fate of the alpha - episode 2 (3 page)

Ainsley, showing not a hint of concern for the snapping jaws, stepped toward the wolf in the tub and placed her hand on his shoulder.

The wolf stilled instantly under her touch and seemed to slump, then thrust his huge head into her belly. Ainsley smiled down at him and scratched behind his big ear.

“Don’t shift unless you want to,” she said. “I’m Ainsley. The witch who just saved your life is a pack VIP, Grace. And the man is Julian, another friend to the pack. You’ve earned your place. Let me bring you somewhere you can rest, my loyal one.”

The wolf melted back into a young man. He knelt in the tub, his hands grasping the sides, his head still pressed to Ainsley’s middle.

He was naked and covered in blood. But he seemed utterly unconcerned about anything but basking in her acceptance.

At length, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Javier,” he answered. His voice was deep, yet awed.

“Thank you for your service to me today, Javier. I will show you to your room.”

With great dignity, Javier rose and stepped out of the tub. Then Ainsley beckoned and he trotted after her down the narrow hallway.

“I’m going straight to Ophelia after this!” Ainsley called back to Julian and Grace.

The astonishing scene had distracted Julian from Grace, but her presence struck him hard the moment they were alone.

Her hand was so small and soft in his, but feverishly hot. He looked down at their fingers, twined together, loving the way the honey of her delicate skin braided with his.

The room was silent again, but for the slight sound of Grace’s still rapid breath.

Julian met her gaze.

The hunger in her eyes prowled between them like a living thing.

It stole from Grace her usual serious demeanor. For once, the squared shoulders were rounded, her lips swollen from the kisses he hadn’t yet given her. In her exertions, some of her long hair had come loose from her ponytail so that she looked like she was already in bed, tousled and waiting for him.

She moved toward him and for a moment, he thought he couldn’t resist her - that he would never find the strength to deny what she needed and what he wanted to give.

But his conscience screamed at him, and he took a shuffling step backward. The forgotten mug in his hand smacked the mirror behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a gunshot.

Julian didn’t realize he had been holding his breath, until it came rushing out in relief that neither the mug nor the mirror had shattered.

Grace’s expression hardened, and she stormed past him to take off down the narrow hallway at a jog.

CHAPTER 5

E
rik awoke suddenly, sunlight stinging his eyes.

Someone was there.

Erik hadn’t been startled by another man’s presence since he was twelve years old and his wolf arrived.

He sat up as calmly as he could, stretching and trying his best to look unsurprised. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the dark blue of a police uniform. Great.

“Hey buddy, whatcha’ doing out here?” The officer’s voice was slow and guardedly friendly.

“I got tired last night and didn’t want to risk driving in the mountains anymore.” Erik replied. “And that moon was so bright...”

There were a lot of wolves in Copper Creek, but without his wolf’s sniffer, he couldn’t tell if he was talking to one now. Back in Tarker’s Hollow, the cops would have already fed him the pack line,
Did you notice the moon last night?
But this guy didn’t look like he was picking up on the clue Erik was trying to drop.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t Ophelia given him the local code?

He studied the cop. He was very tall, with dark, pomaded hair, big brown eyes, and deep smile lines, all of which gave him the look of a young Elvis, in spite of the fact that he was clearly at least sixty. A shining star insignia perched proudly on his lapel.

“Well, hell, I would’ve thought you’d be in a hurry to get into town and make new friends with a full moon in! You’re wolf, right?” the cop asked jovially.

“Uh, yes.” Erik glanced over his shoulder reflexively, as if someone might hear.

“No need to worry. We don’t get many outsiders ‘round here, so we don’t have to play your big city games. I’ll bet you have some fancy code words or something like that, don’t you?”

Erik smiled at the idea of Tarker’s Hollow being a big city.

“Yes, you’re right,” Erik said, the tension leaving his body. “We do have code words.”

“Ha!” The officer laughed a deep, rich laugh like molasses. “Hey Reggie, you hear that?”

“I hear ya’, Lonnie,” came a voice from the patrol car behind. Erik hadn’t even noticed him.

