The Alpha's Mate (8 Sexy, Powerful Shifters and Their Fated Mates)

by Lynn Red

  It was harder than it looked. It took her three tries just to get the arrow nocked, and her arms trembled slightly as she pulled the string back—the bow was heavier than she thought it would be, and though she’d grown a bit stronger after coming out to the countryside, her arms were still woefully weak from a life of relative idleness. As the daughter of an earl she’d not had to do any strenuous tasks, and as a woman she’d not been afforded the opportunity to engage in the same kind of outdoor sports that men did.

  Her arrows flew wide of not only the mark, but the tree itself, and by the time she went through the entire quiver she’d only hit the trunk twice. “I don’t know how you make it look so easy,” she said, sighing as they picked up the fallen arrows so that she could try again.

  “My father was a very good teacher,” Kellan said as she got into position once again. “And I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Clara expected him to stand off to the side and watch her, but instead he positioned himself to the side of her, crouching so that his chest was pressed intimately against her back. She drew in a slow breath, inhaling his spicy scent as his fingers came to the hand on her bow, adjusting her grip, and then pulling her elbow back more so that the bowstring stretched further.

  “You’re too busy focusing on the mechanics,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear she could actually feel his breath against her skin. “I want you to stop worrying, and just envision your target.” His grip tightened on her elbow, relieving some of the stress on her arm as he helped take the weight of the bow. Clara wanted to sag in relief, but she knew that doing so would cause her to lean into his body, and his presence was distracting enough as it was.

  Frowning, she did her best to clear her head and focused on the target—the big, red circle in the center of the paper. “Breathe,” he told her. “Use your breathing to steady yourself, to forget about everything else. It’s just you and the target.”

  She did as he said, breathing deeply through her nose and focusing her attention until there was nothing else; just her and the target, the big, red bull’s-eye just beckoning her. She didn’t even hear Kellan anymore; her fingers released the arrow of their own accord, and it sailed smoothly across the clearing and landed in the center of the target with a satisfying thwack.

  As soon as it was over, the sounds and smells and sights of the forest came rushing back to her—the birds twittering, the scent of grass and trees and air. The sound of Kellan’s breathing in her ear, his scent surrounding her. A rush of adrenaline filled her and she lowered the bow, her arms trembling again.

  “That was incredible—” she started, turning to look at Kellan, but she misjudged how close she was, and her lips brushed against his accidentally. They both froze, Clara’s heart beating hard against her chest, and then Kellan’s arms came around her, pulling her close, and her mind was so scrambled she didn’t even think to stop him.

  Kellan had known it was probably a bad idea to get so close to Clara; the entire time he’d been helping her he’d had to hold his body completely still—his heart nearly exploded in his chest at the touch of her. He should have stepped back as soon as she’d shot the arrow, but he’d instead taken those last few seconds to enjoy the feel of her body pressed against his.

  She felt even better now, with his arms properly around her, pressing her softness into him. He kissed her with the intensity of a starving man devouring a feast, coaxing her mouth open so that he could taste her fully. Her tongue tangled with his, and her breathy little whimper did nothing to discourage him. Her nipples pebbled through the thin material of her dress, scraping his chest, and the scent of her desire had him pressing her back against the nearest tree trunk.

  “Kellan,” Clara tried, but it was incredibly hard to say much of anything when his tongue was in her mouth. Her head swam with sensory overload—the pain from the bark digging into her shoulder blades, the pleasure he gave her as he suckled and nipped at her tongue, the excitement pumping through her bloodstream. She’d been kissed a handful of times, and had never understood what the fuss was about until now. His fingers dove into her hair, loosening her chestnut curls so that they spilled down her shoulders, and he pressed hard against her.

