Wolf Landing (Alpha Underground Book 3)

by Aimee Easterling

  “Pretty good,” I agreed, giving Sinsa a literal pat on the back.

  But my eyes were relentlessly drawn to the silent wolf whose head was twisted at an unnatural angle as he stretched across the sand. And beside us, fish crows cawed their delight.

  ***

  Like Byrd and Franklin, we took the easy way to All-Pack’s meeting place in the end. Well, not quite as easy. After all, we were three young women lacking season-appropriate clothing—lacking any clothing—alone on the National Seashore.

  But we made do. Two-legged, we jogged back up the beach in search of the vacationers I’d so recently terrified, catching up to the family just before they packed away their cooler and fishing gear into a sleek, white minivan and took off for parts unknown.

  “Ma’am?” Ginger called, half hidden by the bushes.

  The mother turned, still on edge from her recent near miss with a bloodthirsty wolf. Unlike her husband and son, the female’s instincts were on high alert, the hairs on the back of her neck raised as she tried to find the source of the unexpected voice. “Hello?”

  “I’m so sorry to bother you,” Ginger said, poking out her head to give the one-body something visual to latch onto. Meanwhile, she donned the persona of a red-faced college student chagrined at her lack of apparel, lowering the lady’s hackles with ease. “But my friends and I are kinda stuck. Our boyfriends took us out camping...”

  The tale my companion spun wasn’t particularly believable, but we had to say something to explain our naked bodies and lack of both car and phone. Luckily, the one-body’s mothering instincts were just as finely developed as her prey intuition. Soon, we were clad in clothes that didn’t really fit but that at least blocked the wind and preserved the teenage son’s innocence. And, as said son peppered us with questions, we rode in human comfort for over an hour until we reached the ferry terminal at the end of the last island that could be reached by road.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” the mother said when we disembarked at last. The family had already driven quite a distance out of their way to drop us off, but I could tell that the female was tempted to see us all the way to our nonexistent door.

  “Don’t worry—our car’s in the lot on the other side,” Ginger lied. Then, turning to the one-body teenager, she graced him with a smile that I was pretty sure was going to ruin the kid for any girl his own age. “Thank you for riding to the rescue.”

  “You’re...you’re welcome,” he stuttered.

  Motherly attention instantly turned to her offspring...which was a good thing since I expected the wheels to begin turning in the lady’s head at any moment as she uncovered the obvious flaws in our fabricated story. Because why exactly would angry boyfriends snatch our clothes? And if we’d showed up in our birthday suits, where could we have stashed a key for this fictitious vehicle that Ginger had created out of thin air?

  Luckily, the ferry was already loading by the time we arrived, and the last car was even then driving carefully up onto the deck. Lack of time was excuse enough to cut our farewells short. So, with another quick but genuine expression of gratitude, my pack mates and I sprinted for the huge metal ramp that promised to carry us on the last leg of our journey.

  Bare feet padded over raised bumps intended to provide traction on the spray-slick deck, and we nodded our greeting to dock workers uninterested in our carless presence and mismatched clothes. Immediately, one-bodies in orange vests shut off the opening behind us, drawing a netted chain across the expanse to prevent any vehicle or person from falling off into the sea.

  The ferry’s engine rumbled to life as our rescuers’ car turned to drive back the way they’d come. White water churned behind as we eased out from between huge wooden pilings, then the massive people-carrier angled south toward the final easily accessible island even as the setting sun glowed golden against the darkening horizon.

  With the fading light, air temperature also plummeted. Too cold for one-bodies, but not for shifters tuned in to their inner wolves. So rather than retreating to the passenger lobby in the center of the ferry, Sinsa, Ginger and I sat cross-legged just behind the netted barrier, watching land recede as salt spray licked at our skin.

  Unlike my wolf-natured companions, though, I shivered. My inner beast was still missing in action and our continued voyage seemed to lack any purpose other than the relentless urge to continue putting one foot in front of the other. After all, every clan head was now arrayed against us and the gathering would have already begun by the time we arrived. What was the point of going on?

