Alpha Breed: Werewolf Bikers
By Amanda Close
Copyright by Amanda Close 2015
The Tree of Life has many roots and its multitude of branches yield a plethora of fruitful blossoms.
The Earth Mother saw fit to create the shifters, teach them to live in packs, and then to hide them from the sight of humanity she made them nomads.
And so they ride…
They lust.
They hunt.
They breed.
To those special few humans whose fate was intertwined with the shifters the Earth Mother sent the wolf dreams, so that they would be prepared when the real wolves came.
Such fated unions have always made the greatest of tales, even if the most erotic and bloody.
ACT I
The wolves had come in the night, like most monsters do, and crashed the frat party she’d been attending. Brienne had considered herself a small town girl from Macon, though every town in Georgia was small compared to the sprawling metropolis of Atlanta. She’d been hanging out with a few other freshman girls from her dormitory at yet another fraternity party. These things were always meat markets, she had thought to herself, and since she already had a boyfriend back in Macon she didn’t see much of a point.
As usual she was busily fending off the charms of boyish men while doing her best to have a good time. Brienne knew that she had the sorts of curves that demanded a second glance, and that mixed with the country girl swagger pretty much guaranteed that she would spend most of her time at parties being courted by every swinging dick present. Her boyfriend wasn’t a jealous guy, though he was a good ole boy from small town Georgia, and Brienne was often glad he had stayed back to finish trade school.
In truth she had been glad to leave for school, as the wolf dreams had become nearly overwhelming. They were always chasing her through forests or back alleys, and in every dream no matter how fast she ran or how well she hid, it always ended the same way. The pack of wolves would catch her and one of them would breed her. It was a savage affair, and she could think of no better word to describe it. The only things about the dream that would change were which wolf would take her and the setting. Sometimes the wolves would fight one another, and then the winner would clasp her throat in his jaws and hold her to the ground as he took her.
The most disturbing element of the recurring dream was that she often woke up with a deep lust that demanded attention. If she was sleeping over at Glen’s place the young man would find himself being ravished by his very hot and very horny girlfriend, and on those nights she wouldn’t even give him the chance to wear protection. On those nights she wanted to be taken hard and without protection, she wanted her man to fill her with his seed. The first few times Glen had been awkward about it, and had winced when she clawed ragged lines into his chest with her fingernails. Though after a few months he had acclimatized to her strange night fits, and Brienne certainly was thankful that she’d left shortly after.
It was a miracle that she had not been knocked up after so many frenzied nights, and college was just the sort of distraction she needed. Brienne had decided that it was better to just focus on her studies, and try to leave the dreams behind her in Macon. College certainly helped, and it was as if the dreams were rewarding her for taking action, and she only had one every couple of weeks. Then the wolves came. Brienne was standing outside on the front porch when the deep rumble of motorcycle engines could be heard coming up the street, and by the time the source of the noise appeared there were nearly a dozen partygoers crowded on the porch.
It was a cool spring night and Brienne had dressed well for the party, with dark knee-high boots, tight jean shorts that her mother would have hated knowing she’d worn, and a dark tank top. Most of the girls around were either going for the more pink sorority look or the college granola thing, but Brienne liked to keep things simple for herself, playing to her strengths. The problem with her outfit was that it had been intended for the close confines of a crowded college party, and as the wind whipped around her she was shivering. Instinctively she wrapped her arms tighter around Roland’s mid-section and used his body to shield her against the night air. He was unusually warm, as if his body radiated more heat than the average man, though in that moment she was simply happy to have the ruggedly handsome man keep her just a little bit warmer.
This was all so crazy, she kept telling herself over and over. The events of the last hour seemed like a blur of risky decisions and a willingness to be completely taken in by a handful of bad boy bikers with serious swagger and feral game. The men had parked and dismounted from their bikes, then came striding up to the porch. They said nothing, simply smelling the air like they were looking for something, or someone, and then went inside. Brienne watched as they moved through the party, taking drinks and food as they liked. It was the female biker who called herself Iri who made the first move, and wrapped her arm around the waist of Brienne’s friend Josyln, then she and another biker whispered things into the college girl’s ear and the three of them made their way back to the bikes in plain view of the surprised partygoers.
Kelly was the second to be all but strong-armed from the party, until finally the largest of the bikers approached Brienne, a brute of a man with short-cropped blonde hair. He had said nothing, simply stood very close to her and leaned in to smell her hair. To the outside observer it must have looked either incredibly sexy or really stupid, but for the young woman being on the receiving end it was simply intoxicating. These bikers radiated a kind of animal magnetism that defied logic, and she found herself nodding as the man introduced himself as Roland. He took her by the hand and was already walking her to his bike as he invited her to a party with his club. She consented with a silent nod and climbed board his motorcycle. It had all happened so fast, it barely seemed real until the wind was whipping through her hair.