  No. She had to stop this, much as she didn’t want to. He tasted incredible, and the pleasure he was giving her with just this kiss made her never want to let him go. But she knew that kisses eventually turned into something more, and it had only been a few days since they’d met—not nearly enough time to make a decision. If she allowed him to take her they would be mated, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

  Belatedly, she realized she’d dug her fingers into shoulders, pulling him close, and forced herself to release him so she could push as his chest. It took her three tries to get his attention—the first two were feeble and utterly unconvincing. Finally she got him to move back just enough for her to turn her face away.

  “Kellan,” she panted into the silence. “I can’t.”

  He released her, but did not step back, instead leaning his forehead against her own. She turned her face back to see that his eyes were yellow again, and molten with need. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “It’s... difficult.”

  He took a step back, and she understood what he meant—her body screamed in protest, wanting his flesh pressed up against hers again. Their bodies seemed to be like two magnets, pulling toward each other against the will of their owners—or at least, against her will. “I know,” she said softly, moving away from the tree lest she invite temptation once again, and putting another two feet of distance between them.

  They stood there for a long moment, eyeing each other, neither sure what to say. Clara took deep breaths through her nose to try and calm her racing heart and steady the ache inside her. She thought she understood why so many gave in to the mating call—if this was the beginning, she was sure it would only get worse. But she was strong, and she knew she had to do this. She wanted to learn more about Kellan, and the village, before she gave him an answer.

  “Perhaps I should take you back to the maze now,” Kellan finally said, his eyes green once more, though the desire in them hadn’t faded yet.

  Clara nodded. “I would like to do more lessons, if that is alright with you.” She tried for a smile to dispel some of the tension in the air. “I very much enjoyed it. And I do like spending time with you. I just... I just can’t...”

  He smiled. “I know. And I would like to keep teaching you. I want you to be able to hunt if you have to, and also to defend yourself from any wild animals. The forest is generally a peaceful place, but even here danger can be found if you stumble upon the wrong territory. And you don’t have a nose to tell you which places to avoid. I’ll have to take you out and show you sometime; perhaps give you a map.”

  “That would be lovely.” She placed her hand in his. “If you could take me back now, I would be grateful.”

  He led her back to the maze, and they stood at the entrance for a long moment, simply drinking their fill of another. The need to touch was building inside both of them, and Clara wondered how long they would be able to hold out. Would it become painful, an exquisite torture? Could she really die from this?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Clara.” Kellan looked as though he wanted to say more, but whatever it was flickering in the depths of his eyes, he decided best not to speak of.

  Unable to help herself, she leaned up on tiptoe and gave him a hard, quick kiss, and then fled into the maze.

  * * *

  “We cannot allow this to continue.” Ranulf, the clan’s Beta, snarled as he set his tankard down on the wooden table with a loud thunk. The other shifters nodded and growled in agreement, and then turned as one toward their Alpha to hear what he had to say.

  Charles sighed and pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s a tragedy, to be sure—”

  “A tragedy?” Gabriel, his Gamma cut in. “That’s far too kind a word. Three of ours died that night, and just yesterday Marie, Ian’s w
ife passed away. She was carrying, you know. Just barely, but she was pregnant.”

  Charles glared at him icily. “Are you going to continue to interrupt me?” When Gabriel said nothing, Charles continued, “I agree that something must be done. We cannot continue to let the humans pick us off. It would be easiest if we could discontinue the hunts, but that is not an option.”

  It wasn’t that they couldn’t hunt as humans, but that their inner wolves demanded the hunt, and in order to maintain control of their animal half they had to appease it. If they went too long without a hunt, the animal would try to wrest control, and that was when shifters became truly dangerous.

  “Why not track down the humans who are hunting us and pay them back in kind?” Ranulf suggested.

  “And prove to them that we are just as barbaric as they are?” Charles shook his head. “No. We must send them a warning; a clear message that if they do not leave us alone, we will rain hell down upon them.”

