Alpha Ever After (Midnight Liaisons Book 5) (2 page)

I'm an alpha. I've known that all my life. But up until now, I've been an alpha without power, and without reason to fight for power.

But I'll fight for Savannah.

It doesn't matter that she doesn't trust me and won't understand why. Every instinct in my body is screaming that I defend her, protect her from those that would harm her -- even if they're my own pack.

First, however, I need to make sure she's all right. I head toward the bed again and hate that she moves backward. The possessive wolf inside me wants her to submit sweetly to me - not cringe in terror. My nostrils flare, catching the minute details of her scent as I loom over the bed. I long to touch her, but I won't. Instead, I scan her with my gaze and look for injuries. There are bruises on her arms, and the neck of her shirt is stretched out, as if someone grabbed her by it...

Or if someone tried to yank it off of her.

Anger flares inside me, like a match meeting gasoline. With one last look at the captive woman, I turn and storm out of the room and down the stairs, letting the heat of my rage fuel me.

I'm not allowing this shit any longer. Not if I can make a change.

Because the wolf inside me is howling that Savannah's mine. And they've touched what's mine.

W
hen I head downstairs
, everyone's seated just as I left them. The nearly empty, run-down house doesn't have much in the way of comforts, but there's someone sprawled over every inch of the beat-up couch, and Buck rolls around in wolf form nearby. My uncle is playing dominos with Wyatt on a folding table, and there's a few cans of beer on the table, along with an empty bag of chips.

So nice of them to have a little party while a woman's chained upstairs, frightened. Fucking kidnapped to be used as a pawn. My anger boils.

Uncle Levi casually shoves a domino across the table at Wyatt. He glances at me, spits out a chaw of tobacco, and then nods. "She bein' a good girl?"

"You okay?" Gracie asks me, her voice quiet. She hasn't moved from her spot by the fireplace, but I see tension vibrating in her body. Gracie and I are closest out of the pack, for all that she's a bit of a loudmouth and a flirt. Of course we are. She’s my sister. We're both outsiders here with my cousins - Gracie because she's the only girl, and me because I'm not content with being a redneck bully like my cousins are.

"Probably got his panties in a bunch over the girl," Wyatt jokes, and moves to put a domino on the table. "You should have seen--"

The simmering fury I’ve been holding back bubbles over. I grab the edge of the table and flip it, sending it crashing into a nearby wall.

Wyatt flings himself backward, the folding chair dumping him on the ground. My uncle Levi jumps to his feet, a snarl on his face.

"What the hell's your problem?" He demands.

"Taking her isn't right. This is bullshit." My fists clench hard. "I won't be part of this."

Levi's head tilts, ever so slightly. A predatory gleam enters his eyes. "That a challenge, boy?"

His words are chosen to get me riled. I'm taller than him, I can bench four hundred, and I'm not a boy. I'm sure not
his
boy. "It is."

"Knew it was coming," Levi says casually, but I can see tension in his body. He's preparing. Waiting for me to attack. "Not gonna let you pick a girl over your family, though. Pack comes first."

"The pack is wrong."

"You ain't gonna say that when you have a new sweet wolf piece to fuck. But go ahead." He flicks his hand at me, inviting my attack. "Come on."

I lunge at him, full of anger. He immediately sidesteps, a cowardly move. But that's my uncle - a coward. A sly coward, but a coward nevertheless. I skid to a halt and then turn and head for him again. I pull my fists close to my chest and assume a boxing stance, because I've been taking fighting lessons.

I've been preparing all my life to challenge him. Because we should be better than we are. We shouldn't be a bunch of piss-ant morons fighting for scraps and bickering over little things. We should be intelligent and powerful and help each other instead of tearing each other down. And we're never going to get better under my uncle's rule.

He smirks when I fake a jab and he blocks it. That's fine, I'm testing him. I feint to the left, and when he goes to block it, I swing hard on his right, and my fist connects with his jaw.

He's no longer laughing now. With a snarl, he grabs me by my shirt, and then we're really fighting. Fists flying, punches everywhere, kicking, vicious grabs of skin - any and all leverage counts. He flings me to the ground but I get right back up, rolling over and bounding to my feet. I land a punch in his side and he wheezes, then returns it. Over and over we hit each other, and I can see my uncle is starting to slow. I'm still fierce, though. Still strong and full of energy. 

I've got him.

His next punch comes in slow, as if he's tiring, and I easily block it, ducking low. Something hits the back of my leg, right behind my knee, and I go sprawling to the ground.

