Owned By The Alphas - The Prequel (5 page)

From the driveway, he heard, “Jared? Where are ya?”

“I’m at the chicken coup, Mr. McKlain. Got it all fixed up!”

“Well, good. Come over and help me get these chickens.”

“On my way!”

As he walked up, he watched Hope running into the house. Right before she disappeared inside, she flashed a secret smile to him. He sighed and met her father at the bed of the truck, but he knew he was going to have a hard time meeting the old man in the eye.

“Fresh eggs by day after tomorrow if these ladies get comfortable real quick,” Lester grumbled. He pulled it across the bed, loudly scraping the worn bottom.

On a quick count, there were twenty new chickens. “I made sure there’ll be comfortable. Mr. McKlain. And I’ll scramble the first batch.”

“Good boy.” Lester turned to hand the cage over, but paused, staring at something as Jared reached out to take it.

Jared looked down. There were scratches up and down his arms. Fresh scratches obviously made by a human. Jared dropped his hands and his gaze fell with them. “Mr. McKlain…I…”

With a heaviness Jared hadn’t heard him use before, he interrupted, “I think it’s about time you were moving on, son.”

Jared blinked and swallowed as a lump grew in his throat. Struggling against it, he said, “I’m so sorry.” The old man could barely look at him. “Sir, can I help you take these over to the coup, first? Then I’ll go.”

Lester shook his head. “I got ‘em in the truck. I can get ‘em out.”

Wracked with anger at himself, Jared strode over to the shack where his few belongings were. Crashing inside, he pulled out a worn Army-green backpack and shoved his clothes in it. He made his bed with quick hands, and turned to survey the room to see if he’d forgotten anything. Looking at the soft pillow he’d laid his head on, the country curtains that barely blocked out the light but were charming just the same, and the hot plate that held his coffee pot, he felt a knot form in his chest. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning away. He headed for the small table where he’d enjoyed many a warm breakfast, to pick up the book he carried with him everywhere: The Fellowship of The Ring. He shoved the tattered paperback into his pack and went out the door, casting sad eyes to the coup. The old man had his back turned, wrestling with flapping chicken wings and sharp, clucking beaks.

Jared glanced to the big house. She wasn’t in the window, and he stopped on the overgrown path. Lester whistled with two fingers, long and loud, catching the young werewolf’s attention. Looking over, he saw the old man shaking his head with a stern look that meant business, not knowing he didn’t stand a chance if Jared decided to force a different outcome. Jared was stronger than human men, even those half Lester’s age, but that wasn’t the point. He respected the man, and so he had to show him that by leaving when he was asked, especially after all that had been done for him.

“Dammit,” Jared said, as he headed for the road. He threw one last glance behind him to the house, but Hope was still inside. Probably showering or something. Maybe talking to one of her friends and telling them what happened. “Hope,” he muttered. “Look out the damn window or something!” But she didn’t.

As he passed Lester, he hesitated and raked a hand through his hair as they stood in silence, divided by the fence. “Sir, I stepped over the line, but I’m not a bad guy. I don’t want to scar her by leaving without saying goodbye.”

“I’ll tell her you said it.” Mr. McKlain stared into the sun. “You broke my heart today, kid. You broke my heart.”

“I’m really sorry.”

The walk down the long driveway to the lonely dirt road was like walking the plank to his death.

“Jared!” Hope screamed from the porch. He turned to see her barreling down the steps so fast that she stumbled.

“No, Hope!” Lester yelled. “Go back in the damn house! Get in there!”

She ran as fast as she could. Jared stopped and waited for her.

“He found out,” Jared explained as she arrived in front of him.

“Oh no! You’re leaving for good? No!” She whipped around and called over the fence, “Daddy! Don’t throw him out onto the streets!!”

Lester looked sad as he shook his head. “He’s not stayin’ here no more, Hope! Now say your goodbye and get your ass back in the house!”

With liquid eyes, she turned back to Jared, her hands flying over her mouth. “I did this to you! I’m so sorry!”

Desperate for her to have a good memory of this, he told her, “I couldn’t resist your beauty. I would have taken you sooner or later. And don’t settle for guys like Chris Lake, okay? You hear what I’m saying? You’re amazing. Never forget it.”

Her pretty face gave way to emotion as she squeaked, “Okay.”

He sighed and started walking away, holding out his arm. They touched hands for a moment and then the distance of his steps broke the bond. “Take care of yourself.”

She watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. He didn’t have to look back to know that. He could hear her heartbeat pick up speed as he disappeared, the rush of pain coursing through it.

“Have to be more careful,” he mumbled as he walked on.

