The Alpha's Fight: Huntsville Pack Book 3

by Michelle Fox

  How do I know this? She worried her bottom lip. And there’d been that thought earlier about the wolf with two tails. Where had that come from? It must be part of my memory. However, disconnected from time, place and important details like her real name, the tidbits of who she must be still didn’t make much sense.

  “Ryder, this is Jane,” Tillie gestured to Jane.

  Jane blinked as she realized how tall Ryder was. He had eyes like whiskey held up to the sun; amber and caramel with hints of yellow. His hair was dark and shot through with copper highlights. He smiled at her, his mouth wide and generous. She had a sudden interest in reaching up to run her finger over his lips.

  Jane’s mind stuttered at that. It was an inappropriate and alien impulse. She never thought like that, and she knew it with total certainty given she could only recall her thoughts of the last twenty-four hours.

  “Hi, Jane,” Ryder’s voice made her not-real name sound fabulous.

  She shivered as she accepted the hand he held out for her to shake. “Hi, Ryder,” she replied, fighting to keep her voice even. His warm hand engulfed hers, strong and steady, just like his voice.

  “We should probably find someplace more private.” Tillie lowered her voice to conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t want our plans filling the wrong ears.”

  “The patio's empty. I checked on the way in. You up for some fresh air, Grandma?” He released Jane’s hand and turned his attention to his grandmother.

  She nodded and attempted to get up from the love seat, but the soft cushions resisted her efforts to the point where Ryder had to lift her to her feet.

  "I don't think I can go outside. The guard stopped me earlier," Jane said.

  Tillie waved a hand. "Don't worry. I'll deal with him. It's not right to keep a shifter inside."

  "Thanks. I would love some fresh air, actually." Jane tried to get up off the couch, but kept falling back. The cushions kept threatening to suck her in, ass first. Her stilettos made it worse, wobbling when she most needed firm ground.

  “You want some help?” Ryder asked after watching her for a few seconds.

  A blush burned her cheeks, hot as a third degree burn. Jane nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”

  He offered both his hands, which she took, and pulled her up. “That’s some dress,” he noted.

  “Your grandmother made me wear it,” Jane said, unable to keep the petulance out of her voice. Looking down, she realized one of her boobs was making an escape attempt. It wasn’t embarrassing yet, but it would be if she didn’t do something. “Hey, is your grandma okay?” She nodded toward Tillie, who was behind Ryder, counting on him to turn around. When he did, she twisted her torso toward the wall and quickly stuffed her errant boob back in place.

  When she turned back, Ryder gave her a slow smile. Jane had the feeling he hadn’t been fooled by her attempt at modesty. “Where were we? Oh, the dress. It looks...nice.”

  Jane gave him a look. “If you say so.”

  “Knowing my grandmother, I’d better not say anything else.” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting.

  “I would kill for some jeans and a T-shirt, right now,” she said, following him as he led her out of the lobby and to the front door.

  “You could go change. It’s not like you’re going to miss anything. Not with the speed things move in this place.” He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head toward Tillie.

  “I heard that, Ryder,” she said, her voice sharp.

  “Sorry, Grandma.” He moved ahead to hold the door open for her and she slowly wheeled her way outside.

  "Miss Tillie, she can't go outside. Sheriff 's orders," said a guard wearing a khaki uniform with a patch that said security on the chest. He pointed at Jane as he spoke.

  Tillie paused to glare at the guard. "We'll keep an eye on her."

  "But—"

  Tillie drew herself up to her full height. "But what? We'll be right there with her. If she tries to leave, Ryder will catch her before she gets two feet, won't you dear?"

  Ryder shot an apologetic look Jane's way as he said, "Uh yeah, sure."

  "And you know my grandson has the reflexes to do it."

  The guard flushed, but nodded. "I, ah, yes. I suppose that will be fine, so long as Ryder is with you." To Jane he said, "No funny business or we'll lock you in your room."

  "As if this dress isn't funny business enough," she muttered under her breath. That caused Ryder to snort, but no one else seemed to have the hearing to even realize she'd spoken. More loudly, she said, "I'll be on my best behavior. Promise."

