alphainsheepsclothing

An Alpha in Sheep’s Clothing

Copyright © 2015 by Julia Talbot

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover illustration copyright Kris Norris

Used with permission

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SBN: 978-1-942831-04-4

Printed in the United States of America.

Published by Turtlehat Creatives: December 2015

An Alpha in Sheep’s Clothing

By Julia Talbot

Chapter 1

“I don’t want any trouble,” Rand murmured, knowing that his words bounced off utter futility. He never wanted trouble, but he got it the moment he walked into a bar and ordered a beer. Something about his lumberjack chic self called to all testosterone-ridden assholes on a cellular level, he supposed.

Tonight’s particular butthead had blond hair, an ugly glint in his eye, and the smell of too much whiskey on his breath. “We don’t like your kind here,” the guy said, reaching out to poke Rand’s chest with one pointed finger.

“What kind would that be?” Rand asked politely, trying to decide whether to break the finger or just tap the guy on his obviously glass jaw.

“Know-it-all jerks who have no business being in our town. I can smell you, fucker. You want our pack. Well, you can’t have it.”

Pack
. Rand glanced around at the suddenly still men in the room, all staring down at their beer. The one female, a leather-bustier clad bartender, disappeared through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, clearly ducking out of the line of fire.

“Out of all the bars in all the world,” he said, trying for ironic. Clearly this one was not a Casablanca fan, judging from the way the man’s scowl deepened.

“Yeah. This is our territory. You need to leave. Now.”

Hmm. Rand could do that, especially since he was just passing through on his way up to Montana. He didn’t want trouble, either, especially not with a pack of werewolves who took exception to a lone wolf.

Then again, he totally hated this posturing bullshit. Rand hadn’t even noticed these folks were like him because the bar had a sour, sort of rotting wood smell that disguised anything wolflike. They could have let him have his drink and move on, with him never even knowing they were there.

“I paid for this piss poor beer, buddy,” Rand said. “I think I’ll hang out.”

“What did you say?” The guy got all teeth-gritty and fist-clenchy, growling at him in a way that really put his back up.

“Let me put it in simple terms.” Rand looked the guy right in the eye and smiled. “Fuck off.”

He heard a kind of sigh rip through the barroom, and time slowed down as it always did when someone threw a punch at him. Rand had what his dad would call slow motion perception. Warrior reflex. Silly, since he was a damned forestry expert, not some pack enforcer.

The punch was drunken and clumsy and missed by a mile. The return one Rand threw had neither problem. He hit the jerk right on the chin, and something cracked under his knuckles when he connected.

The guy’s graceful swan dive to the floor ended in a thud that shook the glassware.

A hush reigned in the room for a long moment, the only sound the big screen TV with some sort of sports game going on. The crowd on the TV cheered while everyone in the bar stared at him. Then the weirdest echo happened, the men in the room clapping and screaming as loud as any rabid fans.

An older gent with a giant gray beard strode right up to Rand and grabbed his hand, pumping it up and down. “Welcome stranger. Welcome to the pack! And congratulations.”

“Congratulations?” Rand said. “Why?”

The man beamed, his beard splitting in half. “You won the fight fair and square. You just became the new pack alpha.”

***

Tate heard about the bar fight maybe ten minutes after it happened, at least according to Junior Henry, who made the rounds of the pack land like an outré Paul Revere. Curious to see what this new guy was gonna do, Tate pulled on his flannel jacket and headed out, wanting a seat for the show.

“Hey, Tate. Going to see all the hullabaloo?” Old Enoch Ballou fell in beside him, trudging along the showy track that led from their loosely connected cabins out to the main road.

“Might as well.” Tate was a man a few words most of the time, mainly because he got in trouble when he did open his piehole. No one liked a voice of reason when the ship was sinking.

“That’s what I thought. I imagine everyone will come along eventually, ’cept the elders who can’t get out.”

He fought rolling his eyes, because that would be rude. Enoch deserved Tate’s respect just for managing to live as long as he had. Hell, the guy could remember when the miners had begun to invade their territory.

They made it to Rosie’s, where a small, tea-totaling crowd had already begun to gather outside. Tate waded through the pack, wanting to see for himself if Farrel was actually down and out. Their (hopefully former) alpha wasn’t all that, really, but no one else in Wolf Pines wanted the job, and Farrel was a sneaky, backstabbing cheat.