  The other shifters leaned forward eagerly, warming to the idea. “What about Kellan?” Gabriel asked. “Should we tell him about this?” As the Epsilion and one of the primary defenders of the Clan, Kellan should have been at the meeting, but he was with Ian, doing his best to console the poor man.

  Charles shook his head. “He is in a precarious enough position, trying to woo a human mate. I don’t want his head and his heart to be conflicted over this matter.”

  Ranulf folded his arms. “And what about this plan of yours? What if the humans choose not to heed our warning?”

  Charles smiled grimly. “Then there will be war.”

  * * *

  “Are you certain you’ll be able to stop them?” the village chief asked, looking nervously between the group of men standing in the square. They wore dark clothes and wide brimmed hats that shielded their faces so the only thing illuminated by the torches were their solemn mouths.

  “We’ve been doing this a long time, sir,” the man said, lifting his head so that his blue eyes glittered in the torchlight. “If we can’t handle this monster for you, then nobody can.”

  “Al-alright.” The chief held out a bag—the gold coins clinked as his hand trembled. “Here is the first half. You’ll receive the rest when you’ve slayed the monster.”

  The man frowned. “We don’t charge for our services.”

  The village chieftain hesitated. “You... were not the one who asked. It was a red-headed fellow who made the arrangements.”

  The man turned, sharply. “What is this?”

  The redhead in question stepped forward. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to be dragging us all over the countryside for nuthin’. I know you come from a well-to-do family and you might not understand what it means to be hurtin’, but the rest of us aren’t as fortunate as you.”

  “I realize that, which is why I offer my services for free.” The man took the gold and handed it off to Ryan. “A good deed should be done for its own sake, not for monetary gain.” He looked at the faces of his men, who stared steadily into his eyes. “If I’d known that you all felt this way, I wouldn’t have asked you to do this with me.”

  The village chief took a step back. “If you all don’t want the money—”

  “No.” The man turned, took the pouch, and tossed it to the redhead. “We’ll take it—this once, because it was prearranged, and because the families of these men are in need.” He turned back to his men. “But if you want to continue hunting with me, you won’t do this again.”

  Without waiting for an answer, the man hopped on his horse and headed for the location the village chief had spoken of. The thundering of hooves behind him told him that his men were no ready to desert him—yet.

  They cantered down the dirt road and into the forest, until they reached another point on the map. The man held up a hand and they stopped, dismounted and tied their horses down while they proceeded on foot. Shortly, they came to a large cave, set deep into a rock wall, and they could hear loud snoring echoing through the stone walls to outside.

  Silently, they crept inside, and each of the men had to fight back a curse at the stench that wafted toward them—urine, unwashed flesh and other odors best not spoken of. The snoring became louder as they inched down the tunnel, becoming even quieter as the flicker of torchlight came into view—they were close to the monster’s den.

  Rounding the corner, the monster finally came into view—a hulking brute, covered in hair from head to toe and nothing else, asleep face-up on a pile of animal skins. Blood encrusted horns curved over his head, and they caught a glimpse of fang from his open maw. In his left paw he held what looked like a human leg bone, stripped clean of flesh, and there were many other bones littered across the floor.

  One of his men accidentally stepped on one of the bones, and the crack echoed off the cavern and woke the monster, who sat up, his red eyes glowing eagerly in the dark. He came to his feet in a roar as he caught sight of them, and the man cursed as he dove out of the way, and then threw one of his knives, which landed with a solid thud between two of the behemoth’s ribs. The monster roared in pain and lashed out with his burly arms, sending two of his hunters flying into opposite walls. The man winced as he heard the sickening crunch of skulls against stone.

  Two of his men who had managed to get themselves into corners peppered the monster with arrows, taking out his eyes. It blundered around the cavern, roaring as it tried to find a target, and the man used the opportunity to throw another knife, this one burying itself into the monster’s heart.

  It froze, and then fell back, shaking the cavern as its body hit the floor. The hunters stood immobile, not a single one daring to so much as twitch. Only when several minutes had passed did they let out sighs of relief, convinced that the monster was no more.

