Chapter 3 - Hector

"Your mate," Faye whispered, and I saw the realization register in her eyes. "Your mate ."

Her throat clicked as she swallowed, and a tear escaped her right eye. It was like Cliff said, it all started with an apology. With that out of the way, I could focus on improving my pack, and maybe even producing an heir to pass along the alpha title. The sooner, the better. Though the same alpha-choosing ritual was performed with heirs, it guaranteed my child a spot in the circle that would improve their chances of success.

Yes, a child would be perfect, especially with someone like Faye Lynne. Her hips were the right size and she appeared to have taken good care of herself. The sight of her living space was a mild shock. The rose-red couches and violet flowers in the windowsills were unlike her childhood room that had been a mattress on the ground and a few sturdy boxes for furniture.

Even the floor seemed to be regularly loved, the vinyl a rich swirl of chocolate brown and obsidian with a few brightly colored decorative rugs that obviously got cleaned weekly. The place was lit well, spacious, and nicely furnished. I ignored her shocked expression to explore the rest of the space, particularly the kitchen. Bleached counters, fruit baskets, crafted décor—yes, she had become a caring and creative woman since she had run away.

She'll make the perfect mate for a busy alpha.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" She hadn't left her spot across the room, but her features had changed from irritated to curious.

I swept my finger across the counter and rubbed it against my thumb. "You've done well for yourself, Faye. You'll make a great mother."

She choked. "Alright, that's it."

Just as I turned, she locked my arm under her armpit and swung me toward the door—which was still open to the empty foyer. Given the move was sudden, I lost my balance and stomped toward the doorway. I recovered my stance and turned to meet her punches, knocking two blows before absorbing one. She had gotten better at fighting, too. The sheer force of her punches was enough to rev me up.

After a brief sparring match, she grabbed my right arm, twisted it, and kicked me into the foyer. I let her have it. Honestly, I just wanted to see how much farther she might take the fight. But when I turned to meet another round from her fists, I found the door shut in my face. The lock clicked. The window in the front door of the foyer crowded with an ethereal gray as the sky outside grew dark.

Thunder rumbled overhead. I glanced up at the arched ceiling and inhaled the air thickening with moisture.

She had rejected me before I had a chance to make my case. With a raised fist, I considered how I could convince her that her path rightfully belonged to me and my pack. I could knock down her door. I could throw her over my shoulder and take her back with me to Silverfang Creek land, located just outside Point Pleasant, West Virginia. It was safer there than here in Beaufort Creek, South Carolina, where the town could easily discover the pack's many supernatural secrets. Small beach towns like these were too dangerous. She had to come back with me, or she would end up hurting herself in the long run.

It dawned on me then that this level of defeat would be seen as a massive shame in the Silverfang Creek pack. Even with younger blood in the position of alpha, Adrian would still have sway over the elders of which he was now part. Any disappointment from him would be shared by many other pack members. Even some of the youth would likely adapt to his opinion until I proved my worth.

I clenched my fists. She's sabotaging me on purpose .

Returning to them with a successfully paired mate was the first step to earning their trust. I wasn't just protecting people—I was ensuring the success of generations, of families older than the very states in whose invisible lines we resided. My job was to make sure everything was equitable—and that required a mate at my side. That required ample protection with the mate bite to keep me from becoming too susceptible to demonic influence

She's getting back at me for back then. I guess I can't blame her for that.

But she was damning an entire pack with her revenge scheme.

An air of defeat surrounded me as I lowered my fist and turned to my neatly placed boots. I tugged them on, tightened the strings, and let myself out into the humid morning without tying them. A few shifters jogged past me and waved. I put on my friendliest smile without showing teeth and shrank my shoulders down as I returned the wave.

Experience showed me that my size intimidated people. Even other shifters were afraid of my bulk and baritone voice if I wasn'tbeing mindful of my stance, tone, and volume. Faye hadn't shied away from either one of those things. In fact, she seemed pretty smitten with how close I got—how close she let me get—twice in a row.

As soon as I got in my car, I dropped the smile, cursing under my breath as I snatched my phone from my pocket. Cliff had texted three times. Who could blame the guy? He hadn't seen his sister since she was eighteen. I clicked on his name and waited for the line to ring, thinking it was better than trying to type three paragraphs of crap that would probably just confuse him.

