Alpha Mate: BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance

by Natalie Kristen

  Charlotte gurgled a laugh.

  In the distance, she seemed to hear voices and running footsteps. She tried to call out but nothing worked. Her voice and body failed her.

  Shadows loomed over her, and someone shouted, “Miss! Can you hear me? Hang on, just hang on! We'll get you to the hospital. A healer has been notified.” A crackle of static. “All patrol units, a rogue wolf is on the loose. Last seen at the corner of Rising Street. One dead.”

  One dead.

  Charlotte let her eyes slide shut. She was just...so tired. Too tired to think and feel. She was vaguely aware of hands holding her, and to her surprise, she didn't feel any pain. There was just no more pain. In fact, she couldn't see or feel anything anymore. There was just blackness, and...hate. So much hate.

  One dead.

  Ah hell, make that two.

  Wherever Charlene was, Charlotte wanted to go and join her. Charlene was a good person, the best, so she had surely gone to the light. But why was there only darkness and shadows here? The whispering, shifting darkness was seductive and dangerous. The shadows took on all kinds of shapes, pretending to be anything and everything, but promising nothing.

  Charlotte's closed eyelids flickered and fluttered as she struggled against the inviting, embracing darkness. She kept hearing Charlene's voice. But it wasn't soft and soothing. It sounded stern, angry even.

  Live!

  And in a louder voice, and even more strident tone: Live, or I'll kill you myself!

  Her sister, bossy as ever.

  Charlotte found herself muttering “Yes Mam” in a voice that sounded too petulant and grudging. “And you won't be killing me, sis,” she mumbled triumphantly. She always got the last word in every argument. Ha! “I'll be killing all those murderous monsters! I promise!”

  “Good girl,” a cheery voice answered. “Now drink!”

  What?

  Charlotte gasped as warm, firm fingers grasped her mouth to force her lips apart. A scalding, bitter liquid poured down her throat. Spluttering and swallowing, Charlotte thrashed as heat and pain began to consume her entire body. It felt as though she was being burnt alive. Alive! Charlotte snapped her eyes open and sucked in a sharp breath. If she could feel the pain so acutely, then it meant that she was alive, not dead. The breath burnt her lungs, and the inferno within her made her arch her back and scream.

  Never had pain been so welcome, so glorious, so invigorating. This was life. As she surrendered to the excruciating agony and torment, she tried to hold on to the memory of Charlene, but it simply slipped from her grasp, like sand through her fingers. The harder she tried to catch it, the faster the memory receded from her, until all she had was a widening, growing void. She felt empty, and lost.

  She could feel a warm hand on her arm, and the hand slowly withdrew.

  “Charlene! Don't leave!” she cried.

  She reached out blindly to try to grasp at that warm hand.

  “There, there, you're fine now. You just need to rest. And my name is not Charlene,” the cheerful voice answered. “It's Jasynta.”

  “Ja—?”

  “Now, just let the Potion settle, and you're good to go!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  As the red hot pain faded and she could finally catch her breath, Charlotte snapped her eyes open and pushed herself up with a wince.

  “Hi, I'm Jasynta. I'm your healer. And you're in the hospital. Do you remember how you got here?” It was that same cheerful, no-nonsense voice that she'd heard.

  Charlotte shook her head slowly, connecting the voice to the curvy brunette in a white coat. Her unruly brown curls were scrunched up in a haphazard pony tail and she was preparing to shine a torch into Charlotte's eye.

  Charlotte hurriedly put up a hand to shield her eyes.

  “Oh, does it hurt? I'm sorry, but you'll have to bear with it. I have to check that you're not having any allergic reaction to my Potion,” Jasynta said matter-of-factly, flicking on a small but powerful torchlight.

  “Potion? What potion?” Charlotte's eyes darted to the empty glass at the bedside table. There was a drop of purple liquid that was clinging precariously to the rim, before losing its footing and sliding down the side of the glass. As she watched its decent, the droplet seemed to ripple and change colors right before her eyes. It was purple, then blue, and green, yellow, red...

