Prodigal (Outcast Sons Book 1)

by Gem Frost

  PRODIGAL

  by Gem Frost

  PRODIGAL published by Gem Frost. Copyright 2018, Gem Frost. Cover design copyright 2018 by Natasha Snow Design. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, Gem Frost.

  Author’s Note

  Part One and Two of this book were previously published as the novella Outcast, but they have been rewritten and substantially expanded. The rest of the story is brand new and completes the story begun in Outcast.

  PART ONE

  OUTCAST

  Prologue

  “Runt!”

  “Puppy!”

  “Coward!”

  The cruel words flew at Jonathan MacArthur like rocks, hitting painfully, accurately, and he cringed as the ring of children closed in. He was only eight, and he’d just moved to town, but already he was acutely aware of his place in the Pack. He was a low-ranked omega, and that meant everyone—everyone—was his superior.

  And they didn’t hesitate to let him know it.

  Up until now he’d lived out in the country with his mom and dad, and they’d homeschooled him, keeping him away from wolves and humans alike. But when his mom had died, his dad had decided to return to his hometown. Despite the ache in his chest Jonathan felt whenever he thought of his mother, he couldn’t deny he’d been excited to meet other cubs his own age.

  After only a week of life here, though, he’d quickly begun to loathe the town. Everyone here seemed to treat him and his parents like dirt. His parents had tried to warn him of the difficulties of being low-ranked… but he hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.

  Today was his first day of school, and he’d been quietly playing alone at recess when the kids had started eddying around him, surrounding him, until he’d found himself backed up against a chain-link fence. There were twenty of them—betas and higher-ranked omegas—and they all seemed bent on punishing him for a quirk of biology he had no control over. Some of them were his age, and some of them were much bigger. But regardless of their size, sheer numbers alone made this a terribly unequal fight.

  Not that Jonathan had much fight in him, anyway. Being so low-ranked meant that he was naturally inclined to gentleness. Even if there had only been one of them, he wouldn’t have put up a fight.

  The teachers were chatting together over near the school building, but he knew with a miserable certainty that no adult would intervene. Keeping lower-ranked wolves in their place was important, after all. Everyone knew that. Even a hick kid from the middle of nowhere knew it. As a low-ranked omega, he was nothing. He was less than nothing.

  And these kids were going to make absolutely certain he knew it.

  They won’t hurt you if you’re submissive, the way an omega is supposed to be, his dad had told him. Not really. It’s just rough play, Jonathan. Don’t worry about it.

  Maybe so, but he was being as submissive as he knew how, and the kids still seemed bent on hurting him. One of the kids—a big beta—reached out and shoved Jonathan, hard. He crashed to the ground with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. He couldn’t find the air to yelp, but a small, pitiful whimper made its way out of his throat.

  The pack of kids closed in on him, jeering and laughing, ugly, mocking words falling from their mouths. Baby, baby, MacArthur’s a baby…

  “Back off!”

  The voice held the ring of authority, and suddenly the flood of insults dried up, and the kids fell eerily silent. Someone made their way to Jonathan’s side. A black-haired boy with bright gold eyes knelt next to him, frowning in concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  Jonathan had seen the boy in his class, had heard him speak out clear and strong when the teacher called on him, but he didn’t remember his name. Still, he didn’t need an introduction to know who the other boy was. His scent was its own introduction. Strong and spicy, it spoke of confidence and power and strength. Since they were in the same class, he couldn’t be any older than Jonathan—yet the other kids stepped back as one.

  “You—you’re—” Jonathan’s heart thudded in his chest, because he was facing an alpha. Not the Alpha, the leader of the Pack, but his son, who would one day become the Alpha.

  “Caeden Wolf. Hi.” The boy stuck his hand out, as if shaking hands with a low-ranked omega was a perfectly normal thing to do, and in a daze, Jonathan reached out and shook it.