He answered in the middle of the second ring. "Yeah, hey, is she in the car? Can I talk to her?"

"Hello to you, too."

"Faye, can you hear me?"

I held the phone away from my ear to take a breath. "Gods, can you just chill for a second and let me talk?"

He was like an excited puppy panting on the other end of the line. I could hear his heart racing and could nearly smell the scent of his sweat, a pungent musk that was familiar from running, wrestling, shifting together.

I stared at the dirt road in front of me, trying to piece together everything that had just happened. "She turned me down."

"Did you apologize?"

"Duh, dude. I started with the apology."

Cliff exhaled loudly. "I don't think you did it right."

"How would you know? You didn't even come with me."

"You know my parents are weird about the, uh—"

I massaged the bridge of my nose. "You can say witch . It's not a slur or anything."

"Yeah, well, my parents just—"

"Your parents have always been rude to Faye."

He laughed suddenly, the sound so strangely upbeat amid our serious conversation. That meant he was nervous. "I wouldn't call it rude , man. It's not like they abused her or anything like that."

"Every time I came over, they put her down worse than I did."

"Then why the hell would you pick on her if you felt so bad for her?"

I gritted my teeth. "Why did you do it?"

"She was my little sister. I'm supposed to pick on her."

"Ergo, I did, too."

He sighed heavily. "Listen, can we not do this right now? I miss her. I don't want to debate who did what. I just want her to be safe and happy. We're starting to deal with a few rogue demon attacks and I'm afraid she'll get hurt when this cascades down the coast."

"Why don't you tell her that?"

"Why don't you relay the message?" He snorted loudly. "Oh, right, because you got shot down," hesnickered. "I mean, can you blame her?"

"No, I can't blame her, but…" I shook my head. "Whatever, that doesn't matter anymore. I need your help. I think she needs to hear from you, too."

He took a sharp breath. "I just… My parents won't like that."

"I don't give a damn what your parents like, Cliff. I'm the alpha now, and as your alpha, I'm commanding your help."

Silence engulfed the line, filling me with an instant sense of regret. This was my best friend I was raising my voice at. I didn't want to pull the alpha card so early, especially when it had just been handed to me last night.

But this was a matter of respect. This was a matter of preserving life . How else was I to earn the trust of my pack if they didn't see me earn the trust of someone who I had hurt so deeply in the past?

"I'm sorry," Cliff whispered. "You're right. I should be helping you out."

"No, I'm sorry." After calming myself, I added, "You're preparing your parents. That's enough help for now."

Cliff coughed once, cleared his throat, and then shakily replied, "You think so?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Thanks. That's good to hear." He cleared his throat louder. "So, how are you going to convince her to come back?"

That was a damn good question. As I gazed at the house where Faye lived, I inspected the windows, trying to find her through the silk mesh. Her hands appeared to tug the mesh shut. The visage of her shadow disappeared beyond the threshold of my vision. Even as a skilled wolf, I couldn't see through objects. But I could tell one thing.

She was considering my invitation.

I knew that because of the way her pupils had dilated. Her skin had flushed with goosebumps, and her scent had sharpened, pheromones filling the air. Most wolves were good at hiding reactions like that, because it was just a polite thing to do in public. But when the attraction was undeniable, it was uncontrollable.

And hers was beyond uncontrollable.

Talking didn't work. Fighting didn't work.

And then it hit me.

I sorted out the details mentally with a small smile. "I'll think of something." I squinted at the house, searching for a weak point in the old structure. "I always do—don't I?"

***

The night sky cascaded around me like a pin-pricked blanket. Faye lived on a ranch with advanced security. Twice now, I'd had to duck out of sight from a revolving security hawk. Despite that challenge, I managed to park my car at one of the empty houses near Faye's home and lay low until the unsuspecting day shifters had gone to sleep and the night shifters had left their homes.

It was approximately forty-five minutes past nine when I approached Faye's house. Given that the structure was older, it was simple to break in through the rear door by loosening the rusted hinges. The deadbolt made it slightly difficult to remove the door quietly, but I managed to do it quickly without drawing attention to myself.

