Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers

by Alana Hart

  “So did I.”

  For a moment they were silent, eyes locked. Reagan felt her heart beating faster again. She licked her lips.

  Harry yipped, scaring them both out of their gaze, and then the door opened. Aidan stepped back as Liam barged through the door, his arms full.

  “Got us a feast,” he said and sat on the bed.

  Harry shifted back into a girl, her wide eyes on the food. Reagan pulled her shirt back over the girl’s head. Liam frowned.

  “We aren’t like that,” he scoffed. “The pups in our pack are always running around naked. Ain’t us that hurts babies.”

  Reagan swallowed, stepping back from Liam’s glare. She had saved Harry, but he didn’t seem to care about that.

  He and Harry dug into a Styrofoam box full of sausages, eggs, and fried tomatoes. Aidan took a box and sat on the couch.

  Reagan stood by the window, her box balanced in one hand while she ate. She lifted a sausage, the box wobbled, and she had to juggle a bit to catch it.

  Liam snorted. Aidan sighed. He stood, grabbed her by the arm, the feel of his hand through her sweater was hot, and sat her on the couch. He sat beside her, pulling his box onto his lap, and ate. She tried not to notice his warm thigh pressed against hers or his bicep brushing her shoulder each time he lifted food to his mouth. Or his mouth, for that matter. Her stomach clenched as he bit into a tomato, the juice dribbling over his lips.

  “Could you please not fantasize about my brother while we’re eating?”

  Reagan’s face burned. “I wasn’t—”

  “We got wolf senses, remember? You smell like a bitch in heat.”

  “Liam,” Aidan said, sounding fed up. “Come on, man.”

  “Right, sorry. Play nice.” He offered her a smile. “Sorry, Ray.”

  At the mention of her childhood nickname, she fell quiet, her face warm, her eyes stinging. She felt Aidan stiffen beside her. Well, she thought, at least he wasn’t completely unaffected.

  Whether Liam meant to throw her off by using that name or if he was oblivious to it, she didn’t know. They finished breakfast in silence; Harry coming to Reagan to help eat whatever was left in her box. The little girl was covered in tomato juice and bits of sausage.

  “Okay,” Liam said, tossing his box into the small trashcan by the door. “What’s the plan?”

  Aidan stood, dumping his trash as well. Harry was licking the grease from her fingers in Reagan’s lap.

  “Cormac said to stay put. He’s sending someone to watch Hank, see if he makes contact with anyone. I got a lead on the collar those men were wearing. Emmett’s looking into that.”

  “So we just wait?” Liam said.

  Aidan nodded. “No one leaves the room.” He looked at Reagan when he said this.

  She frowned. “Yeah, because I could outrun shifters.” Ass, she thought.

  Liam snorted. “Fine by me. I’m wiped.” He sprawled on the bed, stretched, and closed his eyes.

  For a moment, Aidan stood between the bed and the door. Reagan and Harry sat on the couch. All available space in the room was taken. Finally, with a glance at Reagan, Aidan sat beside her, pushing himself as far as he could away from her. It was hard to do on such a small space and their hips were still touching.

  Reagan felt her heartbeat quicken and silently chided herself.

  Harry made a strangled yipping sound, staring at Liam. He stirred, already asleep. Harry climbed off of Reagan’s lap and into the bed. She curled up under Liam’s arm and closed her eyes.

  The sound of traffic hummed through the walls under the lights snores of Liam and Harry.

  She felt Aidan looking at her.

  “What?” she whispered, keeping her eyes on Harry.

  His voice was just as soft. “Why don’t you have any kids?”

  Her stomach dropped. “That’s kind of personal.”

  “You like kids,” he assessed, also looking at Harry.

  “I do.”

  “So why don’t you have any? Been with Hank long enough.”

  “I can’t have kids, Aidan,” she said, resigned to abide his pestering.

  “Was it Hank? You charged him with domestic violence four years ago.”

