Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers

by Alana Hart

  “Liam, the house,” Cormac said, and gathered their discarded things.

  “Got it,” Liam ran from the room.

  Aidan lifted Reagan. She shook so violently that he almost dropped her. The whites of her eyes shone bright in her face, now flushed deep red as if suffering from a deadly fever. The snow melted on her skin. Aidan ran barefoot, his jeans falling from his hips, to the SUV out front.

  He sat in back, laying Reagan’s head in his lap. She curled into the fetal position, her muscles rigid. She was soaked with sweat. Aidan pushed her hair out of her face, and his heart squeezed. His hand was covered with blood. She was sweating blood. It streamed from her eyes, shut tight.

  “Cormac?” Aidan said.

  The old man climbed into the front seat, starting the SUV. He took in the bloody mess that was Reagan. “Twenty minutes,” he said. He picked up the phone as he shoved the SUV into drive. “Siobhan, we need you ready. She’s bit.” He hung up, grabbing the wheel and spinning the car around, barreling down the street.

  Behind them, Aidan saw Liam sprint from the house and dive into the van with Emmett just as a boom shook the SUV. The sound blasted his eardrums, and then white hot flames shot from the house that was Reagan’s.

  He cradled her in his arms, willing her to accept the bite, to turn, to survive. He meant what he said to Cormac; if he couldn’t have her in his life, he didn’t want to live.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pain. So much pain. It was all Reagan knew. Had she died? She remembered seeing Cormac kill Hank; remembered that Cormac had saved her, as he had done when she was a teenager. That man baffled her, but she was grateful.

  She remembered being shot. The wound hurt so much she had passed out. When she opened her eyes she saw Aidan. She had smiled, and then closed her eyes, letting the warmth of death close over her. She couldn’t have Aidan anyway, so what was the point of living?

  And then pain blinded her, something clamped onto her arm, burning her, raking hot knives along her bones. Fire coursed through her veins and then ice encased her heart. She thought for sure she was dying.

  So why was she still in pain?

  Reagan felt sleep leave her completely. The warmth and weight of the blankets on her legs and the soft mattress beneath her brought her out of the cloudy dream place. So much hurt. Not her stomach where she was shot, but everywhere else. Her eyes felt like birds had pecked them out. Her muscles screamed, her teeth and jaw ached, even her fingernails hurt, like someone had shoved bamboo shoots under them.

  She felt someone near her.

  “She’s waking up. Get Aidan.” Siobhan. Reagan felt the woman’s warm hand on her forehead. “It’s all right, sweetie. You’re safe now. Just rest.”

  Reagan tried to open her eyes, but the light hurt so much that she passed out again.

  This time when she woke, there was less pain. She opened her eyes. It was late or very early. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky a bright orange flame. Outside she could hear kids running and screaming and laughing.

  The room Reagan was in was large, with high ceilings and wide plank walls. It smelled like hay and old wood. The smell of snow melting in rain filled her nose. And Aidan.

  He was there, asleep, leaning back in a chair, his hand clutching the blanket. Reagan reached out, but a leather strap around her wrist stilled her efforts. She tried to speak, but her voice was no more than a hiss. She cleared her throat.

  He woke. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, stretched, and then, noticing Reagan was awake, he shot forward, holding her hand gently, his eyes probing hers.

  “Are you okay?” He looked tired, his beard thicker, his hair a little longer, wild around his face.

  “Thirsty.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat dry.

  “Siobhan—” he said, but the woman was already coming into the room, a glass in her hand.

  “I heard her waking up,” she said, a smile on her face. She moved Aidan out of the way and eased Reagan into a sitting position. “Here we go.”

  Reagan struggled, her legs tingling and heavy. She leaned on Siobhan’s strong arm and sipped the water. It was cold and slightly metallic; tap water. Finishing the cup, Reagan breathed deeply. She could smell Siobhan’s perfume, coffee, her lipstick, the metal of the chain around her neck, the basil on her fingertips.

