Overview: Pack alphas are bad enough. It's just my luck I've fallen in with the worst of them all.
My life in post-Convergence Texas was always one of freedom— riding the plains and farming the land. But when my family clashes with the local shifter pack, our feud threatens to doom us all.
Because the most dangerous alpha of them all decides to claim me as his omega.
Ex-priest and Alpha Prime Reyes has demons of his own. He says my family is on the wrong side of the war, but he'll do anything to get me in his bed— and on his side. He demands my confession, but I won't let him break me, even if he’s the hottest alpha this side of the Rio Grande.
He thinks I'll find salvation on my knees, but I'm a warrior. And I’ll fight him tooth and claw until only one of us is left standing.
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| Taken by the Lycanthrope by Chloe Parker Book |
Taken by the Lycanthrope by Chloe Parker Book Read Online Chapter One
REYES
I stare up at the rising moon, and I try to breathe through the lust that fogs my mind.
It’s the last night I have to do this. The last night of struggling not to let my wolf take control, when I want more than anything to give into the desire that nearly overwhelms me each month. The last night of sitting alone in the chapel and staring up at the light of the moon, or locking myself behind the wooden door of my room while I listen to the others enjoy one another.
I never struggled with celibacy before I was possessed by this beast. Even when I was young—just after I took my vows, when I was still a little wild right out of seminary—I didn’t ever doubt the choice I’d made. I had the opportunity to leave the Church, get married, have a family of my own…and I always chose God.
Then the Angels came.
It shook my faith when the Heavenly Host arrived—because of course it did. I never claimed to know everything about God’s design, but I was fairly certain it didn’t include a violent invasion of Earth by his soldiers. I was also quite confident that real angels wouldn’t have taken human test subjects, “blessing” them with metal prosthetics and beastly powers.
That confidence nearly got me killed.
I fought them for two years, moving from city to city, leaving San Antonio behind. I collected friends where I could, building a resistance piece by piece. When I was captured, I figured the Angels would rather execute me than let me go. Instead, they punished me by injecting me with something that transformed me into a monster.
I ended up with an inner wolf myself, and the Angels called it a blessing.
In the years since then, I’ve spent every full moon struggling to keep my beast—the Alpha Prime—locked inside. He fights to break free, wanting to rut, to feast on an omega’s delicious curves. He isn’t particular in his tastes; he’ll take any omega he can get his hands on, and he somehow always knows them by scent. And that destroys me, annihilating the person I once was.
I’ve never been…bestial. Even when I fucked around in the two years between high school and seminary, I was methodical with the way I chose a partner. The way my beast threatens to take control scares the hell out of me, making me feel like I’m possessed.
So I stay away from the omegas during the full moon, and instead, I spend my nights here…accompanied, of course, by a bottle of bourbon.
I take a swig from my drink and hiss out a breath, zeroing in on the sound of crickets singing in distant trees. Will and Grant are on watch tonight; I can see the flash of their eyes every so often when they glance back toward the den, jealous of everyone enjoying the festivities in the caverns. We don’t force mated wolves to take watch on nights like this, so unfortunately, Will and Grant just so happened to have drawn the short straw.
Or maybe I just like it when I have someone to suffer with me.
I slide off the log pew and walk over to the two men guarding the barrier wall, their eyes on the place where the sky vanishes behind the red glow of the celestial curtain. They each hold a laser rifle stolen from an Angel supply depot, even if it isn’t really necessary. They’re both deadly enough with just their teeth and claws when they’re fully shifted.
And during the full moon, our capacity for killing is enhanced as much as our sex drive.
Both Grant and Will are sitting in the watchtower, though I can only tell because of their distinct scents of steel and ink. I can hear someone shuffling cards inside as I climb the ladder, not bothering to tell them I’m coming up. They can probably tell it’s me just as I know it’s them, by scent alone. They don’t use a light; we can see in the dark now, which I guess is a perk of having alien wolf blood. Grant glances over at me as I enter, the mop of red hair on his head falling into his eyes.
“Hey, Garza,” he says. “Was wondering when you’d join us.”
I shrug, straightening my collar. I always wear it on nights like this—it helps remind me of that pesky vow of celibacy. “Just trying to get a hold of myself. There’s…something on the air tonight. Something strange.”
“I think it’s called pheromones,” Grant quips.
Will cracks a half-smile, but he doesn’t laugh, his dark eyes trained on his hand of cards. “Wanna buy in on the next hand?” he asks. “Or do your priestly duties stop you from gambling, too?”
