2. Alec

Chapter 2

Alec

A lec tried not to show fear, but the towering werewolf peering down at him tested his resolve.

Werewolves were born, not bitten, and the varying ancestries and individual ranks of each werewolf determined whether or not they could take the legendary bipedal Wolfman-esque form, the terrifying monster seen in old folktales and in a century of horror films. This werewolf, though, was in the more common form, the true wolf, though the magical nature of the werewolf possessed only a passing resemblance to non-magical and non-sapient wolf species.

Bulky with deep muscles, a dense triple coat with shiny guard hairs that turned silver when they caught stray beams of moonlight, and a muzzle full of fangs far longer and sharper than evolution gave their wild counterparts, this werewolf was huge, dark in an array of hues hard to make out in the night. The wolf was a looming threat that made his nerves twitch, but the non-threatening stance and the huge, intelligent, and calmly amused eyes eased the urge to flee once their gazes met.

The wolf was an alpha—the aura around alphas was nearly a living thing itself, pulsing with a subtle but tangible field of power and strength. Even Alec felt the faint urge to bow his head to the being standing far closer than Alec had assumed the observer in the shadows to be—this alpha was adept at using the environment to his advantage, and that spoke of age. Werewolves were not immortal; they lived hundreds of years, but most werewolves in the United States were under the two-century mark. The truly ancient wolves usually remained in the Old World in ancestral territories while the younger wolves left to find new lands to claim as their own.

Rare to see an old wolf alone, as most had packs, especially alphas. A lone alpha was incredibly rare. Perhaps he was out for a nightly run, and there was a pack nearby, yet Alec could not sense the energies in the natural world that were indicative of multiple werewolves and their interconnected magics.

“Forgive the trespass, alpha,” Alec said, squinting against the gritty sweat that ran down his temples and into his eyes despite the chill night air. He was worn to nothing and needed rest. Weeks of captivity might be over, but he was no ancient and powerful fae to recover so quickly, and his magic was still chaotic from the mortal spells used to control him. He needed food and sleep. “If you’ll perhaps lift a paw in the direction I need to go to leave your territory, I’ll be on my way shortly.”

Manners taught to him in his childhood served him well, and he saw the amusement in the alpha’s expressive eyes at the attempted courtesy. He was presumably trespassing, as wolves kept to their territories out of habit and respected boundaries of the lands belonging to other species and packs .

When the alpha approached, Alec trembled, helpless to control the instinctive response to the huge predator looming over him. A massive head lowered, jaws big enough to swallow Alec’s entire head, shoulders, and then snap him in half—but the soft snuffles and the billowing hot breath of the wolf, smelling faintly of blood and a hint of metallic…something…was pleasant and not at all monstrous. Alec couldn’t stop the delighted smile that broke free, and he itched to run his fingers through the wild coat of the wolf. The alpha huffed, amused, and nudged his massive head against Alec’s shoulder.

Arms came up and without thinking he wrapped them around the huge head, delighting in the soft, thick fur under his palms, and the great ears that flickered at his touch, responsive to the slightest pressure. Alec pressed his forehead to the thick fur and the body heat from the alpha was staggering. A wave of warmth swept through Alec’s body, momentarily easing aches and pains, a blissful reprieve from the damp and cold night air.

“Come with me, little fae,” a gravelly, whispered command sounded, seemingly from the wolf, and Alec was more startled by the voice coming from everywhere, and yet nowhere, than the words the alpha spoke. “Climb up my shoulder.”

“I…what…” Alec stammered, but the alpha bowed down and Alec stumbled to his feet. He found himself half climbing, half tossed by a powerful head under his rear onto the great wolf’s back. He sank into the dense fur, and the alpha slowly stood, peering at him over his tall shoulders with one big eye.

“Hold tight,” came that disembodied voice again, like gravel skipping down a mountainside, yet precise and not at all harsh on the ears. This alpha was very, very old. And powerful. The ability to speak aloud when in their wolf shape was almost a legend, and Alec had never heard a werewolf use it before; those he met in his day-to-day life were all young, the majority under a century, and no more skilled in the historically lauded werewolf magics than a puppy.