  She met those brilliant eyes in the dimly lit room, her face burning. “I didn’t charge him. A neighbor called the police and the charges were dropped. And no, Hank isn’t the reason I can’t have kids.”

  “Your mom?”

  It was too difficult to hold that gaze, so Reagan let her eyes fall to her lap.

  Reagan sighed hard through her nose. “You can go for a run if you like. I know you shifters need to get away sometimes.”

  The silence was thick. She felt his body vibrating with tension.

  “You know I didn’t want to leave,” his voice was low, rumbling through her. “And I came back, Ray.”

  “I know.” She tried to prepare herself before meeting his gaze. He was too close. “Please don’t call me Ray.”

  He stared, running a hand through his curls. She tore her eyes away.

  “Why’d you drop the charges against Hank?”

  “I think I’d like a walk.” She moved to push up from the couch, but Aidan grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down. She yanked from his grasp. He let her.

  “No one leaves.”

  It was much easier to glare at him. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. I’m just curious. Can’t find this info online.”

  Of course he didn’t care. He was just doing a job. She sighed, leaning back against the couch, her shoulder brushing Aidan’s arm.

  “Hank’s temper is nothing compared to my mother’s. I thought charging him was a little excessive.”

  “He put you in the hospital.”

  She folded her hands over her stomach. “He did.”

  “What did he do?” Aidan’s soft voice compelled her to answer.

  “We got in a fight about something, can’t remember what. He took a swing; I covered my face. He broke my hand and my jaw. We were outside and a neighbor saw.”

  Reagan didn’t meet Aidan’s gaze, but she could feel him staring at her.

  “You didn’t think he should be charged?”

  Now she did look at him, rolling her head on the couch to do so. “I was going home to him. What do you think he would have done to me if I let him be charged?”

  “Why didn’t you leave him?”

  She stared at him, ten years worth of emotion boiling just under her chest, making it tight. Nodding, she looked away.

  “I did. Monday.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She growled, causing Liam and Harry to stir in their sleep. “He loved me. I loved him. Every couple fights.”

  “Can I tell you what I think?”

  “Oh, I’m very eager to hear your opinion on my life choices.”

  His brow furrowed slightly at her sarcasm. “I think that you were so desperate to find someone to replace me—”

  “Full of yourself much?”

  “And,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “You were looking for someone as far from your parents’ personalities as possible. I bet he was nice and calm at first. Treated you like a queen. And then he changed.”

  “Stop.” Reagan closed her eyes. She didn’t need to relive her life through Aidan’s eyes.

  “Why didn’t you leave the first time he hit you?”

  “It wasn’t like that. He didn’t just one day start hitting me. Do you think I’m that stupid?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes on her, intense, making her feel vulnerable. “I think you’re that damaged.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He cocked his head, making his curls fall to the side. “You going to deny that you’re damaged? We all are. You, me, my brothers. Your parents damaged you long before I got to you. Why else would you fuck a shifter?”

  She flinched at the phrasing. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she answered in as calm and quiet a voice as she could. “Well, I was
young, and you were willing.”

  “You were scared and I was safe.”

  She laughed. “Safe. Right.”

  He remained where he was, but when he spoke she felt as though he were touching her. “I never hurt you.”

  She met those eyes, like a storm brewing at sea, and repressed a shiver. “No,” she admitted. “You didn’t.”

  Looking into his eyes she could see the boy she had loved so many years ago. She wanted to tell him everything; he deserved to know the truth about her cold brush off at her mother’s funeral. But as she opened her mouth to release the rivers of bottled up fear, his phone buzzed.

  Answering, he stood and stepped outside.

  Reagan took a deep breath. Saved by the buzzer, she thought wryly. Needing some air, she went outside, closing the door over behind her. Aidan stood by the woods, his back to her, talking quietly on his phone.

  She turned her face up to the sun, soaking in the warmth while cold, winter air nipped at her cheeks. She enjoyed the cold, though, and breathed deep the scent of snow.

  When Aidan was done, he turned, unsurprised to see her out of the room, and tucked his phone into his pocket.