  “MacArthur,” he mumbled, giving his surname, because the alpha wasn’t about to call someone of his low rank by his first name.

  The boy grinned. His eyes were amazingly vivid, gleaming like coins in sunlight. “That’s kind of long. Do you have a first name?”

  Jonathan tried to stammer out his name, but only got as far as the first syllable. “Jon.”

  “Cool. I’m gonna call you that, okay?”

  Jonathan nodded, tongue-tied. If the alpha wanted to call him buttface, he wouldn’t object. No one would.

  The boy—Caeden—hadn’t let go of his hand. Now he pulled Jonathan to his feet. He was much bigger and stronger than Jonathan, even though he seemed to be the same age. He looked around at the crowd of kids, and his dark eyebrows drew over his eyes.

  “What are you guys still standing around for? Go on, get out of here.”

  None of them objected, not even the tallest, heaviest betas. They turned tail and slunk away in a body, leaving Jonathan standing next to the bigger boy. He was aware he shouldn’t speak until spoken to, but he felt that he needed to say something. The other boy had saved him from another beating, after all. He opted for speaking in a very meek and quiet tone.

  “Thanks.”

  Caeden looked down at him. “You weren’t even trying to fight. Why not?”

  Jonathan gulped, because the alpha sounded mildly disapproving. “Well, because I’m an omega. And a low-ranked one, besides. I’m not supposed to fight back.”

  “Do you always do what you’re supposed to do?”

  Something perilously like anger bubbled up inside Jonathan. It’s easy for you to talk, he wanted to snap. You’re an alpha. None of them would ever back you into a corner and call you a baby. None of them would dare.

  But he couldn’t snap at the alpha. He was incapable of it. He lowered his head, and spoke more meekly than before.

  “I guess.”

  “Jeez. They’re not supposed to hurt you, but they could have, you know. There were an awful lot of them.”

  I know. Believe me, I know.

  “They were higher ranked than me,” he answered.

  “Yeah.” Caeden sniffed the air assessingly. “I guess practically everyone is, huh? But that doesn’t matter. You have to stand up for yourself, Jon. Otherwise they’re going to pound you into the dirt every time they see you. You have to learn to fight back.”

  “I can’t. I can’t fight them. I can’t stand up for myself. I’m just... an omega. I’m nothing.”

  About half of wolf society consisted of omegas, but he knew the other boy understood what he meant. From that one sniff, he’d recognized that Jonathan was the lowest of the low. Both his parents had been low-ranked, so much so that they’d fled town a long time ago to get away from the constant harassment.

  But now that Mom was dead, Dad had grown lonely and come back. And that meant Jonathan had to learn to live with other wolves. He had to become part of the Pack again, no matter how much it hurt.

  He longed for the quiet house in the woods, the peace and
the solitude, and most of all the safety, but he shoved the longing aside resolutely. He was here now, and somehow or other, he’d figure out a way to survive.

  “You’re not nothing.” Caeden’s eyes gleamed brighter than ever. “That’s a stupid way to talk.”

  “It’s how everyone talks.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s stupid. You’re a person, same as me or anyone else.”

  “I’m not the same as you. I’m just an omega. You’re an alpha.”

  “Big deal.”

  Easy for you to say, Jonathan thought. It was a big deal. There could be only two alphas in a Pack at any given time—the Alpha, who was the unquestioned leader, and his heir. Caeden was special, very much so, whether he knew it or now.

  Jonathan held back the words, though, because one didn’t contradict an alpha. Ever. He couldn’t have done it even if he’d wanted to. His instincts wouldn’t allow it. The alpha—Caeden—seemed to understand his inability to respond, because he flashed white teeth in a friendly grin. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, clapping Jonathan on his shoulder. “From now on, no one’s going to bother you. Hey, do you like to play basketball?”

