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

by Lynn Red

  They were gone now. They were gone and he was here, having to face exactly what their loss had done to him. Had made him. Things were different now and he had no idea how he was going to survive.

  Chapter 4

  Jackson's head rested on his arm like a pillow, his face twitching as he fell into the nightmare that always seemed to come as soon as he closed his eyes. He had his hand fell to his side, sending the papers on the desk into a gentle shower to the floor.

  ***

  A high pitched whine of empty sound hummed in Jackson's ear. He watched a bullet whiz by overhead, but all he heard was the ringing of his own head. Everything was made of smoke and sand, and it took him a moment to put himself together. He shook his head, dazed as he struggled from the ground. The sheikh’s house was gone. The Rocket Propelled Grenade had done its work. Sergeant Dearden twitched beside him, and sound came roaring back.

  A bullet pinged against what was left of a wall and he felt a strange twinge in his shoulder. Jackson grabbed Dearden's flak-jacket, dragging him behind the thin safety of the wall. A man came screaming toward them, an old rifle in his hand. Wolfe barely had time to raise his rifle before Dearden shot him. The man crumpled to the ground.

  "Getting slow, Wolfe," Dearden joked. Jackson's mouth twitched up. He had to get what was left of his squad out of here. "Uh, Cap'n... I think you're bleeding."

  Jackson looked down to see blood seeping through the gray uniform on his shoulder like a red flower. Pain blossomed as he realized that had been shot. He turned to look back at Dearden just in time to see a bullet crash through the sergeant’s face.

  Red streaks filled his vision. His breath came in small pants and the hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. Rage pumped through his veins, coursing like gasoline and burning through every inch of his being. His body slumped to the ground as the intensity of the pain stole his breath. He twisted and writhed in the sand, smearing blood with dirt and rock.

  He started to howl.

  ***

  With a roar, Jackson bolted upright and brought his fists down on the desk. His eyes glowed with a fire from the past and the ancient desk split in two. Splinters of wood littered his office. Panting, struggling to maintain his form and regain control, he sat back in the rickety chair, not even bothering to baby the thing. It stood up to the abuse, letting him slowly recover his senses.

  Probably afraid it's going to end up like the desk, he thought, trying to put some humor into his dark mood. He was just glad that no one had been around. What if he had been sleeping next to someone? He could only imagine the disorder his little outburst would have caused if he had been sleeping in the barracks with other soldiers. He could have killed someone.

  With a shaky hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, rising to his feet to inspect the damage. He didn't need to turn on the light. His eyes were as good in the dark as they were in the light. To him, the room was as clear as if it were noon, though he knew he shouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face. Just one more thing that was taking some getting used to.

  The desk was halved completely into two big pieces and a lot of little pieces. Papers scattered across the floor. He gingerly picked up the photograph that had set on the desk, glad to see it wasn't broken in the fall. The picture remained the same. Ten sets of eyes staring out at him, smiles on their trusting faces. He set the picture up on some boxes where it would be safe. The men watched over him from their perch as he bent to pick up the scattered papers and files.

  It only took a minute to stack the files into one giant pile. He'd have to go through it tomorrow and duplicate some of the work, but at least it would give him something to do. He was incredibly grateful that the little room was far enough away from the main base that the noise of the cracking table hadn't alerted the guards to come investigate.

  The desk was ruined. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to explain how it had split in two, but with its rickety age, he hoped they would believe that he had simply fallen on it. He couldn't see any indentations from his hands, so at least the story would seem plausible. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, feeling the frustration at his condition welling up again. He wished there was someone he could talk to. Someone who could explain what was happening to him and teach him how to live a normal life without worrying about breaking tables in the middle of the night.

  Jackson took a deep breath and unlocked the door to his office. He wanted some air. A walk outside along the perimeter of the base was just what he needed. The cold winter air was sure to clear his head. He didn't bother to pick up his jacket; since the transformations had begun, he had found that he didn't get cold.

  A hot-blooded monster... He shook his head to clear the thought. That wasn't what he needed to focus on right now. He needed to let the monster inside of him settle from the nightmare and then he could either go back to work or risk sleep again. At least I can't make the desk worse...

  Chapter 5

  Jackson stepped out into the hallway, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim hallway light after the dark of his office. He looked left then right, trying to decide what direction to take. Toward the Records Room or toward the vending machine. The vending machine sounded like a better idea. He took a deep breath and took exactly one step in the vending machine's direction before freezing in his tracks.

  A scent hung in the air that made something primal in the pit of his stomach tighten and ache with joy. The hair on the base of his skull tingled and his eyes lit up with a golden fire. He could barely detect it, even with his enhanced senses, but what he could smell was something that sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

  He gave a smooth about-face, sucking air into his nose to try and fill himself with the scent. It was flowers and sunshine with just a touch of something that made him start to ache with want. His feet carried him forward, his nose pulling in the scent like a rope as he worked down the hallway toward the Records Room.