  “Walk with me,” he said and turned away from her.

  “But Harry—”

  “She’s fine with Liam.”

  Reagan pulled the door shut and hurried after Aidan. It was true, she thought, pain searing her stomach; Harry was far safer with the vile Liam than she would ever be with Reagan.

  Chapter Seven

  Aidan felt her sadness wash over him. He didn’t like this. Being near her too much was opening up a floodgate he’d closed years ago. Not since his relationship with Reagan had he felt someone else’s emotions so fully. He could feel her sadness inside him, like a cold, wet day seeping through his skin, sinking into his bones. It was the same if she were happy. He would feel her warmth in his skin, his bones, in his heart. He used to call her his Ray of Sunshine, because whenever he was sad, she made him feel happy.

  Just as she was making him feel sad now.

  Maybe it was just a coincidence. He had spent three months as a wolf, his human side suppressed. Maybe now he was just feeling more because he was adjusting to being human again. He hoped so anyway.

  They walked into the woods, along a path through the bare trees. Snow dusted the ground, glistening in the sun, and crisp, frozen twigs crunched under their shoes. Aside from the woman beside him and the sound of traffic on the highway, he could be in Ireland again.

  “Cormac called,” he said.

  She turned her wide, brown eyes on him. “Ah,” she said, not giving much away as to her thoughts. He could feel her apprehension, and wondered which of the things complicating her life at the moment was causing it.

  “He wants to know what the pup is like.”

  Reagan shook her head, confused.

  “Does she seem like a normal kid?”

  “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Hank and I don’t get out much. I guess she seems quiet. Doesn’t say much. Any sounds she does make are usually barks and stuff.”

  Aidan frowned, his long legs taking him ahead of Reagan with each step. He had to slow his pace so she could keep up.

  “What does your uncle think?”

  “He thinks she was bred for auction.”

  Reagan stared at him, aghast. “That’s horrible.”

  Aidan nodded. “Emmett found a few transactions between Hank and a dummy corporation over the last month. We think he bought her at an online auction and paid in installments. That way a large payment wouldn’t attract attention.”

  Reagan worried her bottom lip. Aidan watched her teeth pull her lip into her mouth and let go, over and over.

  When she looked up at him, his eyes were on the path.

  “Then there are more kids, aren’t there? More shifter pups being auctioned off.”

  “Cormac thinks so. He’s going to have Liam go in.”

  “Why Liam?” Irritation and hurt ebbed from Reagan.

  “He’s better suited for this kind of infiltration. But we need to find out where it is first.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Aidan glanced at her quickly. “We’re going to the Den. Cormac’s coming up with a plan.”

  Her fear blasted him like a bucket of icy water dumped over his head.

  “We’re not going until tomorrow morning.”

  She didn’t relax much with this news. He was curious about her fear of going to the Den. She’d been there a number of times, first to drag her rotten father home before Ronan could kill him, and then when she had started sneaking over to sleep in Aidan’s bed. That last part didn’t last long since the others could smell her and wondered who was screwing around with a human. After that, they spent the nights in Reagan’s bed.

  It helped, she’d told him, having him in her room. Something about him being in there kept her mother and father away. Maybe they could sense the danger behind the door and unknowingly kept from going in and doing anything to her.

  He also kept the night terrors away. It was no wonder she had them, with parents like hers. Once he’d heard about the things they did to her, being abandoned by his parents didn’t seem so bad.

  He knew how her mother died; killed herself in a hospital for the mentally disturbed. But her father died while Aidan was in Ireland.

  “What happened to your father? The police report only said your mother attacked him. A crime of passion.”

  She stiffened when he asked, but laughed humorlessly at the last bit. “Yeah, I guess that’s what it was.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “After you left, I started drinking again.” She glanced at him, her cheeks pink. “One night I came home drunk, looking for comfort from anyone, even my mom. She called me a whore, beat the shit out of me, and as far as I remember, my father stopped her and carried me to my room. I passed out. When I woke up I was in the hospital. My nose was broken, my uterus destroyed, and my father was dead.”

