Falling for the Alphas: Part One (2 page)

Her stomach tensed. "Your
needs?"

Stark nodded, unhurried,
almost casual. "Oh yes. I care nothing for your story. But that
little spirit companion of yours... He I care about. I'm afraid I
can't let you live. How tragic it will be when they find you dead.
Killed by what people will guess must have been a very, very large
stray dog."

Naomi froze. Had he actually just said
that?

I'll get help!
She felt Illixy race away, and it was as if a
small light in her heart had gone out. "I - I don't know what
you're talking about." How did Stark know about Illixy? "And my
editor - he knows I'm here!" She took a step back as she dug out
her cellphone. Still no coverage. "You can't touch me." She wished
she believed it.

"I never showed up." He loosened his
tie. "I'm officially at a private fundraiser right now. Besides,
nobody would ever confuse me for a large, wild dog, would they, Ms.
Daniels?"

Then the impossible
happened. Councilman Stark grew. Black fur swarmed across his face
and hands, and his suit seemed to melt away revealing a thick black
pelt over his whole body. His face grew longer, a muzzle forming,
and a heavy tail swept out behind him. In seconds he was replaced
by a creature out of her nightmares, all teeth and glowing green
eyes, a vast man-wolf that seemed to fill the stage as it gazed up
at her.

Naomi felt her heart stop.
Her mind was blank with disbelief, yet there it was. Then, just
when she thought things couldn't get worse, Stark turned off the
light and plunged her into darkness.

That switch kicked her
survival instincts into high gear. She screamed and turned to race
back up the steps, stumbling and trying not to sob as she heard the
monster behind her let loose a laugh that could have come right out
of the pits of Hell. It was in no hurry. She tripped and fell
heavily onto her outstretched hands. More laughter. It was walking
slowly up the steps behind her.

"There is so much more to
the world than you know, Naomi." Stark's voice was rough, barely
intelligible. "So much I could show you."

She pushed herself up to her feet and
tried to orient herself. Panic disoriented her. It was so dark she
could barely see her hands before her face.

"There are places where
the darkness flows. Where you can drink the sins of the world, and
grow strong. Grow pure. I will show you. I will show you so many
things before I let you die."

Naomi dug her pepper spray
out of her purse as she hurried up the steps once more. It would be
useless, but she had nothing else. She reached the landing just as
she heard a strange rushing sound, as of something huge moving
through the air, and screamed as Stark landed little more than a
few yards behind her with a crunch of shattering wood. She bolted
forward, almost tripped again, and ran out into the lobby. There -
the main doors! They were so terribly close, yet they might as well
have been a hundred miles away. Naomi pulled her skirt up higher
and ran, only to be snatched back by a massive clawed hand on her
shoulder.

Its strength was
unbelievable. It was as if a tire clamp had suddenly been locked
onto her shoulder. Her feet went out from under her, but Stark held
her as if she weighed little more than a feather pillow.

Illixy came swirling in
through the front doors, pulsing his golden light with alarm, and
behind him followed a strikingly handsome man. He came to a sudden
stop at the sight of the monster looming behind her. Tears filled
her eyes as despair washed over. What could he do against
Stark?

"Run!" she yelled. "Get
out of here!"

Instead, the world went
mad. The stranger walked forward, and as he did so he too
shifted
into monstrous
wolf form. Dark, chocolate brown fur erupted from his skin, his
manner regal, powerful, furious. Stark tensed behind her, the
points of his claws digging painfully into her flesh.

"Let her go, Stark." The brown
werewolf pointed a long claw in their direction

Stark snarled, furious,
and edged back, taking her with him. The darkness began to boil
against the wall, as if the very shadows were writhing in pain.
Then, right before her eyes, Stark placed his left foot through the
wall where the shadows danced as if they had formed a
portal.

Oh no. She was not going
to let Stark take her with him. Panicked, she twisted around and
sprayed the pepper spray right into his face.

Stark snarled again and
closed one eye. A rush of air, and the other werewolf was upon
them, leaping forward to attack. It was too much - at the last
second Stark let her go and dove into the shadows. Naomi fell to
her knees, and her savior surged right over her to collide
furiously with the wall, gauging deep rents in the wooden laths and
plaster and partially crashing through into the room
beyond.

"Gone!" The wolf's snarl was as
terrifying as Stark's.

He's a
friend
, pulsed Illixy, flying up to hover
protectively over her.

She blinked, dazed. The
brown werewolf was gone. In its place was the most stunningly
handsome young man she'd ever seen. Broad shouldered and with the
narrow hips of a dancer, with brown hair down to his shoulders, he
had a face that was searing with its intensity, his brow furrowed
with concern as he crouched beside her, a young god in the flesh.
Gold eyes, she saw. Burning their gaze into her soul.

He stepped away from the
wreckage of the wall, and turned to her. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" She felt drunk. She wanted to
touch his beautiful face. To smooth away that frown. The world was
spinning. "I'm just fine. How are you?"

Her blood was thundering
in her ears. Her parents had always told her she'd go mad. That
she'd have a bad end. Now here she was, crazy as all get-out. Her
eyelids closed once, twice, and then everything faded
away.

Chapter 2

Dylan's great heart was
thundering in his chest, his blood afire with the need for battle,
to tear into that monstrous Stark. Yet the sight of the lusciously
beautiful human woman turned his hunger for violence into a more
primal, sensual need, and as he shifted back into his human he was
almost overcome by his desire to hold her in his arms.

He rushed over to her.
Even in the half-light of the lobby he could tell she was about to
pass out, her face pale, her eyes blank, her body wreathed with the
scent of panic and fear. Dylan hesitated. "Are you
okay?"

