Chapter 2
Nothing in the world could take away the calm of a nap in your favorite chair with your cowboy hat resting over your face.
Knock. Knock.
That’s what I used to say before becoming Alpha. Not that I’d trade the title for anything. I’d fight for it, I’d kill to keep it, but I sure missed those quiet moments. They were few now, if any.
I growled and kept my hat put, “What?”
“Sorry, Alpha, but we have a situation,” my right hand, Phelan, said.
I lifted my boots from the desk, letting them flop to the floor. After I slid the dirty black hat onto my head, I gave my old-time friend a glare. “How much of a situation? Have a job in the Cove in an hour.”
“A job?” Phelan’s thick, blonde brows raised.
The half-spent cigar I’d rested on the ashtray still glowed a pale orange.
I snatched it and pushed on my thighs to stand.
“Yeah. The things I been doing lately to keep this pack funded?” Stacks of unpaid bills continued to pile up on my desk.
We could make do with little to nothing, but at least having electricity was nice.
“Right.” Phelan eyed the papers reading “Past Due” and beat his forehead against the doorjamb, an unusual cinch creasing between his eyes. “It’s just a squabble in the clubhouse. But it’s enough that it’s causing a scene.”
After I relit the cigar, I puffed on it several times and eyed him through the smoke haze. “Couldn’t handle a squabble, Phel?”
Phelan’s jaw set and his neon green eyes burned into mine. “I could have, but you’re going to want to see to this, Hark.”
I rolled the cigar between my teeth before biting down on it. As I slipped on my leather jacket, I headed for the door. “Lead the way, then.”
Phelan walked in front of me, taking the narrowest path through Plena Falls.
Within Arcane Cove’s protective wards, we remained hidden from humans, free to roam our timber forests.
There were many shifter types in the Falls—panthers, bears, lions—but we wolves were literally the big dogs.
The Falls had various territories, but everyone agreed on common ground.
Among wolves, three territories existed, each led by an alpha, with the Council handling inter-pack affairs.
My superior strength honored me with the most powerful pack.
We may not have had as cushy housing as other monsters in the Cove, but residential caravans and bungalows suited us fine.
Most of the pack spent little time in their homes, preferring to roam the woods in their shifted forms. I appreciated the space my loft gave me, the seclusion with room enough to spar without watchful gazes.
We arrived at the clubhouse with a dozen motorcycles parked in the lot. From inside there was the crunching of bone hitting bone and punching thuds. Fur covered my arms, but I held back until I gauged what the hells was going on.
“That’ll teach you to punch me, you little shit,” a male wolf barked.
Phelan stepped aside, and I slammed my open hand into the swinging wooden door. The room turned silent, everyone standing at attention as their alpha entered. Billiard balls bounced haphazardly on the tables, pool sticks dropping. One female wolf pulled the plug on the jukebox, stopping the music.
Magnus, an older male wolf, stood with his fist raised. He stared wide-eyed at me. On the floor at his feet was Quinn, a much younger wolf. Magnus had Quinn’s collar wrapped in his other hand. Quinn’s face bled, his one swollen eye already discoloring despite our healing abilities.
I rested the cigar in an ashtray, then moved toward the two males. Magnus continued to gawk at me, unable to decide on his next move.
With a menacing snarl, I curled my arm around Magnus’ shoulders, shoved him against the back wall and pinned him. “Quinn, stay where you are,” I barked. “Magnus, why the hells are you startin’ shit with a practical pup, hm?”
“I didn’t,” Magnus screeched. He pointed frantically behind me. “He did.”
“Look at me,” I said, using my Alpha influence. He wouldn’t be able to disobey even if he tried.
Magnus’s pale blue eyes cut to mine.
“Don’t care if the kid sucker-punched you in the nuts. You are supposed to be a better example as an elder. Do you understand?” The claws on my hands crept out.
“Yes,” Magnus replied.
My eyes turned into their more fierce, wolfish amber. I pushed into him harder. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Alpha.” Magnus nodded.
“Good.” I let my hand fall, but didn’t move just yet. “What are the rules about fightin’ in this pack?”
“I understand, I’m sorry, Alpha, it won’t—”
“What are the rules, Magnus?” I held up a claw.
Magnus gulped and ran a withered hand over his graying buzz cut. “The only fighting is when it’s an agreed spar, or—” He paused, gulping again and matching my gaze. “—or if you’re challenging the Alpha.”
“That what you’re doing, Magnus? Challenging me?”
Magnus shook his head, the color draining from his face. “Hells no. No, Alpha.”
“Good.” I patted his shoulder. “You’re on shit-closet duty for the next week.”
Magnus dropped his face into his hands. “Ah, hells.”
“Carry on,” I yelled to the rest of the wolves. The music cued up, and everyone turned back to their conversations, drank beer, and played pool.
Quinn leapt to his feet. I caught him by the neckline of his vest. “Not you, pup. We need to talk.”
Quinn was a thinner male who had yet to grow into his wolf, let alone his muscle. He had auburn hair styled in a crew cut, thick brows, and a stern jaw. Given his height already, he might be almost as tall as me one day. “Yes, sir? Er, Alpha, sir?”
“Just Alpha’s fine. Mind explainin’ to me why you started a fight not only with a member of your pack, but an elder?” I folded my arms.