  The door to the room was ajar, letting out a thin sliver of yellow light onto the dark hallway floor. He whined softly with anticipation as the scent grew stronger the closer he came to the golden light. Moving softly, he crept up to the door, peeking through the thin slit to peer inside.

  A girl in mint green scrubs and a blue winter jacket sat kneeling on the floor. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that trailed down her back in soft tendrils. It took all his willpower not to reach out and touch it to feel its silky softness and bury his face in her scent.

  Her back stiffened and she turned slowly to look at the door. Her eyes were a light green and her lips were full and perfect. She bit the bottom one gently, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.

  "Is someone there?"

  Her voice was sweet and Jackson was convinced that she was part angel. There was no way a voice as divine as hers could exist on earth. He could smell her apprehension, the crinkle of her brow starting to deepen as she peered out into the dark hallway. He looked down at his watch to see it was close to midnight. There was no way she was supposed to be here.

  He pushed the door open, letting her see him before asking, "What are you doing in here?"

  She smiled and Jackson was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Objectively, he thought she was average looking, but she was stunningly beautiful when she smiled. His heart sped up to a million beats per minute as she rose to her knees and then stood gracefully from the floor. There were grass stains on her knees.

  "I was just told to come get some files. I'm almost done." She gave him another smile. "I'm sorry if I bothered you."

  "No, I just saw the light." He thought desperately for a reason to make her stay and talk to him. So he said the first thing that popped in his head. "Who are you getting the files for?"

  Her eyes went a wide for a second and he immediately regretted the question. His interrogator skills has snuck up on him and he was evaluating her without meaning to. He had trained for so long at asking questions an
d getting people to answer them, that he had forgotten that not everyone was hiding something. She was just doing her job and here he was, blocking the door and making her nervous.

  "Dr. Vincetti. Listen, my boss was supposed to pick these up for the doctor this afternoon, but he forgot, so I'm getting them. I really am on my way out the door." She closed the filing cabinet, holding several manila envelopes to her chest.

  He wanted to believe her. He really, really did, but the years of training wouldn't relent. Despite her delicious scent, she was hiding something. He crossed his arms, doing his best to look commanding but not intimidating.

  "I would believe you, except for one thing. All of Dr. Vincetti's medical files are now electronic," he said. He should know, he had gone through a chunk of them looking for any cases similar to his own.

  She smiled smoothly, her body language giving off nothing but calm, but he could hear her heart pounding like mad in her chest. A small trickle of fear leaked out of her, but she was managing to hold most of it in. He had to give her props. If he didn't have heightened senses, he would never have been able to spot the lie.

  "I didn't say he wanted medical files." She held up the manila envelopes. "This is for his medical grant. He needed more background information."

  "I don't believe you," he said softly. It was hard to concentrate with her scent filling up the small storage space. If she only knew the effect she was having on him, she could have smiled and walked right past him. He would have even carried the files if she asked.

  "That's too bad. My boss told me I wouldn't have any trouble getting these for him," she lied smoothly, her eyes darting to the door as she tucked the files into an over the shoulder bag on the top of the filing cabinet. She slid the strap smoothly over her pretty head, still managing to keep her bodily language calm. He was surprised he couldn't see her heart beating through the material of her scrubs, it was hammering so hard.

  "I think I'll need to call security." The words didn't even sound like they were coming from his own mouth. He didn't want to get her in trouble. He would do anything to get her out of trouble. He wished he could just clap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from talking. This wasn't going at all how he wanted.

  "That really isn't necessary," she started, edging her way along the wall and closer to the door. He didn't move, his eyes following her tiniest of movements. She was so beautiful to him it was almost painful.

  An alarm began to blare, filling the air with a shrieking high-pitched scream that made him instinctively place his hands over his ears and cringe. His heightened hearing made the obnoxious sound even worse.

  The girl's eyes went wide for a second as she saw her chance and she took it, darting past him and out into the hallway. He watched her run down the hallway and out of the building, keeping his hands on his ears but his feet in one place. Her scent trailed behind her out into the night and he breathed it in, closing his eyes.

  He didn't know who she was or why she was stealing the files. He wasn't even really sure if the alarm was even meant for her or if it was just bad timing. All he knew is that he had to find her again. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the warmth and sweetness of her scent envelope him.

  Chapter 6

  Chloe was breathless and shaking as she slid across the tattered red vinyl seat into her favorite booth. The 24-hour diner was quiet with only a single other customer at the counter eating some pie. It was the perfect place for her to look at the file and still be in public. Something told her not to go home just yet, so she listened to the little voice inside her head. It was usually right about stuff like this.

  She peered across the room at the dark window, but the sidewalk outside was empty. A cold wind blew a breath of snow skittering across the street, but no one appeared. She shook her head, telling herself she was being paranoid. No one knew about the hole in the fence. No one but the one handsome soldier had seen her, and he wouldn't have followed her here. It surprised her that she half wished he had; the way his eyes had almost glowed gold in the dark, the way they had followed her, the strength of his arms under the uniform...

