His Alpha's Bite: Gay Werewolf Alpha/Beta Romance

by Alanna Lynd

  He couldn't disobey. He couldn't. He'd much rather suffer the frustration and pain of denial than act against his alpha's orders. After all, Alard had always been proud of the tight control he had on his animal nature. Should he be so easily overwhelmed now?

  But now the moon was calling for him to shed his human form and find escape from this torment. Louvel had not forbidden him to shift. In fact, Alard had hoped for a word, for a sign that today, something would be different.

  Louvel hadn't mentioned his predicament all through the day. But when they parted, as so often the last to leave the station-house, Louvel had given him a small smile and lightly drawn his hand up Alard's thigh until his fingers rested against Alard's half-hard, frustrated cock.

  “Have a good night, Alard,” he had said, and then he had left.

  Alard gritted his teeth in frustration at the memory. Almost, he wished that Louvel had turned him over his desk again for another punishment at his hands.

  Still, the night was young. It was June, and although the sun had sunk below the horizon and the moon hung heavy and large in the sky, it was still warm outside. Alard could hear the croaking of frogs in the distance. He ached for the sensation of cool moss beneath his paws and cold springs to drink from.

  It took no more than a thought to shift. The call of the moon was so loud now that it was a relief to find himself on four legs, the keen senses of the wolf scenting the wind.

  He bolted from his window and ran. Always, the full moon drove him to run until he was exhausted—but today he was even more impatient than usual. He'd taken the human's frustration with him into his wolf form. He could feel it prickling beneath his skin, an anticipation he could not get rid of, no matter how much he shook himself and rolled around in the high grass.

  Frustrated, he snapped at a cluster of wildflowers, growling softly as a cloud of red petals rose up. Again he rolled around, this time in a warm, sandy spot. Then he found a tree to scratch himself against the bark.

  Nothing helped. At last he sat up and stared at the moon in baleful accusation. A loud, mournful howl rose from his throat.

  The moon did not answer, and Alard panted, staring at it as the itch beneath his fur grew.

  He wanted.

  At last, there was an answering howl. It came from the north, perhaps a mile away, and immediately Alard's ears pointed forward in joy. That was the voice of the silver wolf. That was the call of Louvel.

  He leaped forward, happiness filling him as he ran and ran, as fast as he could. His muscles stretched beneath his gleaming fur; he breathed in the night wind as he ran, and for long, precious moments there was nothing but the joy of being one with his wolf.

  At last, much of the guilt had fallen away. Tonight, the moonlight that lit the forest was welcome. He wanted to bath and roll around in it, and then wrestle the silver wolf until he was vanquished and happy, licking Louvel's face to show his appreciation.

  Tonight, he could just be wolf. Tonight, he wouldn't be driven by his human side to test and torment both Louvel and himself.

  Tonight, at last, this trial would find an end.

  Louvel was waiting for him in the clearing where they had first met a month ago. Alard made a happy little yip as he skidded to a stop, panting open-mouthed as he waited for Louvel to race him. But Louvel didn't come forward to wrestle him.

  Instead, after a moment, Alard realized that there was an unfamiliar scent that filled the clearing.

  Another wolf.

  His hackles rose. A moment later, a large wolf came forward.

  A soft growl vibrated in Alard's chest. The beast was huge and strong. It was even larger than Louvel.

  Alard's lips drew back to reveal his teeth. Louvel didn't move and stared at him, his golden eyes filled with infuriating calmness.

  As Alard watched, alarmed and strangely angry, the new wolf ducked its head, its tail between its legs. It made a soft whine, then took a hesitant step towards him.

  Alard's growl grew louder, but then, to his great surprise, Louvel stood and snarled at him. The golden eyes that stared at him had suddenly grown cold. Frustrated, Alard ducked his head, anger warring with shock at having displeased Louvel.

  When Alard looked towards the new wolf again, the other was still waiting, crouched low to the ground now. Instinct made Alard bare his teeth once more—but then the other's fur caught his attention.

