Bride of the Alpha(2)

Camille was calling me to beg for help. She was in love with a nice young coyote shifter named Freddy, she told me, but she didn’t dare tell Kray about it because he’d never approve.

Kray had just informed her she’d be getting married at week’s end. Maxwell, an Alpha, was at the age where he needed to leave the family compound and start his own pack on his family’s property, and he also wanted to form an alliance with the Iron Claw pack now that Kray was a powerful Alpha who’d successfully expanded his territory.

She was desperate to get out of this marriage, and get out of Colorado altogether. That sounded like the best thing all around; every time I’d talked to her since she’d left college, she’d sounded more and more depressed. The bright, bubbly, girl I’d known was turning into a shadow of her former self. I got the impression that things were miserable at the Iron Claw pack’s compound.

So when she called me for help, I’d sprung into action right away. I happened to know a powerful shaman who specialized in disguise spells. I sacrificed most of my savings to pay for that charm, but it was worth it. She managed to convince her uncle to let her meet me at a coffee shop near her compound, to say goodbye to me – with two guards standing nearby, glowering at us. I’d clasped her hand, and slipped the charm into her palm so it could touch her skin and absorb her essence before I took it back.

The switch would be pretty easy, I figured. Saturday morning would be chaos at the Timber Valley compound. Tons of people pouring in, catering, family from all over, as well as other packs come to celebrate the Alpha’s wedding, and, if their pack was anything like mine had been, probably shifters from other species coming to pay their respects. An Alpha wedding was a big deal, and also an excuse to throw a wild party that lasted for days.

I knew exactly what building she would be staying in. I’d shift to wolf form, run onto the property, and nobody would even notice me, because of all the confusion. What’s one more wolf running around when there’s hundreds of shifters milling about? I’d sneak into her building, change into her form, she’d shift to wolf form, and make a run for it. Frederick would be waiting for her about ten miles down the road.

I would stay looking like Camille, and go through with the wedding, to buy her time. There would be ceremonies, a reception, speeches, blah blah. At least that’s how my pack did things, and all the packs that I knew of in California.

I figured the groom and I would head back to the wedding suite by mid afternoon. By then, I’d have bought her enough time; she and Frederick would be long gone, headed off to start a new life as far away from Colorodo as possible, with new i.d.s.

They’d need those new i.d.s., because God help them if Kray found them. Kray had an even worse reputation than the Timber Valley wolves, if that was possible.

“Are you worried about what Camille’s uncle will do when he finds out?” Corwin asked, as if reading my mind.

“Kind of, but it should be okay. He wouldn’t want to take on the White Blaze pack,” I said. The way our small, wimpy pack survived in California was by being under the protection of a very large, very strong pack called the White Blaze pack. The Southpaw pack paid the White Blaze pack tribute, in the form of crops from our farms and a set financial fee, and they protected us. The usual stuff.

“I don’t know,” Bess said anxiously. “He’s been on a tear lately. He’s swallowed up three smaller packs in the past year. With two of them he challenged the Alpha and killed him, and made the whole pack move on to his land, and with the third pack the Alpha submitted when challenged and left the state, and his pack had to move on to the Renker’s property too. He doesn’t sound like he’d back down from a fight.”

“The White Blaze Alpha has been in more death matches that I can count. He is undefeated,” I said firmly. “Kray would not want to challenge someone with that kind of reputation.”

“She’ll be fine,” Corwin said to Bess reassuringly. He didn’t sound all that convinced.

In the mirror, I saw Corwin throw his arms around Bess’ shoulder, and then he saw the look of wistfulness on my face and withdrew it.

“Don’t do that on my account,” I said.

Bess and I and Corwin had all been best friends in college, and then in our senior year, Corwin proposed to Bess. Corwin was a sweet, thoughtful, handsome guy, soft spoken, a perfect gentleman. I’d had a mild crush on Corwin for a while there, but it wasn’t full on raging lust. I was happy for Bess, most of the time anyway. She was a full figured gal like me; she gave me hope that maybe someday, even though I wasn’t model material, I could find my perfect man.