Alpha’s Mate: Dire Wolves of London, Book One

by Wilder, Carina

  “We’ll do as Lumen suggested; head to the Underground Club and find its owner, Silver. We’ll find out what we can from those who are familiar with the Grizzlies and their habits, their hideaways. We need all the information we can gather.”

  Laird’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” he shouted, not much caring if he woke up the entire neighbourhood. “You want to go to a sodding night club right now? Every moment we waste is a moment when Emma’s might be…fuck, I can’t even stand thinking of what they might do to her.”

  Damn it, Roth.

  How did the Alpha manage to stay so calm, so professional, so seemingly aloof? He was always thinking with his human mind instead of his Wolf’s killer instincts. All Laird wanted, on the other hand, was to tear the city apart brick by brick until they found Emma. His Wolf wanted to go on a frenzy of bloodlust and vengeance, to give his lover’s abductors the punishment they deserved.

  “I’d agree with you, if we were wasting time,” said Roth. “Look, we know that most of London’s Grizzlies frequent the U.C. regularly. I’m sure we can find some kind of useful lead there. It’s our only chance. Tell me, do you have a better plan?”

  Laird could see the helplessness in Roth’s eyes. He could feel his despair, his sadness. He knew that his Alpha would be just as ruined as he would if anything should happen to Emma. Roth was just trying to do his duty, to solve this problem and fix things as quickly as possible. In his short tenure as Alpha, he’d run into his share of challenges, and it killed him to fail at any of them. Any time a human was injured at the hands of a shifter, he blamed himself, even if it hadn’t happened on his watch. But finding Emma would be the greatest challenge he’d faced yet, and it would break him if they lost her.

  Laird rolled his hands into fists, ready to ram them through one of the large plaster columns that flanked the front door. He nodded silently, then both men began to walk in the direction of the street. This was going to be a long, miserable night. But until they found their lover, neither of them would let his mind or body rest for a moment.

  16

  The Underground Club was a massive, sprawling passage of dark grey stone deep under London’s streets, large enough to fit a couple of airplanes side by side, if anyone had ever felt inclined to do so.

  Neither Roth nor Laird had ever graced the space between its walls, and now that they’d walked in, Roth remembered exactly why the locale had never appealed to him. The place was crawling with shifters of every sort, from Wolves to Foxes to Polar Bears, their bodies crushed together as loud music vibrated through the walls and uneven stone floor. It was a good place to get shit-faced, and likely a good place to find a quick lay, but not a particularly great place for serious conversation or for strategic planning.

  “We’re looking for a man named Silver,” the Dire Wolf Alpha shouted as he leaned his body over the bar to address a large man who was stacking glasses on the far side.

  The bartender, a sleek, well groomed Arctic Wolf shifter, turned around and eyed him nervously, like he didn’t know what to make of the Alpha. Clearly, Dire Wolves weren’t frequent visitors to the club. London’s shifters seemed almost as apprehensive about Roth’s and Laird’s kind as they were of the Dragons.

  “He’s out back. I’ll fetch him for you,” the young man said when he’d determined that he didn’t have much of a choice. “Who should I say is looking for him?”

  “A close ally to the Dragons,” Roth growled. “Make it quick, we don’t have all bloody night. The Dragon Guild’s Alpha will light this place on fire if he learns that you failed to cooperate, not to mention what I’ll do to your entrails.”

  The man quickly set down the glass he was holding. The mention of Lumen had only seemed to stoke his fear, so he took off running for a back room at a quick sprint. Moments later, a young man with silver-white hair, tall, lean and handsome, came striding through the door confidently. When he spotted the Dire Wolf shifters he made a bee-line for their location, the slight smile on his face fading to something more serious as he assessed their dour countenances.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked. Roth thought he detected a cautious tone in the man’s voice. Clearly this Silver was a bloke who’d learned that not all shifters were to be trusted.

  “Two things,” replied Roth. “One: I’m sure you’ve heard by now about the killings perpetrated in recent days by Grizzly shifters.”

