by Fel Fern

Devil Hills Wolves 2
Savage Alpha
Survival is Daryl Rush’s number one priority. On the hunted list of a powerful organization, Daryl and his brother spent their entire lives hiding, until a werewolf pack takes them in. The last thing Daryl needs is romance, but he can’t deny his attraction to the Alpha, Deacon Becker. Savage, lethal, and untouchable, Deacon is called the Demon Alpha for a reason. All Daryl needs is a shove in the right direction, but will he be able to tame the demon and come out unscathed?
After seeing his entire pack decimated, Deacon became Alpha at a young age. He built his pack from the ground up and would tear down any threat that comes near his home. Mates are a weakness, but the more he denies his wolf, the more his need intensifies. And Deacon wants Daryl for his mate, but will mating a human psychic come at a high price?
Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifters, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 37,664 words
SAVAGE ALPHA
Devil Hills Wolves 2
Fel Fern

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
SAVAGE ALPHA
Copyright © 2018 by Fel Fern
ISBN: 978-1-64243-111-7
First Publication: April 2018
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at
[email protected]
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
To my readers, I hope you enjoy Deacon and Daryl's story as much as I loved writing it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Felicia Fern works as a graphic designer during the day, and loves penning M/M paranormal erotic romance at night.
A sadist who loves watching her heroes break their backs trying to earn their happy endings, Fel likes throwing in the occasional dash of the unknown to the usual romantic concoction.
www.felfern.com
https://tinyletter.com/felfern
https://www.facebook.com/author.felfern
For all titles by Fel Fern, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/fel-fern
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
SAVAGE ALPHA
Devil Hills Wolves 2
FEL FERN
Copyright © 2018
Prologue
Eighteen years ago
“Santino, hurry up. Slowpoke,” Deacon yelled behind him. The other boy grumbled, shoving aside a branch that got in the way of his face.
“I don’t get why we have to walk in human form,” Santino muttered, looking irritated as he shoved aside the bangs that fell across his face. Santino had always been a little vain, a little cocky.
Even at eleven, Deacon already noticed the other girls in the pack looking at his friend. Santino was strong, possibly powerful enough to become one of Deacon’s enforcers when he took over the position of Alpha from his father. So was Santino’s sister, although he currently carried eight-year-old Sabine on his back.
She’d broken her leg while they explored the section of the woods all werewolf pups had been forbidden to go. Since she couldn’t walk on her own, Deacon offered to carry her. She hadn’t even cried, merely stared at her leg and tried to shift again, but that made things worse.
“Your sister can’t shift,” he told Santino. “You can go ahead, we’ll catch up.”
Santino let out a huff. “Whatever. If you get tired, I can carry her.”
Deacon hid a smile. Most kids in their age group thought of Santino as cold and insensitive, but Deacon knew the other boy hid a caring heart underneath. Santino might act like it inconvenienced him, but he wouldn’t hesitate to help out a pack member in need.
Four years ago, Deacon had been out on a patrol with one of his father’s enforcers. He’d been learning more about their land when he’d stumbled upon the two half-dead siblings hiding out in the remote section of the pack’s territory in the mountains. They had just escaped from a Humans Matter-operated lab which conducted breeding experiments between Espers and shifters. The humans they’d escaped from had been on their tail, but the pack made short work of them.
From the moment of his birth, Deacon always knew he’d been different. The other werewolves his age always kept their distance from the son of the Alpha who was said to eventually take over his father’s place. Santino and Sabine never feared him, though, never treated him differently. Even from the start, he could see they’d been wilder, fiercer, and different from the other pups raised by the pack.
Sabine gripped the back of his shirt, nails digging into his back.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
“Deacon,” she whispered. “Death is around the corner.”
Deacon considered her words carefully, because her instincts hadn’t been wrong before.
Santino frowned, then sniffed the air. “I smell nothing.”
“Me too.” Then Deacon saw the smoke rising from the trees up ahead. Fear clutched at his heart, knowing that was the direction of the pack compound. He began to stride to that direction when Sabine gripped his shoulder.
“If you head there, you’ll die, too,” she insisted.
Deacon had been the one to petition his father to adopt them, although his father had been apprehensive of them at first, especially after finding out they had Esper blood running in their veins.
When Deacon’s father saw the two wild werewolf siblings grow attached to him the way a baby chick imprinted on a human, he let them in the pack. As a result, all three of them grew up close and both grew protective of him. Not that Deacon needed any protection, but he recognized they would be essential to him, excellent warriors of his pack in the future.
