Prodigal Alpha

by Angelique Voisen

  A shiver crawled down his spine. The creature was massive, larger than any werewolf he’d ever seen. A sense of déjà vu crept over him. This was a ghost, must be. A real Red Mane wolf, except this one didn’t have silver dotting the edges of his red fur.

  Shane’s heart leapt in his chest. Couldn’t be. Why would Fang come back to save him? Besides, Fang couldn’t shift, right?

  Shane must be hallucinating. Chaos rained around them. Sounds of screaming vampires and angry growls mingled to become one bloodthirsty symphony.

  The monster of a wolf snapped his jaws at Magnus. For the first time, the vampire king’s face formed a mask of fear. Looking paler than usual, Magnus crawled away from the huge wolf carefully. Fang let out a warning snarl, but despite his weakened state, Shane saw bloodlust in Fang’s yellow eyes.

  Fearsome monster. This wolf was savage and wild, eager to wreck anything in his path. Very little humanity stared back from those eyes, telling Shane the human had minimal control over the beast.

  “Fang, Shane’s going to bleed out if we don’t do something,” yelled Drake.

  His runaway Beta stood at the edge of the woods, body painted in crimson. More wolves came out of the woodwork, muzzles bloody, eyes glowing with triumph.

  Shane had known them all, once upon a time, when he’d spared the life of the former Alpha’s son, but he was pretty sure they were still mad at him for taking the position of Alpha from Fang.

  With a rumbling howl that shook the earth, Fang turned away from the fleeing vampire king. Fang padded over to Shane, and for a second, Shane was certain Fang would finish the job. Fury danced in those golden eyes. Only a slip of humanity peered back at him, but it was defiantly Fang—harder, colder, but his Fang.

  Despite how his entire body felt like it was on fire, Shane reached for his human skin. If he didn’t make it tonight, he wanted to die as a human, not an animal.

  Fang rested a muzzle on his chest, the weight a little heavy. Shane threaded his shaking fingers through Fang’s coarse fur and whispered, “What took you?”

  The others crowded around him. Shane knew the place looked like the site of some battlefield, but he didn’t care. Sunrise bled over the trees, spilling gold and yellow everywhere, chasing the darkness away.

  Shane had his mate and his former pack mates around him. He fell unconsciousness, thinking this was the best dream he’d ever had.

  Chapter Six

  Harsh thumps and objects clattering to the floor jolted Shane awake. No. He didn’t want to wake up and realize everything had been nothing but a dream.

  Shane shifted, alarmed by the soft sheets. Had one of Magnus’s blood slaves put him in the guest room again? Magnus had a tendency to take too much.

  His entire body hurt. The wounds he’d sustained reminded him Magnus could end his life at any time. That always pissed Shane the fuck off.

  He peeled his eyes opened, surprised to see his old bedroom back at the pack house. When he’d become Alpha, his pack mates had encouraged him to take the largest room in the main cabin. Shane had refused and kept his own room, out of penance, maybe, or loyalty to Fang.

  A huge guy stood hunched over his desk. Normally, the dominant wolf in him didn’t like another predator in the room. This was Fang, though. His wolf settled down, completely at peace.

  Shane cleared his throat. “You’ve gotten fit.”

  Fang straightened up and turned. He said nothing. Dark eyes bore into his. It struck Shane that he might have grown up with Fang as a boy, but he knew nothing about this stranger.

  Sure, they’d traded letters before Fang had stopped writing back. Shane always pictured Fang with the same tall and awkward skinny frame, not this huge stranger that screamed danger.

  If his inner animal hadn’t recognized Fang as their mate, they would have fought Fang to see who was more dominant.

  Fang kept his jet-black hair military short and wore a plain white shirt and jeans. Ink and old scars showed on exposed, sun-kissed skin. Fang cracked his knuckles. Shane noticed they were scarred too, as if Fang had been in an extraordinary amount of fights.

  Tension filled the room. Seeing Fang in the flesh summoned old memories, both good and bad.

  “You managed to get your dormant wolf out. When?” he asked.

