Wolf's Secret (Alpha's Hunger Book 2)

by Carina Wilder

  Wolf’s Secret

  Alpha’s Hunger, Book Two

  Carina Wilder

  For Denise Taylor, who is an absolutely awesome lady. I am so grateful for everything you do.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  31. Did you find the hidden Treat?

  32. Coming in November!

  Also by Carina Wilder

  Foreword

  This is the second novel in the Alpha’s Hunger series. In case you haven’t read it yet, you can get the first book here:

  Wolf’s Hunger

  Introduction

  I’m pretty sure I realized the first time I laid eyes on Tristan Wolfe that I loved him. I knew in that moment that there was something hidden deep within him—a power that few had ever possessed.

  Tristan is my lover.

  He’s my everything.

  But he’s still a mystery, even to me. A perfect, sexy, handsome mystery who turns me on more than anyone I’ve ever known.

  When I’m around him, I’m happy. I feel like my life makes sense for the first time in a long time.

  I can’t say if this perfect, blissful existence of ours is real or an illusion.

  I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

  Because the fact is, Tristan still has secrets.

  Then again…

  So do I.

  Chapter 1

  “You’ve got to tell him,” Marcus said, a note of stark reprimand shading his voice.

  He and I were sitting on the couch in the living room of our shared apartment, just as we’d done a thousand times. The TV was blaring some reality show about amateur bakers creating monstrosities that looked more like melted gray sausages than delicious cakes.

  The show should have been funny. Normally my housemate and I would have been on the floor, howling with laughter at the competitors’ epic fails. But right now, I was too busy swallowing guilt and tension to find anything—even semi-liquid baked goods—particularly amusing.

  “Come on, Marcus,” I moaned. “You’re well enough acquainted with Tristan by now to know that if I tell him I saw Krane, all hell will break loose,” I replied. “It could set off a shifter war in Manhattan.”

  “So you’re just going to keep it to yourself, then? You’re going to go about your business like nothing’s happened? You do realize that Krane probably wants to kill you both, right? He’s not exactly Mr. Friendly.” Marcus dug his fingers into the couch, his knuckles turning bone-white. “He hurts people for shits and giggles.”

  I shook my head in protest, despite the fact that he probably had a point. The thing was, on one front Marcus had to be wrong. “Look, if Krane really wanted to kill us, he could have come crashing through Tristan’s penthouse window easily enough the other night,” I said, shuddering with the recollection of the beast flying at me through the dark a few evenings earlier. I’d found myself frozen in place, captivated by his daunting presence. Krane’s dragon form had been utterly terrifying, yet inexplicably alluring. As long as I lived, I’d never forget those piercing blue eyes glowing bright in the dark, surrounded by a coat of jet-black, armor-like scale that reflected the moonlight like the beast was made of polished steel.

  The dragon was the stuff of nightmares. A monster.

  Still, as much as he’d frightened me, the fact remained that the monster hadn’t hurt me when he’d had the chance. Maybe I was being naive, but something told me that he’d only wanted to reveal himself to my eyes, to let me know he was real.

  The question, of course, was why?

  “He wanted to scare me, that’s all,” I said, struggling to draw some logical conclusion to explain his sudden appearance. “He was probably just amusing himself. Maybe he wanted to see what his brother’s new lady friend looks like.”

  Marcus blew his lips out in a pfft sound, like he didn’t believe my theory for a second.

  Yeah, I’m not sure I’m buying my bullshit either, buddy, I thought.

  The truth was, I had no clue what Tristan’s sibling was really up to. I knew he was capable of killing. I knew he and Tristan didn’t get along, despite their shared blood bond. Still, I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling that Krane couldn’t be all bad. Not if he was Tristan’s brother. There had to be some humanity in him, some last vestige of goodness.

  How could he possibly be a total psycho when his brother was the sworn protector of New York?

  “Besides,” I added, hoping to change the direction of the increasingly uncomfortable conversation, “I can’t tell Tristan about him, at least not yet. The Midsummer Ball is tomorrow, remember? I don’t want to ruin it by bringing up the K-word. Just give me a couple of days, then I’ll sit him down for a serious talk.”

  Marcus leveled me with a glare that somehow managed to increase my guilt tenfold. “Now you’re just making excuses,” he said. “Trust me, Ari, I know how this shit works. If you don’t tell him and he finds out on his own, things will get way worse. He’ll think you lied to him.” He took a last swig of the beer in his hand before adding, “Which, by the way, you totally did.”

  I shook my head so hard that my brown hair flew around my face, whipping my cheeks like it wanted to punish me. “I haven’t lied at all. Lying by omission is just…omitting. It’s not the same thing.”

  Okay, now I was definitely lying.

  But I had my reasons for wanting to keep the ugly truth from my lover. My life had been so good these last few weeks. So freaking close to perfection.

  I was…happy.