They rode through the Georgia night for nearly an hour, the roads becoming more and more remote and the traffic dwindling down to nothing. The moon was full in the sky and as the bikers turned down an unmarked dirt road they shut of their headlights and allowed the moon to illuminate their path. Though the knowledge that a gang of unknown bikers had all but abducted three young college women and taken them far into the backwoods of Georgia was burning in her mind, Brienne felt herself elated with the rush of the moment. Brienne threw her head back and howled at the moon as loud as she could as she squeezed her arms even tighter around Roland’s waist. The two of them locked eyes for a moment when she looked back down, he was smiling, and for an instant she could have sworn his eyes were pure black, before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.
They rode on for another ten or so minutes before the bikes reaches a clearing just off the road. Brienne could see that two bonfires burned in deep pits dug into the ground, and nearly a dozen more bikers were camped out in the area. Some of them had pitched tents next to their parked motorcycles, while others simply seemed to intend on sleeping with a mere blanket thrown across the ground. The party was already in full swing as the five bikers dismounted their vehicles and joined the others, leading Josyln and Kelly by the hand as they shouted greetings to those around the fires. Brienne breathed deeply of the fresh country air as Roland secured his bike.
This was unlike any party she’d been too, and was not what she would have expected a biker party to look like. They had an appearance almost more like gypsies than they did a hardcore leather-clad motorcycle gang, though there was plenty of leather, tattoos, and knives on hips. What stood out the most was that they were making their own music, with an assortment of leather and wooden drums, a f
iddle, and what looked like some strange bagpipe contraption. At least a third of the bikers were women, and that certainly seemed to make Josyln and Kelly seem more comfortable. Roland had taken Brienne by the hand and led her to one of the fires, where they joined in the mead drinking and small talk already in progress.
As it turned out the bikers were really into storytelling, and instead of taking turns singing songs to the live music they would tell stories. Mostly those stories consisted of bragging about fights fought or lovers loved, though Brienne could not help but to be mesmerized. Roland was quiet through much of it, listening intently to the stories and sipping his mead, though he never took his eyes away from Brienne. She could feel his gaze upon her, even when she wasn’t looking at him herself. She was so comfortable in his presence, among his people, that it was beginning to frighten her.
She had been bold back at the frat party, though now that she was out here in the forest with the odd bikers she had begun to wonder what in the world she was doing. As if he’d sensed her growing unease, Roland reached out and pulled her to him, taking her comfortably into his lap as if she weighed little more than a doll. They shared his mead, each time they drained his cup another would appear, brought by one of the other bikers. Though her head had gotten a little foggy thanks to the mead, she could tell that Roland was a leader of some sort within the group, and that the other campfire belonged to another gang entirely.
Though the two groups seemed on good terms, sharing mead, conversation, and music, there was a growing tension that Brienne became aware of. Before long Josyln and Kelly were rather drunk, as most freshman college girls were prone to do, and they had begun dancing to the music of a particularly bawdy jam being laid down by the musicians. As she watched her friends dancing she noticed an achingly handsome man watching her from the fire of the other group. He was smaller than Roland, and from the look of him his strength was more of the tightly chorded muscle of an athlete compared to Roland’s burly workman brawn. His face was leaner too, and younger, giving him a sinister and feral look that while attractive also stirred other feelings in Brienne. She felt like prey all of a sudden, and that man was most certainly the predator. Roland noticed the shift in her posture and responded by beckoning one of his people to him. A grizzled older man with streaks of silver in his beard approached Roland and took a knee to listen to his leader.
“Womack, it looks like Arn might be considering taking our little get together in a different direction than we’d hoped,” said Roland as he looked across the fire towards the other group, “Why don’t you take our new friends over to his fire and introduce them.”
Womack nodded and as Brienne watched he waited for the sing-song story to finish and before the next began took the two girls by the hand. They were both reeling from drink and dancing, and went along happily. Brienne couldn’t help but smirk at just how stereotypical those two were being, the usual college freshman girls happy to be led by the nose into whatever adventure they could find. She was no different, she told herself, even if she wasn’t getting nearly as drunk or making as much of a scene. There were plenty of other women around the party, though most were at least in their twenties, some in their thirties or older, and most were paired off with men and didn’t seem to mind engaging in public displays of affection.
“So why didn’t you send me over there too hmm?” asked Brienne coyly as she sipped more of Roland’s mead.
“You are mine, and I want him to see that,” growled Roland, his masculine energy practically radiating from his skin, “But we are here to make a sort of peace, so why not gift him with the good company of your friends?”
“Chauvinist much? Gods you really are forward aren’t you?” said Brienne as she playfully hit Roland’s chest, “So what kind of peace could possibly be negotiated by a few drunk college chicks? This some kind of biker thing?”