  “You just need some meat and you’ll feel better.” Siobhan smiled, her eyes pained. “Harry’s been in to see you a hundred times. Keeps asking when Ray-Ray will wake up. Do you want me to bring her up?”

  Reagan nodded, her throat too tight to talk. Harry was saying her name? And missed her?

  Siobhan turned to Aidan, her eyes hard. “We haven’t heard from Liam.”

  Aidan looked at the floor. Reagan could feel the weight of his emotions, the guilt and sadness, relief and anxiety.

  Siobhan took his chin in her hand and made him look at her. “Call Connor. We need him and that hacker.”

  He nodded.

  Smiling at Reagan, Siobhan left the room, leaving Aidan and Reagan alone.

  It was getting brighter, so it was morning, just after dawn. Reagan cleared her throat.

  “Liam went in?”

  Aidan nodded again.

  “Something isn’t right?”

  He shook his head. Leaning forward again, he touched her cheek, holding himself back. “Are you okay?”

  Reagan took a breath, feeling her lungs fill with cool, early spring air, her mind reeling as her nose sorted through a thousand different smells. Her eyes had adjusted to the morning light. She could see the grain details in the walls, the filaments in the light bulb over her bed, the range of colors in Aidan’s eyes.

  “You bit me,” she said, not a question.

  Pain and regret chased each other across his face.

  She smiled, laying a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”

  He held her gaze. “It’s going to get worse, Ray. The pain I mean. I feel the pain every time I shift, but I’m used to it. But you… I’m sorry, Ray.”

  She took his face in her hands, fighting the urge to wince as pain lanced her muscles when she moved, and looked him in the eyes.

  “It’s okay, Aidan. I’m alive. And I’m with you,” she felt her face grow warm. “Your family, I mean. I like them.”

  “Well…” he said, his face turning red, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You are with me.”

  She frowned, confused.

  “I bit you. Turned you. So, technically, you’re mine.” He glanced at her, sheepish.

  “What did your uncles say?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Ronan wanted to ship me off to Ireland and lock you away. Gavin wanted to kill you and chain me up. But Cormac helped me talk them out of it. This is Cormac’s old farmhouse. Got about a hundred acres of woods and mountain to help you shift and run in.” He touched her face again, sending little thrills of sensation through her body. “I will help you, Ray. From now on.” He held her hand, entwining their fingers, and squeezed.

  Reagan smiled. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him close, feeling his heart beat faster.

  “Sounds good to me,” she said and she kissed him.

  Keep reading for BETRAYED, book three in the Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers series.

  BETRAYED

  Book Three

  Chapter One

  Liam McKinnon stood on the corner of the street shivering. Snow fell in thick blankets, hiding the street and throwing shadows into the streetlight. He huddled deeper into the heavy coat his aunt Siobhan had given him before he left. It still smelled like home, like the Den.

  Not a single car had driven by in hours. The sun had set, the stars blinked here and there through the clouds in the night sky. And the snow fell heavier, the air getting colder.

  Fuck this job, Liam thought. It hadn’t even begun, and he was already done with it. He was hoping for a quick job. Get in, get intel, get out, and take them down with his pack. Not that there was anything pressin
g to get home to, especially now that his oldest brother was MIA and his other brother was busy taking care of his newly turned lover, but he would rather be miserable there, than miserable here.

  He stamped his sneakers on the snow-packed ground, urging the blood in his legs to move.

  Okay, he thought, if no one came in the next hour he was leaving. His uncles would understand. No one could expect him to stand out in the snow for days.

  He hoped.

  It was another half hour of feet stamping, shivering, and blowing into his bare hands before he saw the headlights. His heart leapt, stomach turning. Quickly, and secretly, he checked that he had everything he needed; a toy car that hid a tracker in his pocket, another tracker set into the sole of his sneaker, and a small pocketknife in his jeans.

  As the van pulled alongside him, he made his face as woebegone and dejected as he could, and stared up at the passenger window.