  Intrigued despite his annoyance, he began to walk towards the newcomer. The wolf didn't move, although it pressed itself closer to the ground in submission as he stepped closer.

  The wolf was larger than Louvel. It was strong—perhaps even stronger than Louvel. Alard could see its muscles shift beneath its fur.

  But there, in the wolf's fur, he now saw strange patterns appear and disappear with every breath the wolf took.

  Alard huffed softly, curious despite himself.

  The wolf held itself very still when he snuffled at its fur.

  Scars, Alard realized with sudden shock. Long scars covered the body of the wolf, as though he'd been repeatedly raked by cruel claws.

  With every breath the wolf took, they shifted, a rippling pattern formed by hair which had grown back white over the scars in the gray coat.

  Louvel's nose nudged him, and Alard realized with sudden chagrin that he'd been nosing suspiciously at the scarred wolf for long minutes now. Even so, the wolf had submitted quietly, without a sound of protest. Despite its size and obvious strength, it hadn't even tried to fight.

  Reluctantly, Alard took a step back. Something about the other wolf both annoyed and intrigued him. He couldn't say what it was, only that it had made the itching of his skin increase. He felt... threatened.

  The moment that realization struck, some old instinct had make him strike, fast as a snake, his jaws wrapped around the scarred wolf's throat. From somewhere deep within his chest, a dark growl resounded.

  He could feel the wolf's pulse beat frantically, but the other made no move to fight. He did not whimper either—instead he held himself very still.

  Omega.

  Louvel had brought an omega into their forest. Into their clearing even.

  That was what the scent meant. That was what had set Alard's nerves on edge. Louvel had the temerity to torment him for weeks, and then bring an omega to supplant him?

  Alard's growl grew in intensity, and instinct made him bite down harder. Still the other did not make a sound, although from the sound of his labored breathing, it was obvious that the omega was afraid.

  Good, Alard thought, petty and ashamed and enraged. Good. He should be afraid!

  Then Louvel took the scruff of his neck between his teeth and shook him, growling at him in displeasure. For a moment, Alard contemplated biting down harder to show Louvel just what he thought of this surprise, but then reason won out and he released the omega.

  Louvel released him as well, but not without giving him a little shake in warning. It made Alard growl again. Once he was released, he took a few steps back, snarling at Louvel and the omega who still rested low to the ground.

  Was this what he had waited for? For almost a month he'd been patient. He'd allowed Louvel to toy with him. He had borne the punishment and the rules—and for what? To find that now that there was an omega in the pack, Louvel would have no more use for him?

  Alard would still submit. He'd still serve. What else could he do? His duty was his life, and he had surrendered to Louvel. And it was true that Louvel as the alpha of this town could do whatever he wanted.

  But Alard didn't have to like it. Alard didn't have to smile and pretend that he was perfectly content with being cast aside for a properly submissive omega who couldn't even look at Alard without whimpering.

  Alard's mouth parted for another sullen snarl.

  Whatever Louvel had planned, it wasn't going to happen. Perhaps he should just run back home. Or turn his back on them and make use of his rage to run until his legs hurt and his heart was close to bursting. Maybe he'd fall unconscious so
mewhere beneath a tree, and wake to find the heart ache gone.

  Because that was what this was. His heart was a ball of pain in his chest. He'd never had use for it before. He would have denied that it even existed. But at Louvel's touch it had bloomed and opened, and now his heart was a soft, vulnerable thing that could be hurt.

  I should not have trusted so easily, Alard thought bitterly. And then: No, it is my own fault. He made no promises. He wanted me as his lieutenant. I have no claim to his attention.

  Alard shook himself. He ducked his head as he stared with narrow eyes at Louvel, waiting.

  Louvel was still beautiful, a majestic creature of silver fur, strong legs and a broad chest. Louvel was made to rule this forest.

  In turn, Alard was made to serve.

  Serve, and not love. A lesson he should have learned before. Even now it made him feel restless with shame and tension to even think such a word—but certainly a beta could love and admire his alpha?

  Louvel took a step forward. Alard snarled again.