“Yeah something like that, stick around long enough and you’ll see how it is,” Roland responded as a smile spread across his face, the light of the fire making his features shift from handsome man to some kind of shadowed beast and back again, surely a trick of the light.
“I see that I’m a nineteen year old country girl who is obviously way out of her depth, somewhere in the backwoods with two weirdo biker gangs,” said Brienne as she stood up to walk nearer the fire, taking the mead with her, “I could have said no at any point back at the party, but I got on your bike and now I’m here. Seems like an awful lot of trouble just to fuck a stranger, which by the way isn’t a foregone conclusion, so don’t get any ideas, I’ll fight back like a son of a bitch.”
Roland laughed warmly and his eyes glinted with mirth in the moonlight as he got to his feet and took his leather jacket off to wrap around the young woman’s shoulders. Brienne’s eyes widened at the sight of his shirtless torso before she could look away, and he smiled hungrily as he came to stand next to her, rubbing his hands together over the fire.
“Don’t worry, I think the only thing sexier about tonight other than you is the fact that you even got on my bike in the first place,” he said as he gently gripped Brienne’s hand in his, “Consent is everything for the alpha breed, no matter how rough things might look to everyone else.”
“That your club name? Alpha Breed?” asked Brienne, though before Roland could answer a shout went up from the other camp.
Brienne could see that Womack was standing in the clearing between the two campfires, and Arn was striding over from his fire. Josyln and Kelly were behind Womack and looking very confused.
“So much for peace,” said Roland as he gently put his hands on Brienne’s waist and pushed her aside so that he could walk past the fire, “Stay on this side of the fire Brienne, this could get ugly.”
Womack stepped away as Roland gave him a nod, and the two gang leaders met in the center of the clearing. Brienne couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but the two of them were speaking in low growling tones and were face to face so close it was obvious that they were attempting to goad each other into taking the first swing. Brienne had seen her share of fights, it was a common occurrence in small town Georgia, especially at the tailgate parties of her high school years.
A few young bucks would get drunk, pick a fight, and everyone would cheer them on while they beat the crap out of each other. The thing was that afterwards everyone inevitably ended up being friends again. It was a redneck thing. However, the young woman did not get the impression that this was going to turn out that way. Where there had been two groups sharing music, stories, and a good time there was now a conflict ready to explode. She could see that members of both gangs had gotten to their feet, and it was then that she noticed that almost all of them carried a large hunting knife of one kind or another. Roland and Arn were the only ones not carrying blades on their hips, and as the shirtless men continued to face off their human words began to change in their mouths to the snarls and growls of animals.
Suddenly Brienne was overwhelmed with memories of her recurring dreams, and found herself wondering if she’d fallen asleep and this too was a dream. The eyes of the bikers, from the two leaders to the rest of the gangs, glinted glossy black in the moonlight. The flickering light of the twin bonfires cast feral shadows across their faces, making them appear less and less human. They looked just as much like wolves as they did people, and that was when it struck Brienne like a hammer to the chest. These were the wolves of her dreams, they had to be, it was just too weird to be coincidence. Why else would she have thrown caution to the wind when Roland had slipped his arm around her waist at the party and whisked her away with little more than his animalistic swagger and a few hard looks at the college manboys who’s party he and his gang were crashing.
Thinking back on it, she knew he had sniffed her out, and now his odd yet alluring behaviors, including those of the other bikers, began to make sense. They weren’t people at all, and with that thought she looked down at her mead wondering if it contained something more sinister than alcohol. Her wo
lf suspicions were confirmed when a bestial roar erupted from Arn’s throat and she could see rows of enlarged and sharp teeth in his open mouth. Arn’s already muscular body seemed to have increased in size in the blink of an eye, and suddenly he crouched low to the ground and spread his hands wide to reveal that his fingers had sprouted what looked like short claws. Brienne could only see Roland’s back, but as she watched his body seemed to swell, with both power and with sheer muscle. The two men had shifted from human beings into something else, somewhere halfway between wolf and man.
Brienne’s hand dropped the mead and she ignored the amber liquid as it splashed onto her foot once it hit the ground. The two shifters howled in voices beyond human and launched themselves at each other. They ripped into each other with claw and fang as they fought, their combat style looking like a strange blend of wrestling and slashing. It was then that she realized they were fighting like animals trapped in mostly human bodies, and suddenly their battle’s significance swept into Brienne’s consciousness. This was her dream, from the otherworldly journey through the moonlit roads to the gathering of wolves, and now the bloody contest between the pack alphas. For what else could they be but alphas? Roland had said they were the alpha breed had he not? As she looked around many of the other bikers from both groups had either shifted into similar half-forms or had transformed themselves into wolves entirely.
Alpha Breed: Werewolf Bikers (Sex & Violence Book 1) Page 1