  Although I still paid Marcus rent and dropped by our place occasionally, the fact was that I all but lived in Tristan’s penthouse now. We’d enjoyed the ecstasy of carnal bliss—okay, more like wild animal sex—almost every night, surrounded by the luxury that was his billionaire lifestyle.

  My new job as owner of the Venezia Theater was turning out to be pretty fantastic, too. I’d hired a new co-artistic director and we were already making plans for two years from now.

  Maybe the best part of the job was that I could take time off whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted. Which worked out great, because I’d come to love Tristan’s quickie mystery getaways, which had pretty much become a weekly occurrence by now. I never had a clue where he was taking me, but every time I found myself walking towards his private jet I knew we were heading to some amazing part of the world…not to mention the guarantee of incredible sex and fantastic food.

  Not necessarily in that order, of course.

  So far, we’d taken a long-weekend trip to Paris, a four-day jaunt to Costa Rica, and a quick hop over to Los Angeles. Oh, and then there was the mini-holiday to the Bahamas. We managed to hit Nassau in the midst of hurricane season, so we’d been forced ever so unfortunately to spend all our time shacked up in a five-star hotel room. While the wind wailed like a banshee outside, threatening to tear t
he roof off, we’d made passionate love over and over again like our lives depended on it. By the end of the weekend I could hardly walk.

  But damn, I felt like I’d found heaven on earth.

  “Listen, buddy, my life is pretty much perfect, for the first time ever,” I said, shoving Marcus’s shoulder playfully. “So tell me, why the hell are you trying to ruin it for me?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Just…promise me you’ll tell him after the ball,” he grunted. Apparently he didn’t find the situation funny in the least. He clasped his hands together between his knees and looked over at me, his brow furrowed with concern. “C’mon, Ari. I’m trying to help you, you know.”

  “Yeah. I know,” I replied, letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine, then. I promise I’ll tell him after the ball.” I held up my left hand, pinky in the air, and he wrapped his right pinky around mine.

  “Good,” he said, yanking his hand away when the brief swearing ceremony was complete.

  “By the way, are you going to be there?” I asked. Marcus was a handsome guy, and no doubt he would look fantastic all dressed up in a tuxedo—though I had more important reasons for being inquisitive. “At the ball, I mean. You never know, you might meet the woman of your dreams. The place is apparently going to be crawling with shifters.” I threw him a suggestive wink.

  “Yeah, I’m going,” he said. “But only because I’m supposed to work. Don’t forget that I haven’t been granted the right to find my mate just yet.”

  “Because Tristan hasn’t given it to you, you mean,” I replied, slouching down and pressing my head into the back of the couch. “I still don’t understand quite what you do for him, you know. I don’t get how this arrangement of yours works.”

  “I help protect his assets, like I did for my last boss. We Lessers do what we’re asked to do. We’re indentured servants until we can strike out on our own. It’s always been the way of the shifter world, and it probably always will. The alpha needs to know a Lesser is loyal before he—or she—is willing to unleash our inner animal on the world.”

  I hated the word Lesser. I hated that Marcus had to use it to describe himself, even though it was what he was: A human with the genes of a shifter, but not the powers. At least not yet.

  It meant that he was incomplete. An almost whole man who had to endure an unsatisfying partial life until he’d convinced the higher ups that he was worthy of a full one. Until Tristan gave him his blessing, Marcus wouldn’t be allowed to even think about seeking his mate.

  Part of me wanted to challenge my lover, to ask him why he was making Marcus wait. But I knew better than to question the secret shifter code. Besides, apparently Marcus didn’t question it, either.

  He’d spent his entire existence at the mercy of higher ranking men. But one day soon, his animal would be set free. I was sure of it. And as far as I was concerned, that day couldn’t come fast enough. He’d seemed slightly off lately, like some integral part of his soul was missing. He’d lost the ability to laugh at banal things, even to be playful. My housemate needed to find himself again.

  “I wish you didn’t have to act as anyone’s minion,” I said. “Not even Tristan’s. You should have the freedom you deserve without this whole weird tradition of servitude.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the way things are.” For some insane reason I seemed more upset than he did. “It’s a business arrangement, as I see it,” he added. “Tristan is the best person for me to do business with right now.”

  With a grim immediacy, a menacing thought circled around my mind. “You said right now. What happens if someone comes along with a better offer? What if they can give you exactly what you want, and Tristan can’t? Will you start working for the other side again?”

  Marcus shot me another side-eyed glare. Clearly he didn’t appreciate being reminded that his last employer had been a man called Craster. A wolf shifter who’d ordered him to kidnap me and bring me to Krane for some nefarious purpose. “Look,” he said. “I betrayed my boss to help you. I lost my job because I went against Krane’s wishes. I’m not about to jump on another bandwagon just now. Besides, even if I wanted to, there’s nowhere left for me to go.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. His fingers were warm—hot, even. The mark of a man with the blood of a shifter running through his veins. Somewhere inside him I could sense the animal who wanted—needed—to emerge, and the thought of it hurt my heart.