  The window squeaked as it was rolled down. Very old school. A face appeared. Dark eyes, no hair, the collar of an expensive jacket.

  The man looked Liam over, and then he leaned into the car, speaking to the driver. “Looks like the runaway shifter.”

  A voice came from inside where Liam couldn’t see. “Should we check? Make sure he ain’t some runaway kid?”

  The passenger shrugged, returning his attention to Liam. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll use him anyway.” The glint in the man’s eye put a bad taste in Liam’s mouth. The man, his eyes on Liam, spoke over his shoulder. “Grab him.”

  In a matter of seconds that would have been too fast for a human, but was rather easy for Liam to take in, the van door slid open, two men jumped out, and grabbed him. If Liam had been his normal self, he could have easily taken the assholes down, but he was on a job, and if he fought too hard, he would blow his cover.

  So, when they each grabbed an arm, Liam kicked and screamed, threw his head back, and did all he could to escape as if he were no more than eight-years-old.

  They threw him into the back of the van, slammed the door, and then the van was off, flying over the snow-slick roads.

  There were no seats in the back of the van, just a wire dog cage, a duffel bag, and a bench set against the side opposite the door. The men who grabbed him sat on the bench; one went digging through the bag while the other fiddled with a dark, ominous rod.

  In the front passenger seat the bald man sent a text, his thumbs moving fast over the screen. Liam couldn’t see what he wrote, but then the man said, “Facility’s been compromised. Head north. We’ll use the old building.”

  Shit. It’s okay, Liam told himself. His pack had only gotten a phone number anyway. The phony call about a runaway shifter was planted to get Liam picked up. He still had his trackers. His pack would find him.

  Baldy turned his dark eyes on Liam. The smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth was evil, pure and simple.

  “Strip him and shift him,” he said.

  Liam didn’t have a second to react before the men roughly pulled his coat and clothes off. They didn’t stop until he was stark naked and shivering. Liam had agreed to the job; well no, he had been told he was going to do this job and hadn’t argued. But, agreed or not, there was no way Liam McKinnon was going to let these sickos touch him.

  But the look they gave him wasn’t one of desire for a little boy, it was indifference to something less than human. Without hesitation, the man with the rod jabbed it at Liam’s chest.

  Liam braced for a beating, thinking that’s what the rod was for, but when the cold metal touched his bare skin he felt jolts of white-hot electricity course through him. He stiffened and it took all his willpower to shift into a pup and not a full-grown wolf, or else blow his cover and probably end up dead.

  He managed it, changing into a pup and lying in a heap on the van floor, panting. He would be fine, but he had to play his part.

  The man with the duffel bag grabbed Liam by the scruff and strapped a collar around his neck. Liam felt little tendrils of electric current seeping into his fur. He knew from his brother’s research of this place’s tactics that he wouldn’t be able to shift until they removed the collar.

  With no care that this was a little boy, the man shoved Liam into the dog crate, locked it, and sat back.

  Baldy spoke again. He had turned in his seat once Liam was secure. “Toss his things.”

  Rod-man gathered all of Liam’s clothes, opened the back door, and threw them onto the snowy highway. Liam watched, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as his trackers scattered and disappeared into the darkness.

  Fuck, he thought. He was alone now.

  Chapter Two

  “This would go so much more smoothly if you would just sit still.” The red-faced nurse glared at Alyssa Grey where she lay strapped to a table in only thin, white shorts and a white band over her breasts. Her hands and feet were bound, her waist tied down, and her head secured, but as was typical, Lyss gave them as hard a time as she could.

  She smiled at the woman who bore angry red scratches along her arms and cheek, her blue eyes flaming. They used to use male nurses thinking that Lyss would be afraid of them, but she had seduced too many and broken one’s jaw before they finally started sending in big, beefy women. It wasn’t that she enjoyed seducing them, fuck that. They were pigs who saw her as nothing more than tits and a vagina. And she proved it time and again. Men were scumbags, and these were the worst.

