Wild: A Savage Alpha Shifters Romance

by DD Prince

  He shakes Tyson’s hand and Tyson immediately growls. The guy releases Tyson’s hand and takes a step back. A big one.

  I have no idea what the problem is here.

  “Good to meet you,” Mason says. “And you.” He means me but he doesn’t look at me. He backs away, staring at his feet, and leaves, looking rattled.

  Riley and another huge guy exchange looks. Another one goes out behind Mason after excusing himself.

  I have no idea what that’s about.

  My eyes move to Bailey and Cat, who are whispering. In fact, there’s suddenly a whole lot of whispering. Tyson looks pissed. Riley whispers something to him and Tyson calms, though just marginally.

  “What?” I ask, resting my hand on his arm. He pulls me tight to his side as the reception line continues and the rest of the line of people move up, taking the time to greet us. Several more are related to Tyson, too. More cousins on his mother’s side, second and third cousins on both sides of his family, relations by marriage, and every single person acts happy to see him. Everyone except that Mason guy.

  Bailey and Cat steer us to the buffet after the seemingly endless line finally ends, and plates of food are loaded up and handed to us before we’re ushered to one of the bigger pub-style sets ahead of the picnic tables. We sit with Riley, his parents, Cat and Bailey. The table of alphas is next to ours and the guy, Mason, isn’t there. I see three other tables that are clearly designed for the elderly people of the village as they’re comfy high-back cushioned chairs rather than picnic tables.

  Riley says something else low in Tyson’s ear and he speaks back with his finger in Riley’s face. It’s loud with the big crowd, the music, and the noises of people serving food, so I have no idea what is happening here.

  Bailey leans in from the seat beside me. “I’m your wolf shifter pack life guide. I’ll stay close.”

  “Good. What’s wrong with that Mason guy?”

  “Not a clue,” she says with a shrug. “I haven’t seen him since he got back from a project he’s been gone on. It’s weird. I think he got back Sunday and it’s odd to not have seen him. I love your dress and your shoes. Dig in.” She gestures to the food.

  She’s trying to act all nonchalant with me, but her expression and body language aren’t remotely relaxed.

  Tyson is already eating while in discussion with his uncle Atticus and with Riley. Men from the neighboring table are leaned in to participate in the conversation.

  I catch that they’re talking about a run in the morning. All of them. I know how much that run with just Riley meant to Ty; he talked about it, about how it felt, how he used to dream about running with other wolves. I’m excited for him.

  He’s taking everything in. He’s been reserved but also warm with most everyone who approached. People had said sweet things. Men talked about what a wonderful man his father was. Women talked about being so happy for Cat that he was back. People said things like, “Welcome home.”

  “This is great,” I whispered, forking up some creamy dill potato salad.

  I wasn’t just talking about the food. I was talking about all of it.

  Bailey tells me there will be dancing and music all night long but that before that happens, there’s a presentation for their youth in the pack. She chats happily while eating, telling me that after that’s over, anyone under drinking age will go home. She tells me many of the alphas get into wrestling matches and wiggles her eyebrows while telling me that those are fun to watch.

  “After dinner, if you want, during some of the community stuff, we can go show you the house. Are you guys staying tonight?”

  “I have no idea,” I say.

  “We are.” Ty leans in to tell her. His eyes then bounce to mine. “Oh. If that’s fine with you, Ivy.”

  “I don’t have anything with me,” I say, “But if you want to, baby, that’s fine.”

  “I do. Baby,” he says and smiles. He dropped his voice an octave with that ‘baby’ and my insides are all tingly now.

  “Taste this potato salad,” I say. “It’s so good!”

  He leans over and tastes it off my fork as I’m about to put it in my mouth.

  “You’ve got your own,’ I admonish and then I lean over and fork up a bite off his plate. He steals that before I’m able to get the fork to my own mouth.

  There are amused faces around us.

  “It’s good,” Tyson says.

  “I can give you the recipe,” Tyson’s Aunt Lucy calls over.

