Forrest, Dawn - Alphas' Prize [WeresRus] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 4

  “He’ll kill me. He said he’d skin me alive.”

  “Were you not listening, son? He can’t kill you because you’ll already be dead, and I can do much worse than skin you alive.” He didn’t enjoy his work, but all he had to do was close his eyes and see those three young dead men with terribly abused bodies to make it easier. “If you don’t spill your guts, figuratively speaking, you’ll be doing it literally, just like those young men who had the misfortune to meet you, only slower, much slower.”

  As he hoped, Daniel began to talk, well blabber really, and what a very interesting story he had to tell. When he was sure that Daniel had nothing else to add, Kil swiftly, mercifully, administered justice with a quick twist of Daniel’s neck.

  Chapter 3

  Will Hawke, Prime Alpha of all the North American Packs, the most powerful and respected werewolf of this age, popped a mini custard tart into his mouth and moaned. It was comfort food, but so what, he was having a difficult day. They were petty, silly issues, molehills really, but when piled on top of one another they sure added up to a small mountain.

  The Indian Prime Alpha, Ashok Khan, had taken off with the explanation that he was going sightseeing and fishing. Will wondered just what it was that he was fishing for, because Khan was about as trustworthy as a military dictator, and that about summed up his style of rule over his Packs. Khan’s delegate, the usually phlegmatic Kashmiri Alpha called Anil Kumar, was looking agitated and complaining about his accommodation and the plain food.

  The African Alpha, Thokomelo Matabula, of the Congo Pack, politely expressed his discomfort about the cold, even though it was a very comfy sixty degrees inside the large log-and-stone house called The Den. It could easily drop to below freezing outside in April. He’d better ask someone to get thermal underwear for the guy.

  The Russian Prime Alpha’s twin sons, who were here as his representatives for the Were Council Gathering as well as being Alphas of their own Siberian Pack, had disappeared on Ducati motorcycles and had not been seen or heard of since. Well, that wasn’t completely correct. They’d been seen and heard partying up a storm two nights ago in a bar in Wolf Point, of all places. They hadn’t thought to contact Angela, this year’s acting Council Secretary and his full-time personal assistant.

  Thinking of his wonderfully competent assistant, there was another issue. The Australian Prime Alpha, Mike Evans, had discovered last week that she was his mate. Oh joy, indeed, because there went another one just when he needed her most. Good Were administrative help was hard to find because there weren’t many females, and male werewolves often didn’t have the patience for it.

  Finding one’s mate was, of course, a thing to be celebrated, and he was very happy for them both, but it was bad timing for him. He hadn’t seen her for the first five days, as she’d been closeted with Mike in the cabin he’d assigned to them. They’d made an appearance two days ago, but her mind was still mush, and she sat at her desk with a distracted look on her face. After the full-moon mating she would be permanently bound to Mike, and they would be “Waltzing Matilda” off to some down-under billabong, leaving him without an assistant.

  And on the matter of females and mating, it now appeared that there were not only one but two unmated female werewolves freely running around in his territory. Molehills, lots of pesky little molehills. He absently reached for another custard tart. There were still many issues to be discussed and resolved before the Were Council full-moon run in three days’ time.

  Primes, Alphas, and their representatives from all over the world were here at The Den, the headquarters of the North American Packs, and where he was based with his own Montana Mountain Pack. Each of the delegates had his own agenda and, it seemed, petty complaints. Sometimes he loathed as much as loved the Were Council Gatherings and wished they were held every ten years rather than every seven.

  Just when he thought that he’d had his fill of minor irritations, he had another priority call from Kil. As he listened to Kil relay Daniel’s story, he began to piece together some of the recent events. Obviously Daniel was working for Ashok Khan, trying to find Katherine Akara. The story confirmed what he already knew—Khan was as twisted as a corkscrew. He was a dangerous, devious bastard, and Will didn’t underestimate the lengths he would go to in order to get what he wanted. Daniel had obviously come close and called Khan, and that was why the Indian Prime Alpha had “gone fishing.”