The fur between his fingers was dark brown and gray, a riot of colors that matched the colors of the forest, especially in the night, and if it weren’t for the heat coming from the wolf and the thrumming of immense power that surrounded him, he would have thought he was hallucinating. The alpha turned carefully, and Alec didn’t trust himself not to fall, so he lay down as best he could and gently gripped the heavy ridge of fur that covered the wolf’s shoulders in an impressive mantle.

The werewolf took off at a fast walk, but his gait was so smooth that Alec barely noticed they were moving, the breeze changing from cold and cutting to soothing, drying the sweat that plagued him, thanks to the heat emanating from the werewolf. Huge, wide paws made no sound on the forest floor, not a twig snapping nor the faint rustle of dried leaves, and Alec sank into the heavy coat, feeling like he could fall asleep and be quite content, certain that if he had any pursuers, they wouldn’t have much luck tracking the wolf through these woods.

He hadn’t felt safe in a long time. Not since he was a kid, when his mom was still alive and healthy.

Leif

“Don’t fall off,” Leif warned as he dipped around the twisted trunk of an ancient oak and his paws found the hidden path that wove amongst granite boulders as tall as a house, steadily climbing up the switchback trail to his home. The cliff-face was the result of a long-ago collapse of a rock shelf, probably millions of years ago, and the steep incline was covered in boulders, ridges of granite and quartz, and interspersed with lethal drop-offs and dense clusters of bushes and berry brambles. Only a few intrepid old-growth oaks and maples remained, spared by the miners when they gave up searching for treasures.

Fingers gripped even tighter in the thick coat over his shoulders, and Leif wondered idly what it would feel like for those slim fingers to scratch along his back, hunting for hard to reach itchy spots, but he banished the foolish thoughts, focusing on not toppling his charge as he navigated the difficult path. It was muscle memory at this point, but he was carrying another person and any inattention might leave his guest worse off than he was currently. Not fancying digging a grave, Leif was mindful of each paw placement and avoided going too fast as the trail twisted upon itself and dipped under and over boulders, and through blackberry brambles hollowed out over the years by his passage.

A muffled curse from above told him he wasn’t as careful as he hoped, thorns from the brambles catching at his guest, and he made sure to duck a bit more to avoid the rest of the brambles near the top of the path.

It took him easily three times as long to reach the top of the path and the small clearing in front of the cabin, but it was probably far faster than any mortal could manage on two feet. A few more strides brought him alongside the stoop and he carefully maneuvered himself so the young man could slide from his back to the top step without toppling several feet to the ground.

“Watch your step,” Leif warned, looking over his shoulder to watch the young man get off his back. “The night air makes the wood slick sometimes.”

With a few muffled curses and some moans of pain, the young man managed to get to his feet on the wooden stoop of the cabin, and a tiny squeak escaped when his legs failed to hold him up and he fell into the door, the latch giving way at impact.

Leif winced when he heard the thump of the young man hitting the floor and the subsequent groan. Sighing, Leif shook out his coat before starting to Change.

Alec

Despite falling in front of his savior, Alec surprisingly found the floor far more forgiving than a bed of dried leaves. A large rug softened the impact—woven strips of old cloth repurposed into an entryway rug that was much larger than Alec was expecting from the sight of the tiny cabin from outside.

“Are you alright?” asked the wolf, and Alec groaned a bit as he rolled to his side, aches and pains complaining the whole time.

“Better than falling in the woods…” Alec started to reply, and he blinked, shocked silent.

The werewolf was in his human shape, and obviously naked. The soft glow of a lamp beside the door cast enough light to illuminate the smooth, chiseled expanse of muscles and pale skin flushed with exertion from transforming.

Longish red-blond hair fell to shoulders wider than Alec would ever be able to boast, and a short beard redder than the hair graced a strong jaw that led to pink lips curved in an amused half-smile. Crystal blue eyes twinkled as the very naked and very attractive man stepped through the doorway and held a hand down to Alec.