  Shaking his head in disgust, the man stepped forward. “Let’s collect our dead and get out of here.”

  * * *

  “Oh, Clara, it’s awful,” Eve rushed into the living room, and Clara looked up from her knitting to see that her aunt’s face was pale, her bonnet still on her forehead, which was a true sign of alarm as her aunt never wore it in the house. “The Bennet boys are dead.”

  “What?” Clara set her knitting aside and rose from the rocking chair. “How? When?” The Bennets owned a farm three miles down the road from them, and were a family of five.

  Eve shook her head. “I don’t know. My friend Martha told me it was some kind of mauling from a beast—perhaps a bear.”

  “How awful.” Clara placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Both boys? They couldn’t have been any older than me. Judy is going to be devastated. How will they be able to manage the farm?” The Bennets were not well-off, and could not afford to hire extra help for the harvest. With only Mary, the youngest, left behind, they were going to have a very hard time indeed.

  “I don’t know, but I am going to offer what help I can. I came home to gather a basket to bring to them; I am going to offer Judy my sympathies. We are good friends, and the Bennet boys used to come and help me with my own plowing.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  They packed a loaf of bread and several jars of preserves, and set off. It took them much longer than Clara had expected to reach the Bennet house—her aunt lagged, and they had to stop and rest often. Clara noticed that some of the paleness in her aunt’s face wasn’t simply from the shock of recent death, but from fatigue as well, and she worried. Her aunt was not a young woman; perhaps they should have taken one of the horses, but it was not a very long walk, and since her aunt hadn’t made the suggestion Clara hadn’t thought of it.

  When they reached the Bennet house, Kent Bennet opened the door, looking scruffy, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice was gruff as he greeted them and invited them into the house, where Judy sat at the kitchen table, her face pasty pale, her eyes puffy red clouds. Clara stopped short as she saw Lucas sitting there next to her, solemn and sturdy as he offered Judy encouragement.

  “Oh Judy,” Eve cried, rushing to take
her friend in her arms. “I’m so sorry to hear about your boys.”

  As the two women grieved, Clara turned to Lucas, puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Chris and Taylor were good friends of mine,” Lucas said softly, his blue eyes clouded with sadness. “And I was the one who found them.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Clara said, dropping into the chair next to him. “What happened?”

  Lucas shook his head. “I didn’t see what went on, but when I was walking in the woods this morning I came upon their bodies. I don’t know what got ‘em—they’re heads were smashed up real good, and they had some claw marks on ‘em, like a wild animal had gone after them. Maybe a bear.” He sighed. “A terrible way for them to go.”

  The two women rejoined them at the table once Judy had stopped crying. “What can we do for you, Judy?” Eve asked. “If there is any way I can help you to get through this—”

  Judy shook her head. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I know you have enough going on yourself, Eve. Lucas and his brothers have already agreed to help me with the harvest, and my husband and his friends are taking care of the funeral.”

  Eve turned to Lucas. “That’s a very fine thing for you to do, Lucas.”

  He shook his head. “It’s the least I can do, especially since...” he shook his head.

  “Since what?” Clara asked, frowning.

  “Ahh, nothing.” Lucas flashed a shadow of his trademark grin. “Just rambling, I suppose.”

  * * *

  Eve insisted on staying to help with the funeral arrangements, and so Clara walked home alone to finish up the chores. There wasn’t very much to do, so afterward she made her way to the forest and back through the maze, her thoughts pensive as she dwelled on matters of life and death. Judy’s grief had hit far too close to her own, resurfacing a pain she now felt guilty about not thinking about these past few days. Ever since Kellan and this whole mating thing had come into her life she’d hardly given a thought to her parents, and she was ashamed. Did life move so quickly that the dead were this easily forgotten? When she died, would her memory pass with such swiftness from the hearts of her loved ones?