  “I couldn’t get through to Cinnamon,” Ginger admitted quietly once the deck was devoid of one-body ears. In silent reaction, Sinsa slipped her arm around the other young woman’s shoulders, more used to lupine gestures of encouragement than she was to human words.

  “I haven’t heard from Lupe or Hunter either.” I’d been trying not to think about the radio silence. Trying not to think of the way Nina’s twins were still missing and Arborville’s mayor would be even now regaling the assembled townspeople with tales of humans growing fur and sprouting claws.

  And that was hoping for the best. Worst-case scenario, neither twins nor Amanda were still alive.

  Before us, land rose out of the water as our destination came dimly into view. A whiff of seaward breeze carried the strong scent of shifter and Sinsa cocked her head to one side with interest.

  There was no reason to hope Wolf Landing would be voted into existence tonight. No reason to think I’d be accepted as an alpha or even admitted onto the gathering site.

  Meanwhile, I was sore all over. My brain ached from Stormwinder’s intrusive compulsion, I’d been picking cactus spines out of my feet for the last fifteen minutes, and my torso quivered in search of some much-needed heat.

  Despite all that, I realized I hadn’t once asked myself “What would Wolfie do?” Because the answer was finally obvious. Wolfie wouldn’t ask. Wolfie would do.

  So, shaking off a bone-deep weariness, I rose to my feet and pulled my companions up behind me. “Let’s show them a bitch attack force at our best,” I said, imbuing my words with heart-felt confidence.

  Beside me, the other females stretched their spines into prideful alertness and raised their chins to the breeze. And when the ferry’s crew slid the chain barrier to the side, dragging the clanking metal across the ridged deck and opening up the pathway to land, we were first in line to debark.

  Finally, eyes trained on the future, we did.

  Chapter 29

  “Not so fast.”

  We’d smelled the waiting shifters from the ferry, but I hadn’t expected them to attack so swiftly. Not while cars were streaming past, headlights occasionally flickering over to light up the darkness and expose our shenanigans to one-body eyes.

  The enemy’s expediency didn’t make much difference, though. Because we’d decided not to fight. After all, we didn’t even possess shoes and underwear, let alone weapons.

  So I didn’t resist as I was swung around to land forehead to window glass against the side of a parked car. I didn’t resist as I was pushed into the backseat of the same vehicle, squashed up against a seething Ginger while two enemy males flanked our opposite sides. A third shifter slipped into the front seat, revved the motor, began to drive.

  Only once the testosterone-laden air began to clear did I realize I’d lost track of Sinsa in the scuffle. I’d initially assumed she was being pushed into the car alongside us. But there was no one in the front passenger seat, and the only scents currently apparent were a healthy dose of male aggression nearly overwhelming Ginger’s milder, spicy aroma.

  Shit. Immediately, I closed my eyes and attempted to feel for my youngest companion along the pack bond. But my wolf and her associated abilities were still missing, the tether connecting me to my pack mates impossible to grasp onto. In the end, I forced myself to relax and watch the dark tarmac flicker to life in front of the vehicle’s twin headlamps as we journeyed down the only road this part of the isl
and had to offer. There was nothing to do but wait.

  Then we were parking, one male clenching my arms behind my back in an iron fist as he marched me up the unimproved trail in pitch darkness. I stepped on a sandbur, hopped on one foot in an attempt to dislodge it, then gave up and let the woody spine work its way into the arch beneath my big toe with every step.

  Despite the pain, though, I smiled when I caught Sinsa’s scent wafting up from behind at last, resolving my only true worry. Separate, we were weak. But, together, my companions and I would find a way to make the All-Pack leaders listen to what we had to say.

  Because we were being taken to All-Pack. I could see the bonfire surrounded by shifters as soon as we crested the dune, orange lights glittering against the star-filled sky. Human and wolf bodies alike mingled and drifted around the edges, fleeing smoke but drawn to warmth. After a moment, someone fed the flames with a chunk of saltwater-imbued driftwood and colorful sparks leapt into the air like a cascade of fireworks.