  "You sure you don't want to run and change?" Ryder asked her again.

  “I would love to, but I don’t have any clothes,” Jane said. “It’s either this spangled disaster or nurse’s scrubs.”

  He frowned at her and motioned for her to follow his grandmother outside. “What do you mean you don’t have any clothes?”

  She squeezed past him, her breath freezing in her throat when his chest bumped her shoulder. Ryder had a hell of an effect on her and she wished it would stop. Surely she’d seen a handsome man before? Well, I don’t actually know if I have. Huh. To Ryder, she said, “Trust me, if I had any other choice, I would not be wearing this thing. As for why I don’t have clothes, I don’t really know all the details, but I woke up here yesterday and that’s all I can remember.”

  “The sheriff brought her in,” Tillie added.

  “Ah, I wondered what the sheriff's orders thing was. Which sheriff?”

  Tillie thought for a second. “Garde, I think his name was.”

  “He deals with strays down in Hudson,” Ryder said, casting a speculative glance at Jane. Shadows darkened his eyes, taking the sunlight out of their whiskey hue.

  “I’m not a stray,” she said, feeling the need to defend herself. Strays are bad. Wait, how do I know this? Her brain didn’t have an answer to her question. All she got was the vague notion that being a stray wasn’t exactly something people aspired to.

  “But you must’ve been running in a bad crowd,” he said, sounding suspicious.

  All she could do was shrug. “To be honest, I’m not even really clear on what a stray is. I have no idea what I may have done.”

  “Strays are criminals, dear,” Tillie said, scuffing her walker along the sidewalk. “Lowlifes unfit for a pack.”

  “Well, that’s not completely true,” Ryder said as they trailed after his grandmother. “Sometimes shifters become strays because of poor pack management at home. Bad alphas can use the stray system to cover up their own crimes.”

  “Right, but that’s not the norm.” Tillie took a sharp left turn onto a cement patio. She then eased herself into one of several wrought iron chairs surrounding a patio table. “We know the exceptions, but for the rest of the shifter world, strays are criminals. Now, sit.”

  Jane was glad to sink into a chair. Her toes had gone numb thanks to the heels and the idea that she might be a criminal had taken her breath away. For a moment, she just breathed and blinked, processing everything. The air was warm, the sky clear. Birds chirped and bees buzzed in the distance. Inhaling a deep breath, Jane smelled flowers and the way heat dried out the earth’s scent.

  “It’s lovely out here,” she said, feeling a moment of peace for the first time since she’d woken up at Crescent Pines.

  “It’s quiet,” said Tillie. “Hardly anyone comes out here.”

  “Why not?” Jane frowned. The interior of the nursing home was full of institutional beige and blue and smelled of hand lotion and sweat. The fresh air was a perfume she couldn’t get enough of. “If I lived here, I would be out here all the time.”

  “You do live here. For now, anyway,” Tillie said.

  Jane grimaced. “Oh. That’s right. I do, don’t I?”

  “And you’re young. This isn’t cold to you, but for us it is. Even though shifters run warm, in our old age we are more human than we like to admit.” Turning her attention to Ryder, she said, “So, how are things going at home?”


  Ryder glanced at Jane. “You want to do this with her here?”

  Tillie nodded. “Yep.”

  “You don’t even know her.”

  “I know her enough.”

  Jane frowned. “How can you say that? I don’t even know who I am.”

  “You smell nice.” Before Ryder could protest, Tillie raised her hand. “I was the alpha’s mate, young man. I know the mettle of a soul just by smelling it.”

  “And just like that, she gets to know all our secrets?” A furrow made a deep line in Ryder’s forehead. "She's a stranger."

  “I can go back inside.” Jane pushed herself out of her chair and swayed on her heels as she adjusted to gravity once again. She didn’t even know her own secrets. The last thing she wanted was to take on anyone else’s.

  “Stay, dear. I wanted to smell how you and Ryder would mix.” Tillie sniffed. “The scents are good. You two should spend some time together.”