  Charlotte blinked. Her eyes were definitely having an allergic reaction.

  Jasynta beamed. “My Potion of Promise. The best witch's brew there is!”

  Charlotte's arms suddenly wobbled and she slumped back on her pillow. She almost groaned aloud. Her attending healer was not a medical doctor, but a witch doctor. Jasynta was a witch. New Moon City allowed witches and other paranormals who practiced the healing arts to treat patients in hospitals, since their emergency departments were overcrowded and understaffed. With paranormals, particularly rogues, in the city, there was always an inordinately high number of casualties.

  But with witches and their spells and potions, there was always a catch.

  “You gave me a Potion of Promise,” Charlotte began.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath, and managed to ask in a calm enough voice, “May I ask, what Promise does your Potion demand?”

  “Well.” Jasynta bent over Charlotte and shone her torch determinedly into Charlotte's eyes, squinting as she checked Charlotte over. The good witch doctor certainly took her duties seriously. “You don't remember how you came to the hospital, right? Some Enforcers found you, and you were sent to the Emergency Department, pronto.” Jasynta snapped off the torch, to Charlotte's relief. “Do you know why you're here, in the hospital?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Jasynta waited quietly, giving Charlotte time to compose herself.

  “I was attacked. By a werewolf. Who killed my sister. And...tried to kill me.”

  Jasynta gave a nod, her brown eyes soft with sympathy. But sympathy was the last thing Charlotte wanted. She didn't want pity. She wanted vengeance.

  “Don't look at me like that.” Charlotte's voice was hard.

  “Like what?”

  “Like...like you pity me.”

  Jasynta rocked back on her heels, and shrugged. “I don't pity you. I do have a smidgeon of pity, not much,” she added hastily. “—for the rogues you'll be hunting though.”

  Charlotte swiveled to gape at her. “What are you talking about?” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Witches, with all their hocus-pocus, mumbo-jumbo. She had heard some of their chants, and they sounded like tongue twisters. They should just make their spells short and to the point. She continued staring at Jasynta, who looked pretty young to be a practicing witch and healer. She appeared to be around Charlotte's age, appeared being the operative word. She knew of some paranormals in her office who looked like they were in their early twenties, when they were actually born in the early twenties—of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

  “You see,” Jasynta said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and looking mighty pleased with herself. “The Potion of Promise works on the principle of give and take. To give something, it has to take something. A Promise. So...to get your life back,” she said slowly. “You made a Promise.”

  “I did?”

  “Yup. You promised to kill all those murderous rogues,” Jasynta announced proudly.

  “What did you say?” Charlotte sputtered.

  The witch's forehead creased in a worried frown. “You can't hear? Oh no. Could it be one of the side-effects?” She paled and began to root through a whole assortment of bottles, jars, wands and instruments scattered on a trolley at her side. “I was so sure that loss of hearing wasn't one of the side effects,” she mumbled furiously. “How could I have missed...”

  “Jasynta!”

  “What?” She whirled round to face Charlotte, her eyes wide. “Oh. Yes, Charlotte?” she hollered, at a volume loud enough to raise the dead.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw a few
heavily bandaged vampires bolt upright in their hospital beds.

  “I can hear very well, Jasynta,” Charlotte told her.

  The witch exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  “Oh, you really scared me. I'm so glad. My potions have all been checked and certified. Nothing should go wrong,” she said reassuringly.

  “So, in exchange for my life, what was it I promised again?” Charlotte prompted, making her tone casual and nonchalant.

  “Oh, right. You promised to hunt rogues. The Potion of Promise works on the principle of give and take, as well as cause and effect. You were attacked and nearly killed by a rogue. Now that you have your life back, you will hunt and destroy what destroyed you. That was the promise you gave, and which the Potion accepted. If your promise wasn't suitable for the Potion's purposes, it wouldn't be accepted, and the Potion wouldn't have worked. You...would have died. Your injuries were very serious,” Jasynta said gravely.