She gave him the most heartbreaking
smile, her wide lips curving into a bewildered expression She
blinked once, twice, eyebrows arched as if innocently confused.
"Me? I'm just fine. How are you?"

Then she toppled
over.

Dylan lunged forward and
caught her in his arms before she could spill onto the floor. He
realized his pulse was still racing in his ears, though now for a
completely different reason. She was beautiful. Sensual. Her curves
were wicked beneath her coat and her legs were full and strong, her
skirt hiked up almost to her waist. Her scent enveloped him, floral
and sweet, light and tantalizing. He resisted the urge to bury his
face in her midnight hair, to inhale her deep into his
soul.

Almost bewildered by the
sheer force of his attraction, he tore his gaze from her and up to
the hovering spirit seed. It glowed with holy light, pulsing
quietly and lighting up the interior of the lobby with otherworldly
hues.

"A totem-seed," whispered
Dylan. Reverence fought his burning desire. He desperately wished
he could speak the language of the spirits like a shaman. Instead,
all he could do was bow his head in respect. A totem-seed, at long
last.

Dylan looked down at the
woman in his arms. She was out cold, her head turned to one side
revealing a smooth expanse of neck. He fought back the urge to kiss
her there. She was nothing like the female werewolves of his pack;
they were lean, muscled, built for war and strife. This woman was
soft, full bodied, her breasts straining against her shirt; she was
like a ripe peach, the kind whose juices ran down your chin when
you took your first bite, filling your mouth with the richest of
flavors.

He swallowed. The
totem-seed continued to hover above them. Dylan forced himself to
gather his wits. To have almost caught Stark himself in combat! He
rose to his feet, lifting the woman effortlessly in his strong
arms. He couldn't leave her here. If she had drawn Stark's personal
attention, then nowhere was safe.

Dylan hesitated. He'd have
to watch over her till she awoke. Explain the danger she was in.
Ask her about her totem-spirit companion. If she knew what it
meant. What it promised. How it could change the world - and what
she would have to do to set it free.

The hairs along the back
of his neck rose. This was momentous. This could change everything.
Yet instead of thinking about politics, the future of the Silver
Song pack, the war with the enemy, he could only stare at her face
and wonder who she was. Her name. He wanted to gaze into her large
eyes once more. Wanted to explore her body, taste her, drink deep
her scent, feel her push against him, hear her moans, her cries,
bury his -

Dylan jerked his head
back. By the Earth Mother, what was wrong with him? He was acting
like a barely turned pup. Standing here foolishly while Stark went
for reinforcements. Turning, he jogged out of the lobby and into
the cold night air.

To his enormous relief,
the totem-seed followed. His motorbike was parked just a few yards
past the SUV. Dylan hesitated, and then swung one leg over its
broad seat. Cradled her body against his chest with one arm, and
gunned the bike to life with the other.

They had to get out of the
city. He'd take her to Anna's House. It would be safe there. As
safe as any place could be in this dark and ruined
world.

~~~

The roaring of a
motorcycle and cold wind on her face brought Naomi back to
consciousness. A strong arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and
she was being held against someone's chest. She raised her hand to
block the wind from her face, and realized she was sitting
side-saddle on a large bike, just behind the handlebars, and they
were no longer in Fort Brixton but rather driving down a country
road through dark woods.

Panic seized her by the
throat. Where was she? Who was this man? An image returned to her:
Stark, shifting into a black-furred nightmare, chasing her out of
the dark theater. She was about to struggle, to flail out
suicidally, but then she saw Illixy - he was keeping pace with
them, bobbing through the midnight air and leaving behind a stream
of golden wisps and dancing motes like a comet arcing across the
night sky.

You're
alright
, said Illixy, his voice clear in
her mind despite the roar of the bike and wind.
He's a friend. He's taking you somewhere
safe
.

The man had realized she
was awake. He glanced down at her, and then slowed the bike and
pulled off on the shoulder of the road. The wind died down. The
bike's roar lowered to a rumble. They came to a stop, and their
eyes met.

She remembered his face.
God, he was gorgeous. Skin tanned, almost bronze, with harsh
leonine cheekbones and a wind tousled mane to match. Firm, almost
serious lips, a strong nose, and burning gold eyes that seared her
through to her core. She was held against his old leather jacket,
but even through its stiff surface she could feel his muscled
frame.

"Um, hi." The silence
ached around them. They were way outside Fort Brixton - she could
see the lights of the city illuminating the underside of the clouds
behind them, but out here only a single orange roadside street lamp
every few hundred yards held back the darkness. The air was rich
with the smell of pine needles and loam, humid from the recent
rains.

"Hey there." His voice was
a low rumble in his chest, and the power of it stirred something
deep within her, lit a small fire that made her want to squeeze her
legs. "How you feeling?"

"I'm - I don't know." She
knew she should be pushing herself up, getting off the bike, but it
felt delicious to lie there against him, cradled by his arm. Which
wasn't shaking at all, despite however long he'd been holding her.
She felt like he was strong enough to hold her forever.

"My name's Dylan. I'm glad I was close
by when your... friend found me."

Reality began to pierce
the moony warmth and arousal that was swamping her mind. He could
see Illixy. Nobody had ever, ever been able to see him. Forget
that. Stark. He had turned into a monster. And - her eyes widened,
and with a small cry she jumped off his bike and staggered out onto
the narrow one lane country road. Dylan. He'd turned into a monster
too.

Dylan didn't make a move to stop her.
He leaned back on his bike, Illixy hovering at his
shoulder.

"You - Stark - you're both
-"

He nodded, face grave. His
eyes seemed to glow like those of a wolf reflecting light. "Yes.
Werewolves."

You're not going mad,
Naomi
. Illixy's voice was warm,
comforting.
You're just finally learning
the truth.