To the right, a salty-smelling shifter—some kind of water shifter—was playing punk music loud enough to guard my footsteps. I tiptoed past their door and went to Faye's, inspecting the inner doorway for anything that might allow me inside. Just then, the lock unwound, and the knob twisted.

I fled to the back and hid in the darkness of the backyard, keeping my eyes and ears pointed in the direction of where Faye was going—which was just across the hallway. She banged on the door to get the shifter's attention. Though the music was reduced, it wasn't enough to be truly quiet.

Faye planted her hands on her hips when her neighbor's door opened. "Turner, I need you to do one thing for me."

The short shifter had tattered auburn hair that hung in messy ringlets around his shoulders with baggy clothes swallowing his thin frame. A nervous laugh surfaced as he scratched his vitiligo face, which looked like a white puddle splashed on olive skin. "Yeah, Faye?"

"I need a copy of that album."

Unexpectedly, she pushed her way into Turner's apartment, leaving the door ajar to hers.

And giving me the perfect entry.

In a flash, I had sneaked into Faye's apartment and found a decent hiding place near the curtains. She kept the place lit with low light from the Christmas lights strung over the fireplace to the battery-operated color-changing candles on the coffee table. Everything in here was coated with her touch and scent. It was like stepping inside her mind.

Something about that intrigued me. Faye hadn't just been picked on for her piggish way of eating back in the day—she'd also lacked control over her powers. People like Faye were born once every fifty years or so. Some called it a fluke in the supernatural bloodline, a weird aberration that wasn't welcome.

Because shifters weren't supposed to have magic powers. That would make them far too susceptible to corruption by demons and manipulative practitioners. During the vampire-wolf wars, one of those bastard kids would eventually stumble onto the battlefield, throwing flames from their palms or attempting to lift vampires straight into the air.

The Council shut that down promptly. In fact, most packs were relatively unaware of the existence of hybrid children like Faye. Many times, hybrids kept the secret under wraps. Unfortunately for Faye, her powers were out of control at the time. There was no hiding that sort of thing.

Now, I wanted to bring her back into the light. There was no shame in her powers—only in the act of hiding like an embarrassed child.

I might have hurt her feelings back then, but she's hurting my chance of being a good alpha , I thought. I studied the doorway, inhaling the full scent of peaches and cream that lingered in the apartment—her signature scent. I get it. I did bad. Why won't she let me make it right?

Some light chatter floated across the foyer. The punk music came with it. Within a few seconds, Faye had returned to her apartment and bolted the door. Her eyes swept the living area as she adjusted back to the dimly lit room. Her nostrils twitched.

Shoot, I had to act fast before she spotted me—or smelled me.

With swift precision, I pounced forward and wrestled her to the ground with my right hand over her mouth and my left hand pinning her left arm behind her back. My shin was firmly lodged into the back of her knees to keep her from flailing around. This position left her helpless—and did things to me that I didn't want to acknowledge.

"Keep quiet," I warned in a low voice, relieved when the punk music from next door elevated in volume, "and I won't have to do anything rash."

Her blonde hair was sprawled up and around her head like a messy halo, and her back muscles remained flexed like she was preparing to fight back. She wiggled with a frustrated grunt, squealing angrily into my palm what I knew to be the correct tones for many creative curse words. Feisty and willful—she really was the perfect match for an alpha like me.

That was when I realized what she was wearing. Black spandex shorts cupped her bottom, and a white shirt stretched taut around her upper torso, revealing a small patch of her lower back. She never wore clothes like this back in Silverfang Creek. She couldn't afford to with the way her parents got on her case about her weight. Showing skin would have been the anti-Goddess to them.

I bowed toward her, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of her hair. It felt like soft silk that I sifted through with my nose to inspect more of her scent. Vanilla and a faint hint of lavender drifted into my awareness. She must have used some kind of oil to take care of her hair. She struggled against me, shimmied her shoulders, tried to get away from my curious nose until I clutched her face harder.

"Stay still, Faye Lynne. If you run, I need to be able to find you."

She went stiff as I dropped down south to the back of her exposed neck where I found more softness. Her flesh twitched as her breath hitched, and a low moan fluttered from her throat to my palm, where it vibrated my skin. She snapped her head back into the bridge of my nose. That old wound cranked right back up like it was fresh. It wasn't a hard hit, but it hurt, and it sent a shock of pain through my ocular nerves.