He stared at the hand a long second, before a chuckle from the alpha made him snap out of it and he took the help, the alpha gently lifting him to his feet with impressive ease.

“Leif,” the alpha introduced himself with a dip of his chin, still holding Alec’s hand. “What’s your name, little greenbough?”

Greenbough. That nickname for an unspecified fae was old, older than the country they both stood upon, and Alec found himself answering without hesitation, the warm fingers holding his chilled hand sapping his normal reticence. Leif’s accent was subtle, a charming mix of southern Appalachian influences and a hint of something that sounded almost like an actor from a gritty Viking movie.

“Alec, um..oh, you’re tall…Alec Greyfeld.” The swift grin on Leif’s face was devastatingly attractive, and Alec found himself blushing, something he hadn’t done since puberty, he was fairly certain.

“Go have a seat by the fire, Alec,” Leif gently ordered, slowly letting go of his hand. “The night is cold, and the hearth is warm. You’re welcome in my home.”

Another sign of age, even if it didn’t appear on Leif’s face or frame—such courtesy was foreign to Alec’s experience but not unknown to him—his mother was where his fae blood originated, and she taught him as well as she could before her poisoning, an unnatural death that orphaned Alec as a young teen.

“Thank you,” Alec replied softly, fighting off another blush, eyes darting away from the quick grin on Leif’s handsome face. He found himself squeaking in surprise when Leif wrapped a heavy arm around his waist and all but carried him to the fireplace, depositing him in a massive armchair draped with lush furs and woven blankets.

“But, I’m covered in mud and blood…” Alec protested weakly.

Leif arched a thick brow and grabbed a dark brown fur from the back of the chair and proceeded to wrap Alec up in its delicious warmth, ignoring the dirty clothing. Alec got an eyeful of the very naked alpha, and his wide eyes and mouth opening in a small ‘O’ of stunned fascination had Leif grinning again, sharp and a bit less human, more wolf.

“Stay by the fire,” Leif told him, his words a rumble coming from deep inside his chest, eyes flashing a bit in the light from the fire. The embers had been banked, but the touch of Leif’s fingers to a carved sigil in the stone wall fed the fire and it grew to a steady flame. Leif removed his fingers from the spell once he was satisfied with the result. He cast Alec a stern glance, as if making sure Alec wasn’t going to wander off, and then he disappeared into the shadows in the far corner of the cabin, and Alec blinked in disbelief when he realized the far wall wasn’t wood, but solid stone.

The hearth was carved into the side of the mountain, and Alec saw where the rock had once been exposed to the elements, now covered by the cabin. He realized the black depths of the shadows in what he’d thought was the far corner from the door was actually a wide opening in the rock wall. The floors were wide hardwood planks, wider than Alec had ever seen, cut from trees so large they surely had no modern contemporaries remaining in the Appalachians.

Small on the outside, and far, far larger on the inside, and while it wasn’t a TARDIS, the cottage had a certain charm to it that delighted Alec. It smelled of rock, rain, and smoke from the hearth, along with the scent of a predator—blood and metal, and a musk that was not at all unappealing. Alec buried his nose in the soft fur that surrounded him, smelling the fibers of the creature now long gone, and overlaying it all, the scent of Leif.

He smelled like a wolf, of course, and something more. Something that made Alec’s eyes close, and he breathed in deep, face buried in the furs, each deep breath a comfort.

“Here, I found these. They might fit you.” Leif’s sudden reappearance had Alec blinking up at him in a fog, frowning to see that Leif had wrapped a short length of dark red fabric around his waist in a rudimentary kilt. He’d secured the end on his left hip with an iron clasp, and the cloth fell to about mid-thigh. He was certain Leif was naked under the kilt, and there was no mistaking the blessedly large bulge cupped by the dark red cloth. Nothing was left to the imagination, and Alec idly thought that perhaps if he asked, Leif might go back to being naked.