  Then, with a howl, two males swung a hefty bundle back and forth between them to gain momentum before releasing the object to soar into the heart of the fire. Stormwinder, I realized as the wolf’s mangled body hung silhouetted for a split second against the fire’s glow before sizzling its way from once-living flesh to charcoal before my very eyes. I could barely believe that the grizzled shifter who had become such a presence in my mate’s life was now gone forever, no longer a danger to our eager young pack.

  I found it even harder to believe that the shifters congregated on this isolated beach had chosen to howl a hero’s farewell for a murdered shifter who I’d thought long since abandoned to hungry crow beaks and to the desiccating effects of the winter sun. But the males behind and around me raised their own voices to join those of the shifters already circling the fire, and I did my best to soak up the event so I could relay every detail to my mate. Perhaps the show of respect would help fill what I knew would grow into an aching void in his surprisingly tender heart.

  Actually, Stormwinder’s funeral pyre wasn’t the only thing that surprised me at the present moment either. I’d half expected to be stuffed back onto the next ferry as soon as I disembarked, to have to slink and hide and find my way to this gathering by hook or by crook. Our captors hadn’t been gentle, but they had brought us exactly where we wanted to go. Why?

  Then I was being flung forward to land on my knees in front of the assembled pack leaders. Sand chaffed at elbows and shells bit into hands as I braced myself to break the fall, and I soon found myself peering up at the other alphas from the vantage point of a supplicant kneeling at the feet of a king. The posture, more than the sand burn, stung.

  I remained silent, though, waiting to see where we stood...or rather knelt...and what these pack leaders planned to do with the only three females present tonight. Because Ginger’s accumulated data hadn’t prepared me for the energy swirling all around us, and this All-Pack gathering was nothing like the ones I’d attended among the mountain clans by Wolfie’s side.

  There, All-Pack opened as a semi-civilized mating frenzy, all courtliness and pageantry with pack princesses attracting unmatched males like moths to an open flame. Here, in stark contrast, the sea breeze carried only the scents of testosterone and danger.

  Two-legged participants were a finger’s breadth away from shifting, intent upon keeping face and winning silent struggles for power. Meanwhile, four-leggers threatened to succumb to the same wild frenzy that had turned Slate Franklin into a murderer a few hours back.

  Speaking of Franklin, the alpha in question had regained his human form during the time it took for my pack to reach the island, and I was glad to see that he now lacked the crazed expression he’d sported after sinking his teeth into Stormwinder’s unprotected neck. Nearby, Big and Little Bill spoke quietly together while passive-aggressive Acres hung back, a hint of a smug smile widening the latter’s mouth even as he subtly straightened his suit and tie. Most of the gathered shifters were naked for ease and speed of transformation, but the southern gentleman was as well dressed as Stormwinder would have been...had the latter not ended up dead at the jaws of a wolf.

  I didn’t know the other two clan heads by sight or smell, but I could guess at their identities. Hoyt Taylor had a hint of Stormwinder’s scent about him, the younger cousin uncertain of his standing in the aftermath of his protector’s death. In stark contrast, Ron Brooks stood tall and commanding, his back ramrod straight and his inner wolf so rampant even the other alphas gave him a wide berth.

  “I thought we’d agreed the females would be turned back if they made it to the ferry terminal alive,” Brooks said now, his words a mild rebuff broadcast to the younger males behind me. Even without turning, I could feel the addressed shifters cringing away, their heads bowing and their inner wolves rolling over to display their bellies in response to the reprimand. With Stormwinder dead, Brooks had become the strongest alpha present and weaker wolves quailed in the face of his displeasure.

  Well, most did. One, though, stepped forward to stand beside me, his bare feet dark against the paler sand. I assumed from skin color alone that the brave shifter had come with the Byrds’ contingent, but his words proved me wrong. “That was your order, Dad,” the younger male agreed easily. “But I thought you needed to see this.”