One of my dickface cousins kicked me, knocked me down when my back was turned. They don't want me to win.

And I won't, because in the next moment, Levi's foot is on my throat, pinning me to the floor. "You yield?"

I consider for a long moment. Fury courses through me, but I'm not left with much of a choice. If I don't, he'll crush my windpipe.

I give him a quick, grim nod.

He shakes his head at me. "You need to learn, boy. I'm in charge around here." He slaps my cheek lightly, looks over at my cousins, snaps his fingers, and points at me.

To a man, they pounce. All except Gracie, who watches near the fireplace with a frown on her face, hugging her knees. They kick me and pound their fists on me until my entire body is aching and battered, and I'm pretty sure I feel a rib crack. I endure it as my punishment for failure.

It’s an asskicking for daring to challenge. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll never give up until the day my hand is on my uncle’s throat.

Soon, I tell myself as another boot smacks into my ribs. Soon.

After a few minutes of the stomping, Levi seems appeased. "Let him up."

They stop pounding on me long enough for me to stagger to my feet. I do, my body aching and blood trickling out of my mouth and nose. Even beaten, I'm still bubbling with barely contained rage. If I had the strength, I'd challenge Levi again, right this second.

"Show me your throat," Levi growls.

It fills me with anger, but I know if I challenge again in such a short period of time, they’ll try to figure out what has me so riled. They’ll know it’s Savannah, and they’ll try to punish me - or her - for it. And I need to be close to her to protect her. My nostrils flare and I tilt my chin a little. Just enough to be submissive. For now.

He slaps my face lightly again. "Good boy."

I grit my teeth. I hate that I have to take that. 

"You're so in love with our captive, you're in charge of her," Levi says. "You get nights. I'll have one of the boys watch her during the day."

I nod slowly. To him, that probably sounds like a punishment, but I think it sounds fine. If I have to hold Savannah captive, at least everyone won't be hanging around at three am. I turn to leave.

"Where you goin'?" Levi asks. "I said you had to watch her. That starts tonight."

"You feed her yet?” I don't turn around. My fists are clenched so hard I'm digging wounds into my palms, but I don't care.

"Naw."

"Then I'm going to go get her something to eat. Just because we’re holding her hostage doesn’t mean she has to starve.”

Levi snorts.

“You said you wanted her whole so we could do the trade, right?”

He just raises an eyebrow at me.

I show a hint of throat again just to appease him. “I’ll be back shortly."

Right after I catch my breath and pound my frustrated fists into the bark of a tree.

I must be dreaming, because I smell french fries and hamburgers. My mouth waters and I sit up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes a few moments before Connor Anderson comes into my dark room again.

I recognized him the moment I saw him. The only Anderson 'worth not killing' according to my brothers, Connor's the only one out of his unruly pack that has ever reached out to the Alliance. I heard he got slapped away again, and it never turned into anything, but i recnogized him from a few Alliance functions. He's quiet, with dark eyes and dark, curly hair. Very Henry Cavill. Strong, square-jawed and silent.

Our paths have never crossed much. He is part of the wolf pack, and they do their best to stay separate from all things Alliance. And since my cousin Beau is the head of the Alliance, well…we run in different circles.

The man that enters the room isn't the same man that came up just a few hours ago. His pressed linen shirt has been near-shredded and is covered with grime and what smells like blood. His pants have a rip at the knee, and his usually well-kept short hair is mussed. His face is wrecked, too.

I want to wince sympathetically, since I'm pretty sure his is the ass-kicking I heard downstairs earlier. He tried to stick up for me, and I'm grateful for that. I keep my expression neutral, though, until I figure out if he's going to take out his frustrations on me. He's an Anderson; I wouldn't put anything past him.

Instead, he holds the bag of food out to me. When I don't take it, he walks past me, sets it on the corner of the mattress, and then goes to the opposite side of the room and sits down on the floor. He leans back against the wall and just watches me, wolf eyes glowing in the darkness.

I haven't eaten since lunch, which was probably well over twelve hours ago. Shifter metabolism is crazy fast, and I'm starving. I peek into the bag and the smell of fast food fills the air. I glance at him and then shove a few fries into my mouth.

He just rubs a hand down his face. "Sorry it's not anything better. Not a lot of places open this late."

"It's fine," I say between bites. There's a water bottle at the bottom of the bag and I open it and take a huge gulp. So good. "Thank you."

He grunts a response and just watches me. 