  Charlotte glanced down her soft, curvy body. She was dressed in a loose hospital gown, but her injuries, which were supposedly very serious, all seemed to have healed. All that were left were scars.

  She lifted her arm tentatively and frowned. Her arms were still fleshy and round. So was the rest of her body. She was not hard and muscular. How was a soft, curvy human supposed to hunt and kill paranormal rogues? Paranormals were faster and stronger than normal. There was a reason there was a para, in front of their normal.

  Blowing out a breath, she finally articulated the question niggling at the back of her brain. “I've drunk this Potion of Promise, so—am I...still human? Or...”

  “You're human,” Jasynta assured her. “But...”

  “But what?” Charlotte said slowly. Buts were never good.

  “But—changed.”

  Charlotte bit her lip to prevent her voice from coming out as a squeak. Instead of speaking and sounding hysterical, she motioned with her hand for Jasynta to please continue and explain. Pray, in what way am I changed?

  “You're a new and improved human,” Jasynta declared happily. “Your senses, strength, speed and stamina are all greatly improved. And—your lifespan is longer. Much longer,” she said emphatically.

  For a moment, Charlotte sat very still, taking all this in. “I see,” she said, blinking slowly. And see she did.

  Her sister had been mauled and killed by a rogue werewolf. And she had been brutally attacked by that rogue. She had nearly died, or perhaps she had died for all intents and purposes. But this witch's Potion of Promise had given her a second chance, a second life. And she was to use this second life to hunt and kill rogues.

  A slow smile spread across Charlotte's face.

  “Is...everything okay?” Jasynta asked, her brown eyes searching Charlotte's face for any signs of stress or denial.

  Charlotte turned to her, her smile widening into a grin. But her eyes remained grim.

  “Everything is perfect.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Paranormal Affairs Council (PAC) had an Alpha, not a chairman. And the newly elected PAC Alpha for the current term was Lucas Rieve, a werewolf. The previous Alpha, Helen Satchi, was a weretiger. Helen stayed on the Council as an honorary member in an advisory role. She did not have voting rights on the Council. Her role was to offer advice, constructive advice, and assistance, as and when requested by the Alpha and the Council.

  On a number of occasions, Lucas had had to remind her that she was no longer the PAC Alpha. And she usually didn't take too well to the reminders, however diplomatically and politely they were couched and delivered. This was one of those occasions.

  Helen's claws were out.

  Literally.

  “I tell you, you're employing too many humans! During my time, we kept PAC business strictly to ourselves. Humans should have no place on the Council.” Helen shot a look at Jett Riley. “We're becoming too lax, and weak.”

  Lucas glanced at Jett, who had his arms folded over his muscular chest and was leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. Jett was the only human on the Council. The other seven seats on the Council were taken by a Master vampire, a demon prince, a witch, a warlock and three weres—a bear, a panther and a dragon. But Jett Riley was no lightweight. Besides being a PAC member, he was also the Chief Trainer and Head of the Enforcement Unit.

  Ever the gentleman, Jett tipped his head and flashed Helen a megawatt smile as she glared at him. Lucas had headhunted Jett and got him to join the PAC a year ago when he took over as Alpha. The human was the best of the best when it came to enforcement and security work. He had risen through the ranks of the New Moon City Police Department (NMPD), and subsequently ran a successful security and investigation firm. Jett's security firm had helped the police crack a number of high profile cases, and had worked closely with the PAC Enforcers in staking out—and staking, rogue paranormals. Lucas had been Head of the Enforcers before he became Alpha. When Helen was Alpha, she had never taken much interest in the Enforcement division, leaving it to Lucas to run it.

  More than sixty percent of the population in New Moon City was human, so paranormals were still the minority in the City. While Helen knew the rogues had to be contained and the general population—both human and paranormal, protected, she had been more interested in the bottom line. She focused more on expanding PAC influence and businesses. She wanted New Moon City to have more paranormal owned and run commercial enterprises and she had focused her efforts on getting funding and grants for paranormal entrepreneurs. Among the paranormals, she was pretty popular as Alpha.