  Ryder groaned. “Grandma, stop trying to fix me up.”

  “I’m not fixing you up.” Tillie glared at her grandson, obviously insulted. “I am following my nose.” She tapped the side of the organ in question. “In my day, I brought many a couple together. And they were the matings that lasted. None of this abusive crap that we see with Mason and his crew.” She waved her hand, her lips curled with disgust.

  Jane went still. Something scratched at the surface of her memory, poking and tickling, but never quite coming together. “Did you say Mason?”

  “Yes, why?” Wariness flashed in Ryder's eyes.

  “That name means something to me, but I don’t know what.” She gave both Tillie and Ryder a wide-eyed look. “Do I know him somehow?”

  “I don’t recognize you, so you’re not from our pack,” Ryder said.

  “And he’s abusive?” She shuddered at the idea of violence. When she blinked she saw a fist coming straight for her and her head suddenly throbbed, as if her memory itself had punched her. “He has something to do with me. I think...he hit me.” She collapsed back into her chair, stunned.

  Ryder pulled out his phone and scrolled through various screens for a second. Then, handing it over to her, he asked, “Do you recognize him? This is Mason.”

  Jane stared at the swarthy man in the picture. His broad forehead featured thick eyebrows that led to a wide nose and a full mouth. Even though it was hard to gauge height on the phone screen, she could tell he was big, at least when it came to muscles. But did she know him? “I-I’m not sure. Maybe.” She returned the phone to Ryder and started rubbing her temples.

  “Are you okay, child?” Tillie asked.

  Jane nodded. “Yeah. My head hurts. This must be too much or something. I don’t know.” She didn’t think the brain could strain like a muscle did, but she definitely felt overloaded. Pain throbbed inside her head, underneath her skull. Somehow she’d over-reached and her mind couldn’t handle it.

  “You should go lie down.” Tillie nodded to Ryder. “Will you take her to her room? It's just down the hall from mine.”

  Ryder stood and took Jane’s elbow. “Are you okay to walk?”

  “I think so, but not in these shoes.” She kicked them off and he picked them up for her, evading her hands when she reached for them.

  “Just worry about walking. I’ll take care of the shoes.” He threaded his arm through hers and pulled her close. “Lean on me and let me know if you think you’re going to pass out or something.”

  “What would you do if I did?” she asked.

  “I'd carry you.”

  As if she wasn’t already a spectacle wearing the many sequined dress in a world dominated by track suits; add in a hunk like Ryder tossing her over his shoulder and Jane wasn’t sure she could ever face the residents of the Crescent Pines again. "I'm fine," she said, gritting her teeth.

  Even so, she held tightly onto Ryder as they walked back to her room, grateful for his strength. He kept up an easy banter as they went, as if nothing was wrong. Something about his last run in the woods and crows. She decided he must be trying to distract her, but she couldn’t focus on his words and didn’t follow anything he said. The throbbing in her head had reached a crescendo of pain, so intense it shot sparks down her spine.

  By the time they reached her room, she was gasping like a marathon runner and sweat dripped down her back. Ryder helped her to her bed and when he turned to go, she grabbed his hand and held him back. Despite the pain, the fog pressing on her brain like an anvil, Ryder still stirred something inside her. She had to know why.

  Turning to face her, his eyebrows raised in concern, he said, “Do you need something?”

  "It's just... I feel like I know you. Are we..." She trailed off and gave him a pointed look.

  "Are we what?"

  "I mean, I get why maybe you wanted to play it cool in front of your grandma, but she smelled it, I smelled it and surely you smelled it." She sniffed at him. "Are we a thing?"

  Ryder shook his head. "Sorry, no. I never met you before today."

  "Why are you in my head like a song I can't forget?"

  "I don't know." He made to pull away, but she held fast. His lips had transfixed her again and her vision narrowed until they were the only thing she could see.

  Ignoring the sledgehammer in her head, she sat up and leaned toward him. "Sorry. I just have to do this. I can't stop thinking about it."

  "About what?"

