Alpha Domination (Alpha Wolf Book 1) Read online

  Alpha Domination

  Alpha Wolf, Volume 1

  Rebecca Clare Smith

  Published by Katarr Kanticles Press, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ALPHA DOMINATION

  First edition. February 20, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Rebecca Clare Smith.

  Written by Rebecca Clare Smith.

  Also by Rebecca Clare Smith

  Alpha Wolf

  Alpha Domination (Coming Soon)

  Indigo Skies

  Preying On Time

  Baying For Blood

  Lightning & Power

  Calling The Wolf

  Taste Of Blood

  Those Who Wait

  Survival Trilogy

  Breaking Cadence

  Forgiving Zander

  Delivering Hope

  Standalone

  Desecrated Bonds

  A Compilation Of Soul Speak

  Watch for more at Rebecca Clare Smith’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Rebecca Clare Smith

  Ice

  Memory

  Bitten: One Week Earlier

  Hattie’s Draught

  Seeing Is Believing

  Catharsis

  Parole

  Step Outside

  Submission

  Shifted Balance

  Blood And Bullets

  Old And New

  Crimson Fire

  New Aches

  Now To War

  Excuses

  On Track

  Snow Sport

  Dashing Through The Snow

  Black Dog

  Full Moon Rising

  End Of The Road

  Bitter Kiss Goodbye

  Sign up for Rebecca Clare Smith's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Preying On Time

  About the Author

  Ice

  Becoming gradually re-aware of your own body is a peculiar feeling.

  I’m cold and stiff and there’s a throbbing pain in my left shoulder like somebody has slammed the sharp side of a fence post through it. As everything slowly starts to register, the throbbing is what I can feel the most. That is, until a calloused palm connects with my cheek and almost snaps my head from my neck.

  The taste of iron and heat fills my mouth. My tongue tentatively probes the place where I know my teeth have cut. My hands and feet are bound to my chair and I’m icy cold. And wet. There’s a blanket draped over me. A sorry, sodden embrace.

  And I’m naked underneath.

  I take a couple of sharp gulps for air, lifting my head as panic sets in. Each ankle is bound to separate chair legs, spreading my thighs apart. A tremor ripples through me. I’m naked and bound and I can’t remember what happened...

  My eyes open, slowly, blearily.

  “You’re alive, then.”

  I don’t recognise the voice and I can’t see the speaker straight away as the room swims. But I know it’s a man and his inflections are harsh.

  “Why are you here?”

  I want to throw up. There’s a sickly yellow light, a door, and a tiny window somewhere near the ceiling that suggests I’m in a cellar or a basement.

  “Why are you here?” he repeats, almost growling.

  Finally, I can focus on him. He’s leaning back against the wall opposite me, his arms folded across his chest, eyes glittering beneath the shadows cast from his loose, long hair.

  Blood trickles from the corner of my mouth. I swallow some of it.

  “Where am I...?” My throat is clogged and my lips are too dry, forcing my words into a thick murmur.

  “British,” he notes, unenthusiastically. His demeanour shimmers with distrust, like I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “I think you know where you are, bitch. Did somebody send you because they thought I’d be blinded by your scent?”

  A small frown shapes my brow. Had somebody sent me? No... I’d been... walking. Did he abduct me while I was walking?

  “Where are my clothes?”

  For half a second, I think he falters, but, if he does, it’s too fast and my head still doesn’t feel right.

  “Why am I wet?”

  He uncrosses his arms and takes a step closer. His eyes narrow in on my face. I’m trying to focus on him, but his features seem to double and separate intermittently. There’s a scent my nose picks up on, though. It’s oddly recognisable and seems to be trying to jog my brain.

  “What have you done to me?” My voice wobbles. “People will be looking for me.”

  He gets closer still and I can feel the adrenaline pick up in my system. The smell is stronger and, whilst my brain tries to decipher it, the panic that he might have raped me threads through my veins.

  His arms cross again and he returns to his original position, apparently satisfied by something. The rope burns my ankle as I try to wriggle my foot.

  “You were naked when I found you,” he answers, finally. “And you’re wet because I threw two buckets of ice water over you to try to wake you.” And then I hit you when I couldn’t, I read in his eyes.

  “My shoulder,” I murmur, trying to look, but I can’t strain far enough.

  “Bullet hole, I think.”

  “A bullet...?”

  An unnecessarily loud crack tears through the memory in my brain. I can remember the shot and the air burning in my throat as I ran. I can remember the blind panic and the pack of snarling wolves in the snow.

  But it’s all splintered and, as much as I want to figure out what happened, I realise I have to focus on what’s happening now and why I’m naked and bound in this guy’s basement.

  “It went straight through. Must have been silver or you would have recovered by now.”

  “I need a hospital...”

  He folds his arms again. “No. Nice try. You’re not going anywhere, bitch.”

  My wrists strain against the rope. The panic is rising in my body, again, and this time I feel so lightheaded I might pass out. “But I need a doctor. Why won’t you get me a doctor? What are you going to do with me?”