  "You're just high on adrenaline," she whispered to herself. He probably wasn't half as handsome as she seemed to be remembering him. Uniforms usually turned her off, but for some reason, his made her stomach tighten and ache for release. She shook her head. It was just the adrenaline. She had work to do.

  A tired waitress with her gray hair pulled back into a messy bun poured her a cup of coffee, leaving a small cup full of individual creamers on the table. Chloe waited anxiously until she left, clutching the manila envelope through the shoulder bag under the table. This particular booth butted up against the back two walls. She liked it because no one could read over her shoulder and most people didn't even realize it was there. She studied here when she had a big exam. The coffee was always fresh and the pie was amazing. It was her favorite secret study spot.

  But tonight, she wasn't here to study regulatory RNA regulation or mechanisms of gene expression. No, tonight she was here to learn how to find her brother. She checked one last time to make sure the waitress was behind the counter talking to the man eating pie before carefully laying a file out on the table. With shaking hands, she opened the file with Madison, B labeled neatly on the front.

  It was a medical file of some sort. She scanned through the intake form, skipping over the answers she already knew. Of course her brother was six feet one inch, weight 173 pounds, his eyes were green (like hers), brown hair, a tattoo of a wolf on his left shoulder (she still couldn't believe he had gotten that after their high school mascot), and blood type A negative. The next page was a genetic screen with all the normal genetic markers that went with it except for one. It was a small footnote at the end of the genetic document marking that he had tested positive for the Lycan gene.

  Chloe frowned and read it again. She was in her second semester of doctoral program for human genetics and she had never heard of the "Lycan gene." She sat back against the seat, hearing it squeak slightly as she frowned in thought. Sergeant Roberts had whispered something about the "Lycan Project." The fact that the two were the same made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She gave a shiver and closed the file.

  Pulling her phone from her coat pocket, she opened an email to her doctoral adviser. If anyone would know what the Lycan Gene was, it would be Dr. Quentin Turner. She sent him a quick message to see if he would meet her at one of the school library study rooms in the morning.

  The phone chimed a reply before she even set her phone down. Her eyebrows raised, but she figured he must just be at the lab working on his latest experiments. The message was just a calendar invite for ten a.m. in study room three. Chloe smiled, enjoying the simplicity of the rather eccentric Dr. Turner. She hit accept and put her phone back in her pocket.

  She read the file twice more, but nothing new popped out at her. She sipped at her coffee, realizing she had already had half of it and without any cream.

  "I must be more tired than I thought," she murmured to herself as she poured two servings of creamer and a sugar into the coffee cup. She usually hated the taste of plain, black coffee, but for some reason she hadn't even noticed it. She wondered if the soldier from the records room liked his coffee black.

  Captain. He had two parallel bars on his uniform. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember what his name tape had said. Blake had taught her to look at ranks and insignias when he had come home from basic. Wolfe. The soldier's name was Captain Wolfe.

  Chloe opened her eyes and frowned at the coffee cup in her hands. She had no idea why she felt she needed to know the captain's name. He had just been some random soldier who had happened to catch her on the base. She would never see him again. That thought made her sad. For some strange reason, she wanted to see those golden eyes again.

  Chapter 7

  The reports on the newly replaced desk in front of Captain Wolfe blurred yet again. Jackson was glad that the new desk
was of stainless steel this time; his chances of breaking it accidentally were much lower. He had managed to reorganize most of the files from the night before, but now that he was trying to read them and concentrate, he felt his mind drifting. All he could think of was the dreams of her. For once the nightmares of his transformation in Afghanistan had been held at bay; instead he had dreamed of her. The curl of her hair against her neck. The perfect smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her scent floated around in his memory like a welcome ghost, making him smile unconsciously as he remembered it.

  His whole life, Jackson had an enriched sense of smell. As a teenager, he had been surprised to learn that not everyone could smell the things he did. It was something that he utilized in his interrogations. He could smell fear. The trickle of bitter sweat that came with a lie. It was part of what made him such an effective interrogator. In his whole life, he had never smelled anything as wonderful as her. It was almost like a drug.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. Jackson was beginning to think he was going even crazier than he already was. No one was supposed to smell that good. No one had ever made his body tighten quite like that. He was putty in her hands and he knew it. There were so many strange things in this new world of his, and this was just one more odd thing to add to the list. The fact that she was having this strong of an effect on him was proof enough that he was changing and shouldn't be out among people. Who knew what he would do if he smelled that on someone else?

  "Captain Wolfe!" The door to his office slammed into the wall with a metallic thud that hurt his ears as the base commander stormed into the tiny space. Jackson barely managed to keep the snarl from his face. He had disliked Colonel Bronn from the moment they had met. Wolfe rose to standing as the man barreled into his office. Part of him wanted to growl at the breach of his territory, but the colonel outranked him and had every right to barge into the office as if it were his own.