Alpha Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Marley turns to look at the way they came, wanting to cry with relief.

  Her smile is something she can’t help, an accomplishment of sorts. The expression fades as she sees what follows Howard.

  He can’t scent the humans because the wind is flowing toward them.

  “Howard,” Marley says in a sharp voice.

  The Were turns his head to where he intuits the threat is. “Police.”

  Pounding steps sound in her ears as they draw closer.

  “Come on, Marley.” Jake grabs her hand. “Can you go wolfen?”

  She can but not without a cost. The moon is on the wane, she’s tired, and Marley is beta. Not a great combo for changing.

  Instead of replying, she pushes her body into quarter change with just the vaguest pain. She knows what the change does to her. It’s a subtle thing, but it makes her another inch taller. Her hair gets longer—and blacker. Her eyes are a brighter, lighter violet, nearly lavender. The soft curves of her body become hard. Ready for flight.

  “Nice,” Jake says, approving of the metamorphosis with his expression. “Wish we could do that.”

  The one benefit of being female, she has time to think.

  Howard takes her hand and without a word, they run.

  The males must release her hand as they use the first overpass after the bridge as a conduit to woods that lay just beyond.

  They outpace her, but in her quarter change, she’s nearly their equal. That won’t be the case when the clothes burst from their bodies.

  They pass a Safeway food store to their left and a Little Caesars pizza place to their right.

  “There!” Jake commands in a voice too high for humanity.

  Howard and Marley veer off sharply, following Jake a pace behind.

  The air vibrates directly before Jake’s change, and Marley flies to ten feet away, still running as the gore and clothes fling through the air.

  She yelps then whimpers as her clothes leave her body, the tendons and bones shifting to her wolfen.

  Blood pools and leaks from her eyes as she keeps pace with the males.

  The breaths saw like fire blades in and out of her lungs.

  “Wait,” she calls softly, but the males move ahead, already transitioned to the new form.

  Marley puts on speed, breathing through the agony of going wolfen on as little resources as she’s had and the leg that slows her.

  But the threat of the police keeps her moving.

  Jake leans on his knees, breaths coming fast and hard. Marley keeps her eyes on his face.

  What lies between his legs is distractingly on display.

  Howard, as well.

  They all wore their packs loose for just this possibility, and Marley has already limped over to a tree, and after returning to human form, she’s used about thirty moist wipes and dragged new clothes over her sensitive skin. No easy thing. Her skin is raw, muscles a throbbing disaster. But they escaped the human police and managed to change in the covering of the forest.

  Branches break, and Marley starts.

  A lumbering black bear makes its lethargic progress through the brush. Marley knows when it scents them. Its large head swings, poor eyesight trying and failing to gain purchase on what she understands is mere outlines without color.

  Jake straightens. Hanging his head, he growls low—an eerie warning of their kind.

  Not wolf, exactly, but other.

  Where humanity is dumb, animals are smart. Some humans already know that as evidenced by their love for the Lycans’ distant canine cousins who inhabit the home and hearth of the humans.

  The bear shifts its weight, hanging its head low. It laboriously pivots its mighty weight and begins to walk in a direction opposite them.

  Marley lets out a breath.

  She could defend herself against a bear. But it would mean another shift to wolfen, one she’s not sure she could recover from.

  Betas can’t shift back and forth as easily as an Alpha. That ability is exclusive to Alphas. Marley has never been envious; it is her reality.

  A pang of envy does happen just then, though. She reaches for humility. Marley needs to remember that being born Alpha and beta isn’t something a Were can control. Not everyone can be Alpha.

  There would be no Were if that were true.

  “That was close,” Howard says.

  “No big.” Jake’s shoulders ease, and he begins rubbing his strong hands down his arms. Flakes of dead skin and other things slough off. “We could easily take a bear. I just don’t want to harm animals who’ve done nothing to us.”

  Marley agrees. If a living being isn’t causing them harm, why hurt them?

  The men aren’t modest at all. They take their time, wiping down their bodies slowly, getting rid of the muck of the change back to their human form.

  She looks away as they clean their privates.

  Marley can’t bear to go back to human form. She stays in quarter change. It’s easier on her stressed system.

  Howard looks at her after his athletic pants are in place and he’s shoved on tennis shoes.

  “You okay?”

  No. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Must’ve hurt shifting to Wolfen on the run,” Jake says.

  Marley clears her throat. “Ah, yes—some. I’m okay. I’ll stay in quarter and change back after we get to the Northwestern.”

  Jake lifts his nose, scenting something. “Half hour east of us from here.”

  Thank Moon.

  Howard gives her a nod, and they turn. Marley’s bad leg twinges hard. Miraculously, it hasn’t given out in her wolfen form.

  She follows them, her limp exaggerated, but it’s nothing she can help. She’s too exhausted.

  But like their doctor had told her, each time she changes when the moon is ripe, it’ll get a little better.

  Barring there were no other injuries to the same leg.

  Marley hopes there aren’t females to fight in this new pack.

  And maybe she can be with a male who loves her for more than her looks and despite her status as a beta who needs more protection than typical.

  That’s always been her unfulfilled wish.