Alec reached out from his comfy cocoon of furs and took the neatly folded clothing from Leif, who backed away with a short nod and a gesture over his shoulder. “There’s a water-closet in the back hall if you want to change in there, or need to use the privy,” Leif informed him, and he went to fuss over the fire, swinging a large iron teapot over the flames on an iron arm bolted into the rock wall. He sounded less American and more Nordic the longer he spoke, giving Alec even more hints as to his age.

The flames of the fire were now bright enough to illuminate the room, and his host. Alec pulled the clean clothes to his chest, wondering idly if he could just get changed in the chair since the hearth was so warm and he wasn’t sure of his footing, when something caught his eye.

There was a scar on Leif’s left pectoral muscle, shiny and smooth, a paler hue than Leif’s already fair skin tone, and Alec only saw it because the light reflected off it in a silvery flash, making him squint. The glare was gone in an instant, but the scar was more visible as Leif worked, rotating out different iron arms to move various cooking apparatus over the flames. One a grill, about two square feet, another a deep iron pot that swung beside the kettle that had a thin tendril of steam already rising from the spout.

“Do you eat meat?” Leif asked over his shoulder, that brow rising again when he saw Alec was unmoved, still staring. “Need some help? I didn’t want to presume.”

Alec stopped staring and investigated the clothing. A thin t-shirt and some sweatpants, the kind with the drawstring waist so he could tie them up, as there was no way the pants would stay up on his narrow waist without some help.

“I’ll eat anything,” Alec said, meaning it. “I haven’t eaten in over a day.”

Leif’s eyes darkened and his mouth tightened, but he refrained from voicing his anger. Alec knew Leif was not angry with him, but a part of him still shivered in alarm. In his experience, when men got angry, he got hit. It was uncharitable of him to be wary of Leif like that, but ingrained habits were hard to break .

Leif must have seen something on his face since he slowed his movements and made sure that Alec was looking at him before he made any big motions with his arms, like reaching out one big hand toward Alec, palm up, fingers relaxed. Alec held the clothing to his chest with one hand and took the offered help with the other, letting Leif pull him gently from the warm nest in the chair and to his feet. He wobbled a second, and then Leif gently slid a big arm around his waist, and Alec found himself neatly swept off his feet and carried toward the dark recess in the far cabin wall.

It was cooler than in the cabin, but not by much, and it was utterly black until Alec’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he stared in amazement at what must have been a mine shaft, wide enough for a car to drive through, and about nine feet or so tall, the walls shored up with thick timbers spaced evenly along the walls and ceiling of the shaft. About ten feet into the shaft there was a door, the frame also shored up by thick timbers. Leif opened the door with his free hand and set Alec beside the threshold, leaning him against the wall. A light came to life overhead, a simple glass lamp that hung from the ceiling on a chain, the wiring encased in tubing that ran back toward the doorway and out into the mine shaft. Realizing there was power in the mine had Alec mesmerized, but the finished flooring, smooth walls, and the rich scent of fresh, clean spring water had him eager to get washed up and changed.

“Water is fresh, straight from a well,” Leif gestured to the sink, which looked like it was carved right out of the stone wall, next to which was a toilet, the only piece of porcelain he’d seen so far in the entire structure. “Past the toilet is a shower. Can you see magic?” Leif asked abruptly, peering down at him with a slight frown .

“I can,” Alec replied, though he didn’t want to go into the specifics of what he could see and do. It was his abilities that had brought him to the attention of some really bad people and while he doubted a super powerful alpha werewolf needed a fae alchemist, he was reluctant to risk losing the unexpected safe haven he’d found with Leif.

“You’ll see the spells for hot and cold water then. There’s fresh towels hanging on the wall. Call out to me if you need help. I’ll have an ear out for you. Food should be ready once you’re done.”

Alec was at a loss for words, really. All he could do was nod once and offer a shaky thank you. Leif nodded in return and left Alec alone, heading back out to the main room. The mine shaft was empty, from what he could see, but he sensed no danger in the shadows just past the bathroom—or water-closet as Leif had said—and he went inside, deciding to trust the handsome stranger a little bit longer.