A
n unusual event
was taking place and Ali had dressed up for the occasion. Her aunt and uncle were paying attention to her. They were seated across from her at dinner. It was a rare occasion where they had taken her out and were home from work early enough to do it. But it was her graduation from high school after all. Something to celebrate. The end of that boring ass place where she learned crap that wouldn’t serve her in the real world. She knew this, but her aunt would NOT let her forget it.

“Graduating. Great. From what? They should have one semester to cover all the wars that happened before 1900, and the rest on things you can actually use in adult life! Where are the classes on investing? Buying a home? Managing credit cards?” Aunt Lorelei grumbled while looking at the menu. “Henry, what are you having?”

With his nose firmly planted in the list of wines, Ali’s uncle answered, “The Petite Syrah to start. I might have a Chardonnay with dinner since…”

Lorelei bit off the rest of his sentence. “I meant food!”

Henry threw her a look that said loud and clear that she was an idiot. “I was just about to say, before you interrupted, that I’ll have a white since I’m ordering the lobster ravioli. See? If you’d just give me a minute.” He shook his head and laid the menu down with an impatient thwack.

Ali’s bottom lip got a good gnawing on, a normal habit she’d acquired as a means to keep her mouth shut around them. She waited to be asked what she was having, but the question never came. Aunt Lorelei was too busy making the duck-face and curtly shaking her head, as if wagging it could magically turn him into a different man. Ali didn’t know what the problem was with these two. They were perfect for each other, both career and self obsessed.

A female server walked up. She was wearing the normal high-end restaurant attire, all black. She glanced around with a distant smile, her hands behind her back. “Can I get you a glass of wine, or something from the bar?”

Ali watched her just so she didn’t have to look at her relatives.
Maybe I’ll work in a restaurant while I go to college.

“Do you make good money?” she blurted.

Surprised, the server stared at her for a moment as both her aunt and uncle lost their jaws to the table. “Ali!” they said, in unison. Then her aunt scolded, “You don’t ask someone how much money they make!”

She ignored them. “Do you make good money? I might want to try this, that’s why I’m asking.”

The server shrugged and nodded. “The hours are flexible, too.”

“Cool. Thank you.” Ali set down her menu. “I just graduated. Ceremony was today. So…can I have a scotch?”

Uncle Henry laughed, but Aunt Lorelei was not amused.

The server blinked. “Graduated from college?”

“High school.”

“Oh. Sorry. You’re not old enough, then.”

Comically, Ali snapped her fingers like
darn it all to hell
. The server smiled and made to leave, but Aunt Lorelei stopped her. “Excuse me! Wait! Why are you leaving? We’re ready to order!” then muttered under her breath, “Unbelievable.”

“Oh. I guess I got distracted,” the server said.

Uncle Henry rolled his eyes.

Ali gave her a slight nod.
See why I need the scotch?

As soon as their orders were placed and the server had left, both Henry and Lorelei picked up their phones to check them for who-knows-what. The conversation came to a standstill, what little there was of it. Even with the repeated gripes about the school system’s inadequacies, at least someone was sharing ideas and well…connecting. Ali wanted to hit her head against the table to let them both know they’d tuned her out yet again, but from years of experience knew it wouldn’t change anything. Numb, she chewed on her lip and stared off into the restaurant, not focusing on anything.

“I think I’m getting rid of my phone,” Ali announced.

Both elders at the table looked up, shocked.

“Good luck getting anywhere in this world,” Aunt Lorelei snorted.

Uncle Henry choked out, “What do you want to do, cut yourself off from the rest of civilization?”

Ali shrugged and picked up the virgin strawberry daiquiri that got placed in front of her. “I just look at you guys and think, you barely talk to each other.”

The server placed the petite syrah in front of her Uncle Henry and quickly exited, not wanting to hear more.

Lorelei held Ali’s gaze. “Is that what you think of us? We talk!”

“We talk more than most of the couples we’re friends with,” Uncle Henry agreed, taking a big sip of wine.

Ali looked from one to the other and muttered, “Well, that’s just sad.”

Her aunt didn’t know what to do with herself, so she picked up her gin and tonic and rolled her eyes with a frown. “Just wait until you join the real world. Then we’ll see who’s high and mighty.” Tossing a look askance to her husband, she added under her breath, “Here we are taking her out to celebrate, and this is what we get?” She took a big gulp of her drink and looked back at her phone. Ali watched her uncle stare at his wife, wondering if she saw the irony. Then, after two seconds, he looked back down at his.

Ali slurped down the rest of the daiquiri, wishing there was scotch at the bottom of it, thinking,
I should have gone to the party. What an idiot.