  Silver nodded. “I’m all too aware.”

  “Second thing: two of their kind went by a friend’s place tonight.” Roth could have told him that Emma was their mate, but the explanation as to how she’d ended up with two of his kind would have taken far too long. “They took her away. Have you heard anything about plans to abduct a woman for any reason, or where they might have taken her?”

  Silver shook his head, his expression turning to one of sympathy. “I’ve been back in my office all evening, but even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t interact much with the Grizzlies when I’m here. They’re rowdy and fucking loud, to be honest. You’re welcome to wander the club, make inquiries. You have close ties to the Guild, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, any friend of the Guild is a friend of mine. My sister is a member.”

  Roth exchanged a quick, surprised glance with Laird. “Your sister’s a Dragon shifter?”

  “Nah. My sister, like me, is a Wolf. But her mate is a Dragon. A powerful man. Good man, too, for a vicious beast. She’s done a good deal to tame him, and a good deal to earn Lumen’s trust.”

  “Right, I suppose we’ll be meeting them before long, as we’ve recently been invited to join. I’m Roth; this is Laird. We come here from the Trekilling Pack. But I’m afraid that we need to treat this matter with some urgency, so do us a favour.” He pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over. “Come find me if you learn anything at all. Any lead, no matter how small, would be appreciated.”

  “Will do,” said Silver. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything. About your…friend.” With that he shifted his gaze to Laird, as though he understood their situation better than the Dire Wolves would have expected. “What’s her name, by the way?”

  “Emma Danforth. She’s a geneticist at Charing University.”

  “A geneticist, you say?” Silver’s mouth sealed itself shut, a hard line setting as he seemed to immerse himself deep in thought. He lifted his right hand and pointed into the distance, pressing his body forward. “There’s someone who might be able to help. Go over to the table in the far corner, by the painting of Big Ben. Speak to the woman there, the one who’s sitting on her own, looking all doe-eyed at the shifters. If anyone has eyes and ears on every corner of London, she’s it. She might be able to tell you why Grizzlies would be looking for a geneticist.”

  The Dire Wolf shifters nodded their thanks and headed in the direction Silver had gestured.

  Just as he’d described, a solitary woman sat in wait, leaning her arms on the table in front of her. She looked to be about forty-five, a strange, distant smile painted across her lips as she watched the men approach.

  She hardly looked like the sort of nefarious agent who might have deep secrets to divulge about the city’s underbelly, but then, those who looked the most average tended to make the best spies.

  “Hello, gentlemen!” she chirped when they came near. She grabbed a bottle of wine that was sitting on the table and held it up. “Care for a drink?”

  “Good evening,” said Roth, “and no. We’re…”

  “Dire Wolves. Yes, I know, and I couldn’t be more delighted to see you. You’re the first ones I’ve met! I’m so very excited that it’s all I can do not to leap out of this chair and kiss you both on the lips.”

  Laird and Roth exchanged a quick what-the-fuck look. It seemed that they had a fan, much as neither wanted one in the least.

  “I’m sorry,” said Roth, leaning in, hands gripping the table in his impatience to get a move on. “Who are you, exactly?�
�

  The woman grabbed a drink menu off the table and began to fan her chest as though she’d just become overwhelmed by Roth’s proximity. “Bertie is my name,” she said. “I run the Syndicate. Have you heard of it? Yes, of course you have if you’re Dire Wolves. No doubt you know Lumen well. Dear lord, did it just get hot in here, or is it just your gorgeous faces that are making me perspire?”

  Roth slipped into the chair closest to her, and Laird grabbed the one across, pulling himself in tight to hear her above the din of the music. “Bertie, you say,” he said. He was beginning to understand how best to deal with her. This woman was a shifter fanatic, the sort who fantasized all day long about their kind. Flattery would be his weapon of choice. “I’ve heard your name, of course. You’re quite famous.”

  Her cheeks reddened once again as she let out a cooing sound, as though she’d suddenly turned into a contented pigeon.