Deacon lowered her. “Santino, protect her. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
Deacon didn’t wait for an answer as he stripped out of his clothes and shifted. Fur covered his chest and shoulders while Santino argued with him.
“Deacon, you don’t know what’s out there. I’m coming with you,” Santino declared.
“What about Sabine?” he demanded, losing his human voice soon enough. Bones
shifted and organs rearranged themselves. Deacon sprouted claws and fangs.
“She can take care of herself.”
He gritted his teeth, blinked when Sabine gripped his ankle from the ground. He shook her off, finally landing on all fours. She grabbed his fur, odd silver eyes meeting his. She looked terrified, which was new because in some ways, she was more fearless than her brother. Sabine was scared for him, he realized.
“Be careful,” she whispered, releasing his fur. “Brother, make sure he’s fine. I’ll focus on healing my leg faster.”
Deacon sprinted off into the woods, heart racing, somewhat soothed by the presence of Santino’s wolf behind him. They’d always have his back. His father warned him that their loyalty was not necessarily toward the pack, only to him. To them, he’d been the one who found and saved them, but Deacon knew with time, they’d also see the pack as family.
The smell of smoke clogged his nose now, along with the putrid smell of burning flesh and fur. Fury roared through him as he ran faster. Up ahead, he could see the broken chain link fence of the pack compound. Bodies lay scattered on the ground, packmates in human, animal form, and those in between.
A man that smelled human spun, pointing his rifle at them. Deacon narrowed his eyes, seeing the all black gear. A mercenary? A member of some paranormal-hating human faction?
Just as he put his finger on the trigger, Deacon went for his legs, sinking claws into the tendons like he’d been taught. Werewolf pups weren’t as strong as fully-grown adults, but at the very least, they could defend themselves. Deacon wasn’t a normal pup, either. A warning snarl from Santino came behind him. The other boy shoved him out of the way as a group of men opened fire.
Deacon dropped to the ground in time, hissing as a bullet lodged into his side. Pain flared and he snarled. Silver-lined. Whoever these hunters were, they came prepared. Santino bit at his fur, dragging him toward the trees again.
Deacon was bigger, could have fought the other boy off, but the worry in Santino’s silver eyes stopped him. Trust in those who have your back. Another one of his father’s lessons. Deacon let Santino pull him to the cover of the trees where they had emerged. That was right. There were other pack members patrolling other sectors of their territory.
What they needed was back-up.
Then he saw the giant wolf head mounted on one of the fences. At first he couldn’t link that head to the person it belonged to.
This must be some nightmare he could wake up from. Just this morning, he argued with his dad, got lightly reprimanded by his mother about heading to that part of the woods the children of the pack weren’t allowed to go. In the end, he’d been the one to plan their little expedition to see what the fuss had been all about.
Dad. Where was his mother?
A howl of grief tore out of Deacon as he spied a bloody body underneath his father’s head. His mother wouldn’t be able to put up a fight. She was half human and born unable to shift into her wolf. Mirabelle Becker had been beloved by the pack, though. Did these hateful humans kill her first to get to his father?
Think, don’t act like a brute all the time. That had been a lesson his father drilled into his head.
Deacon had been raised knowing he’d be the future Alpha, so even at twelve, he’d already been exposed to training and strategy. Like any kid, he’d been bored out of his mind when it came to lesson time, but he needed to use his head now.
His father wouldn’t go down easily and the pack was fifty strong. Deacon had trained with all his father’s enforcers and the senior pack fighters, knew their strengths so he’d been confident they could protect the weak of their pack. Even without entering the compound, Deacon spied more bodies on the ground.
His father failed the pack. So did all of his father’s warriors.
How did these humans get to the heart of a rising wolf pack’s territory so easily?
Deacon stared at his mother’s corpse and the ugly truth came to him.
A shifter’s life force was bound to their fated mate. Go for the weaker half and even the strongest male, the Alpha in the pack, could die. It was one of the tightly kept secrets of the pack, which meant as much as he didn’t want to consider it, they might have harbored a traitor in their midst. Damn it. Their territory was massive, but they didn’t have the numbers to watch all the movements in and out of their lands.
Hell, that had been obvious when he found Santino and Sabine. Back then, the pack didn’t even know that human mercenaries had crossed their territory to look for their missing test subjects.
Humans. They were the real enemy.
Deacon saw red. Ignoring Santino’s warning snarl, he went for the group. No longer able to see reason, all Deacon wanted to do was rip them apart.