  His eyes pass over me, down over the pathetic attempt to shield my modesty and then back up again. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  Memory

  I come to in the basement, again. This time there’s a metal cuff around my leg that’s attached to a chain. It winds away across the floor to an iron fixing I hadn’t noticed before. Even a cursory inspection tells me I’d need a key to free myself.

  The chair is gone, though. This time, I’m lying on an old mattress with an opened sleeping bag as a duvet. I sit up, shakily, and examine my shoulder with trembling fingers. There’s a dressing fixed in place, but it’s damp in the centre. Without a mirror, I can’t tell if that means it’s still bleeding or not.

  I’m still naked. The mattress is rough and bobbled against my backside.

  Carefully raising myself up, I clutch the makeshift duvet to my chest. The man has gone, but I can hear him pacing in the room above. There’s the sound of a television, too, and warmer lights flicker around the frame of the basement door. I glance up at the pale, bare bulb dangling from the ceiling.

  A small pile of clothes rests on the floor by the mattress. There’s a man’s shirt and what looks like shorts. After a moment’s hesitation, I slip on the shirt. It’s long and baggy enough to cover my crotch, which is good because, with that chain around my foot, there’s no way I can get into the shorts. My captor hasn’t really thought through this intended clothing. Holding the sh
orts up, I can see it’s unlikely they’ll fit me anyway.

  He hasn’t left me any socks. The concrete floor is cold on my bare feet.

  I rub my arms for warmth and tiptoe around the room, though the chain clinks with every step. The window has bars on it and the only other escape is into the house that holds my captor. I think about the strange intensity of his eyes whilst I circle the room. Something in their depths makes my heart beat faster. Worryingly, I can’t tell if it’s from attraction or fear.

  I try to console myself with what I do know: he doesn’t trust me and I’m not sure why.

  The shirt I’m wearing smells familiar. I hold the collar to my nose and inhale. It’s the scent I was following through the woods. My eyes close, trying to hold onto the pieces as my shattered memory unlocks.

  I’d finished work early enough for it not to be too dark. The snow had been lying thickly on the ground, decorating the trees and crisping the air. I’d thought it would be nice to take a walk. After all, I’d told myself it was no use being scared of doing something I enjoyed just because of one bad encounter.

  And something my aunt had said just before she died kept circling in my head, spurring me on.

  “You are a strong woman. Don’t forget that.”

  It had been the first time in a week, since the wolf attack, that I’d felt brave enough to venture out into the woods once more. Colleagues had insisted I’d need to get back in the saddle, but with the precaution of a distress app installed on my phone. Working as an intern in conservation meant I’d be carrying out surveys in the field officially, sooner or later, anyway.

  And it wasn’t as if I was still injured; the bite had healed surprisingly quickly.

  So, from what I remember, I’d been wandering through the woods when I’d smelled something that seemed oddly strong and intriguing...

  I breathe in the scent of the shirt once more. It was definitely his aroma that I’d picked up on, but how could I have known that then? How could I have been able to smell him like that?

  Back in the woods, I’d followed the out of place scent, oddly compelled to discover what it could be. Until, I’d realised that I’d wandered too far and too deep between the trees. Fear had whispered through my bones. That was when I’d heard the howl and the wolves had appeared.

  Panicked, I’d fled and then...

  And then the memory became muddled with a recurring dream. A stupid dream. A dream about–

  “You’re awake.”

  My eyes snap open. He’s stood in the doorway, a tray in his hands. His gaze narrows as I release the edge of the shirt collar I’ve been sniffing. There’s a bowl on the tray and I wonder if there’s poison or a date rape drug in it. My stomach rumbles, but I warn myself it would be better not to eat.

  “Sorry it’s not cleaner,” he growls, meaning the shirt, like I’ve offended him in some way.

  “If you let me go–”

  “Not happening, bitch.”

  I take a shuddered breath. He says that word so calmly, as if it’s a given that he should refer to me by it. But the only thing I recognise about him is his smell. “Did I... Do I know you? Have I upset you in some way? Is that why you’re doing this?”

  He moves down the steps and places the tray on the mattress in the space on the floor between us, leaving the door open behind him. I glance at the square of inviting heat and light, only to hear him snicker.

  “Try it. Be my guest.”

  I falter, shifting my weight uneasily. Part of me wants to take flight, but the other part knows there’s no point with the chain circling my ankle. I smooth the shirt down over the tops of my thighs.

  “I don’t know you.”

  My gaze snaps up, finding a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes that he quickly extinguishes. He pauses as if he’s reluctant to continue.

  “We’ve never met and there isn’t a description of a current bitch circulating matching you, that I know of. So...” He gives me a piercing stare. “In answer to your question, no. I don’t know you. You’re the one who came here for me.”

  He seems certain of this, judging by his disdainful grimace, but I have no idea who he is or where ‘here’ is.

  Clearly this man is a nutcase and I need to tread carefully. As far as I can tell, he’s only abducted and stripped me so far. Maybe he was going to string this out, try to twist me into being his slave, or something. At least that could mean I’ll stay alive for long enough to form an escape plan.