He strode into the bar, the stink of the place making his nose burn. Rosie was a good woman, but despair was impossible to fight with alcohol, so the whole place had an air of desperation and a stench of fear and sweat.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The words popped out, because sure enough, Farrel lay on the floor, and he wasn’t even beginning to twitch. He must have tied one on for his natural werewolf healing not to kick in and get him up and moving again.

“Hey, Tate.” Rosie waved from behind the bar. “You want a beer to celebrate?”

“Nah. Beer leads to dancing and dancing leads to ass-kicking.” He winked, then scanned the long, scarred up bar for the new guy. There, with his back to the room, shoulders held stiffly, setting himself deliberately apart from the proceedings. Those broad shoulders, encased in a deep blue plaid flannel, could block the light if you got them at the right angle.

The hair stood up on the back of Tate’s neck and it wasn’t the only part of him to rise to attention. This guy had some serious primal energy.

Those shoulders stiffened up even more and the man whirled around, eyes moving over everyone in the room, stopping when the bright green gaze landed on Tate. The long, high-bridged nose worked, obviously scenting the air.

Tate stared back, not challenging, just unable to look away.

“He says he’s not taking the job,” Rosie said, making them both glance at her, which broke the weird spell.

“No? That’s a shame.” Tate walked over and nudged Farrel with his boot. “We need to take this one to the edge of town before he wakes up and dump him.”

“Seriously?” Mr. Not Alpha said.

“You beat him. You choose not to be our Alpha, fine, but you appoint your successor. Anyone but him.” Tate crossed his arms over his chest, his ears going red hot from standing up once again and saying what everyone else was thinking.

“Why not you?” The guy had this luxurious dark beard, more bear than wolf. God, he made Tate want to offer up his belly and privates for a sniff.

“Oh, Tate may look big and strong,” Rosie said. “But he’s not Alpha material at all.”

Now his cheeks flamed to match his ears. “Thanks,” he told Rosie, sotto voce. “She’s right, though. I tried several times to get Farrel gone and failed.”

“Wow.” The guy looked from Farrel to him and back several times. “Okay. Who would you recommend, then?”

The whole room went still, waiting to see what Tate said, and he wasn’t about to go there. “Someone help me get Farrel to his truck. Orrin, you’ll have to call a town meeting. The elders are best suited to make this decision.”

“I’m assuming you want me to attend this town meeting?” The big guy raised a brow, waiting.

“I hope you have a half hour or so, yeah.”

“I’ll help you carry him out.” The guy threw back his beer and tossed a twenty on the bar. Then he came and hoisted Farrel up on his shoulder like some kind of fantasy fireman. “Lead the way.”

“Uh. Cool.” They worked their way through the crowd, then stepped out into another one. The less rowdy folks outside parted for them like the Red Sea, and they made it to Farrel’s truck in moments.

“I’ll need his keys,” Tate said. He wrinkled his nose, because he didn’t want to dig in Farrel’s pockets.

“You got it. What’s your name, by the way?” The guy laid Farrel out on the hood of the truck and began patting him down.

“Tate.”

“I’m Rand.” Rand handed over the keys. “Should I put him in the back?”

“Yeah. That way if he wakes up he can’t get to us.”

“I can help that, too.” Rand took off Farrel’s belt and bound his hands quickly and effortlessly.

“You’re pretty good at that.” Hell, the efficient binding had left Tate’s mouth a little dry, thinking of Rand doing that to him for very different reasons. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Lots of practice.” Rand gave him a glinting grin, which didn’t help calm him down.

Tate opened the truck, then helped load Farrel into the truck bed. The drive would take maybe ten minutes. Their territory extended far up into the mountains, but it didn’t go too far past the main state highway on the front end.

He felt tongue-tied now, the lingering stiffness in his cock obvious where he sat in the driver’s seat, so Tate kept his mouth shut until they parked on the side of the road. “It would be easier if we left his truck here and headed back on foot.”

“Easier for who?” Rand stared at him, lips pressed together. When all Tate did was stare back, Rand sighed. “Okay, but I want to be able to come back for my clothes. I love this shirt.”

“Sure.” Tate watched, fascinated, when Rand began to strip down.

Oh, God, what a beautiful fucking man. Broad through the shoulders and chest, Rand had biceps that bulged with muscle, a furry mat of hair stretching nipple to nipple and then veeing down past his navel, narrow hips and an amazing bush of pubic hair. That hair surrounded the base of the most impressive cock Tate had ever seen.