  Louvel took another step, undaunted. Even beneath all the heartache and pain that made him want to lash out, Alard was ashamed at his own behavior. Louvel deserved his loyalty and his submission instead of such a shameful display.

  But in the end, his rage was borne from fear—and now that Alard had learned to love, he could not stop fearing.

  Louvel's jaw closed around his throat, a swift attack meant to scold.

  Alard could feel that Louvel was holding back. With his full strength, he could easily kill him. Still, there was nothing gentle in the gesture. It was a show of dominance—and Alard had no choice but to submit to it, even though it made him seethe to be defeated so easily.

  Louvel didn't release him, even when Alard ceased snarling. Louvel's jaws had clenched tightly around his throat. Alard could still breathe, but even so, it hurt where sharp teeth threatened to pierce his skin.

  Alard was held like this for long moments. Every time Alard tried to struggle, he immediately fell still again when teeth sank into his skin.

  Finally, with his tail between his legs and his ears lowered in silent submission, Alard was released. He was aching and tired and sad, and this time, he crouched before Louvel, on his belly as the other wolf had been.

  What did he care for his reputation. Let Louvel think that he had won.

  No. Louvel had won. Louvel had won and Alard had lost, and the sooner they could get over this, the sooner Alard could slink back home to lick his wounds in the silence of his cold chamber.

  Louvel made a soft, encouraging yip. He stared at Alard from expectant eyes that still shone golden in the moonlight. When Alard didn't move, Louvel darted forward and nipped his ear, so that an answering yip of pain escaped Alard. Angrily, he reared back.

  Louvel darted forward again. This time, his teeth found Alard's side, pinching him before he jumped back just in time to escape Alard's annoyed swipe with a paw.

  Louvel grinned at him, pink tongue lolling out.

  Alard glared back, still angry and hurt and confused. But the prickling of his skin had returned, the itch to run off all this terrible, human emotion, and so at last he gave in to the needling. With a growl of annoyance, he leaped towards Louvel, who bolted and made for the heart of the forest, Alard in hot pursuit.

  They ran for hours. They ran and ran, with the moon shining down on them. They crossed cold brooks and rolled on soft, damp moss and jumped and snapped at bats that came darting down as if to tease them.

  They ran through clouds of fireflies and raced across fallen trees. Every now and then they howled together, their voices rising and echoing through all the valleys of this small spot in Picardy that they had claimed as theirs.

  At last, chest heaving and muscles burning and filled with a tired happiness, Alard collapsed beneath a tree. Dimly he realized that they had made it back to the clearing. Had that been intentional?

  The moon was very low. Alard was so exhausted that the change happened all on its own; he blinked in surprise when the bark of the tree was suddenly rough against his skin, the cushion of his fur vanished without a thought.

  He sighed. He stretched, then slid down to rest on the soft grass instead.

  Louvel was standing in front of him, large and majestic. As Alard watched, his form shimmered, then dissolved; one moment later, a naked man stood in place of the silver wolf.

  Alard stared at him, too tired for shame or reproach. The moonlight glistened on Louvel's muscles. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the long run. Every time he moved, gleaming muscles shifted beneath his skin, and Alard swallowed with the sudden need to trace those ridges and valleys of muscle with his tongue.

  Then there was a different sound. It was the sound of paws slowly coming closer.

  When Alard turned his head, he saw that the scarred wolf had approached. It had blue eyes—a blue so light it was almost translucent, like a thin pane of ice in the coldest winter.

  But the wolf's eyes were not cold. They were hesitant, but it seemed to Alard that he saw a yearning in them. Yearning, and fear.

  Despite the beast's obvious strength, it seemed afraid, and for a moment, Alard almost felt shame when he realized that the barely hidden pain in the wolf's gaze might have been caused by whatever had caused those cruel scars that lined its fur.

  Hesitantly, the wolf sniffed at his fingers. Alard didn't move. He did not raise his hand to pet the wolf, or talk to it, but even so, he did not move away either. After a moment, the scarred wolf licked at his fingers, hesitant, grateful laps of his warm tongue that seemed friendly and yet returned a little of his former resentfulness to Alard.