  “Oh. Great,” I say. “It’s delicious.”

  “Try the breaded pork cutlet,” Bailey suggests. “And the stuffed tomatoes.”

  “I’d complain there’s way too much food on my plate, but it won’t go to waste, knowing Tyson.”

  “There’s loads of food at these things. It’s potluck, my favorite,” Bailey says. “I’m an awful cook, so I get to bring soft drinks or paper plates.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Don’t sweat it,” I reassure her. “Saves you some work.”

  “Saves us some food poisoning,” one of the guys at the next table says.

  She pokes her tongue out at him, but her face goes bright red.

  “Who’s that again?” I ask.

  “Jase,” she whispers.

  “Jason Creed.” He holds his hand out.

  I shake it.

  Jason Creed is a tall drink of water with light brown hair and light brown eyes. He’s wearing a brown button-down with dark jeans and that button down is only half buttoned, showing he’s tattooed from his neck down to his wrists.

  No wonder she’s flushed. He oozes sexuality.

  He smiles at her with dimples. Lordy.

  A gorgeous woman in a miniskirt and cowboy boots signals to him from by the door and he says, “Excuse me ladies.”

  “He’s a tall drink of water,” I whisper, watching him walk away.

  “Mm.” Bailey stares at her plate and starts forking food in faster.

  “Does he have a girlfriend? Was that her by the door?”

  “Jase has plenty of girlfriends,” she mumbles.

  “He’s not… uh… mated, though,” I ask.

  “Nope,” she replies, staring at her plate.

  Tyson’s hand sifts through my hair and he puts his nose to the spot on my neck. I shiver.

  “What are you doing, Ivy?” he growls in my ear, low.

  His tone feels… dangerous.

  I look into his eyes. “I may be doing some matchmaking.”

  His eyes flash with humor.

  “Not mated? Hm,” I say.

  Bailey’s eyes are on me and I think she heard what I said to Ty.

  “Nobody’s mated from our alpha council. It happens in birth order, usually, or it has in the past, but with our pack things went a bit wonky with Tyson being gone. Hopefully with Ty in the mix things will run their usual course and these guys’ll all be taken off the market. Stop their whoring ways.” She rolls her eyes and I look over to the door where Jason Creed is whispering into that girl’s ear.

  Is this Jase guy the one she’s got her big crush on?

  By her reaction, I would bet money on it.

  The rest of the meal is spent on chitchat. Lucy and Cat ask me questions about my life, and I fill them in and talk about my job, my family, and tell them about my mom, sister, and brother.

  Lucy is a teacher at the school here, telling me they teach via a Montessori-like method and she has students ranging in age from kindergarten to high-school age.

  “Do shifter people go on to a special college?” I ask her.

  “We have people that integrate with mainstream society because they want to for school, but we also have a university in Scotland that many choose to go to because it’s easier. There’s a wide range of programs there. My daughter Trina’s there now, studying. My son, Brody, chose a mainstream school. He graduates in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, that’s great.”

  “Being in mainstream society is complicated,” Bailey adds. “My cousin
fell in love with a guy and had to end it because she didn’t think he’d integrate with our pack. In order to bring a mainstream person in, the pack has to agree first. Sometimes people leave the pack and give up their community for love with a mainstream person, but more often, that person integrates with us.”

  “The pack has to agree?” I ask.

  “Unless it’s an alpha mating,” Bailey says. “In which case that stuff usually happens after because alphas have no self-control and aren’t about to ask anyone for permission to be with somebody.”

  I look at Tyson. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He smirks.

  Laughter comes from the neighboring table and it’s clear that some of those alphas agree with that statement.

  “It’s tricky with friendships, too,” Bailey adds, “because if you become close with someone they’ll eventually wanna meet your family and we have to keep a distance. If some outsider shows up there’s an alert sent out so that everyone knows to be extra cautious. As you can imagine, we don’t want mainstreamers to know about us.”

  “Is that something that’s ever been considered? Telling the world about who you really are?” I ask.

