Alpha's Forbidden Mate Read online

  I remove my hand long enough to kiss him goodbye and then I stop him from talking once more.

  "Call me so that I know you get home safely." I repeat. "Please, Ricky, just call me."

  He nods slowly, presses a kiss to my palm, and then turns and lets himself out of my apartment. Four hours later, almost to the minute, I get a text message assuring me that he's fine, home safe and sound, and about to crawl into bed.

  It's not the phone call I wanted. I didn't get to hear his voice, and my heart breaks just a little more.

  Chapter Ten

  *** Darrick ***

  "Maybe you should skip tonight and go visit your mate," Hunter suggests, taking the seat in front of my desk uninvited.

  "I can't miss the annual pack meeting that is compulsory for everybody," I say enunciating each word irritably. Hunter rolls his eyes. He knows as well as I do that the yearly werewolf census meetings are no longer compulsory by law. Many years ago our pack decided to make the most of a terrible situation and now the yearly event is more like a reunion party, a chance to celebrate togetherness and belonging, family and pack. I'm proud to be a part of it.

  "What happened last fortnight?" Hunter asks, clearly tracking the changes in my scent. For the first time in more years than I can count, I try to redirect his attention with a half-truth.

  "I told you about the children," I say, shrugging as if the situation hasn't left a jagged wound in my soul. No matter how many laws we change, how many rallies we attend, or how many humans finally realize the damage that is being done, none of it will ever give back two young innocent lives.

  "It's more than that," Hunter says, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "You did something selfless and stupid."

  "What the hell? Where did you get that idea?" There is no way he read all of that in my scent.

  "Easy," Hunter says, not bothering to smile. "I know you, Darrick. You've always been stupidly self-sacrificing. It's not a huge leap to realize that you would want to keep your mate out of the worst of our lives."

  "Just drop it, Hunter," I say, nearly growling the words, not even trying to deny his conclusion.

  "I can't," Hunter says, his soft smile endlessly affectionate. "You're my best friend and my alpha, but you're also a person who deserves good things in life. John makes you happy."

  I can't deny that John is very important to me, but that's only more reason to push him away. If I love him, I have to want what's best for him. And what's best for him is to stay far away from me.

  "Darrick," Hunter says, cutting off the thought I was about to voice, "I also know you make him happy. You come home covered in his scent every time you visit."

  "That's just fu—" I swallow hard, unable to finish the lie.

  "It's not," Hunter says sternly. "It's love and affection and... longing." He gives me a sad smile. "He wants more from you. He wants to be a bigger part of your life."

  "You can't get all of that from a secondhand scent," I say, deciding that derision is a better form of defense right now. "We had an amazing sex life and we spent most of our time together in bed."

  I want to add the words "nothing more" but again I can't give voice to the lie.

  "Does he know?"

  "Know what?"

  "That you decided what was best for him?"

  I'm annoyed as hell by that question. I value my betas and their opinions, but it's damned inconvenient that Hunter can't agree with me on this particular subject.

  "Hunter," I say, trying not to huff in annoyance, "when you find your mate then you can have an opinion on how I should treat mine. Okay?"

  He growls in frustration and I raise an eyebrow, instinctively reminding him which one of us is the alpha. If we were in werewolf form I'd probably have him on the ground with my teeth around his throat right now. I use the realization as yet another reason for me to avoid my very human mate. Werewolves may have evolved into more human-like behavior over the centuries, but we'll probably always react on instinct in some things.

  Hunter drops his gaze to the floor and tilts his head to the side, exposing his throat in apology. I pinch the bridge of my nose, more tired now that I felt two weeks ago. I really didn't need the reminder that we're not equals, that even though I lead the pack I'm not really one of them.

  Damn. I miss my mate so much I can barely breathe. Hunter sighs heavily when he scents the sudden change in my emotions.

  "Hunter, please," I say breathlessly. "I don't want to argue with you."

  Hunter nods, swallowing hard. "I guess I'll see you at the meeting tonight then?"

  I hear the question mark at the end of what should have been a statement, so I nod and try to force a smile onto my face. "I have a few things to finish here," I say, mostly because it's true, but also to give myself some time to get my emotions back under control before I have to face the entire pack.

  "Do you want me to pick up Emily and the kids?"

  I force a genuine smile onto my lips. "Thanks that would be a big help."

  "Okay," Hunter says as he stands up and turns to leave my office. "We've got a couple of extras coming home this year. Do you remember Leon Brower?"

  "Brower?" I ask, distracted from my own problems momentarily.

  "He was one of the kids chosen by the 'Werewolf Graduate Placement Program' fifteen years ago."

  I nod, remembering the awful certainty that the WGPP had only been created as a way of stealing our best and brightest under the guise of giving them an education. "I remember Leon. Awkward kid, seriously intelligent though."

  "He left that off his paperwork," Hunter says with a smile.

  "Wait," I say, finally realizing where this discussion is leading. "He's one of the extras coming home this year?"

  Hunter nods. "Planning to stay too, apparently."

  I blink back the tears of relief blurring my vision. Letting Leon and two other twelve-year-old pups be taken by the WGPP had been one of the things I'd argued about the most with my father. I'd feared for the kids' safety and their sanity and had never expected to hear of any of them again, let alone have one of them return to the pack permanently. I'm very glad that I was wrong on this one.