  Aidan could feel the tension and fear she was trying to hold back.

  “When I was well enough, my aunt came for me. I asked her what happened and she told me that my mother had ripped my father’s throat out. Seemed unbelievable, but that’s what happened.”

  Aidan was quiet while he processed this. He remembered her mother, Shana. She was a mean bitch who used to beat on all of her daughters. But he couldn’t imagine that woman tearing someone’s throat out, especially not Danny Boy’s. Shana had always seemed possessively fond of Reagan’s father. It was part of the reason Shana hit her daughters; they were pretty and too often attracted their father’s attention the wrong way.

  Aidan had been glad when he heard her father died. Any nights he couldn’t get to her house, he would have to sleep knowing she was at the mercy of that sick man. And when he was sent to Ireland, he was terrified something worse would happen to her.

  It didn’t matter, though, he thought, she’d ended up with someone just as bad. And he was going to deliver her right back to him.

  That was part of Cormac’s plan. He just didn’t know how to tell her.

  He cleared his throat. “So, ah, that day; that’s why you can’t have kids?”

  They turned and headed back the way they came.

  She nodded. “Can’t have kids, can’t have sex.”

  He jerked his head toward her. Her face flamed, her eyes wide as she stared at the path. He could feel her embarrassment.

  “Why the hell not?”

  She winced, apparently hoping he wasn’t going to dig. Too bad.

  “I mean, I can have sex. I just can’t… enjoy it.”

  He frowned. “She destroyed your uterus, not your clit.”

  Reagan stopped, turning to glare at him. “When did you become so vulgar? I feel like I’m talking to Liam.”

  “Probably about the same time my best friend told me to fuck off.”

  “So it’s my fault you’re an ass?”

  He smirked. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. Ireland
turned me into the man you see before you. You were just the hump that got me started.”

  She didn’t run and cry like he thought she would. He should’ve known better than to assume Reagan was weak like that, like the women he usually took to bed. Women he could bully into tears, hurting them before they could hurt him.

  She put her hands on her hips, her breasts soft and round under her sweater, her anger making them move with each heavy breath.

  “So you were a playa in Ireland?” Her voice held all the snark she seemed to be able to muster. “The big, bad wolf found some pigs to eat?”

  “If I’m the wolf, that makes you a pig.”

  She pressed her lips together before speaking again. “Yeah, the stupid one with the straw house.”

  “Aw, sunshine, if you’re any of the pigs it’s the cold-hearted one with the brick house who throws the wolf in the fire.”

  “Don’t call me sunshine.”

  “I can call you a pig but not sunshine?” he grinned at the stupidity of it. “How about the Ice Bitch? That’s how Liam used to refer to you. The Ice Bitch that broke his brother’s heart. I guess you really are an Ice Bitch now, aren’t you? Can’t orgasm.” He snorted.

  She crossed her arms, her resolve finally seeming to break. “I can’t,” she said, her face turning red. “I’ve tried.”

  He glared at her, the few feet between them a chasm, the years a blink. “What, a wife beater doesn’t get your juices flowing? Surprise, surprise.”

  “It’s not Hank. He’s fine. I mean, he’s an ass, yeah, but—” She was getting flustered. Finally she threw her arms down. “My juices don’t flow, as you so delicately put it.” Despite the anger turning her face red, Aidan could feel the hurt in her, deeply buried.

  Some part of him, the part that she had broken so badly years ago, wanted to see that hurt ripped open.

  He took a step toward her, watching her stiffen. Her hands balled into fists, her head falling back to keep eye contact. He towered over her.

  Aidan reached for her hand, and she yanked it away. He reached again and this time, moving too fast for her to react, caught her wrist in his hand, squeezing slightly when she tried to pull away again.

  “I remember now.” He slid his thumb up her palm, forcing her hand open, eyes on her fingers. “You never responded well to gentle touches or soft kisses.”