  Jane kissed him. The contact was fleeting, but it surged through her like lightning, setting her senses on fire. It was so strong, it obliterated the pain in her head. "Oh boy," she whispered against his lips. "Did you feel that?"

  "Yeah, maybe. It's not a good idea." He turned his head, breaking contact.

  "We could set things on fire with our lips alone." She laughed. "I don't even know you. I don't even know myself. But I feel you under my skin. What is that?"

  "I don't know." Ryder looked over his shoulder to the door, as if checking to make sure it was still there.

  "Just tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me you feel it, too." She clutched at his arm. "Just give me one thing I can know for sure. Please."

  He looked at her, his gaze intense as the sun, and then dipped his head down to kiss her. This was nothing like the soft peck she'd surprised him with. This was the real thing with tongue and teeth and a primal demand that she yield to him. Ryder reached into her heart and gave it a kick start. Blood rushing in her ears, she tasted him, a sweet salty flavor that she lapped up like a greedy kitten.

  After a moment, he tore himself away, breathing heavily. "Jane, we can't. I can't."

  "I understand," she said quietly. "But thank you for being honest. Maybe down the line things might change."

  "Yeah, sure."

  "I mean, after I know who the hell I am. You know, little things like that." She tried to infuse her voice with light humor, but it didn't take.

  "I'd like to know who you are." He stood and ran a hand through his hair, looking a little frantic. "I mean, you just showed up out of nowhere. It's too..."

  "Too what?"

  "Perfect." He took a step back, his eyes wary.

  Damned if she didn't want to crawl out of bed and go after him, but she held back. First, she had her pride, and fawning over a man—even one who called to her like Ryder did—just didn't sit right. Hell, she might already have a Ryder waiting for her back wherever home was. Plus, she'd scared him. She could see it in his eyes, which made her feel bad.

  Jane laid back down and pulled the covers up to her neck, hoping that would reassure him. “Before you go, do you know Sheriff Garde? Can you call him?”

  “Yeah, I can call him. What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell him I’m awake and I need to talk to him. Will you do that? Please?”

  He nodded. “No problem.”

  “And Mason—”

  He frowned. “What about Mason?”

  “Don’t tell him about me? Just call the sheriff, okay?”

  “Sure. I can do that, but rest
, okay? You’re pale as a ghost. I’ll call the sheriff and Mason is the last person I would say anything to about anything.”

  She nodded and sank back into her bed, her eyes closing as she gave in to the headache that had reclaimed her body. The wrong kinds of throbbing filled her sleep. Pain pulsed, annoying as an eye tic, alongside desire for Ryder. One she didn't want, the other she shouldn't want, but it didn't matter. Fate wasn't taking orders from her.

  Chapter Six

  Ryder looked down at Jane and resisted the way her sweet feminine scent filled his mind. No matter how sizzling their kiss, she was trouble. He could feel it in his bones, and just then, he wasn’t looking to add to his list of problems.

  His grandmother had been right, their scents mixed well. More importantly, his wolf had been at attention since first meeting Jane. It was ridiculous in a way. She was dressed like a refugee from a 1980s Miss America pageant. The outfit alone should have put him off. Instead he’d been unable to ignore the way her cleavage filled the dress and how it hugged her rear, making her walk a sultry come-on.

  She looked so good, maybe the eighties were due for a comeback.

  But as much as he needed to walk away, he wouldn’t turn his back on a shifter down on her luck. He would call the sheriff for her, and while he wouldn’t say anything to Mason, he would sniff around and see if there were any clues that would explain why his alpha was familiar to Jane.

  And he'd just pretend they'd never kissed.

  His wolf whined at that and gave him a look of reproach. Yeah, I know you want her. But she doesn't even know her name. Not exactly prime mating material, right, buddy?

  The wolf that shared his life yowled, the sound full of disapproval. Apparently names were optional for his wolf.

  Ryder shook his head and steeled his resolve. Any man who let his beast lead him wasn't much of a man. Jane was off limits and that was that. Self-control intact, he left Jane's room and almost tripped over an elderly man.

  “Excuse me,” he said, jumping back.