  “Do you ask around for people that are ‘bitches’ a lot?”

  He forms a curious expression that I can’t read. “What exactly do you think I mean by ‘bitches’?”

  The question throws me off guard. My hand scrapes the hem of my shirt, flattening it self-consciously. Something about the way he asks makes me feel unnecessarily stupid. “People who... gossip and are generally not... nice...?”

  The whole time I’m speaking he’s looking at me in confused irritability, like he thinks I’m lying or being evasive. His eyes glance downwards as I touch the hem of my shirt, skimming the tops of my thighs before flashing back up in a spark of self-directed anger.

  “She-wolf,” he grinds, taking a step around the mattress towards me. The chain clinks as I instinctively move back. His fists are clenched. “Female dog.”

  His hand clamps around my wrist, the heat of his palm unexpectedly warm. The same cannot be said for his eyes, which are fixed on me. My body stiffens, frozen in fear. There’s something guarded about him beneath that derisory glare. Something just out of reach. My heart beats fiercely. I can sense he’s holding down on an even deeper rage than he’s expressed. One that I shouldn’t taunt.

  “Woman werewolf.”

  I blink at the last remark. His lips turn into a snarl of a smirk. I instantly recognise that he trusts my surprise least. It’s odd that he’s suspicious of me when he’s the one that’s brought me here.

  “Who bit you?”

  He raises my hand, bringing the fresh pink skin that marks my dissolving scab into the dull, sickly light. His grip has tightened and the way he says ‘who’ suggests he’s expecting a name and not a beast.

  “Are they the ones that sent you to find me?”

  I try to yank my arm back from him. For a moment, I think he’s not a pervert at all, he’s just a lunatic.

  But then he leans in close to me. His gaze flickers down over my body, the scent of him, strangely intoxicating, wrapping around me. And I’m looking up into his dark eyes, holding my breath. He works his jaw and I sense the betrayal of sexual tension unfold bewilderingly in my stomach.

  I can’t be feeling this right now. I’m in a hostage situation. It’s ludicrous.

  However, I’m certain that if I’d seen him from across the room in a bar, he would have held my gaze for longer than necessary.

  Then it occurs to me, he’s not a man that needs to kidnap to get a woman’s attention. So why am I here?

  “Tell me the truth or I’ll rip you limb from limb.”

  My lip is shaking. His hand is still curled around my wrist. There’s distrust in his eyes, like I’m the bad guy.

  “Answer me!”

  “No one,” I stammer. “No one sent me. No one bit me. It was just a wolf.”

  A frown instils itself on his face, but the distrust has waned. His lips press together and then he whispers, “A wolf.” He repeats it like he doesn’t believe me, like I’m tricking him somehow.

  “Yes. Just a wolf. I was out walking in the woods and I didn’t know it was there and–”

  Tears prick my eyes and I can feel my breathing step up to almost hysterics. I’m still not over the event. The terror rebuilds below my ribs, constricting my breathing.

  His eyes widen as my breathing spirals out of control. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still traumatised by the event or because of what’s happening now, but I can feel my control slipping. My hands are trembling and the room is getting smaller. All I can think about is the wolf’s teeth.


  “And I ran!” I almost choke, gulping air too fast.

  The room is narrowing to pinpricks, growing tinier and more claustrophobic with every hysterical breath. My captor has stiffened, his grip on me frozen, as is his gaze. Crushing stupidity and terror pushes down on me.

  “And I ran and I ran!”

  Sobs constrict my already tight chest. Flashbacks blur my vision. The thought of the wolf panics me more than the thought of being trapped in this room.

  I try to pull away from the madman’s grip and, when I can’t, I beat my fist against his chest, repeating the mantra of my escape until he’s unexpectedly clutching me to him, smothering my fear in the folds of his arms.

  “I believe you,” he murmurs, faltering, lips close to my ear, tones lighter and less terrifying than before.

  My heart is hammering in my chest. I gulp in as much air as I can between each hysterical sob, breathing in his comforting aroma. My face presses against his chest. It feels like the scent of him is calling to me.

  His fingers stagger through an uncertain swipe of my hair. My breathing slows as my body sags against his. I concentrate on the oddly comforting sensation as his confidence in the action increases; the feel of his fingers smoothing my tresses is actually helping. My hand clenches in his shirt front. I concentrate on the sound of his pulse beating against my ear. My face is damp, now, and so is his chest. Encased in the incredibly alluring scent of him, my own pulse is beginning to calm.

  “I’m going to help you figure this out.”

  Figure what out?

  “Nathaniel?”

  The female voice rings out from the top of the steps. My captor steps back and, worryingly, I don’t know if I’m relieved he’s released me from his grasp or if I want to keep his arms and scent around me.

  The woman looks over at me from the second step down. I’ve never felt so small beneath somebody’s glare. She’s wearing a coat that’s dusted with snow. A shopping bag is looped over one arm and her gloved hand is holding the leather slip she has already removed.