  The rumor was that Katherine had been pregnant when she’d disappeared from Scotland. Although he had never heard of such a thing, he suspected that the second female werewolf was Katherine’s daughter and that was why she’d tried so hard to hide in the first place. His admiration for the young Maori woman—she was only forty-six—increased. Years ago he’d seen a photograph of her, and he recalled thinking that her wide face, full lips, and broad nose looked strong yet sensual. And I passed up the opportunity to have her.

  He decided to head to the library for a bit of peace. Sneaking away like a submissive was hardly behavior becoming of a Prime, but darn it, he needed the space to think.

  “Hey, Will,” a voice said from the far corner of the quiet room he had just entered. There goes my alone time.

  “Bradley,” he acknowledged.

  His voice must have shown his irritation because Brad actually lifted his eyes away from his computer screen.

  “Er, sorry, I meant hello, my Prime.”

  His Pack wasn’t big on protocol, and he didn’t usually mind, because they all knew who the boss was, but when they had visiting dignitaries they were expected to fill their roles with a little more decorum. Still, he wasn’t irritated by the informal greeting as much as the fact there was someone here to greet him at all.

  “S’okay Brad, there’s no one here but us Montana Weres. You look busy, what are you working on?”

  “Our web site, www.weresrus.com. I’m updating info and upgrading the security for access to our new Were-community chat rooms and information board.” Brad clearly saw the puzzled expression on his face so he further explained, “Anyone can access the main WeresRus home page, but that’s just a cover. Only Were members can access certain areas of the site. There haven’t been any breaches, but I like to stay ahead of the game. Honestly, Will, it’s a great way to expand our social network and exchange information at the level of the individual. Already a male in Florida found his mate in California. They discovered that they’d never met, so she sent…” Brad suddenly blushed.

  “What?” He’d begun to zone out but was now curious again.

  “Well, she sent a pair of her panties in the post to their Pack headquarters addressed to him. One sniff and he knew.”

  Will laughed. “Really?”

  Brad grinned and nodded.

  “That’s great. Keep up the good work.”

  Will knew that in order for him and his Packs to survive and flourish across the ages, it was necessary to keep up with the times. To him his mind was just another muscle that needed to be worked to stay fit and healthy. He made an effort to understand and use each new technological innovation, particularly concerning communications. Unmated werewolves, who shunned society and didn’t embrace change, often didn’t live as long as they potentially could because their minds gave out way before their bodies did. It was then left to the Pack to put the mad dog down.

  Brad was an absolute whiz kid at all this web stuff, and it was his role to keep the Pack current and updated. The WeresRus web site was just one of Brad’s pet projects. Will had asked the young male Were to fill Angela’s position until he could find a properly trained assistant. Brad was a dormant, one of a few unfortunate male Weres who hadn’t ever “become” on a full moon. It was a sad situation because he would age at the normal human rate just as unmated female Weres did, and his parents would have to watch him grow old and die. Setting that tragic issue aside, such males were highly valued and could be very useful to the Pack in many ways, taking on roles that would be more difficult for those who succumbed to t
he beast once a month.

  “Between you and me, Brad, has there been anything mentioned about female werewolves, in particular Katherine Akara?”

  Brad looked surprised but nodded. His eyes flickered over Will’s face but didn’t even briefly hold his gaze. Most people didn’t.

  “A few weeks ago there was someone called Jo who asked pertinent questions about how women were regarded by a Pack. It seemed a little strange.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he’s not a member, so he’s either a human geek, a loner, or a rogue. He was interested in”—he paused and rolled his eyes—“well, in female Were rights. He seemed to know that only males are werewolves and that the few female offspring don’t, as a rule, inherit the “becoming” gene. He asked about what life would be like for a female werewolf in the Pack.”

  That was very interesting. Maybe this “Jo” was Katherine or her daughter.