“I’m Sheriff Lonnie Muncy,” He offered Erik a meaty hand. “That’s my deputy, Reggie Walker.”

“I’m Erik Jensen.” The sheriff had a firm, dry grip, that reminded Erik of his father’s handshakes. But with less competitive squeezing. “Nice to meet you.”

“That’s a real pretty truck you got,” Sheriff Muncy said, gazing at it like he was trying to get up the nerve to ask it to dance.

Erik smiled proudly. It
was
a nice truck. He forgave it for giving him a neck cramp.

Reggie waved from the patrol car. He was a young guy with an old smile and a neatly trimmed Afro.

Erik waved back with a smile of his own. So far, so good.

“So what brings you to Copper Creek?” the sheriff asked. “You here to volunteer on the cave-in mess? There’s not much that can be done, you know?”

“Well, I was sent by the Federation to help, yes.”

There was a brief pause in which the sheriff cleared his throat and lifted his slightly stooped shoulders straighter. “
Erik Jensen
, oh yes. Yes, we’re glad you could be here. I’m sorry, I was expecting someone... older.”

“Uh, no problem,” Erik said, puzzled by the man’s expectations.

“We’ll escort you down the mountain,” Muncy offered. “You probably aren’t used to these hills.”

“Thanks.”

Shit.

Now he would be
in
town the night of the full moon.

Erik hopped back in the truck, wishing he could take a leak off the side of the road. His bladder would have to hold until he got to town.

By the time they got halfway down the mountain. he was pretty surprised he hadn’t already wet his pants a little. He couldn’t believe coal trucks drove around these mountains.

Coal trucks.

The guard rails didn’t even seem up to the task of stopping his pick-up from flipping down the ravine to the meandering creek below. Every half a mile or so, a driveway appeared to go nearly straight uphill at a ninety degree angle.

Twice they passed long, sandy embankments with signs saying
Runaway Truck Ramp
. He shuddered at the thought of being behind the wheel of a truck without brakes thundering down this mountain.

Just as Erik began to relax slightly and take in the beauty of the peaceful wooded mountain, they reached the valley and the heart of Copper Creek.

If the mountains were natural and lovely, the town was the opposite. A metal grate bridge, molting scales of sky blue paint, led the way toward a straight line of slanting frame buildings that huddled in the shadow of the mountain. The businesses were housed in plain white boxes with gray asphalt shingle roofs, as simple as a child’s drawing. They stared at him sadly as he drove past, their signs flapping listlessly.

There was something odd about this town. It felt like it was sepia-toned. Erik couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the thin layer of dirt that covered every sign, every car, and even seemed to line the faces of the people who stood on Main Street, watching the guy with the shiny pick-up truck drive into town.

The F150 was too fancy for Copper Creek. He should have brought his dad’s old truck. He hadn’t given it any thought, and now he felt like a dandy. Which was pretty funny given that driving a pick-up truck at all in Tarker’s Hollow made people assume you were the help.

The sheriff’s car pulled up on the pavement in front of a large brick building. The brick stood out after all the wood frame buildings, even though it was just a stout square with a flat roof.
Copper Creek Police & Fire
was painted on its wooden sign. The red lettering, which must have once been a brilliant scarlet, was covered with that same fine dust, as was the white background.

Erik hopped out of the truck in time to catch the door for the sheriff.

“Thanks, Doc.” said the sheriff. “We’ve got a packet in the office for you. Then you can figure out where to hang your hat.”

The entry had a simple varnished pine floor and a thick wool welcome mat. The sheriff and deputy wiped their feet on the mat energetically before continuing into the office. Erik followed their lead.

Huge metal pendant lights, so old they were nearly in fashion again, hung over the counter. The sheriff walked behind and fished around on a shelf for a few seconds.

“Here ya’ go.” He slid a large manilla envelope over to Erik. “This has your badge, so you can enter the site, and some other stuff the Federation said you’d need.”

Erik opened it and pulled out a piece of laminated card stock dangling from a black lanyard.

