Alpha Queen

by Callie Rose

  Ridge steps away to dismiss his pack members, and the rest of my mates follow, giving me and Amora a moment to chat.

  “How’d it go?” she asks me. “With the training?”

  “I think I had a breakthrough!” I blurt, excited to tell someone who wasn’t there when it happened. I describe what I did on the street in front of Ridge’s house, particularly gleeful about my last triple-spell that annihilated the soda bottle.

  Amora makes all the appropriate sounds and expressions, even gasping when I tell her how the bottle disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  And I decide I love her for it. I’ve worked so hard to accept my witch, all while knowing that many of the shifters aren’t there yet, so the way Amora totally embraces my powers feels like a victory.

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re going to be the most powerful witch in Montana. Bet me.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think I’ll take that bet, since it’s a losing one. But thank you for the vote of confidence.”

  My mates return a moment later, and Ridge lifts his chin in Amora’s direction. “Anything I need to know about? New developments since we’ve been gone?”

  Amora drapes an arm over my shoulders and shakes her head. “Nah, it’s been pretty quiet around here. Trystan’s little committee has been putting pressure on his whole pack though. It’s been awe-inspiring to see. They’re persistent.”

  “They’re loyal to him,” I add, tossing him a proud smile.

  Trystan returns my grin, and I swear it almost looks like there’s a rosy hint of a blush in his golden skin.

  I get a bit of a reprieve for the afternoon. Ridge, Trystan, and Archer have to meet with their respective pack elders, and nobody suggests I take the time to train. Since my whole body still hurts from Cleo’s attack yesterday, I decide to eat lunch and take it easy. Though Archer offers to let Dare come with him, he declines, and I know innately that it’s because he doesn’t want to leave me alone. Not after Cleo’s attack, no matter how much stronger I am now.

  So Dare and I crawl into the hammock in Archer’s backyard and nap, arms wrapped around one another beneath the warm sun. For a while, it’s a bit of paradise—solitude, Dare’s strong, quiet presence, his fingers brushing idly against my skin, and his heart beating beneath my cheek.

  There’s something utterly unassuming about being with Dare. He doesn’t need to chat. He doesn’t need coddling or caring for. He’s content with the feeling of our skin warming together beneath the afternoon sun, and the silence of a love that transcends anything material. I don’t feel compelled to make small talk or be anything more than who I am when we’re together. There’s only the breeze, the sunlight displaced by the branches shading us, and the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

  But paradise can’t last forever. Ridge returns with the news that the three alphas have called a meeting of the packs to discuss a few things of note—but mainly, it’s to revisit the subject of whether or not to merge the three packs. This rather large decision needs to be made before we can start planning our march against Cleo.

  I shower and dress, choosing a clean pair of Amora’s khaki pants and a tank top that’s a little nicer than the rest. I still feel like I need to impress the packs. At least, I feel like I need to show them that I’m a supportive mate to the alphas, and part of that is to put my best face forward.

  The lawn beside the East Pack meeting house is covered in shifters by the time Dare and I join the others at the head of the crowd. We slide into place behind Ridge, Trystan, and Archer, close enough to make it clear we’re with them, but with enough space to show that we have deference for the alphas of the three packs like everyone else in attendance. There are so many nuances to being part of a wolf pack that I feel like I’ll spend the rest of my life learning them.

  Archer holds up his hands to get the crowd’s attention, and the chatter slowly dies down. “Thank you for coming on such short notice to meet with us tonight. We’ve given you a few days to think about what we discussed in our last meeting, and now we’d like to open the floor to each pack regarding their thoughts on the matter. My pack will get us started. Patrice?”

  One of the robed elders sitting in folding chairs at the front of the crowd stands and steps up onto the makeshift stage to join us. She shakes Archer’s hand, and then surprises everybody when she turns to offer her hand to Ridge and Trystan too. She’s middle-aged with a stern, hard face and a spray of gray in her blonde hair. But none of the apparent sternness is audible in her voice as she speaks.