  “What did you reply?”

  “In the spirit of keeping up appearances of being a werewolf fanatic’s nerdy web site, I gave as honest an answer as I could. I said that it wouldn’t be an ideal life unless the female found her true-mate and bonded, but she would be looked after, treated well for the gift she was, and protected by the Pack. I said the Prime wouldn’t force a claim. Was I right, Chief?”

  He nodded, hoping it was true.

  “I explained that it had to be better to be within a Pack rather than being alone and living on the edge, every day in danger of being abducted and very likely raped by a lone or rogue werewolf.”

  He nodded again. If Katherine was alive and here in the States, then that was how she had lived for the past twenty-odd years. He felt a sense of shame that he had deliberately ignored the rumors and hadn’t tried to find her and offer protection. Why? He’d been afraid that with one whiff of her he would want her for himself, even if she wasn’t his true-mate. And what if she was? It had been many years since he had allowed himself to entertain the fantasy of having a home and hearth full of cubs and a loving mate.

  He still felt a pressure on his chest and a burn that threatened to sear his throat and sting his eyes when he thought of Amy. Just over two centuries ago he’d been blessed, had found her, his true-mate. She was a young white woman from a human family, and he was a 162-year-old Native American Were, but even in those days such things were inconsequential to mates. He was besotted and immediately recognized her for what she was. She fell easily in love and ran away with him.

  He and his Pack had done their best to prepare her for the bonding night. She hadn’t seemed too nervous the night before the full moon when they had made sweet, slow love and went over how it would be different. He was always careful with her and aware of the damage he could do if he let go of the powerful beast that lurked within him even then, at that younger age.

  As ritual dictated, he began that terrible night a few miles away from the clearing in the forest where Amy knelt, waiting for him. In the ghost-pale light of the full moon, he’d changed into an eight-foot-tall creature, caught the scent of her on the air, and roared his intent to mate. He charged through the forest, focused solely on getting to her. It was a warm summer night, and she waited outside the teepee. She had known he would change, what he would become, and what would happen. It would be easier for him to restrain the beast if she stayed calm and meekly submitted. But when he had slowly entered the clearing, growling softly from the far opposite side of where she knelt, it had suddenly become all too real and too much for her. Her courage failed before he could get closer and before his stronger mating pheromones had time to work. She turned and fled. He sprang to catch her but was too late to stop her from tripping over a fallen tree and onto a sharp broken branch that impaled her heart.

  He remembered it all as if it were an obscure yet terrible and disturbing nightmare. He had been highly aroused and wanted to take his mate, fuck, bite and bind her to him in every way. He had stood over her unmoving body, confounded and not understanding what had happened. Why was his mate so still, why the smell of fresh blood, why the silence of her heart? Comprehension came slowly to the beast, and it was said that his howls of anguish were heard a hundred miles away. For a long time after, his life had felt like an open grave. Even now the horror of that night never fully left him.

  He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, but he couldn’t help wondering if—No! The chances of Katherine being his true-mate were slim. Males had a hard enough time finding their true-mate once in a lifetime, never mind twice, and he didn’t want to be tempted into settling for anything less than the real thing. Nature and the moon always chose those who were compatible. Mates were well matched. He was a much more powerful werewolf now that age and wisdom had brought greater physical and mental strength. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to hope, to consider the precious possibility, that Katherine, a rare female werewolf, was his mate. I had my chance. He lost Amy before they bonded, and he didn’t want to go through that again. He quickly locked down his emotions until the tide of painful memories and the feelings they evoked began to recede.

  He had always taken the view that if Katherine was in his territory and wanted his protection, she would have to approach him. It was safer that way—for both of them. However, now that Khan was definitely involved he would have to step in. The Indian Prime had persistently requested permission to hunt for Katherine in the USA, as if he knew she was alive and free. Hawke had a sharp and suspicious mind that had helped to him stay alive so long, and not for the first time he wondered if Khan had been involved in the Scots Pack massacre. He knew Ashok Khan’s reputation wasn’t exaggerated, and he was damned sure that anything would be better for her than to be claimed by that animal. Even him.