Erik Jensen, PsyD (Speciality - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

What?

In a desperate bid not to let his jaw hit the floor, Erik pressed his lips together and slid the badge back into the envelope.

“It was a long drive, do you have a rest room I could use before I figure out where I’m headed?”

“Of course, Doc, I shoulda’ thought of that.” The sheriff pointed to a door in the rear corner of the office. “Right back there.”

Erik gave a nod and strode as fast as he could for the bathroom.

Once inside he nearly collapsed. Ophelia hadn’t mentioned anything about this. She had specifically told him she needed someone
with his skills
. He’d assumed he was supposed to be here for his excavation knowledge, although digging foundations had very little in common with rescuing trapped miners. At least he could have faked his way through that role convincingly.

How was he going to pretend to be a psychologist? He was an excavator.

He gave up on trying to figure it out and relieved himself. It did make him feel better physically. But now he was left with the problem of impersonating a psychologist front and center.

Erik had never been to a psychologist professionally. There were psychologists who lived in Tarker’s Hollow, of course, but none of them exactly talked shop around town. Who would ever believe he was a psychologist if he didn’t know the first thing about what they did besides sit people on couches?

Or was that a psychiatrist? What was the difference?

Shit.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He needed to get out of the bathroom before the sheriff started thinking something was wrong with him.

The sheriff. Oh man. No wonder the sheriff was expecting someone else. Erik was wearing work boots, jeans and an old white T with a flannel on top. And driving a truck.

He stifled the laughter that threatened. He was going to need a psychologist himself by the time this was over. Taking a deep breath, he looked at himself in the mirror and willed himself to believe it was going to be okay.

He pushed open the bathroom door and strode back over to the sheriff.

“Thanks, I feel like myself again,” he said as jovially as he could. “Can you direct me to wherever the emergency workers are staying?”

“Well, Doc, you’ve got a choice. The workers were all put up in trailers out near the site, and I’m sure they have room for you there. But since you’re one of our kind, I have a better option for you. The Millers live in town and they have a room to let. They’re great people. LeeAnn’s husband is our alpha, and he’s down in that mine, so they could use a distraction right now. Would you be interested?”

Shit. Erik had to think fast.

If he went with the emergency workers, who were not from Copper Creek, they would quickly realize he wasn’t a real psychologist. If he went with the Millers, they would quickly realize he wasn’t a wolf.

The sheriff’s kind look was beginning to go cold, and Erik read between the lines. The Millers were wolves. Wolves stuck together.

“Sorry to hesitate, the name LeeAnn Miller rung a bell with me for some reason but I can’t place it.” Erik hoped that rang true to the sheriff. “Yes, I’d be honored to stay with the Millers, if LeeAnn has a place for me and doesn’t mind a stranger in her home at a time like this.”

The sheriff’s smile lines deepened again and he reached out as if to clap Erik on the shoulder, then thought the better of it and clapped his own hands together instead.

“That’s great, Doc. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have you. Let me give her a call now, let her know you’re coming.”

CHAPTER 6

A 
insley headed out as soon as Javier was tucked into the guest room bed.

He’d been so grateful and so submissive, and the moonlight through the window was intoxicating. Thankfully, she was too distracted to want to do more than coo over him sympathetically and then get the hell out of dodge.

As soon as her feet hit the front porch, she knew Cressida was waiting.

Thank god.

She didn’t have the patience for anyone else right now. Say what you would about her, Cressida didn’t stand on ceremony. Ainsley was learning to appreciate that quality more and more.

But where was Erik?

Was he really so out of touch with the pack that he hadn’t felt any of the danger and excitement? The idea frightened Ainsley more than she wanted to admit to herself.

“Where was Erik for all the action?” Cressida asked immediately from where she sat on the wicker sofa, without so much as a hello.

Ainsley set her jaw.

“He must be tied up with Ophelia.”

“I’d like to see that.” Cressida smirked, hopping up to follow Ainsley off the porch.

Ainsley stopped, turned, and gave her a taste of the alpha stare.