  They strike out, and Marley revels in the crisp scent of forest again. After the howling wind and concrete smell around them for the past hour, this is a welcome change. Different from the Redwood where she grew up but beautifully unique, the old and new scents seem familiar at the same time.

  They walk for a good twenty minutes, hopping over felled trees, their guts mixing with the forest floor, where new life sprouts.

  Jake puts his hand up, and she and Howard slow.

  From ahead of them, two Were males step from the tree line, and one waves.

  Jake smiles, all tension leaving his body.

  As they walk toward Marley, they give her a curious head-to-toe stare, and she withstands the scrutiny. There will be a lot of natural curiosity, and she expects it. But to an introverted Were, it’s mild torture to be checked out.

  The males clap each other on the back and surround Marley. They are born and just as large as Howard and Jake.

  “Sebastian,” a red-headed male says, jerking a thumb at a dark Were to his side. He grins. “I’m Dare.”

  Odd name, Marley thinks and keeps her expression neutral. “I’m Marley.”

  “Different name,” he says.

  Her chin dips to hide her smile. He’s one to comment on her name, given how strange his is.

  “My sire liked the human reggae singer.”

  Sebastian’s stern face stills then lightens suddenly. “Bob Marley!”

  Marley grins full on. “Yes. That is he.”

  “Wow, you speak old-fashioned.”

  Her smile fades.

  “It’s no big deal,” Dare interjects quickly.

  “My pack is quite old,” she says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “And I am fifty.”

  Dare whistles. “I feel like a pup.”

  Jake frowns
. “Because you are.”

  Marley rolls her lips together to keep from laughing.

  “You’re not so fucking old, Jake.”

  He shows his teeth, and it’s suddenly very quiet in the woods.

  Jake breaks into a grin. “Love getting after ya.”

  Sebastian raises his eyes heavenward. “Listen, there’s been some shit that’s gone down.”

  Howard leans forward. “What?”

  Sebastian and Dare recount a rogue band they had to battle.

  At the mention of a half-breed whelp, Marley brightens. She loves the little ones.

  “So there are no females?” Marley asks, being obvious.

  “I didn’t include Nova, the whelpling, or Susan, the elder female.”

  Marley gives an internal sigh. Of course not. Would they discount males so easily, regardless of age?

  A fresh pack and a new start for Marley, but not without its own problems, clearly.

  Marley follows them into the arms of the new pack.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tahlia

  T he sound of her sawing breaths are razor-sharp. The blood pumps inside her eardrums, reverberating inside her head with a deafening beat.

  Small branches break and whip her flesh.

  Tahlia planned on a casual couple of hours at the river bathing.

  Not this.

  Her toiletry fanny pack bangs against her hip, having gotten wound around during her flight.

  Agonized screaming sings around her in a melody of horror.

  Drek is doing what he can.

  And so is Neil.

  Hot tears blind Tahlia as she flies through the dense woods. There is no escape even in her own mind, because a terrible realization has overcome her.

  Tahlia is in heat.

  She can do nothing more than quarter change. No bird form, either. The host body is not to be displaced during the time when a successful breeding could take place.

  There is no escape except what she can do in quarter. And the moniker to describe what only the female of their species can do is not used lightly. She’s barely stronger than a pathetic human male at the moment.

  Yet, no one is after her. Tahlia doesn’t slow; she puts on speed.

  The leaves and brush bleed green at the edges of her vision as she flies through the woods streaked with orange fire heralding the early signs of autumn.

  As the sound of human traffic reaches her, she slows only long enough to cross the highway then moves to the other side. The ocean is far away and to the west, though she can smell that the tide is out.

  The foul fumes from the human machines of metal choke and sputter their vileness alongside her.

  Tahlia strides through the forest, then when she’s caught her wind, she runs again.

  Something’s jabbing her. Whatever is this? Crust laces Tahlia’s lashes together like glue.

  She bedded down in a soft mattress of needles and moss. This deep in the woods, Tahlia sighed when she found her impromptu bed moist. But pure exhaustion kept her from a lot of contemplation about her less-than-perfect quarters.

  Tahlia observed the blanket of stars in the deepest part of the night through a canopy pierced by their light.

  A Swiss cheese slice above my head, Tahlia thought then drifted off before she could worry about things—like Drek or the possibility of pursuers.

  Before she could spiral into a crying fit.

  The situation is precariously close to the dire circumstances when she met Tessa.

  There were the unscrupulous scouts from Tramack’s pack. And, of course, Tony Laurent, the murderer of her guardians.

  She only closed her eyes for a second, intending to rest.

  The next thing she knows, something’s digging at her side. Did I sleep on a branch?

  She wipes her eyes, and her surroundings come into blurry focus.

  A mixed group meet her eyes, their smell solidifying before their forms. Humans.

  Okay.

  “You okay?” a human male asks.

  “I will be once you stop pushing your toes through my rib cage,” Tahlia replies.

  “I weren’t kicking ya,” he states sullenly.

  Hmmm. Tahlia takes in the rest of them. Rough. Two males. One female. Instantly, Tahlia estimates her chances of taking them. It might be necessary. Of course, she has the advantage of surprise.

