The Lone Alpha Unleashed: A Big Girl Meets Bad Wolf Romance Read online

  She’d left me.

  Technically, I guess I’d left her, but she’d made it clear that whatever we had wasn’t going to work. Not on her terms. Not on my terms. I could have fought harder. Tried to find some kind of compromise, but I wasn’t sure such a thing was even possible.

  When we were together, it was like an addiction. I don’t think either of us could have lived with any kind of long distance compromise where we weren’t always part of each other’s life.

  I went to bed alone.

  I dreamed of her.

  I woke up alone.

  It didn’t have to be that way. Darla had made it clear she was willing to share my bed, even on a casual basis. Physical intimacy with no strings attached. She wasn’t the only bitch sniffing around. I wasn’t their pack leader, not officially anyway, but I was the closest thing they had to one right now. Over time I began to suspect there was some kind of organized, ongoing effort to get me paired up with any available female.

  They thought I would give in to temptation, forget about Carrie and claim one of them, and by extension the pack, as my own. If that was their plan it was never going to work. I was lonely. I craved companionship. But what I had felt with Carrie was so far above and beyond any kind of connection I had ever felt before that the idea of any kind of sexual encounter with another woman left me feeling cold and dead inside.

  I had always envied those who had found their true mate. The one they were fated to spend the rest of their life with. The one that completed them. I had never expected to find my own. Not after Charlotte. Not after they burned my pack and I turned my back on my own kind.

  For years I had been lost. I had turned my hands to many things. I had been a criminal, a soldier and a killer. When I was lost I had hopped in and out of the beds of humans and shifters alike. I hadn’t been looking for anything more than physical gratification. My need was just an itch that needed to be scratched before moving on.

  But Carrie had changed all that. For the first time in my life I had felt it. The kind of connection that so many others had tried to explain to me. I had found my true mate. Except it was impossible. Humans and shifters could fall in love, sure. Although it rarely lasted. But not like this. The connection between us, and the effect it had on us, shouldn’t have been possible. In the end it all felt like a cruel joke.

  Since she had gone, every day had fallen into the similar routine. I’d awaken and go for a run, before bathing and throwing myself into any kind of work that kept me busy. Nothing in the camp that was broken stayed broken for long. I chopped wood, built shelters, hunted and cooked. All in a fruitless attempt to forget about her. It didn’t work, of course. But by the end of the day I was usually too tired to do anything other than fall asleep. I couldn’t forget her, but I made sure I didn’t have the energy to dwell on her.

  Before I had left I promised Carrie that I would come find her. That I was on a mission and once I had taken care of unfinished business I would seek her out. At the time this had been my intention. But every day I found another excuse to stay. There was always something to fix or someone who needed my help.

  Sometimes she spoke to me in my dreams. She lay on her side, propped up on one arm, giving me a playful smack when I ogled those magnificent breasts instead of paying attention. She asked me why she was still waiting. Why I hadn’t left the camp to pursue these loose ends. Why we were both still alone. Instead of answers I’d silence her with a kiss.

  I wasn’t sure how long had passed. I wasn’t really keeping track of time. Weeks? Maybe a month? But eventually there came a night where I didn’t dream of her. I didn’t dream of anyone other than myself. Alone on a vast plain, howling at the moon. I couldn’t recall a time I had ever felt so alone. Wolves share their dreams with their kin. Some believe it is the echo of their scent. Others think it is some kind of collective mystical experience. Whatever it is, they almost never dreamed alone. It had to mean something.

  When I awoke, I tried to convince myself that it was a sign that I had moved on. That whatever cruel twist of fate that had brought Carrie into my life had been thwarted by my brute force approach to getting over her and moving on.

  But if that was the case, why did my blood feel like iced water in my veins? Why did I feel as if something terrible were about to happen?

  There was a frantic knocking on the side of the lean-to that I currently called home. It was Tyler. A teenage shifter who’d taken it upon himself to be some kind of personal assistant or squire. A complication I had neither asked for, nor wanted.

  “James, there’s someone coming. Big car, tinted windows. Smells like the man. Smells like trouble.”

  Kent.

  I guess it was only a matter of time until my handler came looking for me.

  - X -

  Kent raised an eyebrow and let out a low whistle as he stepped out of the car, “I like what you’ve done with the place Jimmy. Still a shithole, but I do believe it’s no longer festering.”

  The pack was restless. Kent reeked of loathing and disdain, he didn’t try to hide it. The man hated shifters.

  “You don’t write, you don’t call. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Maybe I just had nothing to say.”

  “Because you're usually such a scintillating conversationalist?”

  I proved his point by grunting in reply.

  As Kent strode across the compound towards me, half a dozen members of the pack, those who saw themselves as my bodyguards, or perhaps lieutenants, formed into a loose semicircle behind him.

  “Call off your dogs Jimmy, we need to talk.”

  I told them to back off with a tilt of the head.

  “I’ve got a job that requires your particular talents.”

  “I’m not available.”

  “Yeah? Well clear your schedule princess because I have a feeling you’ll want in on this one.”