  A strange pang of regret filled him. He wished he’d been there by Fang’s side when Fang’s wolf had finally revealed itself. Fang’s father had claimed his son was defective, but Shane never believed it.

  “After I joined special paranormal unit ops in the army.” Fang’s voice sounded deeper too, gruff. Shane stared at the small scar on Fang’s lower lip. He didn’t want to risk raking his eyes any lower.

  Finally, Shane noticed what Fang had been doing before he woke. Fang stood over his desk, looking a little angry, defensive almost. Shane understood why. Wind entered the slit in his window, knocking some of the papers on his desk—all of them printed copies of the letters they’d traded over the years.

  “Fuck,” Fang hissed, scrambling for the letters.

  Shane swung his legs off the bed to help. His sharp eyesight caught a glimpse of the words he’d memorized by heart.

  I used to only be able to see the world as a dark place, until I started looking forward to the letters you send me…

  I wish you were near. We don’t need to talk about the shit that happened years ago. Simply being by your side and enjoying the silence is enough.

  Somedays, I imagine what it would be like if we both left the pack, so I wouldn’t need to navigate this new world alone…

  Sometimes, it was hard to believe these were all written by the shifter with the hard eyes and body standing in front of him.

  “Stay there.” Fang practically growled out the words. “You’re injured. Heal first.”

  A snarl came from his throat. “You’re ordering me around now, Fang?”

  “Injured assholes should stay in bed.” Fang scooped the last of the papers. As he was bent at a slight angle, Shane saw a glimpse of Fang’s collarbones, planes of hard muscle underneath, and something else. A nipple ring.

  He swallowed, uncomfortably aware of his dick hardening. Thank God for the comforter.

  Fang’s nostrils flared as he rounded up to look at Shane, still clutching the papers. Shit. Fang looked like he wanted to wreck something. At the same time, Fang looked cute as hell.

  “Who gave you fucking permission to go through my things?” Shane asked, crossing his arms.

  Fang looked at the crumpled papers in his huge hands, like a guilty child caught doing something wrong. With a growl, Fang began straightening them all out and spreading them over Shane’s bed.

  “I fucking saved your life,” Fang reminded him, once he’d finished his task.

  Shame filled him again. He looked away from Fang’s gaze. “Leave the papers. I can print them again.”

  “The pages are dog-eared.”

  “Thanks for stating the obvious,” he muttered.

  “You read them, over and over.”

  “What’s your point?” Shane snapped, beginning to stack them into a pile.

  Fang shuffled over to the window, or rather lumbered. He reminded Shane of a big, clumsy bear, harmless like this, but lethal when provoked. “I wrote you more letters.”

  Shane thought he imagined those words at first. “What? I didn’t get them.”

  His heart swelled. No. Shane refused to let emotion get the better of him. Hearing that admission pleased the fuck out of his animal. Seeing Fang again felt surreal. He’d thought they would come to more blows, angry words. Shane had never expected this awkwardness, this invisible wall between them.

  “Never sent them.” Fang looked out the window. Shane knew what he stared at—more ash trees, pine, and dirt.

  “Why did you come here, Fang?” he asked.

  Fang turned, crossing his arms as he regarded him. All the muscles in Fang’s biceps and triceps flexed at the motion. A strip of skin peeked from underneath Fang’s low-hanging je
ans.

  Shane didn’t miss the package between Fang’s legs either. Was that boner for his sake?

  Fuck. Shane shouldn’t be picking out the other details, shouldn’t be thinking of Fang in those terms. He had wronged his mate. They’d developed some fucked-up long distance relationship, and it had ended. Nothing more to it.

  Shane knew nuts about Fang. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Drake had found Fang and brought him here, along with the others.

  He hadn’t seen Talon, Claw, Razor, and Joker after the bastards had left the pack one-by-one. Shane couldn’t blame them, not after the last fight ended with all their families and friends dead. Fang’s father had made the call, but Shane felt the brunt of that awful decision nonetheless.

  “I came for you,” Fang answered finally. “Almost didn’t go even though Drake made a convincing argument.”