His mouth watered.

Wrapping his clothes up inside his jeans, Rand made a neat bundle that he could push up into the branches of a nearby tree.

“You gonna save your shit, too?”

Tate jumped. “Yeah. Thanks.” He took off his clothes, turning his back to Rand, who chuckled, a low, hot sound.

“Nice ass,” Rand told him, and when Tate glanced over his shoulder, he saw real admiration in Rand’s expression.

“Okay… You do have a change of clothes near the bar somewhere, right?”

“I do. Last one there is a rotten egg.” Rand shifted into a huge timber wolf as if the transition took no effort, and ran, tail flat behind him like a rudder.

Tate blinked, then grinned a little, letting the wolf take his body, trying to keep the joy of running firmly in mind. He had the whole run back to the village to figure out how to convince Rand to stay on and be their Alpha.

Chapter 2

Rand lost track of the hot little size queen somewhere between dumping the drunk by the road and his truck, parked in the back lot of the bar. He shifted quickly, shivering when the night air hit his bare, human skin. Shit, he needed to go get his boots. His sneakers were great for a jog, but so not impressive when facing a crowd.

He could just go. This wasn’t his circus. The monkeys would be fine without him. All he had to stop for was his clothes. Something made him turn toward the bar, though, where all the barflies were pouring out and trudging down a dirt track toward the sleepiest little village he’d ever seen. The place looked like something out of Grimm’s fairy tales, not a real American town.

Ah, fuck it. Twenty minutes of pointing at some dude and abdicating his “Alpha” status and Rand could be on his way, right?

Right. He followed the crowd to a long, low building that resembled a Swiss ski lodge, all hand carved lintels and crossed timbers. Cute place, and it sure had enough forest around to make Rand happy. Not that he was staying. He didn’t do packs and quaint towns that time forgot.

Tate met him at the door to what was clearly town hall, the sun-streaked blond hair all ruffled. He wore a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans, along with boots which were not sneakers. No fair.

“Come on. They set up some chairs up at the front of the room,” Tate said.

“Are you gonna stay up there and mediate?”

Tate paused, brows rising. “You want me to?”

“I do.” Rand needed the help, and Tate knew everyone and Rand had seen that hard cock Tate had sported for him, had smelled the interest Tate had in him. Rand could count on this one to have his back, he thought. He hoped.

“Sure. I can do that.” Tate walked him up front, automatically hanging back a few inches behind Rand’s left shoulder. Perfect material for a second.

Even though Rand had no intention of becoming anyone’s Alpha.

They made their way up front, and Rand sat, sprawling in the little folding chair indolently, hoping he was being as insulting he wanted to be, because he wanted these people to know there was no hope.

Tate cleared his throat. “Uh, hey. Everyone settle down, okay? Just hush up.”

The crowd milled around for a few more moments, then the older gent Tate had called Orrin limped up to stand beside him, leaning on a cane.

Rand sighed because an empty chair sat on the other side of him, but the old fart clearly wasn’t gonna take it. The geezer was making a point. Rand stood. “Have a seat, Elder.”

“Thank you, son.” Orrin sat, one creaky joint at a time, then banged the tip of his cane on the floor. “I hereby call this town meeting to order. This meeting is all new business. Farrel has been defeated, and we have a new acting Alpha. He says he’s not interested in the job—”

“I’m not,” Rand interrupted.

“Ahem.” Orrin gave him a sideways glare. “So, we need to vote a new Alpha into office. You all take ten minutes to talk about candidates. Then we’ll put up names and vote.”

“What does it matter?” A lady with wild red hair stepped forward from the seating area. “No one here can beat Farrel.”

“Who is that?” Rand murmured to Tate, stepping back to let Orrin handle the debate.

“Mairi. She lost her husband and a brother in the fire a few years back. That’s why males eligible for Alpha status are rare.” Tate kept his gaze trained on the crowd.

“What happened?” Rand kept about a quarter of his focus on the debate raging between Orrin and several other folks now, but the rest he trained on Tate.

“Forest fire. We lost fifteen adult males and three teens. We kept the village from going up, but they were trenching the fire line and there was a flashover. Burnt them to a crisp in seconds.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah.” Tate shrugged. “I was the most likely one left, and I’m just not—I’m not it, you know?”