  She had never actually fucked any of them. All she had to do was stick her tits out, pout her lips, and open her legs. They came at her, panting and drooling like dogs in heat. And then she did her best to try and kill them.

  Still, Lyss had been able to seduce two of the women and break the nose of another. Nurse Greta was the latest attempt at subduing Lyss for her monthly injection.

  What they were learning was that these injections, though not giving them the results they were after, were changing Lyss. She was stronger, faster, her senses were better. She was like a damned superhuman, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard she fought, or how strong she thought she was, she couldn’t get away.

  Two years she had been stuck here. Two miserable, painful, awful years.

  “You calm now?” Greta asked. The long, thick needle that was to be inserted into Lyss glinted in the bright light from the lamps overhead.

  Lyss grinned. “Come on over and find out.”

  Greta scowled. She looked like Andre the Giant’s sister. Her scowl lifted and she smiled. “Think I’ll just call for some help now, eh?” She pressed a button beside the door. The room was sparse, because of Lyss’s insistence on fighting them, with only the table she was strapped to and the needle in Greta’s hand.

  A moment later the door opened and in walked four burly men. Lyss met Greta’s eyes and grinned.

  She gave them a workout, bucking and twisting. She heard one of her hand straps tearing, saw the panic in Greta’s eyes, and then the men doubled their efforts. One of them climbed up onto the table, sat on Lyss’s chest, and locked her head between his knees. She glared up at him, at his stupid haircut and his stupid, dimpled chin, at the indifference on his stupid face, and felt Greta’s rough hands on her stomach.

  Though it was useless to fight at that point, pinned down as she was, Lyss still struggled, sweat coating her forehead, as the needle sunk into her sternum, slid about six inches into her chest, and filled her heart with the serum.

  It went in icy cold, deadening her limbs, freezing the air in her lungs, and then it turned hot. It scorched her veins as her blood carried the serum of shifter venom and blood all over her body.

  She stilled, her body too heavy and in pain for her to move it. Her eyes glazed, staring at a light over her. The men let go; the one sitting her slid off.

  She heard Greta speak as if underwater, her words warping. “Strap her down a bit more.”

  More bands and belts were added to the ones already holding her on the table. They were pulled so tight she was going to have bruises.


  Once done, Greta leaned over face, so that Lyss had no choice but to look at her ugly mug. The bitch grinned.

  “Anyone want to have a go at her?” Her voice was garbled, but Lyss understood. She couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t even glare at her. Greta gave Lyss’s arm a painful pinch. “Sleep tight.”

  She left, the door clicking, and the lock clanking into place. Lyss’s eyes were dry and scratchy, she needed to blink. It would be hours or days before they let her up, before the serum had finished its job for the month. Might as well get comfy, Lyss thought bitterly.

  But then she heard the rasp of a zipper and into her line of vision stepped the man who had sat on her chest. Gone from his face was the indifference he felt for this god-forsaken place’s experiment. Desire and anger, the need to show her who had the power lit his eyes.

  He stepped out of her sight, and then she felt the band over her breasts snap. He was over her, but there was nothing she could do.

  A tear rolled from the corner of her eye and she swore, as he moved over her, that he was going to die a particularly painful death.

  Chapter Three

  Months. Not days or weeks as planned, but months. Liam didn’t know exactly how many months he had been here, but he knew it sure as hell hadn’t been the quick job he thought it was going to be.

  And he hadn’t gathered much intel since they intended to sell him at auction once he was compliant, which meant they didn’t talk too loosely around him. He was kept in a room like a kennel with other pups. All of them were collared and kept as pups to keep them from talking. The idiots didn’t realize that the pups could still communicate. They couldn’t say much, but at least they could comfort one another, and that was all these pups needed to stay alive.

  If there was any reason to get out of here and get his pack it was these pups. Liam sat in his cage day after day and watched them, these babies being treated like animals. Worse than animals. They were tossed around, ignored when they cried, beaten if they bit or reacted on instinct. They were being conditioned to be docile little puppies for the sick bastards that would buy them.