  “I told you, I’m not available.”

  An unfamiliar ripple of anger washed over Kent’s face. Kent was an asshole, but he was usually an asshole in control. Something was bothering him. A part of me that had been dormant for the last few weeks began to wake up. The part of me that wanted answers. The part of me that wanted revenge.

  If Kent was losing it, maybe I could use that. Maybe I could find a weak point and apply a little pressure. Kent was a foot-soldier like me. I wanted to know who he worked for. Not the FBI. Who he really worked for.

  I shrugged and nodded in the direction of my lean-to.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Get in the car. I’ll take you to a magical place called civilization. They’ve got running water and everything.”

  - X -

  “Why do you hate us so much?”

  “What the fuck? Small talk? That’s a first.”

  I shrugged and looked at the window as Kent drove like a man possessed, fishtailing and slaloming along the dirt road that led down the mountain. Neither of us spoke again until we were sitting across from each other in a squalid little diner in what just about passed for civilization. He pulled out a folder and pushed a photo across the table towards me.

  “You know him?”

  I knew him. Shifter. Mercenary. We’d worked together for a while. Part of an ugly little task force doing ugly little jobs for an ugly little man.

  “I know him.”

  “Yeah you do. He’s calling himself Edward Grant these days.”

  I shrugged. A new name. A new suit. Same old psychopath.

  “He’s working for this man.”

  Another photograph slid across the table. Another blast from the past.

  “The German? I thought he was dead.”

  “He got better. You know he’s not actually German right?”

  I knew. We all knew. We just didn’t care.

  “Why now?”

  “They’ve taken something. We need it back.”

  “We?”

  “Leave it Jimmy, I’m not in the mood for your little crusa
de.”

  My little crusade? He was talking about the massacre of nearly everyone I loved. A massacre I had witnessed and only just survived myself. I struggled to remain calm. I had to remain calm. This was a rare slip from Kent and I needed to take advantage of that.

  “My little crusade?”

  Kent templed his fingers and held my gaze. I sensed that he wanted to tell me. That he needed to tell me.

  “You really don’t have a clue do you? You still think I’m the enemy?”

  I shook my head, “you’re not the enemy. But I’m pretty sure you work for them.”

  Kent laughed dismissively, he held up the two photos, Edward and The German, “these are your enemies. You want more? The Purity Project is your enemy. The Four Huntsmen are your enemies. You have more enemies than you could possibly believe.”

  I was confused. These names weren’t familiar to me.

  “Your enemies are legion. Your enemies are powerful. But I don’t work for them. I work for your fairy-fucking-godmother you ungrateful son-of-a-bitch.”

  My head was reeling. It had spent years trying to find answers and if what Kent was saying was true, I hadn’t even been close.

  “You want to know why I hate you? Because you’ve dedicated your life to finding out who your enemies are and you’ve never once asked who pulled your shaggy ass out from beneath a burning tree. You don’t know who nursed you back to health when you were more dead than alive. You never ask how many men died extracting you and your team from the Sudan when The German left you high and die. Or who bailed you out after you fucked it all up in Detroit.”

  “I…”

  “And you want to know the best part? I don’t even know why. You’re a weapon. A blunt instrument. You have your talents, but you're hardly irreplaceable. I have no idea why you’re so important to the Daughters...”

  That was a slip and Kent knew it. The Daughters of Diana. They were a legend. A campfire tale, part of shifter folklore. But even if they did exist, they were supposed to be our enemy. If Kent was working for them, why were they looking out for me? Or any shifter for that matter?

  None of it made sense any more. I just wanted to forget about it all and go back up the mountain. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I had to ask the question.

  “What have they taken? What do you need back?”

  Kent slid a third picture across the table.

  It was Carrie.

  - X -

  Chapter 6: Carrie Helena

  I woke up in a crisp, white hospital room that looked like it was straight out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. It was an environment completely devoid of any kind of warmth or humanity. A small black and white TV mounted in the corner of the room played what looked like some kind of retro soap opera. The sort of daytime TV my nanny used to watch when I was growing up.

  I glanced nervously around and immediately noticed bars on the windows. I was lying on a spectacularly uncomfortable mattress. My back ached and I needed to pee. I tried to stand but couldn’t. I was cuffed to the bed at my wrists and ankles.

  Shit… oh shit.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. What the hell had they done to me? Where the hell was I? This was like something out of a horror film. Literally, my worst nightmare made real.

  I remembered a night out with Trudy. I remembered a handsome British guy who seemed as eager to hook up with me as I was with him. And then everything was just a blur.

  I was about to be punished for my promiscuity wasn’t I? I was going to be tortured because some sick bastard hated women. Why hadn’t I stayed at home pining for James instead of letting Trudy convince me I needed a night out?

  The door opened and someone dressed up as an old-fashioned doctor entered the room. I’d been expecting the hunky Brit who’d clearly been involved in my abduction, not this gray little man with a comb-over.

  He’d gone all out to look like the genuine article. Lab coat, stethoscope, right down to the shiny circular disk on a headband. I had know idea what that thing was called, let alone what it did.

