FALLING FOR THE ALPHAS
PART ONE
by Cassie Wright
Falling for the Alphas: Part 1
Cassie Wright
Smashwords Edition | Copyright 2014 Cassie Wright
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Chapter 1
The moon cleared the clouds, and lit the ruined street in shades of silver. It shone on the shattered glass that littered the sidewalks, gleamed dully on the ruined fire escapes, and made the shadows where it didn't reach all the more menacing and dark. In the distance, an ambulance siren sang its plaintive call, but here in the once booming industrial heart of Fort Brixton all was silent.
Dylan stood on the corner of a flat roof four stories above the street. The cold wind off Lake Michigan pulled at his shoulder length hair, plucked at his jacket. He didn't shiver. Instead, he gazed out over the dark block, at the abandoned factory buildings, the dead street lamps, the rusted hulks of cars. His frame betrayed coiled anger. As if this urban decay were a personal insult.
Footsteps behind him. They were just shy of silent, but his senses were unnaturally sharp. His jaw tightened and he turned to see Kayden walking across the roof toward him. Dylan watched in silence until his former packmate stopped, only ten yards away.
The air between the two alphas crackled with barely controlled tension. For a long while both men simply stood, chins raised, shoulders back, hands curled into fists, until finally Dylan spoke.
"Kayden. This is your last chance. We've run out of time."
The other man narrowed his cold blue eyes. He wasn't wearing a jacket against the cold. Curls of a tattoo emerged from the neckline of his shirt, tribal glyphs, and wrapped around his forearms. "You know I won't step down. You're wasting my time."
"Kayden." Dylan stepped forward. There was urgency in his voice. Frustration. "We need to unite the packs. You know this. Bring your people back to the Cairn. Return to us. We can be whole once more, strong. United, we can defeat the enemy."
Kayden curled his lip in disdain. "Return to the Cairn? What Cairn? You found a new totem spirit I don't know about? The action is here, Dylan. In the city. This is the frontline of the war. Why would we leave? Why would we return to Manistee?"
Dylan took a deep breath as he fought against his anger for patience. "We can't abandon the Cairn, totem spirit or no. And our kinfolk live there. You want us to abandon them too? We come into the city to fight, but we do not stay." His tone grew cold. Harsh. "You know this."
Kayden laughed, but it was a lonely sound, bitter. "You still scared of being polluted by the city? By the filth and corruption here? Scared of losing your connection to your primordial wolf?" Before Dylan could speak, Kayden took a step forward and shifted. Iron-hued fur exploded across his body like a forest fire, and his bones thickened and grew. Sinews popped, his legs buckled back, and his clothing melted away like mist. In less time than it took to blink, his human self was replaced by a nine foot tall monster from legend. Massive jaws hung open showing dagger teeth and lolling crimson tongue, and his tattoos showed black against his gray fur. Golden eyes looked down at the now dwarfed Dylan.
Kayden took a step forward and the menace in the air doubled. In the harsh tongue of werewolves, he said, "Do I look like I have lost the wolf, brother?"
Dylan gazed up at the monster before him without fear. He crossed muscled arms over his broad chest. Sadness crossed his face. "We need you back. We need your people. Or we shall all die."
Kayden lowered his massive head until he was eye level with Dylan. "Then step down as alpha. Roll on your back and show me your throat. Join your Silver Song pack to The Vengeance."
Dylan clenched his jaw. "You know I'll never do that."
Kayden reared back up to his full height. "Then you waste my time. The Vengeance will not leave the city. We won't return to Manistee to hide with our tails between our legs by a pile of spirit-dead rocks. We're staying and fighting until we destroy the enemy here."
Dylan felt a great weariness wash over him. He shook his head. "You leave me no choice."
Kayden's golden eyes narrowed. "You going to challenge me then?"
"Oh my brother." Dylan felt a pang in his chest, and a cold, cutting wind blew his hair across his face. "Yes. The next time we meet, it shall be before our packs. And I will have to kill you."
~~~
Naomi cursed and ran her hand through her hair. Where the hell was she? She stared at her cell phone again, but she still had no signal. Only in Fort Brixton could you still find places with absolutely no coverage. Driving slowly and peering out every window, she tried to spot a street sign. She might as well be driving across the dark side of the moon. This was the dead part of town, the stay-the-hell-out part of town, and yet here she was past sundown driving in circles like some clueless tourist just asking for trouble.
If Councilman Stark wanted to impress on her how badly things were going for Fort Brixton, then arranging for her to interview him at the old Gladstone Theater was a truly over-the-top way to do so. What ever happened to brunch interviews at one of the few remaining swank restaurants on Miracle Mile? Naomi winced as her trusty VW Beetle jolted over yet another pot hole of doom. She was going to wreck the axle at this rate.
A glowing white ball of light appeared in the air above the passenger seat. It lit the inside of the car with flowing bands of gold and honey that rippled everywhere like reflections off the surface of a pool. Naomi glanced irritably at it. "I'm not giving up."
If I had hair I'd be pulling it. This isn't safe. Its voice was as familiar as the palm of her hand and right now incredibly annoying. She knew nobody else could hear Illixy, that nobody else even saw him, but she was alone and there was nobody here to think her crazy.
