Alpha Domination (Alpha Wolf Book 1) Read online

  My vision is blurry. There’s tears and pain.

  What is happening to me? What if the wolf eats me? What if I die?

  “George? Georgina?”

  I can hear Nathaniel’s panting voice, but I can’t answer. I’m lying on the floor and everything hurts and the panic that’s coursing through my veins is making everything a million times worse.

  “Georgina, you need to breathe, okay?” He sounds out of breath. Ragged. But not a wolf. “Georgie? Dahlin? Come on.”

  His hand brushes the back of my neck. I yelp at the touch. Everything is sore and frightening.

  I don’t want to die.

  He brushes again, softer this time, through my hair and what feels like a half-mutated mane.

  “Georgie, you’re going to be okay. Focus on your breathing. Just focus and you’ll come back from the edge.”

  My vision clears as I follow his directions. I can see him, naked and crouched over me. He’s supporting my head with one hand. His gaze is on mine.

  “There you are.” A gentle, reassuring smile. “Just keep breathing.”

  The burning sensation recedes. My hands feel more like hands and my spine is no longer stretched tightly.

  “In and out. There you go.”

  I pant. My body is normal again. No more crazy goose bumps that sprout hair. No elongating muscles and bones. The first sob breaks and then another.

  Nathaniel is pulling me into his arms. I hold onto him as a life raft in a too strong current. He murmurs and strokes my hair. A few minutes ago, he was a wolf...

  A real wolf...

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it. He was telling the truth. And the truth is terrifying.

  Catharsis

  The mug he hands me is steaming and smells sweet. I hold it close and breathe it in slowly, crouched by the hearth. The fire warms my side.

  Nathaniel sits down on the rug in front of me, crossing his legs. His concern laps at the door of the numb bubble surrounding me. He’s dressed now, which is almost disappointing. Part of me thinks a good shag might make me feel better, but I know it won’t change the situation.

  My voice wobbles when I speak. I concentrate hard on the swirls in the top of the hot chocolate he’s handed me. “I... I was walking through the woods to... I thought it would feel normal again. To do something I did before I was... bitten.”

  I can sense him watching me, but I daren’t take my eyes from the drink. I’m exhausted from the crying and the fear and the almost transformation. I have no energy left to deal with his emotions, too.

  “And it was nice... at first. It was just a walk home from work. Like when that wolf... werewolf... It was... And I thought it was going fine. But then they surrounded me. Three or four of them. Snarling and I...”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the warmth of his hand on my knee through the thin jeggings. I want him to bundle me into his arms and make love to me. I want to forget everything and feel something intimate and strong. Stronger than the fear.

  It’s ridiculous and unthinkable, but I’m desperate for some kind of closeness. Nathaniel is the nearest thing I have right now.

  Maybe if I explained it to Carrick, he would... But no. I already know that he wouldn’t believe me. If I hadn’t believed it then he certainly wouldn’t. And if I showed him... If I showed him, then it wouldn’t matter if he believed me or not, any more, because he wouldn’t want to know. It would be too much for him.

  Perhaps our relationship was already too much for him...

  Oh god... What a mess.

  “Go on,” Nathaniel’s soft voice whispers.

  I swallow. “I ran. So much deeper into the woods... I’d smelled something before and I just thought if I followed it... But they were chasing me. Almost herding me. And I was so panicked.” He squeezes my knee gently. “I was so panicked that when the gunshots started, I... I...”

  “You changed?”

  I nod and sip my drink. It scorches. My lips compress, holding tightly onto the sensation of burning over the feeling of numbness clouding me. “That’s when I was shot. The wolves dispersed and I... I just ran... I ran until I blacked out.”

  He wets his lips. “You said you smelled something...?”

  I look up at him, over the rim of my mug.

  “What did you smell?”

  “You...”

  He blinks. “In your human form?”

  “Both...”

  “Hmm...”

  He considers me thoughtfully. I want him to reach over and kiss me until all I can feel is oblivion. But I know he won’t. Why would he? I’m a stranger. He’s a stranger. Desperation and shock are getting the best of me.

  “Drink your drink before it gets cold.”

  He moves to the sofa, picking his book back up. I stare into the flames of the fire place. It feels weirdly comforting to have told him what happened. Anyone else would think I was crazy. Hell, I thought I was crazy.

  “I’m... sorry,” he says. I glance over. “About forcing you to confront the truth. Maybe I could have handled it better.”

  I nod and return to staring at the fire for a few more moments. He settles himself on the old couch, opening his book and sifting through pages. “Nathaniel...?”

  “I liked it when you called me Nathan,” he mutters.

  Surprise arrows through me. I risk another look at him. He’s still reading. “Nathan...” I test the word slowly. It feels like I’ve been given the key to a door. Something has altered between us and I’m not sure what. Except...

  I don’t feel as afraid of him as I did.

  “What is it like when you... change properly?”

  He considers me for a moment. “Well, the change itself hurts. Moreso when you first start out. And then you get used to it.” I must be pulling a face because he hesitates in his description. “Someone in my pack once told me that it’s like plucking your eyebrows. That it’s painful the first few times, but that eases into a discomfort you can deal with.”