  Jonathan boggled, because the alpha seemed to be asking him to play a game. Was this some cruel trick? Some more sophisticated way of tormenting him, maybe? He spoke hesitantly. “Uh, yeah, but you’re, you know, an alpha—”

  “My name is Caeden.” The boy spoke with quiet authority. “Call me that. And come on, Jon. Let’s shoot some hoops.”

  “Um. Okay. Caeden.”

  Head low, he trailed the other boy over to the basketball court, which magically cleared of kids as they approached. The two of them shot hoops for the remainder of recess.

  And when Jonathan won, the alpha didn’t seem to mind.

  ✽✽✽

  Seventeen years later

  The bungalow was small, dark, and not in the best repair. Shingles hung awry on the roof, and flaking white paint peeled from the trim, leaving weathered gray wood exposed. Morning glory vines twined their way up the decaying porch columns, their flowers shut tight against the late afternoon sunlight, and dandelions bloomed in cheerful profusion all over the scruffy lawn. In short, it was precisely the sort of home you’d expect a low-ranking omega to inhabit.

  Caeden knew Jon had lived in the bungalow all his life—well, since he and his dad had moved back to Wolf Green, anyway. Jon’s dad had died three years ago, when Jon was twenty-two, and Jon kept talking about fixing the place up, but never quite seemed to find the time to do it. Caeden suspected he liked it the way it was, weeds and all.

  He bounded up the rickety stairs, taking them two at a time, and knocked on the heavy wooden door. A muffled voice called to him to enter.

  He opened the door and strode in. The interior wasn’t well-lit, but his eyes adjusted quickly. He went toward the kitchen, where Jon was tossing a salad.

  “Hey,” Caeden said.

  “Hey,” Jon replied. His dark-gold hair was damp and rumpled, like he’d taken a shower after work. Caeden’s keen sense of smell identified the scent of soap still clinging to his skin, but the vaguely masculine fragrance did nothing to obscure the sweet scent of an omega. And Jon smelled sweeter than most. “How was work?”

  Caeden threw himself down in one of the kitchen chairs, growling under his breath. He loathed his job in town hall, loathed it with a vengeance. He was a clerk, which was frustrating, because he’d been born to be so much more. He was meant to be a leader, not a paper-shuffler. But instead…

  He pushed his angry, bitter thoughts away, and spoke tersely. “Same as ever. A lot of fucking paperwork. You?”

  A corner of Jon’s mouth curled up in his shy smile. “Same as ever. The kids are great.”

  Jon worked as an assistant in a second-grade classroom. Caeden knew he longed to be a teacher, but as a low-ranked omega, it was an impossibility. Even second-graders were conscious enough of Pack dynamics that the kids wouldn’t respect him as a teacher. For a while he’d talked about leaving the Pack and going off to teach human kids in the city, where his status as an omega wouldn’t matter that much.

  Unfortunately, the natural fragrance of an omega tended to make humans crazy. Omegas are made for fucking, the Pack whispered amongst themselves, and it was true that their scent was about as subtle as a bottle of Chanel perfume, noticeable even to humans. That meant that living among humans would come with its own set of problems. Once Jon had become an assistant, he’d settled down and decided to stay in Wolf Green. He had rapidly grown to love his job, and Caeden was pretty sure he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

  “Glad to hear the little monsters are behaving themselves.” Caeden shifted in the cheap pine chair, causing it to groan beneath his weight. “I bet it’s more interesting than my job, anyway.”

  Jon paused for an instant, then apparently decided (probably wisely) that a comparison between their jobs wasn’t the safest topic of conversation. “Steak and potatoes for dinner,” he said, changing the subject entirely. “And a salad. Hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine. You don’t have to cook for me, you know.”

  “I know you get tired of your mom’s cooking. And I don’t blame you. Who the hell cooks liver these days, anyway?”

  “She thinks it’ll bring out the animal in me,” Caeden said with a resigned sigh.

  “Ugh.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Caeden drew in a breath, and spat out the next words in a rush. “Truth is, I’ve been thinking about moving out.”