"It's perfectly safe." She glanced dubiously out the windows. "There's nobody dumb enough to be out here right now but me."
Naomi. It paused as if searching for patience. Would you like me to define the word 'safe' for you? Please turn back.
She was tempted. Oh was she. But this was her chance to break a real story. Nobody at the Post believed in her or took her seriously. Most of the time the other journalists either made snide comments about her luscious curves or ignored her. The only time she had received any real attention was when they invariably tried to hit on her when they were drunk after work. She needed this, to prove them wrong, to get them to stop staring at her breasts and hips and see the determined, talented journalist she knew she was.
"No. I have to do this." She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Did all the street lamps have to be out? She turned on her high beams. "I'm close. Gladstone is around here somewhere. There!"
The facade of the old theater still held some of its faded grandeur. A huge venue back in the booming 50's and 60's, it had finally closed in the late 90's and been for sale ever since. Naomi breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the SUV parked outside it. Councilman Stark was already here.
Last chance. Illixy pulsed with distress. I've got a really bad feeling.
Naomi hesitated. She didn't know what Illixy was - a guardian angel, an imaginary friend, an incredibly persistent psychotic delusion - but she did know he was overly protective. "I'm sorry." She opened her briefcase and checked one last time that everything she needed was within. "I know it looks scary, but this is a Cou
ncilman I'm meeting." She paused and looked at the dark exterior of the theater. "Granted it's Councilman Stark, and this is a very freaky place to meet, but if he gets nasty, I can just leave. That, and, well. I told George I was coming." George, her dismissive editor. If she went into work tomorrow and confessed she'd turned around because she got scared, she'd lose what little credibility she had.
Illixy pulsed brightly once, twice, and then disappeared. Naomi sighed. That meant he was very upset. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. She didn't move. She didn't want to admit that she was frightened. She'd been chasing an interview with Jarod Stark for over three months; he was implicated in a number of corruption scandals, and supposedly had ties to the mafia and powerful people in Washington DC. People even whispered that he was partially responsible for Fort Brixton's attempt to declare bankruptcy. He was probably going to just try and scare her off the story. Which in and of itself was a story.
Naomi lowered the car visor and checked her face. A subtle and professional shade of lipstick, just enough blush to accentuate her cheekbones (her best feature), and a ghosting of mascara to bring out her long lashes. She knew she looked striking. She'd heard that Stark talked more to pretty women, and though some men didn't appreciate her full curves, she knew that Stark would. It was the only explanation she had for his having agreed to do the interview.
Naomi got out of her car and locked it. Smoothed her skirt down to her knees, adjusted her scarf, and then buttoned her dove gray raincoat before opening it once more. A little cleavage might help. Well, alright, a lot of cleavage. She raked her long black hair back and turned to the Gladstone Theater. It was time.
She peered into the SUV's windows as she strode past it. Nobody inside. The Gladstone had been a baroque and very ornate affair, making its once sumptuous exterior look incredibly sad by the years of neglect. She tried to read the marquees, but it was too faded and covered with dirt. The large doors stood open, and she stepped carefully through them and into the ruined foyer. A rotten red carpet led up a slight incline to the main lobby, where a dilapidated chandelier caught gleams from the faint yellow light coming through the doors to the theater space itself.
"OK Naomi," she said to herself. "Put on your Big Girl Pants. You're a professional. Let's go." She raised her chin and walked forward authoritatively only to stop at the door. "Oh wow," she whispered.
She stood at the top level, from which the seats descended in concentric rings to the main stage. It had been a small theater by today's standards, but the walls were so ornately decorated it looked like an underwater grotto. Everything was covered in dust and fallen plaster. On the stage stood Councilman Stark, a heavy flashlight in his hand. He pointed it at her and she raised her hand to block the beam.
Run, whispered Illixy in her ear.
"Ms. Daniels." His voice was smooth, rich, used to command. And uncomfortably amused. "Welcome."
Naomi lowered her hand as he lowered the light. He was dressed in an immaculate black suit, black shirt, with a lurid neon green tie that almost glowed in the dark. His black hair was combed back, and he was even more handsome in person than she had imagined. Late thirties, with a predatory smile and the body of an athlete. Councilman Stark.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet," she said, and began to descend between the seats toward the stage. "Though this is... a little unorthodox."
Stark raised an eyebrow. "Unorthodox? Why would you say that? This setting fits my needs perfectly."
Run, whispered Illixy again in her ear, and this time goose bumps flurried down Naomi's arms.
Her stomach tensed. "Your needs?"
Stark nodded, unhurried, almost casual. "Oh yes. I care nothing for your story. But that little spirit companion of yours... He I care about. I'm afraid I can't let you live. How tragic it will be when they find you dead. Killed by what people will guess must have been a very, very large stray dog."
Naomi froze. Had he actually just said that?
I'll get help! She felt Illixy race away, and it was as if a small light in her heart had gone out. "I - I don't know what you're talking about." How did Stark know about Illixy? "And my editor - he knows I'm here!" She took a step back as she dug out her cellphone. Still no coverage. "You can't touch me." She wished she believed it.