  “Greetings, everyone. I’m honored to stand before you as the emissary for the East Pack,” she says with a sincere smile. “Our people have met multiple times over these past two days, and the answer for us has remained the same since day one. We are ready to merge with our sisters and brothers of the West and North Packs. We believe in the idea that we shall be stronger together, and it would be an honor to welcome all of you into our lives for good.”

  Her final sentence is met with a round of applause, and Archer beams at her as she turns to walk off the stage. She gives him a nod before returning to her seat.

  Ridge steps to the edge of the stage. “I’d like to call upon Elder Jihoon of the North Pack to give his report.”

  I watch the wizened old man stand and then stroll up to the stage, where Ridge gives him a hand up. I feel a kind of affection for him, since he was the one who told me I had a wolf inside me. He’s an eccentric old man, but I like him. Heck, maybe I like him because he’s eccentric.

  “My dear friends,” he starts in his raspy voice. “I stand before you to say the North Pack has voted unanimously to merge. We see a prosperous future for all of us in this venture. I am personally excited to see where this next era takes us.” The old man nods respectfully to the entire crowd before leaving the stage.

  I can’t see Trystan’s face from my vantage point, but I can sense the hum of anxiety coming from him. Despite how easily he was able to convince his inner circle to begin his grassroots efforts among the West Pack, he’s nervous. I assumed they gave him their answers prior to the meeting, but apparently not.

  “Gloria, if you please?” he says.

  I recognize the white-haired, blue-eyed grandmother from the meeting the day Trystan walked away from his dad. She dips her chin respectfully as she shakes Trystan’s hand, probably able to sense his worry too.

  Then Gloria turns to the crowd and holds her arms out as if to hug them all. “Friends and family members! I’m pleased and proud to be the voice of the West Pack today, because it’s turning out to be a momentous occasion. A day that will go down in our history as the day three packs became one.” She glances over her shoulder at Trystan and smiles, then addresses the crowd once more. “The West Pack has unanimously decided to join with the North and East.”

  The gathered shifters erupt in a massive wave of noise. Some people look more enthusiastic than others, but no one looks angry, and several people are hugging their neighbors. Ridge, Trystan, and Archer exchange relieved claps on each other’s shoulders, then pull Dare into their celebration too.

  The depths of my relief are infinite. I tangled my mind up in knots over how we would handle our mating bond if we were forced to remain in three separate packs. I imagined a future where I was constantly moving from house to house—a week with Trystan, a week with Archer, a week with Ridge, with only Dare able to stay with me all the time. But thank God I don’t have to face that possibility anymore.

  We’ll all have a home. Together.

  I catch Trystan’s gaze, and he gives me a satisfied grin. His people came through big time. All because he didn’t try to force them into it. He made a compelling argument, and he won them to his side. Even his father must’ve agreed to go along with the merging of the packs, though I’m sure it grated on him to see his son win.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Archer calls after a few moments, waving an arm over his head to draw people’s focus. “I’m excited too. But we st
ill have things to discuss, if I could have your attention.”

  He waits until the crowd is more or less orderly before going on. “As our three packs become one larger pack, we’ve decided that Ridge, Trystan, and I, as alphas of our respective packs, will now lead the larger pack as a team. We’ve also decided that Dare, alpha of the lost South Pack, will join us to lead, as long as no one objects.”

  Dare’s face goes slack with surprise beside me, and I realize Archer didn’t tell him about this yet—although I’m surprised my gruff mate didn’t see it coming. It probably seemed obvious to everyone but him.

  I turn to stare out into the crowd, my heart picking up a faster rhythm. Surprise or not, someone could still object to the ex-alpha leading, and if they do, I have a feeling Dare would be heartbroken.

  But no one does. I see heads nodding in the crowd, and low murmurs of assent reach my ears. It occurs to me that many members of all three of the remaining packs probably knew South Pack wolves before the witch attack decimated them. They knew Dare back when he was the pack’s alpha. And their acceptance of him as a leader now speaks volumes about their respect for him.

