one of them had to say, especially not Maddox. Still, I paused and took a moment to look over my shoulder at Dad's picture, drawing strength from that familiar half-smile. For as much as we'd disagreed about certain things while he was alive, I knew what he would council me to do in this situation.

  I needed to know what the coyotes planned, and there was only one way to do that. Not that I believed Maddox would tell me all the details of whatever evil plot he intended to enact. But he might let something slip that could prove useful to us. Something that would give us the upper hand. And I’d take any advantage that I could, if it would help me bring down the pack that murdered my father. Not just to avenge him, but to keep our pack safe. Because that’s what he would have wanted—what he would have done if he was still here, and what he would expect me to do in his place now that he was no longer able.

  "Because we are a pack that honors tradition, I will do your Alpha the courtesy of accepting his request." Both Brandon and Charlie made noises of protest, but I shot them each a look that brooked no arguments. I turned my attention back to the messenger. "When did your Alpha want to meet with me?"

  "Now's as good a time as any." I had to fight the knee-jerk reaction to jump when Maddox's quiet voice drifted up the hall behind us.

  Charlie, Brandon, and I all spun around at once, and I balled my hands into fists at my sides to suppress their adrenaline-induced trembling. What was he doing here? And how had he gotten into my house?

  Maddox smirked, perfectly at ease in my home. Uncaring that with a single word from me, Charlie and Brandon wouldn’t hesitate to leap on him and rip him to shreds.

  He cocked an arrogant eyebrow at me. "Shall we?"

  Chapter 9

  I had to squeeze my eyes shut and take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. The adrenaline burst made my hands shake, my heart pound, and my inner wolf boiled just beneath the surface of my skin, fighting to get out. I wasn’t ready to face Maddox—not so soon after my father’s death. I wanted to yell at him to get out, that he wasn’t welcome here, but Maddox obviously didn’t intend to take no for an answer. It took everything I had in me not to tear him to shreds for intruding in my home in such a ludicrously arrogant way, acting as though he had a right to be here, to do whatever he pleased.

  Someone needed to show him he was not as invincible as he believed. But now wasn’t the time. Not until I found out what he wanted.

  When I finally felt I had myself under control, I opened my eyes and stared him down hard. Both Charlie and Brandon were struggling to keep themselves from going after Maddox. Two enraged wolves wouldn’t help the situation any, however.

  I laid a hand on each of their arms. "I can handle this if you guys need to excuse yourselves."

  I didn’t really want them to leave, but if I was going to prove I could be a capable Alpha, I couldn’t hide behind them every time things got difficult.

  They shook their heads in unison, and I couldn’t help feeling relieved that I wouldn’t be facing Maddox alone. I didn’t trust him. I wouldn’t put it past him to try some sort of underhanded trick. Or I should say, any more underhanded tricks.

  "No way in hell we're leaving you alone with this guy, Lucy." Brandon shoved his hands in his pockets, ruffling the perfectly pressed khakis. He tilted his head from side to side forcefully enough to pop his neck.

  It wasn’t exactly a subtle move. He was obviously readying himself for a fight. And while I appreciated his willingness to physically defend me if necessary, right now I needed information. I can’t get that with Brandon and Charlie at Maddox’s throat. Though a large part of me was tempted to let them loose on the murdering coyote. It would be no less than he deserved. But then his entire pack would probably be coming after me—if they weren’t already planning my demise.

  There was only one way to find out Maddox’s purpose in coming here, and that was to hear him out. No matter how little I liked it—or how undeserving he was of a civil conversation after what he had done.

  I shifted my attention to Brandon and Charlie for a brief moment. "If you're going to stay, I need you both to calm down. It does us no good to have a meeting with everyone on edge. I don't know about you, but I really don't feel like playing pissed off shifter roulette today. I've already lost my father this week.” If Maddox recognized the subtle dig aimed at him, he gave no indication of it. “I'd rather not lose anything else because somebody is struggling to keep their temper in check." I gave Brandon a long, hard stare, hoping to drive my point home without having to call him out in front of the enemy.