  I tried to calm down. I needed to think before the scalpels came out and the torture began. My captor was clearly delusional, maybe I could work with that.

  “Good Morning Miss Derry. How are we feeling today?”

  I’m feeling… wait who? It’s Ms Jones actually, perhaps you have the wrong room.

  Except what I actually said was: “You won’t get away with this. They’ll find me sooner or later.”

  “Well, it’s been what,” the Doctor reached out and briefly laid a hand on my belly. My big, round, pregnant belly, “almost nine months now? I’m putting my money on later.”

  He quickly stepped backwards, away from the bed as I… or Miss Derry strained against her bonds. But there was some kind of twisted longing in his eyes as he looked at me… her… whoever. His eyes had lit up when he had touched my… our… belly.

  What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

  I didn’t speak, but my mouth moved and words came out, “I’m going to kill you.”

  What the hell?

  “Excuse me. I didn’t quite catch that.”

  “I said I’m going to kill you.”

  I saw just a the faintest flicker of fear in the eyes of the man who may or may not have been a doctor, but was almost certainly a lunatic. I really had no idea what was going on. It was like I was trapped in some kind of dream or vision. Whatever was happening, I was obviously just a passenger. Miss Derry, whoever she was, was at the wheel. And apparently Miss Derry was a bit of a bad ass. A very, very pregnant bad ass, but a bad ass nonetheless. That gave me a glimmer of hope, even though I still had no idea what was going on.

  “I’ll take my chances Miss Derry.”

  “Just let me out of here you sick son-of-a-bitch, let me out of here or I’ll fucking k…. unghhhh… Jesus that hurts.”

  Miss Derry strained against her bonds and groaned in pain as what I assumed was a contraction hit. It was odd though, I could feel the coarse straps biting into my wrists, I could feel the starchy fabric of the hospital gown against my skin, but not the contraction.

  The doctor (or serial killer, I was still on the fence about that one) looked excited as he approached the bed once more.

  “Well, well, well… You’re about a week early but well within the parameters for a healthy…”

  Without warning the body I was riding shotgun in lunged forward and I yelped silently in surprise as my forehead crashed painfully into the doctor’s. It was done with so much force I expected him to be sent flying backwards. But instead he fell forward on top of us and I tasted blood and snot and... Oh, that is so gross. Miss Derry had her teeth around the doctor’s nose so tight she’d broken the skin.

  “U-oo i or i ie oor ose oh”

  She clamped down harder to show him she meant business.

  “U-oo i!”

  I could barely decipher the words, but her meaning was clear. He got the message and undid one of her wrist straps. Her teeth remained clamped around his nose as she fumbled at the other cuff. When her other arm was free she finally released him. He looked nervously around the room like a startled rabbit as she took his head between her hands and pulled him close once more.

  “Now call for a guard.”

  He shook his head between her hands. And she gently placed the end of one of her thumbs against his eyeball as she repeated her request.

  Oh no no no no no. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t. The worst part about all of this, well aside from pretty much everything, was that I had no control over what I saw. I literally couldn’t look away.This was all far too similar to the sort of movie I’d usually watch with my eyes closed. Except now I was right in the middle of the action and I couldn’t shield my eyes from the sort of images that I couldn’t stomach.

  The Doctor groaned as she applied pressure. I just wanted to wake up. I really didn’t like this kind of stuff. Thankfully Doctor Creepy gave in to her demands before hi
s eyeball gave into her thumb and I was spared witnessing anything too disgusting.

  I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn’t. I was trapped here, front and center, an unwilling participant in some kind of warped horror film.

  “Guards… guards help! She’s escaping. Guards!”

  She released the doctor and he stood and watched as she undid the straps at her ankles. She groaned as she stood and paused for breath. I could feel atrophied muscles screaming with agony as the blood rushed back into them. She dry-heaved, but managed to keep it together. I would have thrown up half a dozen times by now.

  “D… d… d… don’t…” The Doctor reeked of fear and urine.

  “You know when I said I was going to kill you?” She took him by the arm and held him close as the door began to open, “I was only half right.”

  She threw the doctor at the guard as he entered the room, his weapon drawn. There was a muffled gunshot and a bright red flower appeared on the doctor’s white coat. Before the guard could react Miss Derry, who I was beginning to suspect was some kind of elite super-ninja, grabbed his wrist and twisted. I heard the crack of bones and a second, louder gunshot that ricocheted of the tiles before smashing the screen of the tiny television.

  A vicious punch to the throat and the guard crumpled, gasping silently for air. Miss Derry relieved him of his weapon and my heavily pregnant surrogate made her way down a brightly lit corridor to some kind of central control room.

  She paused for a moment and took a few deep breaths before heading to the desk, where she grabbing the handset of a phone. She began stabbing at an old-fashioned keypad with her finger. It didn't dawn on me until it was too late that I should have paid attention to the number.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  “Jackson it’s me.”

  “My God. My God Helena. You’re alive.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar. It was someone I knew, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.