  “Ari, you’re my best friend,” he said, his tone softening. “The likelihood of my betraying you is slim to none.”

  “Aw,” I said, a smile spreading over my lips and easing the dull ache in my chest, “am I really your best friend?”

  Marcus’ mouth stretched into an exaggerated frown for a second before he finally let out a laugh. Apparently our overly-serious conversation had gone on long enough. “Well, let’s see,” he replied. “I’m constantly surrounded by psychotic shifters who are locked in some kind of never-ending power struggle, each of them more thirsty for blood and dominance than the next. You’re the only semi-sane person I know. Of course you’re my best fucking friend!”

  I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead and pretended to swoon. “Well, gosh golly, when you put it like that, I’m super-flattered. Boy oh boy, I can’t believe you’d choose me over all your psycho acquaintances. I feel so…special.”

  “You’re welcome.” Marcus drew himself to his feet and strode towards the kitchen area of the open-concept apartment to grab another beer. “Want anything?” he asked.

  “Nah,” I replied, pressing my hands into the couch, ready to shove myself upwards. “Actually, I think I’m going to head over to Tristan’s place. I need to talk to him about our plans for tomorrow. I’ve got to figure out what I’m wearing—not to mention that sometime soon I’m going to have to tell him about Clarissa’s wedding in Chicago next month. This unrelenting, glamorous social calendar of ours never ends.” With that, I flung my hair back like a diva who spends her days lounging by the pool and cooing at rich people at parties.

  “Uh, right. The wedding,” Marcus said, cracking open his beer. “Are you going to bring him? Somehow, I can’t picture Wolfe enjoying himself at a human social gathering.”

  I nodded. “Sure, I’ll bring him. That is, if I can convince him to come. For some reason I’ve been wussy about broaching the subject with him. A room full of half-drunk humans has never seemed like his comfort zone. He’d be irritated out of his mind with nothing but fools to stimulate him.”

  “Well, it seems to me that if you can’t even manage to invite your boyfriend to a wedding because you’re too scared, you’re going to have a hell of a time dealing with the Krane situation.” Marcus sauntered back over and plopped himself down next to me. “You need to learn to trust people, you know,” he said. “Shifters, too. They’re a pretty strong bunch; they can take bad news. The sooner you figure that out, the easier your life will be.”

  “I know. But I’m just so used to keeping things to myself. It’s really hard for me to be open with anyone—you know that. I’ve kept secrets all my adult life. It’s what I do.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” he said. “But maybe you need to learn that there are more of us who want to help you than hurt you. Let us in, or you’ll find yourself all alone in this world.”

  “You might be right.” With that, I finally rose to my feet. I felt another lecture coming on, and I wasn’t sure I had the stomach for it. “Okay, I’m going to make like a baby and head out.”

  “Oh, listen,” Marcus said, chuckling, “speaking of Clarissa, I meant to tell you—she called a couple of times while you were recovering at Tristan’s place. She told me she read about…” His voice cut itself off abruptly, like he knew the subject was too raw to bring up.

  “I think what you were trying to say was ‘about Jack,’” I replied, my stepfather’s name tasting bitter on my tongue. It had been days since I’d uttered it. I’d somehow pushed all thoughts of him from my mind while my body had healed. T
he deep, all but deadly wound on my head had long since disappeared like it had never been there, and I’d been doing a good job of forgetting that the asshole had ever existed.

  “Yeah,” Marcus said, sealing his lips tight. He knew the last thing I wanted now was to talk about the man who’d nearly killed me on opening night of our last play, when he’d come charging into my dressing room to try and extort money from my wealthy boyfriend.

  “Right, of course,” I said. “I’ll call Clarissa. It’d be nice to talk to her.”

  “Good. I think she’s worried about you,” Marcus said. “But I suspect the real reason she called is that she’s more than a little curious about your love life.”

  My lips ticked up in a smile. The truth was, I couldn’t wait to tell Clarissa about Tristan. Well, maybe not everything about him. There were some secrets I’d be taking with me to the grave. “She read about that too, huh?”

  Marcus shrugged. “I guess so. I think everyone knows about you two by now.”

  “Funny to think that a few weeks ago I thought I’d never be with someone as rich as her fancy doctor fiancé. Tristan’s got a thousand times his wealth. I mean, not that I care about his money.”

  “No, of course you don’t,” Marcus replied sarcastically.

  “Hey! I really don’t,” I protested. “I’d be with him even if he lived in a cardboard box.”

  “Maybe,” Marcus laughed, “but his piles of cash don’t exactly hurt, do they? I mean, having a private jet to fly you anywhere in the world doesn’t stink on ice.”