  He continued to eye Maddox suspiciously, but some of the tension seeped out of his stance.

  "It would be a lot easier to be calm if he hadn't just intruded in your home without invitation on the day you had to bury your father because of his pack," Charlie snapped.

  He took another protective step toward me, and that strange, pulsing warmth resurfaced inside me. I wasn’t sure what had changed between us. Or why. But I tried to push it aside.

  I focused all the energy of my thoughts on maintaining control of the situation. Please chill out, Charlie. I need you thinking clearly.

  I needed to think clearly, not allow myself to be affected by his nearness. Whatever was going on between us, now wasn’t the the time to try to figure it out. I needed to keep my focus on the coyote who had invaded my home. As long as he was here, I didn’t dare let down my guard. I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted.

  I squeezed Charlie’s arm a little harder, silently willing him to leash his temper. I doubted he could hear my thoughts, but maybe he could feel my meaning because he visibly relaxed his stance, as well. Though I could still feel his muscles tightening beneath my hand, ready to spring if necessary.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

  I led the way to the kitchen and motioned for Maddox to sit down at the dining room table. My Southern upbringing automatically kicked in, and I got everyone a bottled water out of the refrigerator before seating myself across from Maddox.

  "Would you care to explain yourself?" I crossed my arms and stared at him, but had to remind myself not to be so confrontational.

  Dad would've been disappointed that I had allowed an opponent to rile me so much that I let my agitation show.

  And Maddox wasn’t likely to take kindly to being challenged. Not that I cared about that, but I wouldn’t be getting any answers unless he decided to give them to me. That meant playing nice—or at least pretending to, for the time being. Shifter politics really weren’t my strong suit, but that would have to change if I was serious about being my pack’s Alpha. And I was.

  Which meant I had to be smart about how I dealt with the coyotes. I couldn’t allow emotions to rule me.

  "I'm not sure I know what you mean," Maddox smirked. He leaned back in the chair, lounging in it like it was some kind of throne. His confidence was nothing if not irritating.

  "I'm sure you do know what I mean. I'm tired and today has been awful. Quit playing games and just say what you wanted to say." I folded my hands on top of the table and took another deep breath in through my nose. "Please," I amended.

  Tradition and
decorum had been important to my father, as they were to many of the elders in all the shifter tribes in the South. Besides, I didn’t want Maddox to know that he was getting to me.

  He studied me in silence for what felt like forever, his calculating blue eyes fixed on me so intently that I had to fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. I held myself still solely by force of will.

  Finally, he broke the charged silence between us. "I'm here because I want to unite the Sterling and Blackburn packs...through whatever means necessary."

  I couldn’t believe he was bringing up the possibility of a marriage between us again. I knew that’s what he meant, even though he hadn’t come right out and said it.

  I sat back and dropped my hands into my lap with a slow shake of my head. "No."

  "No? Just like that? No?" He sneered, a scarlet flush creeping up his neck and staining his angular cheekbones.

  Had he really expected me to change my mind? I’d made my feelings clear several days ago—right before he ambushed and killed my father.

  I stared down at my fingernails, focusing on them instead of his outraged face. Or my roiling thoughts. "I'm sorry if you expected me to feel differently than my father did, but I don't." My father never would have agreed to me marrying a coyote in some medieval marriage-of-convenience, and certainly not the one who had been the cause of his death.

  I couldn’t believe that Maddox was really deluded enough to think that I would ever consent to marry my father’s killer.

  Or was he operating under the false belief that I wasn’t aware of who had killed my dad? If so, was there a way I might be able to use that to my advantage?

  Maddox leaned forward, his forearms resting on the tabletop as he tried to force me to make eye contact with him. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than I anticipated. "How can I change your mind?"