"I never showed up." He loosened his tie. "I'm officially at a private fundraiser right now. Besides, nobody would ever confuse me for a large, wild dog, would they, Ms. Daniels?"
Then the impossible happened. Councilman Stark grew. Black fur swarmed across his face and hands, and his suit seemed to melt away revealing a thick black pelt over his whole body. His face grew longer, a muzzle forming, and a heavy tail swept out behind him. In seconds he was replaced by a creature out of her nightmares, all teeth and glowing green eyes, a vast man-wolf that seemed to fill the stage as it gazed up at her.
Naomi felt her heart stop. Her mind was blank with disbelief, yet there it was. Then, just when she thought things couldn't get worse, Stark turned off the light and plunged her into darkness.
That switch kicked her survival instincts into high gear. She screamed and turned to race back up the steps, stumbling and trying not to sob as she heard the monster behind her let loose a laugh that could have come right out of the pits of Hell. It was in no hurry. She tripped and fell heavily onto her outstretched hands. More laughter. It was walking slowly up the steps behind her.
"There is so much more to the world than you know, Naomi." Stark's voice was rough, barely intelligible. "So much I could show you."
She pushed herself up to her feet and tried to orient herself. Panic disoriented her. It was so dark she could barely see her hands before her face.
"There are places where the darkness flows. Where you can drink the sins of the world, and grow strong. Grow pure. I will show you. I will show you so many things before I let you die."
Naomi dug her pepper spray out of her purse as she hurried up the steps once more. It would be useless, but she had nothing else. She reached the landing just as she heard a strange rushing sound, as of something huge moving through the air, and screamed as Stark landed little more than a few yards behind her with a crunch of shattering wood. She bolted forward, almost tripped again, and ran out into the lobby. There - the main doors! They were so terribly close, yet they might as well have been a hundred miles away. Naomi pulled her skirt up higher and ran, only to be snatched back by a massive clawed hand on her shoulder.
Its strength was unbelievable. It was as if a tire clamp had suddenly been locked onto her shoulder. Her feet went out from under her, but Stark held her as if she weighed little more than a feather pillow.
Illixy came swirling in through the front doors, pulsing his golden light with alarm, and behind him followed a strikingly handsome man. He came to a sudden stop at the sight of the monster looming behind her. Tears filled her eyes as despair washed over. What could he do against Stark?
"Run!" she yelled. "Get out of here!"
Instead, the world went mad. The stranger walked forward, and as he did so he too shifted into monstrous wolf form. Dark, chocolate brown fur erupted from his skin, his manner regal, powerful, furious. Stark tensed behind her, the points of his claws digging painfully into her flesh.
"Let her go, Stark." The brown werewolf pointed a long claw in their direction
Stark snarled, furious, and edged back, taking her with him. The darkness began to boil against the wall, as if the very shadows were writhing in pain. Then, right before her eyes, Stark placed his left foot through the wall where the shadows danced as if they had formed a portal.
Oh no. She was not going to let Stark take her with him. Panicked, she twisted around and sprayed the pepper spray right into his face.
Stark snarled again and closed one eye. A rush of air, and the other werewolf was upon them, leaping forward to attack. It was too much - at the last second Stark let her go and dove into the shadows. Naomi fell to her knees, and her savior surged right over her to collide furiously
with the wall, gauging deep rents in the wooden laths and plaster and partially crashing through into the room beyond.
"Gone!" The wolf's snarl was as terrifying as Stark's.
He's a friend, pulsed Illixy, flying up to hover protectively over her.
She blinked, dazed. The brown werewolf was gone. In its place was the most stunningly handsome young man she'd ever seen. Broad shouldered and with the narrow hips of a dancer, with brown hair down to his shoulders, he had a face that was searing with its intensity, his brow furrowed with concern as he crouched beside her, a young god in the flesh. Gold eyes, she saw. Burning their gaze into her soul.
He stepped away from the wreckage of the wall, and turned to her. "Are you okay?"
"Me?" She felt drunk. She wanted to touch his beautiful face. To smooth away that frown. The world was spinning. "I'm just fine. How are you?"
Her blood was thundering in her ears. Her parents had always told her she'd go mad. That she'd have a bad end. Now here she was, crazy as all get-out. Her eyelids closed once, twice, and then everything faded away.
Chapter 2
Dylan's great heart was thundering in his chest, his blood afire with the need for battle, to tear into that monstrous Stark. Yet the sight of the lusciously beautiful human woman turned his hunger for violence into a more primal, sensual need, and as he shifted back into his human he was almost overcome by his desire to hold her in his arms.
He rushed over to her. Even in the half-light of the lobby he could tell she was about to pass out, her face pale, her eyes blank, her body wreathed with the scent of panic and fear. Dylan hesitated. "Are you okay?"
She gave him the most heartbreaking smile, her wide lips curving into a bewildered expression She blinked once, twice, eyebrows arched as if innocently confused. "Me? I'm just fine. How are you?"
Falling for the Alphas: Part One Page 1