  The mood goes strange.

  “Sorry, if that’s offensive. I just don’t see why it couldn’t eventually be accepted.”

  “You’re idealistic,” Riley says.

  Obviously at some stage of the conversation, all the guys at that table began tuning into what we were talking about.

  “But the reality - it’s safer the way it is. Supernaturals may be stronger, but there are more of the mainstreamers and history has taught us that it’d go wrong. Any time in history that anyone with differences has tried, it’s gone wrong. They outnumber us and it’s been shown time and again that mainstreamers can’t handle the truth about anybody considered supernatural.”

  “That’s sad,” I say, “To live in secret.”

  “We’re fine with it. It’s our way of life,” Riley tells me. “Believe me, we don’t lose out. Each major pack has a voice in a larger council, like a United Nations of sorts. Any major decisions would be brought there. They interface with councils of other supernaturals.”

  “Others? You mean, non-shifters? What other sorts of supernatural beings exist?” I ask. “Or can you tell me?”

  “You ready for this?” Bailey checks. “And you do realize, once we tell you this, you’re deeper into a non-verbal but very binding contract to say nothing about anything to anybody. Anyone that finds out our secrets joins into a pact that’s punishable by death if it’s broken.”

  I gasp. “I’d never…”

  Tyson leans toward Bailey threateningly. She squeaks.

  “I’m not… I know, we know you wouldn’t. You’re Tyson’s soulmate. Tyson, chill,” she requests. “I’m being cheeky.”

  Tyson leans back but still looks tweaked at the perceived threat.

  Aunt Lucy speaks up. “You wouldn’t be his person if it weren’t meant to be. We know that. He wouldn’t have come back to us if he wasn’t meant to be here, with us, leading us. We’re all comfortable with you, Ivy. Shifters are taught from a young age how important it is to keep our lives secret. This all comes natural to us. People like you are outsiders, not of much consequence to us unless you link up with someone we care for. Believe me, we aren’t here living in shame. People are just a nuisance we ignore, for the most part.”

  “Maybe you guys shouldn’t tell me stuff,” I change my mind.

  “Tell her,” Tyson orders. “And me.”

  My eyes meet his and my heart skips a beat at the intensity coming from him. Of course he wants me further entrenched, so entrenched I’d have no hope of ever extricating myself. I almost feel angry about that, but really, I’m more freaked out than anything. And what the heck… if I tell my family when I get home about what’s happened here, I’m risking my life? Their lives?

  “Just to say,” I announce, knowing that not everyone here is listening but those in our immediate vicinity are. “I’d never, no matter what, do anything to put anyone here at risk.”

  “We know,” Cat says, looking at me with a gentle expression.

  “So, beyond us, do you believe in vampires, witches, aliens?”

  “Not really. Or I never did before…” I say.

  She nods.

  Wow.

  “Other shapeshifters. Fae. The list goes on…” Aunt Lucy adds. “Narrow minded people are abundant. There are lots of things that exist that they either don’t see or that we simply choose not to let them see.”

  “Holy crap,” I breathe.

  Vampires? Witches? Fae?

  “What about fortune tellers?” I ask, again thinking about Aunt Nelle.

  “Fortune tellers are usually witches,” Cat says. “Occasionally they’re not, though, and in many of those cases it’s because they’re charlatans. Though some are descendants of witches and don’t truly know it.”

  “Ah.”

  Whoa.

  I focus on my food.

  “Oh. You guys haven’t got drinks. What to drink, guys?” Bailey asks.

  “Something sparkly and clear. Like Sprite or 7-up if you have it?”

  “Water for me,” Ty says, and Bailey nods and slips away from the table.

  Ty then leans over. “Sprite,” he whispers and then kisses the mark on my neck. I shiver. “One of my first thoughts of you was that you looked like a sprite.”

  I snicker. “My Auntie Nelle used to tell me she thought I was switched at birth and came from fairies.”

  I see smiles on Cat’s and Lucy’s faces.