  Okay, Shane deserved that, even though it hurt a little to know Fang had hesitated. “Then what, you had a change of heart?”

  “I wanted to see you again.”

  Fang wanted to see Shane, not how Shane was handling the pack or the mess the town was in. Him. Before pride swelled, Shane reined in his control.

  Before he could formulate a decent reply, Fang continued. “Shane, what the fuck were you thinking? Vampires?”

  “Don’t forget the hyenas that settled here too. Hyenas on bikes.” Shane let out a harsh bark of laughter. Fang didn’t look amused. “What do you want from me, an apology? I’m sorry I fucked things up.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I’m only an exile, an outsider. I don’t give a fuck how you ran your pack. I just didn’t want you to die.”

  Shane blinked, fingering the comforter. “You’ve done your job. What are you going to do next?”

  He waited for the painful blow, for Fang to tell him he was going to leave soon. When would Shane ever see Fang again? Never? That infuriated him for some reason, although he had no right to anger.

  “Stop pushing me away. I’m staying here until you get better. You’re in no state to defend your wolves,” Fang muttered. “I’ll leave you now.”

  Shane watched Fang yank the door with such force, he was sure Fang would rip the wood off its hinges. He sensed another man in the hall. Drake, judging by his scent.

  “Where are you going?” Drake demanded.

  “Out for a run. I need some air.”

  Drake appeared in his line of sight, frowning at Shane.

  “You came back. You brought him,” Shane said, unsure what to say to his Beta. They had never been friends. Allies was a better word. When Drake had left, Shane had felt betrayed. Now, he wasn’t so sure about Drake. A cold-hearted bastard would have left him in this mess, not call for outside help.

  “I know I shouldn’t have gone behind your back, should have talked to you first, but I knew you’d refuse—” Drake began.

  Shane cut him off. “I’m glad you did.”

  Drake frowned. “You sure?”

  “The others are here too. I can hear the noisy bastards,” Shane said.

  Raised voices rose from outside. He could hear Kit arguing with Claw.

  “Yah. Claw and Talon are with the others. They came back for you, you know. Even Clara.”

  Shane leaned back against the pillows. “I don’t deserve their loyalty.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, stop feeling sorry for yourself. You did your best.”

  “The best wasn’t enough.”

  “Anyone else would cracked under the pressure. You kept the pack together,” Drake snapped. Usually, the Beta was well-mannered, calm. Shane had never seen Drake like this.

  “Drake, are you complimenting me?”

  “Shut up, Alpha.”

  Shane looked at the letters on his bed. Drake followed his gaze, not commenting when Shane gathered set them on the nightstand next to him.

  “I understand the others came back for Fang. When they left…I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything’s screwed up, Drake.”

  Drake scowled, eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Everyone leaves me. I deserve it, I know. I didn’t want things to turn out like this.”

  Drake approached the bed cautiously and took a seat at the edge. “What do you mean?”

  “Ten years ago, I spared Fang’s life, hoping he’d come back when he was strong enough to challenge me again. Fang was supposed to become Alpha and prove his father wrong. Instead, he never did. The old Alpha drove the pack into near extinction, leaving us to pick up the pieces. I never wanted to lead.”

  Drake sucked in a breath. It felt good to unload the truth finally, even if Shane didn’t have the guts to tell Fang. Drake rubbed at his face. “You really mean that?”

  “You’re his best friend, Drake. Part of you wanted Fang to take what rightfully belongs to him.”

  Drake shook his head, looking a little pale. “Fang’s changed. The war changed him. He’s a little…”

  “Broken,” Shane finished. “So am I. This territory, this pack, is doomed, Drake. I appreciate you coming back—”

  He didn’t see Drake’s fist blurring. Shane heard the crack of bone before agony seared up his skull. Growling, he touched his broken cheekbone and glared at Drake, baring his fangs.

  “Stop it. I brought Fang back here so you can fix him. Fix each other, then work on the rebuilding the pack.” Steel filled Drake’s voice.

