The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Jackson

I wear a hole in the floor pacing at Garrett’s apartment. Sam is there, too. It’s two in the morning, but no one’s asleep. Jacqueline appears paler and more worn than this afternoon, her fear over Kylie aging her another ten years. I’d comfort her, but I’m ready to tear the building down.

The ding of Garrett’s phone makes everyone look. He reads the text aloud. Instantly, all his men stand, a unified force. It’s the first time I’ve had a warm feeling about a pack in years, maybe ever. But this solidarity, this support, is something I’ve cut myself off from.

I don’t fool myself into thinking they’re doing it for me. It’s clear they all love the old lady. Plus, they’re natural bred heroes. Garrett has an army of young, fierce twenty-somethings. Warriors, ready to defend their pack.

“That can’t mean too many places. There are warehouses on South Kino, and some south of downtown, on the other side of the train tracks.” He pulls a map up on his phone and holds it flat for everyone to see. “We’ll divide up, take drive-throughs. If you spot something, you call in. No one goes in on their own, understood?” Garrett barks the orders, and, for once, the alpha in me doesn’t even bristle. His head is way more level than mine right now. I’m grateful for his leadership.

“Jackson and Sam, take these square blocks east of Kino.”

I nod and head out the door, not even waiting for him to finish divvying up the areas.

Kylie needs help, and I’m sure as hell going to find her. We drive to the warehouse district and drive slowly up and down the streets and alleyways, looking for the Corolla. Thirty minutes slip by. Forty-five. The knot in my stomach is so tight, it’s twisted up to my throat.

My phone rings.

“We found it. 738 North Toole.”

I don’t bother answering Garrett, just step on the gas, peeling around the alley corner with a spray of gravel. I’m there in two point five minutes. I cut the engine before I reach the building and pull into the shadows. A motorcycle with one of Garrett’s soldiers already stands there. Three more pull in behind me, all equally silent and cautious. Smart boys, Garrett’s men.

We pull off our clothing and shift.

~.~

Kylie

I hear something outside, but no one else seems to notice. I hope it’s the cavalry but don’t dare let myself believe. Metal scrapes near the door, and all five men reach for their weapons.

“Shh-what was that?” Mr. X hisses.

I surge to my feet. “Hey, I gotta pee,” I announce in a loud voice. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Sit the fuck down.”

I walk forward. Maybe I took stupid pills, I don’t know. Maybe I was just so sure help was coming. I underestimated how trigger-happy and dangerous these men were.

Guy points his pistol at my chest. Stu-like a crazy man-jumps in front of me and takes the bullet just as the blast rings in my ears. I watch him fall, see the life slip from his eyes.

Damn. Stu just died for me.

Chaos erupts everywhere as the metal garage door shoves open and a pack of giant wolves flood in.

Guns fire. Bullets fly. Above the terrible ringing in my ears, I hear the whine of wolves being struck and the scream of men attacked by the beasts’ snapping jaws.

Though there are many silver wolves, there’s no mistaking mine. Huge. Majestic. Ferocious. He sees me at the same time, and it costs him a moment of distraction. One of the assholes aims and fires.

“No!” I scream and dive in front of him. Pain sears through me, through the front, out the back. White hot flames of heat. I try to keep running toward Jackson, but my body crumples into a heap. Satisfaction rises up and licks my face. For once I didn’t stand there and watch someone I loved die. Stu saved me. And, now, I’ve saved Jackson.

And yes, I love Jackson. I know it with absolute clarity. He is my safety. My home. He is my past and my future. My now.

Jackson leaps over me in a fifteen foot graceful arc, and a gurgling sound fills my ears. I don’t look, because I know he’s just taken my shooter’s throat out.

Then he’s here, beside me. He stands over me, protecting my fallen body with his own. Licking my face, whining.

A terribly prickling comes over my entire body. Flashes of heat strike me like lightening. My vision narrows to a tunnel, yet seems to sharpen. Sounds grow louder, smells stronger. My vision flashes to black at the same time my cells seem to split apart. I am nothingness and everything at once.

Holy afterlife, Batman. I just died.

It doesn’t seem fair. I’ve only just found Jackson. Allowed myself to admit my love for him. Believed we could be together.

My vision clears and, with it, all my pain returns with brutal intensity. I try to groan, but the only sound that comes from my mouth is a low growl.

Growl?

Jackson shimmers and shifts, his human face looming before mine. He blinks back tears, but he doesn’t look sad. His face is full of wonder. “That’s it, kitten. You shifted. You showed me your panther self.”

Panther self?

I look down at giant black paws. Holy shift, Catgirl.

Jackson strokes my muzzle. Smooths my fur. “You’re going to be okay, baby. Shifters can heal from bullet wounds.” He manages a watery smile. “Thank the fates. You shifted. You did it, baby.”

A beautiful rumbling sound comes from my chest. Purring. It increases the bite of the bullet wound, yet I instinctively know that’s good. It’s healing me.

Jackson continues to stroke my face and ears, staring down at me with fierce attentiveness.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Sirens sound nearby.

A wolf barks, sharp and loud. It sounds like an order.

Jackson scoops me into his arms and runs outside. I stare over his shoulder at Stu’s lifeless body. At a man who righted the scales of justice in the end. Became a hero in death, instead of a criminal. Something about his act righted more than this fucked up situation. It feels like redemption for my father’s death, too. Like the universe owed me. No, like the universe is showing me proof that there’s still good. That I can trust more than just family.

Hell, all around are people-shifters-who showed up to help me. Shifters who don’t even know me.

Sam is by the Range Rover, yanking on a pair of jeans when we get there. He throws the door to the back seat open for his pack brother, and Jackson climbs in, still holding me. Sam jumps in the driver’s seat and starts the vehicle, driving off without turning on the lights. The sirens grow louder.

I lay my heavy head in Jackson’s lap and close my eyes, the pain too much. He continues to stroke my fur and murmur softly and I believe-no, I know, without a shadow of a doubt-that finally, for once in my life, everything is going to turn out right.