  “Do fairies and werewolves pair up often?”

  “They do,” his mother chimes in. “And if they pair up with people, it’s usually a calamity. Often, other supernaturals need to wade in to untangle the messes. I think Mason got back from one such mission a few months ago.”

  Wow.

  “So, maybe I’m descendent of a sprite,” I say. “Maybe way back.”

  “I painted a sprite when I was a kid and have that painting. I checked it the other night to see if she looked like you. Did I predict my future?”

  I smile. “Did she look like me?”

  He nods. “Yellow hair. No silly purple bits, though.”

  “Silly?” I lean back. “My purple highlights are silly?” I pout.

  “They’re cute,” he says, “But a little silly. You should know I didn’t ever find things cute before you.”

  I beam at him. “Aw shucks.” I twirl a lock of blonde and purple.

  He kisses the tip of my nose and steals another bite of my potato salad.

  “Hey! Eat your own!”

  ***

  “Everyone, I need your attention?” Riley is on the stage with a microphone in his hand.

  He’s smiling as the room hushes.

  “You guys love any excuse for a party, so we agreed to come for the strawberry moon tonight, but turned out it was serendipitous timing because we had no idea when this got planned, that Tyson was about to come home.”

  Applause erupts in the place and Tyson looks caught off guard by it. His eyes sweep the room as Riley continues.

  “Tyson, cousin, brother, we are beyond thrilled that you decided to come tonight. On behalf of all of us, I just wanna say welcome home. We hoped the day would come. We’re thrilled it has. Congratulations on finding Ivy, and thank you Ivy for being here, too. We know it’s down to you that he’s here. And maybe also a pissed off rattler.”

  Everyone laughs. Except Tyson.

  “It’s a joke, baby,” I tell him.

  He doesn’t find it funny. He stares stone-cold at Riley as if to admonish him for the joke.

  Riley doesn’t waver. He winks at Tyson with a big smile.

  I didn’t do anything good to get given thanks in a room filled to the brim with people. What did I do, other than plan a weekend getaway and have it go wrong? I smile anyway. I like these people so far.

  “Now,” Riley continues, “I know how much
you guys love to cut up the dance floor, so now that we’re all stuffed with all that delicious food, we’ve got some formalities to get out of the way and then DJ, our awesome DJ, is gonna get the fun started. Ty and Ivy, I know you two have plans right now but I hope you’ll be back after that. Tyson, I bet I’m a better dancer than you are… Care to prove me wrong?”

  Ty snickers.

  “Back in ten minutes, everyone. Can our youth club get ready for your presentation?” He waves, getting a response of claps, woo-woo dog-pounds style hoots, and wolf-whistles.

  Riley steps off the stage and people disperse, including those at our table. It’s suddenly just us two.

  “Have you ever danced?” I ask, turning my attention to Ty.

  “Not really,” he replies under his breath. “Some women have tried, but you don’t wanna hear about that.”

  I chuckle. “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “Do you?” he asks me. “Dance?”

  “Yeah. I love dancing,” I say. “I took ballet, hip hop, tap. Started dancing at the age of three. Me and Amelia. She quit at about eleven, but I danced right up until I was eighteen. Love it. I wanted to teach dancing, actually, but I never did get that chance. Haven’t given up the dream though. I got a job after school at a clothing store and just sort of wound up in the fashion industry from there.” I shrug.

  “Hm.” He plays with my hair and then leans over and eats a strawberry off the lone remaining tart on my dessert plate.

  “Do you wanna dance later?” I ask him.

  “Maybe,” he says with a smile.

  I bite my lip. “Dancing can be very sensual,” I say.

  His eyebrows wiggle.

  “I’ve met so many people. I’ll never remember their names,” I add.

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Because we were introduced to so many people,” I reason.

  He tilts his head, looking at me quizzically.

  “What?” I ask. “You’ll remember every single name of every person we were introduced to tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he says, casually, then drains his water bottle.

  “But, Tyson, there were a lot.”

  “Yeah,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.