“
W
e’ve got a live one
!” the tall wolf yelled, his cropped hair way too short for his ugly head. He was hunched down with bent knees, circling Jared with two of his buddies completing the circle.

The skinnier one with the beard gave a sinister laugh, and said, “Big, too!”

The blonde one just sneered.

And here I thought Canada would be different. What an idiot.

Jared kept an eye on all three of his attackers as he readied himself for the next hit. The first punch he hadn’t seen coming. He’d smelled werewolves, but when he had seen the first two, he hadn’t known the third was coming up from behind. An ambush. Again. It seemed like it was always the same story in every small town he’d followed clues to. He knew where to look now, after all these years. Rural areas. Places where people didn’t pay a lot of attention to the outskirts of town. Dirty places. And if bizarre deaths attributed to animal attacks hit the news, he knew there were probably werewolves nearby.

He’d made the mistake early on of going to the places the news lit the way to. As with all searches, he hoped to find a pack, as he now knew they were called, one that would give him some answers. Maybe take him in. Call him a friend. He was loyal, and had strong character. He knew he’d be an asset. But the types of wolves who killed people and made the news? They were wilder and would kill anything. He’d nearly been slaughtered, had barely survived the lacerations their fangs and claws had inflicted when he’d successfully tracked them down. But he was bigger than most–stronger and quicker, too. Alpha, they’d called him under their breaths. Whatever that was, it seemed to mean they were naturally afraid of his power. It was just as well, because he needed all the help he could get, even if some of it was in their minds.

Now, though? When the news sent information clueing in the whereabouts of werewolves, Jared headed in the other direction, hoping to find a more civilized group elsewhere. They were what his father had called him. Monsters. What was depicted in the movies was pretty close to what these creatures did for fun. And there were too damn many of them to mess with on his own.

On his own. He was so tired of being on his own.

These three circling him now weren’t that scary, though. These were bullies, not monsters. He could smell alcohol on them but no fresh blood. They smelled like French fries and burgers. Harmless. And yet they couldn’t cut him a break. He didn’t even bother to try and make conversation. He’d just arrived in Canada yesterday having heard people were nicer here. He’d hoped that included supernatural beings. No such luck.

“Look at them pretty blue eyes he’s got. Weeehooo!” the blonde one said. “He’s got those peepers and yet still smells like one of us. How come?”

“An abomination,” the skinny one hissed, brandishing a knife to compensate for his lack of muscles, and smarts.

Jared didn’t give his old argument:
I’m like you. What’s the problem? Why are you calling me that? I just want to talk.
All of that had only ever led to a whole lot of nothing but more scars, and sometimes dead werewolves.

Acting like he was going for the tall one, Jared moved to the right, but his hands snapped out from his body and he disarmed the skinny one from his knife before he saw what was coming. Jared threw a side-kick at the blonde one and knocked him back six feet with sheer force. The taller one rushed him, but his body weight and speed was used against him as Jared grabbed him, spun him around and threw him into the skinnier one who was making a rush at him. The two knocked heads and grunted, then turned to attack. Before they got there, Jared kicked the advancing blonde wolf, this time with a front kick, the heel of his foot nailing the wolf in the stomach so hard he got thrown back a couple more yards than the first time. Jared swung around and kicked the tall one in the groin. The beast doubled over with tears draining down his rugged cheeks. The skinny one’s jaw dropped at the sight of his two more capable buddies lying on the ground, but he wasn’t a coward, so he screeched and came running with fists pumping. Jared backed out of the way and let the guy’s closed, nervous eyes take him into a wall. As the velocity took care of him, Jared kicked the taller one when he was down, right in the stomach, the way you’d crush a can with your shoe. Then he rushed the skinny one, grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the wall, knocking him out. Eying the blonde one from the corners of a pissed off stare, Jared waited for a move, listening for the other two to get up, too.

Further down the street, like an apparition from the shadows, an older man appeared. He wore all black, a striking contrast to his shoulder-length silver hair, and his build was large, despite his years. He held Jared’s look and raised his hand in the air, beckoning him to come, two fingers crooking at the knuckles before he disappeared.

“Stay down,” Jared muttered to the blonde as he passed. “Your dad wants a piece of me. I’m going to give him what I gave you.”

The wolf just stared up at him. Jared glanced back as he walked, to make sure the three weren’t going to try anything. The taller one was still grabbing his crotch and staring after Jared, and the skinny one was out cold. Jared was just tired. Tired of all of this. And lonely as hell. And he wanted to take that pain and anger out on anyone who challenged him, no matter how old.

“Bring it on,” he muttered.

The street was empty of humans. It had to be after four o’clock in the morning. He glanced around the closed, dark buildings, scanning windows for signs of life. None found.