  I turn toward my mate, about to offer him words of congratulations. But before I can say anything, a howl cuts through the silence. Not from within the crowd, but from further away, somewhere beyond the village.

  Beside me, Ridge goes eerily still.

  The howl pierces the air again.

  The crowd begins to whisper to one another, their gazes moving around the clearing. But I barely pay attention to them. My gaze is locked on Ridge’s face. I watch his eyes widen as a hint of recognition crosses his features.

  Then he says one word.

  “Lawson.”

  16

  Sable

  In the charged silence, the wolf howls again, but it cuts off before coming to completion. Even I can hear the distressed way it gurgles before the sound ceases, and my wolf rears up inside me, hackles raised.

  Ridge leaps from the stage and takes off, running faster than I’ve ever seen him run in human form. I follow him, my heart thudding loudly in my ears, though not loud enough that I don’t hear Archer say, “Secure the perimeter of the village! No one in, no one out. And if you see witches—howl.”

  The rest of my mates are right behind me, their footsteps loud on the hard-packed dirt. We sprint to the edge of the village, following Ridge’s nose as he seeks out his brother’s scent on the wind.

  Lawson.

  I can’t even believe it. I was so certain that he was dead after what I saw in Cleo’s mind. She tortured him brutally to find out where the packs were and what protections they had in place that she would need to breach. He’s the reason the witches found us; he’s the reason for the brutal battle that killed Malcolm. He led us to this point, with the three packs facing off together in an attempt to decide what comes next.

  I hate Lawson. He destroyed everything.

  But my personal feelings aside, he’s Ridge’s brother, and Ridge still loves him. So my number one job as Ridge’s mate is to support him, to trust that he knows what’s right, what’s wrong, and what changes everything.

  Near the forest just beyond the village line, Ridge slides to a stop just as Lawson bursts from the trees.

  I can’t stop the gasp that comes from me at the sight of Ridge’s brother. He’s badly injured—he’s limping on a back paw, and his fur is muddy and missing clumps from parts of his head, neck, and torso. He’s missing almost an entire ear, and one side of his head is soaked in dried blood.

  And he’s not alone.

  Two people come sprinting out of the woods after him, black smoke pouring from their fingertips. Cold horror washes over me. They’re witches who managed to slip past the sigils at our borders. One man, one woman, both of them with grins on their faces like they think they’ve got the upper hand in the situation because Lawson’s so hurt.

  Before any of us can move, the witches attack Lawson with magic. He takes a blow to his hindquarters and falls heavily to the ground, yelping in pain.

  Ridge shifts, beginning to sprint to his brother’s side while the magic is still morphing his body from human to wolf. The sounds coming from my mate don’t sound human and they don’t even sound wolf—they’re more like the deep, visceral reaction of a man whose family has been hurt. Trystan, Archer, and Dare do the same, shifting to gallop after him, while I hesitate.

  I can fight the witches with magic as long as I stay in human form. My wolf, on the other hand, howls at not being allowed into the fray. But the fact is, I have something in human form my mates don’t, and I have to follow through on that. So I tamp down the angry she-wolf inside me and plant my feet in the dirt, ready for anything.

  Lawson isn’t down for the count yet. He rolls to his feet just as my mates reach his side, and he leaps at the witches with a vicious snarl. He latches on to the female witch by the neck and uses his own momentum to drag her to the ground. But her magic intensifies, smoke billowing around her. I can feel the static charge on the air that tells me a spell is imminent.

  A blast of energy shoots through the clearing, nearly knocking me off my feet. I throw up a barrier in front of my mates, but Lawson’s too tangled up in the witch for me to protect him too. The spell slams into Lawson, throwing him violently off the witch, though he takes a chunk of her neck with him. He rolls several times, yipping pitifully, and then comes to a stop on the grass and doesn’t move.