I held my nose with my free hand, keeping her pinned with the other. "Damn it, Cherry Pie. You have to come back with me. You're not safe by yourself!"

She breathed deep and exhaled slowly, arching her back to adjust her position—

Good, sweet Goddess, the way her bottom curved against my package made every inch of me scream like I was getting zapped with a car battery right in the gonads. I struggled to resist the way my cock hardened—and failed. I utterly failed , and I knew she could tell.

She nipped my palm. I yowled while yanking my hand back, flying back as she flung herself over. "You frickin' jerk —"

She pounced on me, trying to land a punch in the bridge of my nose again like it was the holy spot that would knock me out. It didn't make me proud to remember that day, but hell, I deserved it for what I'd done.

I blocked two slaps and then grabbed her wrists, feeling something hot trickle from my left nostril. "You can't overpower me.""I beg to differ."

I launched upright and caught her by the small of her back. I knew exactly what to do, the same thing that had coaxed her silence earlier in the day. I held her snug to my body, grabbing a chunk of her hair to hold her still as my arm muscles bulged to keep her constricted. "You really think so, Cherry Pie?"

She breathed hard and fast, each ragged breath hitching the slightest pitch higher as I felt her hips rotate. Fuck , it was the tiniest movement, but it got me hard enough to nearly rip my zipper. Rude—she seemed to be using the same technique.

I struggled to keep an appropriate distance from her mouth, her sharp inhalations turning to dangerous whimpers that begged me to kiss her. Just hard enough to make her lips sore. Just daring enough to make her regret rejecting me.

I bristled with disdain. "Alright, you've had your fun. You got back at me. Good one, Faye Lynne."

She gritted her teeth. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

I tugged her hair at the root, enough to get a hiss out of her. "Not as much as seeing you fight the only thing that's good for you."

The windows shuddered. Outside, it sounded like hell was kicking up a storm underneath the rivaling punk music blaring from next door. Shadows caught my attention in the window behind Faye.

My eyes widened as I released her hair. "Forgive me."

I dug into my pocket for the vial I had purchased in town.

This time, she tried to donkey kick her way out of my arms. I doubled-down my grip, perching the vial at her lips, grunting as she pinched her lips together to keep me from pouring the mixture into her mouth. She bucked once, by accident I had to guess, but then did it again with enough force to make my fumble the vial.

It tipped slightly. A few drops trickled onto my fingers. She nudged her right shoulder, broke her right arm free, and tried grabbing the bottle. "You sick pervert—you're trying to drug me!"

"This would have worked fine if you had just agreed to come with me."

"Backward Silverfang motherfu—"

I shoved my fingers into her mouth, prodded her jaw open, and poured the mixture inside, watching with a sense of satisfaction at her sputtering. Most of it went down her throat. What little else had spilled on my knuckles went right between her lips, the same ones that clamped down to keep me out.

While cradling her head and straddling her legs, I slid my fingers over her tongue, rubbing the liquid in to ensure it worked. Wide eyes filled with betrayal gaped at me. Then her eyelids fluttered. Her irises rolled back, she limply and weakly beat at my shoulder.

She went slack as her eyelids fluttered closed, mouth partially slit as her breathing leveled to that of a peaceful slumber. I licked my lips and swallowed hard as I traced her mouth with my two wet fingers, touching the softness of that plush lower half that seemed to tremble under my touch. She had slumped into my hand, perfectly cradled, exposed, ready to be claimed and bitten and

You can kiss her, and she'll never know .

I snatched my hand back as though I had touched fire. While wiping my hand on my shirt—that same area where her lips had just been pressed—I slowly rose from the ground with punk music thudding around me. The sound vibrated the drywall and floorboards, making for an easy getaway.

Was this the right thing to do? Yes.

Was it the right way to do it? Debatable.

Methods aside, I knew she would need protection. A hybrid like her in the wrong hands would mean death for many—her included.

That was simply unacceptable.

For protection purposes, I needed my pack to respect me and honor my new title. If this was how I earned my place in their lives and provided the best layer of defense against evil, then I would do it. I would keep doing it if it meant our species could progress. One tiny crime for the greater good.

This was for the pack—nothing more than that.