He got closer to where he’d seen the man. From the gleam in the eyes and the mysterious calm, he guessed him to be a wolf, and so the closer they got, the more his fists and muscles clenched. He slowed down, listening for heartbeats, but heard only one. Surprising. Taking the corner at a wide berth, he peered into the shadows of an alley foreign to him since he was new in town. A pair of eyes the same color as the old wolf’s hair glowed at him. “Want to take a walk?” came a deep, gravelly voice.

“That depends,” Jared answered, throwing a look down the street at the mess he’d left behind. “Your friends coming with us?”

“They are not with me. I do not know them personally. Come.” He walked away, his back facing Jared as though he trusted he wouldn’t be attacked. Or maybe he was confident in his abilities to defend himself; maybe he was that badass of an old wolf. Jared stared at him, aware of these possibilities and after a moment of deliberation, followed.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Somewhere away from the riffraff,” the man stated, simply. “Where we can talk.”

For about a mile of empty city streets Jared followed four to five steps behind. At every alley or break in a structure, he tensed and listened for others. But there were none. When a small park appeared, the silver-haired wolf turned around and motioned. “Sit.”

Jared planted his feet firmly and crossed his arms. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Nodding, the wolf sat down, crossed an ankle over his knee and regarded Jared, while he received the same scrutiny he gave. Jared saw that the wolf showed little signs of age save for the gravel in his throat and small lines by his pale eyes. They were more light hazel than the silver they’d appeared in the darkness. “You are new here. I have not seen you before. I am Ivar.”

“Eevar?” Jared asked, receiving a nod as answer. “Jared.”

“I can see from your gathered fists that you are not one to trust easily.”

Jared said nothing and kept the cloak over his eyes as well. But the silence grew uncomfortable, so he finally grunted, “I’ve done alright.” More silence, and the wisdom that stared back at him pulled the truth out. “Yeah, it’s been rough. But I can handle it. I’ve seen it all. I’m not into guys, just so we’re clear.”

A smile appeared and Ivar chuckled faintly. “Women are my downfall. You need not worry.”

Jared smirked, but remained guarded. “So, you’re not going to try and fight me?” Ivar shook his head once. “You have a pack you’re going to sick on me? Are they on their way, or just around the corner?” Another shake. “That’s new.” He jutted his chin with careful pride. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Why does everyone want to kill me? Other wolves, I mean. Everywhere I go. Why me? Is there a poster with my face on it somewhere that says,
abomination
?”

The old wolf’s gaze dropped to the ground and rose back up as he thought on this. He cocked his head, curious. “You don’t know that your eyes give away you’re not wolf-born?”

Jared blinked. “Not what?”

“Wolves cannot have blue eyes. Look it up. It’s the same with werewolves. If a werewolf has light blue eyes, it means they are probably half-wolf, and could have never turned…would not have, save for something happening that was so painful they shifted. And once a shift happens, it is forever possible to shift again. But bright, deep blue eyes like yours, pure blue, if they have that, it means they were once human. Only human. And something inside them, turned. It is frightening to other wolves who were
born
wolves. What makes a mere man, a mere mortal turn into a beast? What type of power does he have that enabled him to change like that? It is quite extraordinary. And very rare. And not only that, but you are an alpha.” As though to himself, he added quietly, “Truly extraordinary.”

“Alpha? I’ve heard that before…”

“But you do not know what it means? Has no one guided you in the process?” At the thinly veiled pain in Jared’s eyes, Ivar said, “I see.” He dropped his gaze to the ground again, his fingers drumming on the bench. “An alpha is the best of us.” He looked up. “The leaders. The strongest and swiftest, and their abilities–sight, smell, hearing–are all superior. Born that way. You may not have been born wolf…but you
were
born. Understand?”

Jared stared at him and took this in. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What happened to you? Did something happen to make you change the first time?”

The urge to tell all was strong, but the years of distrust locked his story deep inside him. He was grateful for the information, but sharing who he was, that trust had to be earned. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

Ivar nodded. “I will look forward to that day. Until then, would you like to meet my pack?”

A hand grabbed his heart. “Why? Why do you want me to meet them?”

Rising off the bench, Ivar looked to the east. “You look like you could use a friend. I have many I can share.”

The hand tightened and closed, freezing and crushing the words right out of him.

Ivar began to walk east and Jared walked by his side. “Jared, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I will call you Red.” He glanced over. “You like it?”

Jared held the old wolf’s fatherly gaze for a second, a lump forming in his throat. Unable to speak, he nodded.

Ivar looked away and kept walking, saying almost to himself, “Red. Yes. That will do.”