  The older Brooks raised bushy eyebrows, his face clearly suggesting that Ginger and I weren’t worthy of interrupting the ceremony currently underway. And appearances definitely backed up his silent assertion since we were a ruffled and rumpled bunch.

  For my part, I was still kneeling in the sand, foot throbbing and head aching in the face of the day’s traumas. Ginger, in contrast, had managed to shift midair while being flung earthward, slipping out of her borrowed sundress in the process. Still, despite the low growl emanating from between sharp teeth, the subtly stooped line of my companion’s back was proof that we were both outfoxed and outmatched.

  I half expected Brooks to poke fun at our unconventional attire or excessive X chromosomes, but he clung to the moral high ground even as he eyed us like shit stuck to the bottom of his boot. “I needed to see this?” he said, turning his son’s words into a question. Clearly, Brooks wasn’t quite ready to dis his offspring in front of the assembled clan heads. Equally clearly, he was unimpressed by the presence of females at this previously all-male gathering.

  “Yes,” Sinsa said, and this time I couldn’t help swiveling around to take in the speaker. Unlike Ginger and myself, the bloodling teenager wasn’t being restrained, and I couldn’t help thinking she resembled a goddess as she stepped forward into the firelight with only a scanty cover-up to hide her nakedness.

  “He thought you might want to see me...” She paused, took a deep breath, then added: “...Dad.”

  ***

  With Sinsa’s words, the tide of All-Pack shifted in our favor. Later, I would learn that Brooks’ request to secede from the region three years prior had been squashed by a very astute round of blackmail on Stormwinder’s part. Unlike many parents of bloodlings, Brooks hadn’t relinquished his infant daughter willingly—instead, the pup had been spirited away during the turmoil surrounding her mother’s death. So when Stormwinder professed to have discovered the missing daughter’s location, Brooks hadn’t been willing to take a chance on the Tribunal member harming his lost child, not for the sake of mere political maneuverings.

  Instead, despite his relative strength, Brooks had stepped aside from statecraft at that time, allowing my mate’s mentor to take the lead in his place. Later, the mourning father had slammed the gates of his clan home in my face when I’d come to woo him as an ally, and he’d similarly refused Franklin’s attempts to draw him into their coup. Personal feelings about Stormwinder aside, Brooks had resolved to do anything necessary to protect the wolf pup who’d been stolen from his pack years earlier.

  Now, Sinsa and her father were reunited. And the pure joy on the latter’s face gradually transitioned into iron-clad support for Wolf Landing�
�s territorial rights. “All in favor?” the alpha asked half an hour later, once Sinsa had whispered her recent history into his waiting ear. Brooks barely seemed interested in pack-leader business, actually, rushing through the motions of All-Pack so he could relax into building a relationship with his newfound daughter.

  But I was interested in the vote. In fact, during the half hour I’d spent in limbo, I’d barely been able to prevent myself from rushing around the circle of alphas to beg each one for his potential support.

  Instead, I stood beside Sinsa, her hand slipping into mine as a rumble of “aye”s filled the air. In the end, Little Bill voted in our favor, as did Hoyt Taylor, a flip-flopping Slate Franklin, and Brooks himself. Big Bill broke with his son and voted nay while the passive-aggressive Acres rode the fence and abstained.

  I spared a wince for the splintered ties within the Byrd family unit—I had a feeling Little Bill would no longer joke about his father’s nickname in the same easy manner as before. But I couldn’t prevent the glow of triumph that lit my eyes as I realized we’d won the concession we’d come so far to seek.

  I was officially an alpha and Wolf Landing was officially a pack.

  Brooks left while I was still wrapping my head around the change in stature, his son and daughter flanking him like bookends. And I caught a hint of something via the pack bond as Sinsa walked away. A promise to come find us again, perhaps. Or a thank-you for reuniting her with the family she’d long ago forgotten.

  I couldn’t quite tell, though. The words, if they existed, drifted through my mind like a half-heard and long-forgotten melody. Only the young woman’s eyes meeting mine as she glanced back over one shoulder suggested I wasn’t imagining the whole thing.