  Jon had been tossing the salad, but now he froze, hands poised above the lettuce. “Say what?”

  “You heard me. I’m too old to go on living with my parents.”

  “But… but…” Jon seemed to be having difficulty generating words. He swallowed, and tried again. “But that house—your family has lived there since—since—”

  “‘This has been our family’s residence since 1882,’” Caeden intoned, lowering his voice and doing a fair imitation of his father’s basso profundo. “‘We continue to reside here in order to honor our ancestors, and to remind the townspeople that the Wolf family is always watching over them and keeping them safe.’”

  “Yeah, exactly. You can’t move out, Cae.”

  “Why the hell not?” Caeden rose to his feet as a sudden gush of rage filled his chest. “It should be my house now, damn it, with Father only living in the small house on the grounds because I allow it. Instead I’m living in my goddamned childhood bedroom, and Father is—is—”

  “I’m sorry.” Jon had taken a step back, showing the automatic deference of an omega when faced with an angry alpha. He looked at Caeden warily, but with sympathy. “I know it sucks.”

  Cae growled again, a low, rumbling sound. “I thought maybe today… I really thought…”

  He let the sentence die into silence, and Jon’s eyes softened further. “Still nothing, huh?”

  “Still nothing.” Caeden heard the bitterness in his own voice, but couldn’t seem to suppress it. “I’m still nothing, Jon.”

  “That is not true.” Jon came quickly around the counter, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Cae. To me, you’re everything.”

  Caeden looked down into his friend’s amber eyes. They were filled with affection. No, adoration. Jon, he knew, meant every word he said.

  “If only I could…”

  His voice was soft, hoarse, aching with longing for everything he should be, but couldn’t be. It was, he thought, ironic. He’d originally become friends with Jon because he longed to protect him, to save him from becoming an outcast.

  But now he, an alpha and the scion of the proud Wolf family, was every bit as much of an outcast as a low-ranked omega.

  Oh, sure, he didn’t have it as bad as an omega, not really. He was still welcome everywhere, and no one would dare hassle him, physically or verbally. To do that was to call down the wrath of the Alpha, and disappointed though the Alpha might be in his son’s
failures, no one quite dared risk that.

  But behind his back, he knew, the town whispered and laughed and pointed. He was a laughingstock, and it hurt. He’d been the punchline of every joke since he turned twenty-one, and deep inside him, the rage that had simmered hot and bitter in his heart for four years was slowly beginning to come to a rolling boil.

  “Try not to think about it, okay?” Jon turned away from him abruptly, like the pain and anger in Caeden’s eyes was too raw to look at. “Let’s have dinner, Cae.”

  Caeden ate the rare steak and loaded potatoes Jon put in front of him, and when Jon brought out a round cake adorned with twenty-five candles, and sang “Happy Birthday” to him in his off-key but enthusiastic tenor voice, he tried to smile. But it was just one more reminder of his failure.

  About ten (because he had to get up early in the morning and go to his stupid paper-pushing job), he said good night to Jon, and trudged home through the quiet, empty streets of the town. The full moon rode low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the houses and trees lining the street, and he looked up at it and wondered. It was a myth that the moon was necessary for change, of course, but the presence of a visible full moon was said to make the transformation a little easier.

  For the first time in years, he let himself hope.

  I’m twenty-five now. Fully adult, and an alpha. It’s time, damn it. It’s time.

  Fiercely, he focused on calling forth the animal inside him. He could feel it lunging at its prison of human flesh, could hear it snarling, could feel its fangs slashing at his insides as it struggled to emerge. He felt power surging within him, a strange strength flooding him. But he couldn’t quite…

  His body was different. Stronger. Faster. He could feel it. And yet he hadn’t changed. Not really.

  He was just as much of a failure as ever.

  Deep inside him, something snapped, and all the hope and longing inside him turned to rage with a shocking suddenness. No—the truth was that he’d been holding back the resentment and the anger for four years now. The moon had just released it somehow.