Rand shook his head. No, he didn’t get it. Farrel had gone down like a sack of bricks being dropped out a window. What the hell was going on? “Why not?”

“Two reasons.” Tate’s cheeks flamed again, the bright rose color so enticing somehow.

“Yeah? What are those?”

Tate lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “I’m queer for one. And for the other, I’m a total bottom boy.”

Well, now. That might be the most interesting thing Rand had heard in a month of Sundays.

***

Tate couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Out loud. To this stranger.

“Okay. Everyone shut up!” Tate shouted, needing to distract himself and Rand, who stared at him with speculation in that green-eyed gaze. “Time’s up! Anyone got any ideas?”

“I vote we just keep the new guy.” Amos Watson waved his crutch in the air. He’d lost a leg years ago in a logging accident. They all called him Tripod.

“Amos, he doesn’t want to stay.” Sometimes Tate felt like a third-grade teacher trying to keep the students from eating glue.

“Well, why not?” Emmajean Dorman said, then snorted. “He gets a house. We’ll even fix it up for him.”

“Fumigate it, you mean.” Mairi sighed. “Can we at least make our case to the new alpha?”

Tate glanced at Rand, who crossed his arms over his chest, making muscles bulge.

“Okay, shoot,” Rand said. “Five minutes.”

Mairi held up a hand when everyone tried to talk at once. “Let’s not waste time then. Look, we probably don’t seem like a bargain. We’re a bunch of weirdoes and misfits. On the good side, we don’t have a bunch of young bachelor males, so you won’t be fighting all the time. Our territory is expansive and impressive, but lot of it is inaccessible, so patrolling is easy. We have resources enough for everyone and we share, so you won’t need to worry about housekeeping and food, or getting married and popping out pups.”

“Sounds like you have it all worked out,” Rand said. “I appreciate that. How does the pack make money?”

“We lease some water rights.” Orrin ticked items off on his fingers. “We lease some grazing land to a buffalo farmer. Some of the ladies do high-end yarn spinning and weaving. We have solar, cisterns and a water wheel.”

Rand actually looked pretty impressed. Tate felt a tiny bit of hope flare in his chest. Maybe Rand would see something in them worth staying for. “Nice. So, tell me about Farrel.”

A collective sigh went through the room. Yeah. No one wanted to tell that tale.

“He’s the last Alpha’s brother,” Tate said. “He got it mostly by default.”

“So, I have to ask why he’s so scary.” Rand spread his hands. “I took him down with one blow.”

“That’s because you were meant to.” Mairi folded her arms, her chin jutting out. “Only the intended Alpha could do that.”

“Bullshit,” Rand said. “I come from a huge pack originally. We had bitter battles that lasted days, with ten, fifteen challengers trying to wear down the Alpha. There’s not a chosen one or anything.”

“We’re not an average pack. We’ve had to adapt.” That came from Mrs. Holloman, her wizened face screwed up in a deep frown.

“I can see that. I even admire it.” Rand looked at each of the pack members who had spoken in turn. “I can also see why you want me to stay, but I have a date with a mountain in Montana.”

Tate’s shoulders slumped. Rand wasn’t going to help them. Damn. He caught the sideways glance Rand threw at him, though, the interest clear, so he thought he might be able to come up with something. He would just need a few moments of privacy to make his case.

“So you won’t stay?” Mairi asked.

“No.” The word came out flat. Bald. Rand stood resolute.

“Then I vote for Tate,” she said.

“Mairi, no.” Tate shook his head. “I tried. You know that. I’m not an Alpha.”

“Seconded.” Orrin intoned. “All in favor?”

“Aye!” The resounding shout went up.

“Do you agree, Rand?” Orrin asked. “You can choose your successor.”

“He has my seal of approval,” Rand said.

“Then Tate is the new pack leader,” Mairi looked resigned.

Tate couldn’t blame her for her expression. They all knew this was hopeless. Especially Mairi. She was his sister after all.

“Woot.” Rand clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations. It’s been fun, folks.” With that Rand just turned and headed for the door, not even bothering to hide his haste to get away from them.

Tate shared a long look with his sister before following Rand out the back door of the meeting hall. “Hey! Rand. Can I have a minute?” He had a last-ditch proposal to make, and all Tate could do was pray it worked.