  Shane tried to think past his irritation and pain. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I do. The others believe that too. Fang and you might be weaker apart, but you two could be a force to be reckoned with together. I was there, Shane. Ten years ago, you saved his life, and not to humiliate him so he could live with the shame. You spared him because you knew Fang was your mate.”

  Shane fumbled for the right words. “You knew?”

  “It took me some time to figure out, but yeah, I knew. Fang rips himself apart every single night in a cage, fighting for the amusement of the crowd not just because of nightmares of the war. He feels empty.”

  Shane snarled. “What cage?”

  He gripped the sleeve of Drake’s shirt, refusing to let go of his Beta, not before he got his answers. Desperation and hunger to learn more about Fang drove him to beg. “Tell me everything about Fang. Please.”

  *****

  Lurking outside Shane’s window made Fang feel like a stalker. It was worth it, though, because he heard the words Shane had intended to be for Drake’s ears alone.

  Shane’s confession stunned him. Even as an adult, he’d always wondered what had driven the other man to save him all those years ago. Shane had expected him to come back, to take his place, except Fang never had.

  “You expect too much of me,” Fang whispered, staring into the inviting grove of trees that led further into the woods.

  His wolf itched under his human skin, longing to be free. Being a shifter in the city was hard. There was no land to run freely, to hunt and unleash the beast. Here it was different. It still didn’t feel like home, not completely. Something else was missing, but these woods called to him, even if they carried bad memories too.

  He thought of all those confusing years he’d spent angry, yet unable to cut off his communication with Shane. They had wasted so much time, dwelling about what had happened ten years ago. No one could change the past, but he could do something about the present.

  Sensing he wasn’t alone, Fang narrowed his eyes and found Razor standing by the same trees he’d been eying minutes ago.

  Not only Shane had grown up. The rest of his friends had too. Razor used to be slender as a blade, but he’d packed on muscle like the others. Fang approached his childhood friend. Five years. He’d immersed himself in the army, lost comrades, fought in the cage to experience pain. Fang had never expected to find himself and all his friends back in their hometown.

  Razor’s blazing green eyes looked unfocused, as if he saw something Fang couldn’t. Ghosts, perhaps.

&nb
sp; “Are they still here?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  Razor shut his eyes. “I fucking need a run, then a drink.”

  That answered his question well enough.

  “I don’t mind company,” Fang said, nodding to the woods.

  “No one burned their bones,” Razor said oddly. “They’re all so angry, Fang. They were all screaming earlier, but they quiet down when you’re nearby.”

  Fang knew who Razor was referring to. “It wasn’t Shane’s fault. My father led them all to their deaths.”

  “The dead can’t tell the difference.”

  It creeped Fang out, knowing ghosts of dead werewolves watched these woods. Knowing it must be worse for Razor, he made a decision. Drake and the others had always been a little wary of Razor, but Fang and Razor always understood each other.

  Ten years ago, when his friends had carted his half-dead body and drove out of Red Valley, Razor had stood by his side until he was strong enough to move on his own. Then Razor had disappeared to deal with his own shit.

  Fang had lost contact with everyone else. He didn’t ask Razor what he’d been doing over the past few years. Fang didn’t mind secrets. Everyone had them, was entitled to them.

  “We’ll do it together. Gather the bones and burn them,” Fang said.

  Razor looked relieved. “I appreciate that, but there’s more work to be done here.”

  Fang glanced back at the pack house, where everyone was. He needed some time, and maybe being in the skin of his wolf would give him more clarity.

  “We’ll come back with dinner. Shane would have gotten some sleep by then.”

  Without needing words, they discarded their clothes. Like always, shifting hurt worse than anything else he’d ever endured. He always attributed the pain to all those years he couldn’t call his wolf out during his youth.

  Once his paws hit the earth, Fang broke into a run. These trees had once scared him, especially back during the days his father had kept trying ways to get him to change.

  His father had once left him in the middle of the forest ground with nothing but the clothes on his back. Thinking back, Shane had found him, dehydrated, starving, and half-wild—but still human, to the disappointment of his father.