  But her term was up.

  And the Head of the PAC Enforcers had been elected.

  With his appointment, Lucas promptly put the enforcement of PAC law and order as the top priority. The training budget of Enforcers was increased, and their old, antiquated equipment and weapons were replaced. Lucas had been fighting for better pay, better conditions, better weapons, and a bigger training and recruitment budget for his Enforcement Unit for the longest time. Now that he was Alpha, he would make sure that every Enforcer was well trained, well tested and well armed. He had seen too many Enforcers get killed in the line of duty. Their deaths could have been prevented, if they had been armed with the proper weapons for hunting rogues. With their measly budget, Lucas, together with some of his Enforcers, had had to invent and forge some of their weapons themselves. Those were good men and women, human and paranormal.

  Lucas swung his eyes over to Helen, who was gouging into the wood of the long conference table with her claws. This designer table had cost the Council a bomb. He had vetoed it, but Helen had used her casting vote as Alpha to approve its purchase. This conference table was very expensive PAC property.

  “Helen,” Lucas said, his tone low and very quiet.

  She stopped mid-sentence through her rant.

  Everyone in the room turned to look at him. The silence was so absolute it seemed that no one was even breathing. Glenn Constantine, the Master vampire, didn't need to breathe, but the rest of the members still needed to draw breath to function.

  “Helen,” Lucas said evenly. “You need to—” Zip it. “—remove your claws from the table, sit down and relax.”

  “Don't tell me to relax,” she snarled, stripes appearing on her cheeks.

  “I just told you to.”

  “How can I relax when you're running the Council to the ground? The PAC is going to hell on your watch!” she spat.

  Lucas looked her calmly in the eye and repeated, “Relax, Helen. It's an order from your Alpha.” There was no tension or anger in his eyes, but his tone was firm and commanding.

  Helen's tiger stripes disappeared from her face, and her claws retracted swiftly. She sat back down in her chair with a thud, swallowing and blinking rapidly.

  “Samantha,” Lucas turned to the red-haired witch, who was already wrinkling her nose and muttering under her breath at the ugly scratches in the polished oak table. “If you'd...”

  “Done!” Samantha smiled, as she finished chanting her spell. In
a sprinkle of colorful sparks, the gouges sealed up and the polished surface was back to smooth and shiny, without a single mark on that shimmering surface. “Good as new!”

  “Thank you, Samantha.” Lucas nodded his appreciation. “You've worked your magic.”

  She wiggled her black nails in a wave. “You're welcome, Alpha.”

  Grayson Volan the warlock, leaned forward beside Samantha. “I'd say Helen has a point,” he said, looking at Lucas and Helen, who as Emeritus Alpha, was seated to Lucas's left. “Not only have we admitted a human council member, it seems that we are also increasing the number of our human Enforcers. While I have nothing against humans—” He held out his hands in a gesture no doubt meant to be placating, but which Lucas found to be highly hypocritical and annoying. “—it is a fact that they are physically and mentally weaker than us paranormals.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas saw Ella Wong, the werepanther raise a brow and flick her eyes to Jett. Lucas suppressed a smile. Lucas had worked with Jett long enough to know that physically and mentally, Jett was as strong as, or even stronger, than a lot of paranormals.

  “So how can we entrust the city's safety to a team of Enforcers, who are trained and led by...” A mere human. Grayson trailed off, leaving his unspoken words circling the conference table like vultures.

  Lucas locked eyes with the warlock. He knew what Grayson wanted. The ambitious warlock wanted Jett's position in the PAC. The Head of the Enforcers would gain popularity and a high enough profile for the next election. If Jett was a paranormal, he would be well-placed to be the next Alpha. A lopsided smile began to tug at the corner of Lucas's lips as he pictured a human being elected as the PAC Alpha. He would definitely throw his support behind Jett when he stepped down, that was for sure. And well, who knew what could happen in six years' time? He chuckled inwardly as he regarded Grayson. My money's on you, Jett.