I scarf down the food quickly, half afraid someone's going to show up and take it away from me again. When it's all gone, I take the napkins out of the bag, intending to wash my face with the few sips of water I have left. I wipe my hands clean and then look over at him again. His face is a mess. "That because of me?"

Connor's mouth presses into a firm line. "Lots of things."

"But mostly me?"

He nods again. 

"Thank you," I say in a small voice. It feels weird to thank an Anderson, given the circumstances, but Connor’s clearly unhappy with the situation. Heck, he’s unhappy enough about it that he took some fists to the face. The least I can do is thank him. “I appreciate that you tried."

He snorts, and for a moment he looks defeated. "I'm not a fan of my uncle's methods."

"Me either."

He glances over at me, startled by my response, and his bruised mouth curls up in a hint of amusement. "No, I guess not."

It gets quiet between us. I slosh the bit of water left in my bottle, and then strain my ears, realizing that it's silent downstairs. "Are we alone?"

He nods wearily. "I'm afraid I'm your guard dog for nights, until the exchange is made."

"What exchange?"

"They say there's a female wolf in the area. Our pack's low on women, so my uncle thinks this one should belong to us."

My brows furrow. "I don't know of a female wolf in the area. There’s not one in the Alliance.” If there was, I still wouldn’t tell him, but I’m positive there’s no new shifter females in the area.

Connor shrugs and raises one knee, resting a bruised arm against it. "If there isn't, they'll figure it out eventually and let you go."

It's that whole 'eventually' thing that worries me, though I don't say anything to him. I'm sure he remembers my reaction to him from earlier. Even now, I feel weird, tingly prickles of arousal at his scent. Maybe it's that he tried to defend me. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's that this is the first time I've noticed that Connor is smokin' hot despite being a wolf.

Whatever it is, I'm definitely noticing him, and not in platonic ways. I didn’t even react like this to my boyfriend Chris and I was around him a lot. But five minutes with Connor Anderson, enemy wolf, and I’m all rock-hard nipples and aching loins. Greaaaaat.

I wince when he rubs his face and more blood smears on his cheek. "You're still bleeding." I touch the corner of my mouth to show him.

He mirrors my touch on his face and only manages to smear more blood.

"You're making it worse." I hold out my napkins.

"Then fix it for me." He gets up and before I can protest, drops onto the corner of my bed.

I recoil a bit, but when he doesn't reach for me, I relax. I have to keep reminding myself that Connor's not like the others. That he fought to have them release me. He's not going to jump me. Actually, looking at him, I'm surprised he's still upright. He looks wrecked.

So I open the water bottle, wet the napkins, and then gently press them to his cheek. He doesn't move a muscle, but his breathing changes. His gaze is on me as I lean in and swipe at the dried blood on his face. "You went and got me food looking like this?"

"They weren't going to feed you," he says gruffly. "Didn't want you to suffer just because they're shitheads."

I gently dab at a scrape on one of his high cheekbones. "You must have scared them at the drive-thru. They were probably terrified at the thought of getting your order wrong."

For some reason, that brings a smile to his face. "They did supersize me for free, come to think of it."

I chuckle. Up close, Connor's more than just handsome, he's downright beautiful. God, even his pores are nice. And his eyebrows are perfect. Thick and arching. Jeez, why am I noticing someone's eyebrows? He also happens to smell incredible under all the blood.

I bite my lip because another surge of unwelcome desire is flooding through me. I should pull away from him, but my nostrils flare and I inhale even more of his scent. I can feel my panties getting damp again, just from his nearness.

What would it be like if he actually touched me?

I gaze at his mouth for too long. It's full, and there's a little dip in the center of his bottom lip that makes me want to lick it. When I look up, he's gazing at me.

And my nipples prick in response.

"Do they know?" he asks in a husky voice.

My nipples? “Know? Know what?”

"That you're going into heat?"

Oh. That. My eyes widen and I jerk away from him. "W-what?" How does he know?

"I can smell your scent," he murmurs. "When I get close to you, your pupils dilate and your nipples get hard. There's only two explanations for that - you're either into submission or you're going into heat."

"I'm--I'm not a submissive," I tell him. My face burns at the thought. I decide to lay my cards all out on the table. "I'm actually going into heat. You guessed right.”

Connor's eyes widen. "You're kidding me."

"I wish I was." Tears prick my eyes. "You're not going to tell them, are you?"

"Fuck no." He pulls me against him and to my surprise, he hugs me tight. "Don't cry, okay? It fucking kills me to see you like this as it is. When you're strong, I can take it. But if you cry, it'll destroy me."