Quinn’s gaze cast to his boots. “He said some very lewd comments about—about a female.”
“A female you’re interested in?”
Quinn rubbed the shaved part of his head. “Not exactly, no.”
Where the hells was he going with this?
I widened my stance. “Quinn, who was he talking about?”
“Miss Malia,” the pup answered, meeting my eyes again.
The wind blew from my lungs, and an anger I’d buried deep months ago threatened to rise to the surface. Malia.
“I was fully aware she was your mate and you’re my Alpha. I didn’t want him to slander anything about you, so I—” Quinn continued when I said nothing.
“She isn’t my mate, Quinn.” A growl wrapped those words, my voice going as deep as the caves.
Quinn leaned back, his eyes focused on the fur growing from my beard and up my temples.
I let a hand fall gently on Quinn’s shoulder. “Even if she was, it isn’t enough reason for you to go and get yourself killed. If I ever have a mate, you tell me, and I’ll take care of it. That is how you can honor your Alpha.”
Quinn blew out a breath. “Yes, Alpha. Understood.”
After patting his neck, I turned toward the door.
“Remember the last time he went full were?” A male wolf in the corner whispered to another, thinking I wouldn’t hear.
My shoulders stiffened, and I tossed them a glare. “What did you say?”
The male wolf’s black eyes bulged from his skull. He rapidly shook his head. “Nothing, Alpha. Nothing.” The wolf lowered his head.
The pack knew better than to bring up the incident involving my werewolf. No one had died that day, but there were enough injuries to make me put a leash on that side of me.
I sneered at the bold, black-eyed wolf, before moving toward the exit.
“Leaving already, Hark?” Phelan asked, a shit-eating grin on his face. He sat at a table with two female wolves lusting over him.
The one with blonde hair and jade eyes turned her stare on me.
The heady scent of her arousal coiled around my spine, begging me to notice her, but I wanted nothing to do with it.
As an alpha, females always lined up willing to submit to me.
I’d been far more frivolous in my youth, long before becoming alpha.
Now, with the responsibilities weighing down my shoulders, I took the opportunities in stride.
Nothing my hand and dirty thoughts couldn’t handle.
“Need a drink before headin’ on over to the Cove.” I adjusted my hat.
Phelan shook his beer bottle at me. The female hanging over his shoulder continuously ran her fingers through his long blonde hair. “Got plenty of beer here, friend.”
“Alone,” I gruffly replied before shoving my shoulder into the door.
“Suit yourself,” Phelan yelled.
A half-moon hung vividly in the sky, and I basked in its rays. I’d always been more of a night owl, preferring to sleep during the day if I could help it. Initially, I wavered when the Cove’s repairman job popped up, yet the lack of options led me to accept.
The metal slab door of my loft apartment was heavier in my palm tonight as I slid it aside. I grabbed a beer bottle from my restored Kelvinator fridge and pried the cap off with a claw. Blissful barley and hops glugged down my throat as I took a long swig.
There wasn’t much to my living arrangements.
A small dining table sat near the open-bay windows that I never used and probably had a hundred layers of dust on it.
A fifty-five-inch flat-screen TV hung on the living room wall with a black leather three-seater couch that I’d sat on a grand total of three times.
And the open-concept kitchen, complete with shelves of liquor, a back counter I used as more of a bar, and a stove that I only ever used to cook bacon.
Fuck. I was a walking contradiction.
Solitude grew more appealing as an escape from the pack’s confinements.
Yet, one look at my spacious apartment on some nights made the space suffocating.
Gulping down more beer, I clasped the counter’s edge.
The Malia situation had stung. Badly. The female whom I thought had been my mate, who had rejected me.
Later, I discovered she’d hired a sorceress to put a godsdamned charm on me.
She wanted to be an alpha’s mate, but when the charm wasn’t working fast enough on me, she grew impatient.
To find a mate wasn’t a given. It was a gift. I wanted a female in my space, wanted her to go into heat, wanted her to feel the desire to nest on the couch I never used.
When I finished my beer, I had the urge to throw it across the room, but tossed it in the garbage instead.
It’d been a while since my wolf adrenaline had been that unruly and yet one mention of Malia made it stir.
It took finesse to control, though it was also one of the many reasons I earned my place as alpha.
The simple black and white hanging clock chimed.
I sighed. Time to get to the Cove. With any luck, no one would notice a shifter fixing the tap and leave me the hells alone.
A wolf could dream. I hung my hat on a horseshoe peg by the door on my way out.
My Indian motorcycle waited for me in the driveway, the moonlight reflecting off its shiny chrome.
I glided my finger over the smooth handlebars, a smile cresting my lips when I reached rougher spots that held so many memories.
I patted the headlight. “Chastity, ‘ol girl, you’re the only ride I need.” Mounting the bike, I ignited the engine with its throaty purr and rode through the woods.
It was unmistakable when you reached the border leading into Arcane Cove, given the cheery welcome sign with scrolling text, starbursts, and the classic crescent moon. Unease seethed in my gut the closer I got to it.
This was a paycheck. It’d help the pack through another month. They depended on you.
I kept repeating these same words even when I pulled up alongside a dozen more parked bikes. Turning off the ignition, I sat back and stared at the lighted sign flashing on and off above the bar.
The Crimson Crypt.