I groan, taking a seat beside them. “I’m game. What are we playing for?”
Grant snorts. “Blackberry rations.”
I frown. “Really?”
“It’s the only fruit we’ve got,” Will grunts. “And thus the only thing standing between us and scurvy.”
“I thought scurvy was a pirate disease,” Grant says.
“It’s a vitamin C deficiency,” Will replies, rolling his eyes. He glances over at me, brushing a big hand over his coiled black hair. “You working on that, by the way?”
Now’s not really the greatest time to ask. But I know he’s just holding me to my word—and I can’t fault him for that. “Working on it, yeah,” I say. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “The ‘borgs in the city aren’t making it easy for me, though. I guess I figured when we took the Austin encampment that we’d all be one happy family, but they claim we have it easier—that we should be out hunting and foraging, save the supplies for the folks who need it.”
“We fucking need it,” Grant shrugs. “But that’s cool. It’s not like we were the ones responsible for the uprising anyway.”
“Sometimes I wonder if that’s why they’re withholding supplies,” I mutter. “Because they liked it better when they were living under the thumb of the Heavenly Host.”
“Or they just don’t like it because we’re different,” Grant says. “People will always find some way to hate other people.”
“How insightful, Grant,” Will grunts.
They finish their game, and Will deals me in. I idly sift my cards from hand to hand, trying to remember the rules for Texas Hold ‘Em and coming up blank.
“So if you’re playing for blackberry rations, doesn’t that mean one of you is more likely to get scurvy?” I ask. “We ration things in a specific way for a reason.”
“Correction,” Will cuts in. “Grant is more likely to get scurvy, because he sucks at poker.”
“Or maybe I’m just drunk, which gives you an advantage,” Grant says.
“I think it’s become clear that I always have an advantage, purely by virtue of having a better poker face…”
Their words fade into the background as I continue flipping the cards from hand to hand, my body relaxing into somewhat of a stupor. It’s getting to be that time of night when I’ve had just enough whiskey to call it. All the people still in the den are having their fun, retiring to their bedrooms. They’ll be screaming the whole damn night, though, and at this point I’m just exhausted. My mind goes comfortably numb, the cards jumbling and blurring together.
A scent hits me.
Maybe it’s just the conversation, but I could swear I smell blackberries on the air, and just a touch of leather. The honeyed breeze blows through the window, invading my senses, lulling me into a sense of complacency…
“Are you in?”
I frown. “I fold.”
I put the cards down on the table face-up, suddenly not caring about the game I’ve only just agreed to play. Grant whistles, reaching for the cards as I get up and walk past him to look out the window. “What the…dude, you just folded with most of a royal flush,” he says. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Guess I’m winning his blackberry rations,” Will shrugs.
I frown, scenting the air again. The smell of blackberries and leather is much stronger now, so sweet that it makes my mouth water. I lean into the air, closing my eyes and trying to track the location of that delicious scent.
“Reyes, you good?” Grant says. “You’re acting super weird.”
“Shut up,” I growl, unable to stop the words from slipping out. I’m agitated, tired, and he’s distracting me. Especially because I can’t shake that fucking smell, and there’s something wrong with the way the night hangs heavy around us.
And then I hear it.
Hooves in the tall grass, whispering across the prairie.
I draw back suddenly, my eyes snapping open. “Get your fucking guns,” I say, whipping around. “We’ve got company.”
Will is on his feet in an instant, but Grant lags behind. “You—how do you know?”
“You don’t hear it?” Will says, shouldering his rifle. “We need to get out on the battlements. Shit—they must know we’re more vulnerable during the full moon.”
“Or we’ve just let our caution slip because we’re so damn horny,” Grant mutters. “Shit, I…”
I don’t catch the rest of what he says; I’m already striding toward the ladder and dropping the twenty feet down to the grass below, my body absorbing the hit. My limbs start to contort, the Alpha Prime preparing to protect his pack. I climb up onto the boundary wall partially shifted, my keen eyes surveying the tall grasses and the woods beyond.
“Reyes, wait!” Will’s voice calls from behind me, but my hands have already found the wood posts, claws biting into them to haul me over into the field just on the other side. A crumbling asphalt road leads away from the caverns, toward the woods, and I find myself following that scent down the road and into the forest.
I won’t let these people hurt my pack.
And I have to find the source of that blackberry and leather scent.
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