  I run toward the melee, trying to position myself for a better vantage point to use a spell of my own. My mates dart in and out, snapping at the two witches to drive them away from Lawson’s prone form. I’m terrified one of my men will take a spell they’ll never recover from. Terrified that I won’t be fast enough to protect them.

  It’s like Malcolm all over again.

  As I’m racing around the fighting group to find a clear shot, several more shifters arrive and join in. There’s chaos for a while—wolves leaping and biting as I throw up barriers and take potshots at the witches with the few defensive spells I know. I’m timid about it—too worried about hitting one of the wolves to really let my witch take over and blast the assholes into the sky.

  I manage to get a binding over the male witch, and when the magic stops pouring from him, the wolves seize the moment. He goes down under a pile of shifters, blood spurting, and I turn away because I don’t want to watch them maul him to death. Even knowing that this is my world now, that I’m capable of ripping apart a person with my teeth, I’ve seen enough of this in the past few weeks to last me a lifetime.

  The female witch fell while her comrade was being eviscerated. She’s on the ground bleeding to death from the injury Lawson gave her, kicking at the grass and dirt like she can swim away. She screams in terror as the wolves stalk toward her, but the sound cuts off in a strangled cry from the damage wrought to her neck.

  As the battle fury dies down, I rein in my witch and let the magic stop pouring from my hands. The black marks on my skin where my scars turn dark with the energy fade away, and I watch them disappear, marveling vaguely at how strange my life has become.

  Several of the shifters turn toward the woods, noses in the air and gazes roaming the dim trees. I can’t hear their conversation while I’m in human form, but I imagine they’re looking to see if anyone else is coming. But several long moments pass and no one else comes out of the woods. The coppery scent of blood hangs on the air; it’s the only out-of-place scent I can smell. If any other witches were coming, their scents would hang on the air for all of us to pick up.

  While they’re watching the woods, I glance down at the place where Lawson fell. He’s shifted back to human form, and he lies on his side in a patch of soft grass, his back to me.

  I rush to his side, panic rising. I don’t know what kind of spell took Lawson down, but coupled with the numerous cuts, bruises, and possible broken bones, he looks far, far beyond my ability to help.

  I try anyway, tracing the few healing sigils I’
ve recently learned over his body. Black smoke drifts over his skin, and some of his superficial wounds slow their bleeding.

  But it’s not enough.

  “Ridge!” I call as I drop to my knees beside Lawson. The man’s eyes flutter at the sound of my voice, and he glances up at me blearily before they close again. His face sinks further into the grass. I gently take hold of his head and ease him onto my lap so he isn’t nearly face-planted in the ground.

  Ridge appears, the magic of his shift fading as he gazes down at his brother with pain in his honey-colored eyes. He turns to Trystan and says, “Help me get him up. He needs the healer. Archer, can you lead us there?”

  I assumed that the shifters who came to help were Ridge’s, and while two of them are faces I recognize from the guard we took back to North Pack lands with us, the other three are a mix of West and East Pack men. I’m heartened by the obvious show of support from the other packs. Maybe this merger really will work.

  Dare places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to stay with the others and help them clean up the mess.”

  I grimace. We’ve had so many bloody messes on our hands this week. I hate it. “Okay. Be careful.”

  Trystan and Ridge carry Lawson between them as Archer leads us through the village. We go to the same healer who treated Dare the day he returned to us half-dead from a witch attack. He was crazy enough to go charging into witch territory, ready to destroy them all with his bare hands—or teeth, I guess—and returned to us in such bad shape that it made my heart stop to look at him. So I know the East Pack healer, Camilla, is one of the best, since she fixed the damage that had been done to him.

  She lives in a cabin on the outskirts of town, set back off the road on a tiny plot of land that she clearly tends to with all the love in her heart. A small bed of herbs sits out front, and a side garden boasts plump red tomatoes and vines of beans, peppers, and squash. Camilla opens the front door before Archer can even knock.