  “I wouldn’t say famous. Well yes, maybe I would. Just a little.” She let out a strange giggle and shimmied in her seat like a proud hen. Roth chuckled quietly before reprimanding himself for it. Something about her was pleasant and likeable; it was just unfortunate that each minute that ticked away was another minute that threatened to steal their mate from them.

  “Listen, Bertie,” the Alpha said, “I have some questions for you. I hope that’s all right.”

  She leaned forward, staring into his eyes. “Yes, darlin’,” she replied. “A man who looks like you can ask me anything.”

  Roth glanced sideways at Laird. Normally, he was the one who charmed women, but there was no time to strategize about the best way to draw out information from one such as this. “Do you know of any reason why Grizzly shifters would want to abduct a geneticist?”

  With that, Bertie’s entire mood seemed to alter, as if Roth had slapped her across the face and told her to snap out of her daydream. She slammed back in her seat, all business now. “Well, yes. I can think of a multitude of reasons,” she said.

  “Tell us. Please. It’s important.”

  Bertie’s eyes shifted from left to right, sizing Laird up before she leaned in again. “The Wolves—I mean the regular Wolves, not your kind—and the Bears about London these days, they have something of an inferiority complex. Oh, not all of them, of course. Silver, for instance, is quite happy how he is. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s bloody gorgeous. I’d go home with him any night of the week.”

  “You were saying?” interrupted Laird, who was no doubt trying to keep her on track.

  “Sorry,” said Bertie. “There are some among the other shifters who want to know what makes you Dire Wolves tick. There have been whispers that they’d like to…enhance themselves, as it were. They want more than what God gave them. They want to be like you.”

  “Like us?” said Laird. “Like us how?”

  Bertie looked him up and down again. “Look at you,” she said. “Who wouldn’t want to be like you?”

  “So,” Roth interjected, fairly certain that he understood her meaning but to impatient to confirm, “you think they took Emma so that she could help them with some sort of forced mutation?”

  Bertie nodded. “Emma, is it? Is she, that is by chance have you…?” She made a crude gesture with her fingers that strongly implied sexual congress.

  Roth shot a look at Laird, who was stifling a laugh in spite of the gravity of their situation. This Bertie was a character, to say the very least.

  “We have bonded, if that’s what you’re asking,” Roth said. “She's our mate. We’re rather concerned about her well-being at the moment.”

  “Wait just a minute—are you taking the piss?” Bertie retorted, her voice taking on the high pitch of shock. “She's mate to both of you? Well, lucky bloody girl!” She let out a hefty sigh. “To be with two such men…” she reached over and wrapped her fingers around Roth’s bicep, suddenly looking as though she might pass out from the bliss of the sensation. “Goodness, it’s like granite,” she murmured.

  “Listen, much as I appreciate you admiring my pipes, we really need your help,” Roth growled. “Perhaps you could fondle my muscles another time.”

  “Sorry, I got excited. But two of you, you say? For one woman? My goodness, the thought of it. I don’t even know what I’d do with myself.”

  “Bertie!” shouted Laird, who’d apparently lost the last vestige of his patience. “Please, we’ll do anything. I swear to God, if you help us, we’ll set you up for a night of sex with a whole harem of hot shifters. But for now, please—just help us out.”

  “A harem? My, oh my.” Bertie pressed her hand to her chest and went silent for a moment, shutting her eyes like she was picturing the scenario. “So many holes…” she moaned.

  “Bertie.”

  Her eyes shot open, and she was back to business. “Well, it’s entirely possible, of course, that the bastards who took your mate know she’s been with you. If your scent is on her, particularly. They may in fact be looking to make her use your own genetic materials to help them. She’s got you in her blood now, remember.”

  “But she’ll tell them she can’t help. I know her; she’ll lie rather than give them our DNA.”

  “Except…” Laird said, leaning in towards Roth, “She might not have a choice. Our DNA is all over her.”