  Was it not enough that he could not protest? Must he also be forced to befriend the man who'd steal his alpha's attention from him?

  Finally, the wolf retreated. He did not shift; instead, he simply moved on, slow but determined, until he had melted into the shadows.

  Alard turned his head to stare at Louvel once more.

  “Well. That could have gone better,” Louvel said dryly. “But now you've met the miller's apprentice. I know you were curious about the pack.”

  “Apprentice?” Alard frowned deeply. “That was no boy. He must have been my age.”

  Louvel settled in the grass next to him. “He arrived half a year ago. You've seen his scars. He was terrified. He's still afraid. He stays with the miller, never leaves his mill.”

  “Except for today,” Alard muttered sullenly.

  “I wanted him to meet you,” Louvel said.

  “Why?”

  Louvel sighed, his eyes reproachful. “Come now, you have seen him. Whatever has terrified him might eventually come looking for him. He's in need of protection. That's why I needed you to know him.”

  “He's an omega,” Alard murmured.

  “And you know what that means.”

  Alard couldn't help the snort that escaped. “That he's yours.”

  Now Louvel turned to stare at him in consternation. “Alard! He is terrified; I know you must have seen that. Who do you think caused that fear? An omega—one with such strength!—terrified and scarred. Whoever he is running from might show up here, sooner or later. We need to be prepared.”

  “Oh,”Alard said, feeling a little foolish, and also a little hopeful. “So even though he is an omega, you have not...”

  The air escaped his lungs in a surprised gasp when Louvel wrestled him to the ground all of a sudden.

  Louvel came to a rest on top of him. They were so close that Alard could feel the heat of Louvel's breath on his lips when he spoke.

  “I have told you that I am not that sort of man, and not that sort of alpha! What does it take to make you see that I'm not the beast you take me for?”

  “You wouldn't be a beast to want him,” Alard muttered reluctantly. “He's been made for you. And I'm not... what he is.”

  “Haven't I made it clear enough yet that I want what you are?”

  Louvel's breath was hot against his skin as
his mouth moved to Alard's throat. Despite himself, Alard groaned, neck arching to give Louvel access.

  “I've told you what I want,” Louvel said earnestly. “What I've always wanted. For you to be mine. Ever since you first showed me your collar, back when we were prisoner and guard, I thought of you wearing my collar.”

  Alard huffed. “I bet you did.”

  Louvel's laughter was warm. “I will not deny that my dreams were cruel back then. You locked me into a cruel place. That breeds cruel thoughts.”

  Alard's heart beat faster. “How cruel?”

  Louvel chuckled against his skin. His lips found the old bite mark.

  “Very,” he admitted against Alard's skin. “I thought of making up for all the cruelties and humiliation I endured. I dreamed of putting a chain on your collar, of fucking you raw, of offering you to everyone who desired you, watching as they made use of you until you couldn't even contain all their come inside you anymore.”

  Alard's breath hitched. Louvel's hand came to close around his throat. His touch was light, but his skin was so hot it seemed to burn him like a brand.

  Alard gasped for air. Louvel's thumb stroked along his collar, then hooked into it and pulled, and Alard's cock gave a twitch in his trousers, achingly hard.

  “And then I was free, and I had you at my mercy. I could have done anything to you. Anything at all,” Louvel mused. “But suddenly I knew that nothing would satisfy me as much as your willing subservience. I wanted you to submit to me. Beg for my cock. Arch your back and moan for me.”

  Alard swallowed, his lust flaring up even higher at those words. “And now you have me. How does revenge taste, Louvel?”

  “Now I have you,” Louvel agreed, his voice dark. “And it tastes sweet. Very sweet. But it has never been about revenge.”

  Alard's heart was beating so fast in his chest he feared it might give out. “What is it then?”

  Louvel's nose nudged his cheek in affection. Then his mouth followed, lips generous and warm. “Admiration? Respect? Companionship?”