  Every werewolf in his territory was his responsibility, and he would try not to fail her. He just hoped and prayed that he could keep the formidable beast that was a part of him under tight control around her.

  “Keep an eye out for anything about female werewolves, and in particular, anything new from this Jo,” he said with an even tone, giving nothing away of his internal struggle for calm.

  He went to his private rooms for half an hour of much-needed solitude, but thoughts of Katherine Akara continued to plague his mind. The man was in control, but the beast was more than interested.

  Chapter 4

  Katherine steered the little boat out of the inlet and across the open water of the Bay. The sun had set and twilight was bleeding to darkness. It didn’t matter to her as she had superb night vision, especially as the moon was more swollen each passing night, casting its silver light. Thankfully the sea was still calm, and the boat made good progress across the Bay. A light breeze was blowing from behind them, bringing the scents of Onancock to her sensitive nose. The second unknown male’s scent became stronger but then was lost, mingled with the pungent pet deterrent odor. She double-checked that her daughter wore a waterproof fanny pack with a passport, credit cards, and money. She insisted that they were always prepared for the worst. It was why she had evaded capture for so long.

  “We need to talk about the future, Mom.” Jo’s soft voice had a pleading quality to it that she hadn’t heard before.

  “I know it’s getting harder to stay undetected. I’m tired of running, but I’ll admit that I’m nervous when I think of the life that awaits us with a Pack.”

  She was tired. It had been an exhausting and lonely twenty-four years. In Scotland she had thought that she was lonely in the castle with only a few people for company, but in America she had found that it was entirely possible to be alone in a crowd. When she wasn’t with her daughter she often suffered from a kind of bleak hunger for something missing. She was cautious of hoping for happiness and a taste of life’s little pleasures because wanting such things could leave her open to exploitation and manipulation. She’d learnt her mistake twenty-four years ago. Granted, she had been concerned for the safety of her family and Pack, and she hadn’t been given much of a choice, but as always, being hard and
honest with herself, she thought that she had been too easily lured with promises of security, comfort, and elevated status within her family and Pack. What a bloody little fool. None of that mattered without freedom and love.

  “Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Jo ventured.

  Katherine snorted in response but then felt peevish because her daughter was only daring to hope.

  “Mom, I think that we have to face the fact that it’s only a matter of time before one of us is caught. We could try to negotiate the terms of our…surrender.”

  Katherine wasn’t sure if she was jumping, slipping, or being herded over the edge into Pack territory, or which was worse.

  “At least if we go to the Pack we’ll have some protection. You never know, we might find our true-mates,” her daughter said, sounding too hopeful.

  The Scots Pack couldn’t protect me twenty-four years ago. She could only guess what would happen to that beautiful gift of a mate if he wasn’t a strong and mean Alpha—he stood a good chance of being killed before they were bound. Meeting her, being her mate, would be a curse to all but the strongest of werewolves, at least until they formed the unbreakable mating bond. She didn’t say this to her daughter, or shoot down her dreams, because the fact was that not much was known about two werewolves mating and bonding, because it was so rare.

  Normally, as far as Katherine knew, a healthy male werewolf could clearly identify his mate. It was almost always someone compatible who provided complementary balance or support and who could produce children with him. The female mate, even if she was a full-human mate—a very rare occurrence—usually felt a reciprocating attraction, although not always initially as powerful as the male’s. Usually female mates were from Were families, which made it a much simpler process.

  She thought that it was in many ways a sad situation, because finding a mate was difficult for males, particularly as the bond can only be formed during a woman’s sexually reproductive years, that is, between the onset of menstruation and menopause. It was one of the reasons why, even with their extended life span, the earth was not overrun with Weres. The fact that males were only fertile on a full moon also kept the numbers down.