  “Fucking hell,” Roth replied. Laird was right, of course. The more Emma resisted, the more she’d be putting herself at risk. He turned back to Bertie. “Where can we find the men who did this?”

  For a moment Bertie looked like she was at a loss, pressing her hands to her cheeks as she contemplated her answer. “Grizzlies tend to be solitary,” she replied. “It’s hard to say. They could be anywhere, really.”

  “These ones weren’t solitary; there were at least two of them who went to her place. We know there were. Please, anything you can think of that might help…”

  Bertie reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a mobile phone. “Just one second, lads,” she said, poking in a number. “I have an idea.”

  Roth and Laird exchanged another what the fuck is she doing now? look as their strange companion began chatting with someone.

  “Yes,” she was saying, “it’s their mate who’s been abducted. I need to know…yes, the Grizzlies. Can you…yes? All right, then. Thank you, that’s very helpful.”

  She hung up the phone and scribbled an address on a napkin, handing it to Roth. “It’s an office building, in the west end. Abandoned, mostly. Apparently the Grizzlies use it as a meeting place.”

  “Wait—how do you know this?” asked Roth. “Who were you talking to?”

  “A friend. You may know her, actually. Her name’s Amara.”

  “Yes, we know her, of course,” said Roth. “She’s Minach’s mate. The Wolf shifter who led our people in Cornwall to victory.” A thought occurred to him as he recalled Amara’s strange set of skills. “Oh, bloody hell, I’d heard that she has the gift of Sight. Why the hell didn’t I think to contact her myself?”

  “Don’t worry, lad,” said Bertie, “that’s why I’m here. Now listen, about this harem…”

  Roth and Laird stood up. “We’ll work that out later,” the Alpha said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. “Meanwhile, thank you for this.” He held up the napkin and the two men began to make their way towards the nearest exit.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m coming with you,” Bertie shouted, rising to her feet and taking charge with impressive authority. “I’ll take you where you need to go.”

  17

  Emma lay shivering in the back of the van, darkness veiling her vision. She tried to make out the chatter in the front seat, but the partition separating her from her two captors was too thick. All she could hear was the grim rumbling of two deep male voices.

  She hugged her arms around her shoulders, reassuring herself. The Dire Wolves had saved her before and they would do it again. There was nothing to fear from her kidnappers, whoever they were.

  At least that was the lie that she repeated to her mind
over and over again.

  She was the mate to two powerful shifters, after all. It was her fate to spend her life with Roth and Laird. No one in this world was supposed to come between them.

  Right?

  The problem was, of course, that someone had come between them. Deliberately, maliciously, and far too easily. It was her own damned fault that she was now writhing around in a van in the dark. Alone, afraid, confused.

  It was her fault that she might never see them again.

  * * *

  After about half an hour of frigid travel, the van stopped, throwing Emma forward so that she all but crashed into the corrugated metal wall behind the driver’s seat. A few moments later she heard footsteps on the asphalt outside, then the back doors cracked open, letting a ray of light flood in from a nearby street lamp.

  “Right, up you come,” said one of the men, peering inside. But Emma huddled in the corner, hesitant to move. “Come on,” the man growled, “I don’t have all sodding night for theatrics. I know you can walk, woman.”

  She pushed herself up slowly. Maybe the best course of action was to pretend to be disoriented and dizzy. A weak, helpless woman wasn’t a threat. Her only hope at this point might be to make them think she was too pathetic to flee on foot, then do it.

  Slowly she crept towards the exit, her eyes trained on the buildings surrounding the van’s location, which seemed to be nothing more than a series of unremarkable low-rise office structures. Some lights were on, but no silhouettes moved about inside. Well, this was just superb. Apparently the men had brought her to some kind of deserted fucking ghost town at the edge of nowhere.

  Emma felt suddenly very alone, isolated from London and the world. She wanted to scream with frustration.

  “Don’t even think about yelling, love,” said the man with the wounded face, who’d apparently read her expression. “Ain’t no one around for miles but a few of our kind, and trust me, you don’t want to draw their attention.”