He might not be a fully grown adult werewolf yet, but he was large and agile enough. One human raised his gun, but his hand trembled. Good. Deacon wanted them terrified. A bullet scored his side but he ignored the pain. He finally reached the group’s center.
One human pointed a rifle left of him, but Santino’s dark chocolate brown wolf went for the human’s legs, bringing him down. Santino had stopped trying to convince him to retreat and chose to fight by his side. Good. Another bullet lodged into his left hind leg, making Deacon falter, but he couldn’t stop now. At the very least, he’d die a warrior.
What did Deacon have left anyway? His home had been completely obliterated, his parents dead. He didn’t even dare think about the rest of his cousins, aunts, or uncles. Too many dead bodies and he didn’t want to see their faces. He unleashed the savage wolf he’d been born with.
Growing up, Deacon had a hard time controlling his inner animal. His father always told him to not let his animal win, but this time he needed the ruthlessness of his wolf.
He’d go down like them, avenging their deaths. Fueled by rage, Deacon didn’t even notice there was no enemy left to fight. Santino and he stared at each other, panting, muzzles and fur covered with blood. Alive. They were still alive. A warning howl came from the trees and Deacon turned, horror dawning on him as he saw maybe a dozen more armed humans running out of the sacked homes.
Deacon bared his teeth, bloodlust doubled. This time when he began to run right into them, two sets of fangs held him back. He roared, turning to see twin pairs of worried silver eyes locking gazes with him, one a dark brown wolf, the other with fur the color of pure white. The siblings began yanking him backward. He fought them at first, seeing Sabine’s left hind leg still not completely healed, he could take them on, but they managed him to pull him to the trees.
Deacon growled again, but Sabine changed back to a girl, gripped the fur on his neck, pressing her face to his, seemingly not bothered by all the blood on him. It was her tears that woke him up. She never cried. Sabine was the bravest eight-year-old girl he ever knew and his second best friend. She never even cried, even when Deacon found her and Santino.
“Deacon, you’re our last hope. Don’t you understand that?” she whispered, silver eyes pleading with his.
The angry wolf inside him quieted, but the hunger to avenge his parents and dead packmates would never disappear. It had taken root deep within him and he let it.
Sabine was pack. Safe. Practically the younger sister he never had. She wasn’t done. “We promised to follow you wherever you go. Is this your decision? To die today?” Calm acceptance filled her eyes, and he didn’t like that.
If her initial words didn’t get to him, this one did. He knew the siblings were fiercely loyal to him that it even confused some of the older soldiers of the pack. Deacon knew without a doubt they’d follow him to whatever end he chose, even dying in the line of gun fire. Even if he insisted on going in alone, they would remain by his side.
Deacon leashed his wolf. No, he didn’t want that. She rested her forehead against his muzzle. Deacon let her, because she was family.
“Live, Deacon. Grow strong. So strong our enemies can’t touch us anymore. Be a better Alpha than your father.”
> Santino brushed his fur against her, she tilted her head and nodded. “Let’s go. Santino says he senses more surviving packmates up north.”
Deacon took one last look at the massacre behind him as Sabine shifted back to wolf. It hurt, turning his back on his parents, his murdered family, but in the end, they were corpses. He couldn’t help them, but he could make a promise to them.
Unlike his father, he’d never waver, never let kindness rule his heart. He’d become a monster so his pack would never go through what he and the other survivors did. Deacon would toss away his humanity, so no one could ever hurt his pack again.
Chapter One
Present
Deacon took another long pull of his beer, watching from the sidelines as the unmated members of the pack danced around the campfire the youngsters built earlier that day for the full moon. This was his second bottle, probably his final one. Werewolves didn’t get drunk easily, but he needed to keep his guard up. Full moon or mating season was a time most of his wolves let their guard down.
He wondered what made him think about the past today of all days. Deacon’s gaze slid to Forrest, his youngest pack enforcer, seated at one of the tables with his human mate Dave. When Dave and his Esper brother arrived just outside the Devil Hills border, Deacon had been adamant only Daryl could take refugee within their walls. Forrest had, however, defied him. In the end, Dave proved his loyalties remained to his mate and the pack by saving a trio of young werewolf pups.
Deacon knew Dave Rush didn’t ally himself with the oppressive Humans Matter government, especially when Dave spent his entire life protecting his brother. Deacon had an inkling why the Discipline Squad—those in charge of capturing and eliminating those they considered a threat to humans like shifters, Espers, and other paranormals—wanted Daryl so badly.