  I nod, mutedly.

  “And being a wolf... You coordinate differently, but, again, that gets easier with practise. Your hearing and sight become more acute when you’re bitten, anyway, but when you’re in your wolf form it’s much stronger and so is your sense of smell.” He pauses. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll have to. Once every three months or more. Otherwise your body will start to crave it and you might do things you don’t mean to do.”

  He turns back to his book and let’s me marinate for a few minutes. I don’t like the idea of having to become an animal regularly. The terror of what happened in the basement is fresh in my mind.

  “Nathan...?”

  His gaze flickers over me.

  “Now that I know the truth... that I’ve accepted it... I can go home, right?”

  “No. Not until after your first full moon. That’s when your body and mind will settle.” He’s flipping through pages as he speaks, frowning at the content. “Both sides of the coin, werewolf and human, will fit better together then. Before that, you could kill somebody without meaning to. Murder, even accidental, isn’t good for a soul like yours. And...”

  His eyes wash over me.

  “And I need to find out who turned you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they shouldn’t have. And because this is my territory.”

  I drink some more of my hot chocolate, listening to him flicking through the pages in his book, searching for something. He seems to think the wolf that bit me, turned me on purpose, but I have no idea why anybody would want to do that. I don’t think I have any enemies. I relay this to him and gain another long, thoughtful stare.

  “They didn’t do it to hurt you. They did it because they wanted a female werewolf of their own and thought you were a good candidate.”

  I blink. “Why would I be a good candidate?”

  He shifts and a deep furrow arrows down his brow. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re female... and
I guess you’re easy on the eye?”

  “Well, that’s a compliment if I ever heard one,” I mutter, not quite sure how to take his answer.

  He waves my remark away. “My point is, I don’t know their criteria. Especially without knowing who they are.”

  I shift so I’m facing him more, still cradling my mug. “What if it was you? What if you were going to turn a woman? What would you be looking for?”

  “I don’t turn people,” he answers irritably, glaring into his book and whipping over another page.

  “How do I know that? You could have been the one that turned me.”

  He sighs and sets his book on the side table, shifting his body to face me. “I assure you, I wasn’t. I don’t have plans to turn anybody around here. I just want to be alone.”

  A frown furrows my forehead now. He seemed tired when he said those last words, but I can’t figure out why. “So, humour me. If you were looking to bite a woman, what would make you choose her?”

  He rubs his face and clears his throat. “Most werewolves probably want a submissive female. One they think will do what they want, think what they want, follow the rules. That sort of thing.” He glances up, meeting my gaze almost apologetically. My breath catches in my chest. “They’d want someone isolated. Someone who doesn’t have enough friends or close family that would be looking for them.”

  I can feel my heart sinking.

  “They want someone they can mate with. And a woman they think might survive the bite.”

  “You mean... there was a chance I could have died?”

  Nathan shifts uneasily. “Women don’t take the mutation as easily as men, Georgie.” He pauses. “You’re lucky.”

  But am I? Because, from what he’s said so far, I don’t feel like it.

  “There are other women, though. Right?”

  He sighs. “Yes. A few.”

  I take a thoughtful sip. “You said you know their names. Do you keep tabs on them? Are you waiting for a mate?”

  He snorts, his expression a flash of disgust and irritation. A hand swipes up and runs through his messy hair. “No. I told you. This place was supposed to be free of other werewolves. I was supposed to be alone.”

  “So why do you keep tabs on them?”

  “All male werewolves do.” He sighs, not meeting my eyes. “It’s like a compulsion. It’s something to do with being part animal and... And the need to breed. Besides, bitches are either renegades purely out for themselves or they’re submissive mutts that follow their alphas. Sometimes alphas even trade sex with their bitches to other alphas or lone wolves they want to keep in hand. Female werewolves are useful pawns.” He sighs. “It’s just a good idea to know who the she-wolves are, where they are, and who they answer to. Safety 101.” He glances at me. “Other werewolves are always dangerous.”

  I take a long, slow draught, mulling over what he’s said. “So, whoever turned me... They’re going to try to find me, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell them where I am? Or will you protect me?”

  He huffs and strides to the kitchen area, keeping his back to me. “You’re not my main concern.”

  I feel my jaw drop. Main concern is pushing it, but I thought he’d have at least some concern. Why else would he be holding me there? I put the mug down on the hearth, watching the tension in his back. He leans over the sink and draws a cold glass of water from the tap.

  “Excuse me?! Then, why are you keeping me here? Why are you making sure I can control my change? Why did you pretend you were helping me?”

  He rests against the edge of the counter, watching me with an unreadable expression. “Look, dahlin, you’re here because you found your way to my door. I didn’t kill you because you didn’t ask for this curse and, as of yet, you aren’t working for anyone. But someone did turn you. Someone who’s come into my territory. I don’t want you or anyone else fucking up what I have going on here.”

  I stand, feeling anger lance through my veins, but it doesn’t translate itself into anything useful I can throw at him except for a glare.

  “So yeah, I’ll teach you to control yourself because I don’t want you eating any humans and drawing any attention to me. And because I feel sorry for you.”