  Moon. She slipped out of quarter change while she slept. Tahlia tries to battle the disquiet as it fights at the edges of her mind.

  She’s in heat and is unsure whether human males pose a threat. Better to err on the side of caution and assume that, even with their dull sense of smell, they might intuit her condition subliminally.

  Many stories were passed around about females being raped by packs of rabid humans, defenseless to change because they were in heat.

  Enough times that coincidence could not keep up.

  “Thought you might be dead, see? You out ʼere in the middle of nowhere.”

  And what are he and his friends doing out here in the ʻmiddle of nowhereʼ?

  “I’m not dead.”

  They stare at each other.

  “Got any money?”

  Ah. “No. I have nothing but toothpaste and the like.”

  “She talks funny,” the female says.

  With careful and deliberate movements, Tahlia stands. She is very aware that humans would regard her speech as different.

  Tahlia is also accustomed to going against many. As she’s ruminated upon before, her father wanted a male and trained her as such.

  The female looks on her with predatory eyes, but Tahlia will not be intimidated. The men circle her with disbelief, for what female would bed down without even proper clothing at the roadside and not have something to offer them?

  “Check her,” the apparent ringleader says.

  The other male is large by human standards—taller than six feet and muscular. Tahlia intrinsically understands he is honed by what he does rather than a bid for vanity.

  Unfortunately, he is one of those human males who tend to be primal. He approaches her cautiously.

  That is the first challenge Tahlia must overcome—this human, in his most secret being, knows exactly what she is.

  “Come on, Jeff—get after it.”

  All Lanarre females can quarter change without pain, worry, or conflict.

  Tahlia does that now, her body acquiescing to the request.

  “Did you see that shit?” the female whispers.

  The ringleader nods, saying tersely, “Yeah, she’s fucking freaky. Take her shit, Jeff.”

  Their eyes meet. And Tahlia has no doubt that hers reflect silver in the low light of the forest.

  He steps into her space, and she moves with him, taking the limb Jeff offers her and snapping him against her body. She hooks her left leg behind his right, pushing his shoulder and propelling him backward.

  He falls, grabbing Tahlia as he does.

  She lands on him, and his hand goes to her throat. He has the reach to do it easily.

  Her fist strikes his temple so fast, there’s a slight widening of his eyes that tells Tahlia she telegraphed the move.

  Lifting her shoulder, she does it twice more in quick succession as her airway begins to close beneath his vise grip. Stars burst in her field of vision as his hand falls from her neck.

  Arms circle her torso from behind.

  She throws her head back into another, feeling a skull crack. As Talia’s hand strikes down on the arm that holds her between wrist and elbow, the person behind her howls, releasing her.

  Rising off an unconscious and bleeding Jeff, she scans the area for the female.

  The scent of stale sweat and unwashed female parts invade her like a tangible insult.

  Tahlia goes low, pivoting on her heels, legs still straddling her assailant.

  Something hard strikes her head, and Tahlia stumbles to her knees, vision wavering like rain tracking glass.

  A wooden bat appears in
her peripheral vision, and her hand snakes out, grasping the thickest part.

  Her fingers are too short to capture the thick tapered wood effectively before it rises again… and falls.

  The thick wedge of hickory lands on her back, breaking a rib.

  Tahlia screams and rolls over, screaming a second time as the injury bites her insides like a jagged blade.

  The female looks down at Tahlia, winded. “Don’t make me hit ya again, bitch.”

  Tahlia spits the blood out that fills her mouth, gauging the bat. She wants to change to bird form so badly, she could cry from sheer frustration.

  She shouldn’t have discounted the female. Her cunning is etched on every feature. Glazed eyes are the proof of a human who uses substances to alter her mind.

  Tahlia’s eyes scroll down the female, pinning a pantleg that is hiked up from the scuffle. Tahlia feigns a groan.

  Quicker than a snake could strike, she rolls, biting the exposed lower shin.

  The bat lands again, and Tahlia’s muffled bark sounds through the flesh she worries at like a bone. The taste of the female is so awful, she almost lets go just because of that.

  But Tahlia hangs on until two more strikes break another rib.

  The female drops the bat and tries to get away from Tahlia.

  She falls. Then Tahlia crawls up the female’s body, using her clothing for purchase, and drags her until their faces almost meet.

  “Don’t hurt me,” the weak female whispers.

  Tahlia can hardly breathe through the glass that was once her ribcage. Her hands work well though.

  She presses her thumbs into the female’s eyeballs.

  Bucking, she shrieks, painfully lighting up Tahlia’s eardrums, and she moans, trying to put her fingers through the stupid human’s brain.

  Tahlia lets herself roll off the thrashing female and crawls to the bat. Wrapping her bloodied fingers around the narrow end, she drags the wood toward her.

  Using it like a cane, she manages to stand.

  Tears drip off Tahlia’s face. She can’t stop the flow; she’s too abused. But certain things must be put into play.

  She plugs the baseball bat in front of her and applies weight. She repeats the process, again and again until she steps in front of Jeff.

  Tahlia can’t raise the bat to beat his brains in. Turning her head, she eyeballs the other male, who also lies unconscious.