Alpha Prime: Shiftily Ever After(17)

For a little while today, back at the square, there had been a lightening in Miles’s mood. Anders was no Omega, but he was as close as a brother to Miles. The two of them had endured a hellish cubhood after the deaths of their parents in a pack war, with Miles’s uncle regularly breaking their bones and kicking their asses just to show that he could.

Anders had lost count of how many times Miles had intervened, challenging his uncle when he’d been on the verge of pounding Anders to death, and taking the beating for him.

Once Miles had turned eighteen and it had become clear that he’d be a Prime, his uncle’s assaults had grown more vicious – until Miles had turned on him when he was twenty-two, and fought him to a draw. Miles and half the pack had split off and moved into a very small territory, which was why they’d jumped at the chance to stake their claim in the new territory in New Hampshire.

Still, moving a thousand miles away from Miles’s uncle didn’t mean he could escape the scars of his childhood. Miles had been withdrawing more and more lately. He’d perked up so much that afternoon when he’d started flirting with that girl; maybe he just needed to get laid.

“What about the tall skinny blonde on the bus?” Anders asked Miles. “The one with the big rack?”

Miles looked blankly at Anders. “What about her?”

“She was definitely checking you out.”

Miles shook his head. “Not interested.”

That was too bad. Anders could tell that the raw power that lived just under Miles’s skin was in desperate need of release.

“You still got your eye on the brunette?” he asked.

Miles raised an eyebrow and let out a faint growl that said the brunette was not up for discussion.

Well, only one way to help his Alpha. “I’m up for some sparring,” Anders said to Miles. “I think you’re getting a little soft.”

Miles barked out a humorless laugh. “Hilarious. So you want me to kick your ass extra hard, is that what you’re saying?”

Anders refused to grimace. He was a shifter; he’d heal. “Ready when you are.”

Miles shook his head. “Nah, you’re in luck. I’ve got a meeting with a bear in a couple of hours. He won’t back off the beavers’ territory. Your ribs are safe for another day.”

Anders tried not to look too relieved, and directed his attention to Baldwin instead.

“So what about you? You going to seal the deal with the shifter lady you had your eye on?”

“Probably not.” Baldwin looked away, avoiding his gaze.

Anders couldn’t let it go that easily, of course.

“Why not?”

Baldwin heaved a sigh and flashed his packmate an irritated glance. “Because it was the coyote shifter who beat me with the stick.” And he turned and walked away as Anders threw his head back and howled with laughter.





Chapter Seven




A couple of hours later, Naomi, Dakota and Macy strolled up to the weather-beaten shack where Shaun had been staying before his untimely demise. It was half a mile from the town center; the walk hadn’t been too bad.

Naomi and Dakota had pooled their money to buy some groceries, and Macy had come along because she had a few hours to kill. She’d been accepted into a fox shifter pack and snagged a job as bartender at the Watering Hole, and she started training later that evening.

Dakota yanked open the sagging door and they gingerly filed into the shack where the children had been staying on their own since their uncle’s death.

“Wow, this place is certainly very…uh…” Dakota tried to find the right words. There were piles of garbage and empty beer bottles on either side of the front door, the refrigerator was filthy and empty, and the one bare lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling flickered ominously. The front door sagged on its hinges. There was one room that served as a kitchen and living room and another that served as a bedroom, and the sofa was stained and had springs sticking up out of the cushions.

“Nasty?” Macy said helpfully.

“Likely to collapse in the first stiff breeze?” Naomi added as she turned on the faucet in the small, dented sink. Rusty water gushed out, and she wrinkled her nose.

“I was going to say rustic, or something like that.” Dakota grimaced and began putting pieces of trash into the garbage bags that she and Naomi had brought with them. They’d also brought the ingredients for a stew, and Sophia the waitress had given them some cookware that the restaurant wasn’t using.

“Yes, nice try. Rustic, sure, we’ll go with that.” Macy arched a delicate red eyebrow.

“We need to have dinner ready for when the cubs show up. You start cooking, I’ll get the garbage,” Naomi said.