  My fists clench. Sorry for me?!

  “And I’ll let you stick around because these guys will come for you. And when they do, I’ll make sure they stay out of my territory for good.”

  He looks pleased with himself, but my face is a picture of revulsion. My fists shake and I force myself to hold still. This arrogant bastard only cares for himself. I’m not here for him to help me. I’m here to be a pawn in his game. Just like the other werewolves he’s been talking about! I’m his fucking bait! He’s only using me to find these ‘intruders’ and then...

  My teeth are gritted when I speak. “And then what?”

  He frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “What happens to me after you’ve sorted out these... these people?”

  “Oh...” He folds his arms. The expression on his face darkens. “You get far away from here and you stay far away from here. I don’t want them around and I don’t want you around.”

  He takes a couple of steps towards me, leading him out of the kitchen but still keeping him far enough away that I can’t wrest my fingers around his throat.

  “I let you live, but you’re done with Washington. Go back to England or whatever, but you get out of my territory and my life. Your scent alone will cause me complications with randy dogs coming after you.”

  My jaw has gone slack again, but my fists are still clenched. I can’t decide whether I’m outraged or freaked by what he’s said.

  “In exchange, I won’t tell anybody your name or that you exist as a female werewolf.” My mouth closes, trying to decipher whether he thinks this is some sort of kindness he’s doing for me. “You’ll still spend your time running from them, but if you stay deep in with the humans, like a city, you’ll be safe.”

  “You’re not in a city.” I almost spit the words, anger working my jaw.

  “I’m not the weaker sex of a feral supernatural race.”

  “Fuck you,” I snap, and find myself storming down to the basement like a teenager.

  Parole

  The clothes hit my back as I’m sure he intended them to. His voice comes from the bottom of the stairs, telling me to get changed. There’s a flash of headlights on the wall opposite, signalling Hattie’s departure. I remain motionless on my shitty mattress until I hear Nathaniel retreat from the room.

  I’m not locked in any more, but it’s clear I won’t get much further than the front steps so what would be the point in trying. I’m still seething after our earlier exchange. He thinks he can control me and set out how my life will be. Well, tough. He won’t.

  I am a strong woman.

  I am.

  And I will break free of this.

  Nevertheless, curiosity gets the better of me. The clothes are more colourful than the others I was given, but there’s still no bra. Maybe he thinks I’d choke him with it. Maybe I would. Sifting through the material reveals a gold, sequinned halter neck that I wouldn’t be seen dead in and a button up pleather skirt with stockings.

  I hold the stockings up in front of my face and grimace at them. What the fuck is going on? Closer inspection reveals them to be hold ups. I immediately consider ignoring his order to get changed, but it occurs to me these aren’t clothes to wear around the house.

  It takes a while to dress. I want to know what the outfit is for, but I don’t want him to know I’m curious. That and I’m still pissed at him.

  Eventually, after fighting myself, I climb the stairs, the stockings strangely silky underfoot. They feel like they’re shimmering against my thighs beneath the skirt.

  He’s sitting on the sofa in a leather jacket, still leafing through that damn book. I can’t figure out whether I’m mad at him for ignoring me or just plain mad at him. To make it worse, the l
eather jacket frames his figure ridiculously well.

  He glances at me, firelight flickering over his stupid features. The note of appreciation in his eyes is quickly smothered. He tosses a parka at me and then points wordlessly to some boots waiting by the front door.

  “Are you sending me out in the snow to my death?” I hiss scornfully, unable to hold in my curiosity any more.

  He smirks at my acidic reaction. “Melodramatic.”

  I stomp across to the boots and put them on. Fuck him and fuck the boots.

  Fuck the parka, too.

  I shove my arms into the sleeves and zip it up. It’s comfy. And warm. And dumb. He seems amused when I stand angrily by the door, folding my arms across the puffy expanse of material. Stupid parka. It’s not even long enough to warm my legs in this dumb skirt.

  “We’re going to the bar.”

  He jingles some keys and strides past me as I gawp.

  “Come on. Get in the truck.”

  The cold air blasts as he opens the door. His footsteps crunch in the snow. I slam the door of the cabin behind me. Snow shudders from the roof like it might all come down on top of my petulance, but I refuse to look back, following him towards a crappy looking pickup instead. White flecks gather in his hair. The ivory blanketing the ground is so deep I feel like an unsteady flamingo walking through it in these flimsy boots.

  “I’m not a dog,” I yell, still trailing him as he commands.

  I can hear him laugh over the wild wind.

  Bastard.

  He gets in and turns the ignition. I climb in beside him, slamming the door and ramming my seatbelt into place. The stockings feel weirdly silky and I’m constantly drawn to the sensation. It crosses my mind that maybe other women wear them for their own pleasure rather than in order to turn a man on. Nathan’s stray glance as he drives assures me he’s not immune to the way they look, though.

  “Where are we really going?”

  “I told you. The bar.”

  He seems irritatingly pleased with his answer. My hand smooths over the door handle. Something clunks. I glare at him. He’s switched the door lock on. Fucker.