  "That's really good news," I say, smiling genuinely for the first time in what feels like years. "Thanks, Hunter."

  My best friend nods and leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  ** John **

  I know Darrick isn't coming this weekend, but I can't help the leap of hope when there's a knock on my front door. Silently berating myself for my reaction I nevertheless rush to undo the locks.

  It's a shock when the door bursts inward and slams into my face, so I'm still trying to figure out what the fuck happened when I open my eyes to find a gun filling my vision.

  "John Hartmann?"

  I have no idea who this man is until several more people wearing police uniforms and pointing guns in my direction filter into the room from behind him.

  "John Hartmann?" he demands again.

  I nod slowly, bewildered to be on the receiving end of such treatment. Unfortunately, confirming my identity only gets me crash tackled from behind by at least three of the uniformed officers. I don't try to resist their actions but since falling on my face isn't exactly a natural reaction I struggle to free one arm to break my fall. That apparently earns me a kick to the head and a knee grinding into the back of my neck.

  Nausea swells through me and I gulp in air, terrified of vomiting in a position where I can't clear my mouth. I force my muscles to relax and let whoever has ahold of my arms do whatever it is they intend to do. I've never been handcuffed before but what goes around my wrists feels a whole lot thicker than the handcuffs they use on TV shows.

  I have at least a dozen questions I need to ask, but the headache is blinding and the nausea is still wreaking havoc with my stomach. I would like to say I chose to lay quiescent on my living room rug, but I think it's more likely that I passed out because the next thing I know my feet
have also been shackled and my knees are bent awkwardly. Judging by the pull on my arms and shoulders they've been attached to the cuffs on my wrists.

  Glad now for the headache and nausea interfering with my ability to panic, I still can't hold back the groan as several police officers grab a piece of me and awkwardly carry me out of my apartment. The van they load me into comes equipped with metal cages so I'm not even surprised when they load me into one of them. It's a tight fit so I'm almost grateful when they have to roll me onto my side.

  I've read all about the dangers of positional asphyxiation so I'm even more grateful for the ability to breathe. Nobody bothers to tell me why I'm under arrest. In fact other than confirming my name they haven't spoken to me at all. I know my rights and the proper police procedures for arresting someone, but between the headache, the nausea, and the fact that I'm trussed up tighter than an animal about to be spit-roasted I choose not to remind my attackers of those facts just yet.

  There will be time enough, I hope, to sort out what the hell is going on once we get to the police station.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  *** Darrick ***

  I love my pack.

  Being surrounded by people I've known my entire life is peaceful in ways even I can't really explain. I would love to have my mate beside me as I make my way through the gathered werewolves and the handful of humans who make up my pack, but even though I can't have that, I can at least enjoy the best parts of werewolf life.

  I stop and talk for a while to a few pack members that I haven't had a chance to spend time with lately before Hunter finds me.

  "Darrick," he says urgently. "He's here."

  My heart leaps into my throat, excitement curling through my heart at the thought of seeing my mate again. It takes another few seconds to realize that John is not the "he" Hunter is referring to.

  "I can scent him. He's here," Hunter says, his eyes glinting with his excitement. "My mate is here but I can't find him."

  I force down my own disappointment and concentrate on my best friend's dilemma, trying to think rationally. "He has to be one of the extras," I say smiling as real happiness for my best friend rolls through me. "How many were we expecting?"

  Hunter seems too agitated to think so I take a step closer and place my hand on his shoulder. He stops looking around frantically and smiles down at me.

  "How many?" I ask again.

  "Three," he says, his smile growing when he realizes he can narrow down the candidates quickly. "The only one I've never met personally is Leon."

  I sweep my gaze across the gathering of werewolves, seeking out the grown up version of the twelve-year-old kid who'd been taken from his home fifteen years ago. I grin when I realize that's him loitering near the exit. Grabbing Hunter by his jacket I haul him toward the place where his mate is standing looking very lost.

  His nervousness is understandable. He's probably not been fully immersed in a werewolf pack since before he was a teenager.

  "Leon?" I ask as we get closer. I can practically feel Hunter vibrating with excitement behind me.

  Leon looks ready to bolt so I reach over and place my hand on his shoulder the way I do when trying to reassure any other pack member. He flinches and tries to pull away. My werewolf instincts are to force him to submit to his alpha, but I'm human enough to recognize that his reaction is not meant as an insult. He's genuinely frightened of me.

  I take a step back and hope that helps him settle.

  "You probably don't remember me," I say, striving for a calming, friendly tone of voice. "I'm Darrick Alderman and this is my good friend, Hunter Brayden."

  "S–Sorry," the man stutters nervously, avoiding eye contact. "C–Can I go home now?"

  I hear Hunter's pain-filled inhalation beside me but I don't take my eyes off Leon. I'd been so relieved to know he'd made it back to his pack I hadn't really stopped to think about what might have happened when he'd been gone.

  "You're home now," I say slowly, unsure how to approach the subject without being insulting. "Whatever happened to you while you were gone, whatever horrible things you experienced—"

  "Horrible?" Leon asks, sounding offended. "Nothing horrible happened. I got a great education and opportunities I would never have gotten if I'd stayed here." He glances over his shoulder and then shrugs minutely. "I can run my business from anywhere and I missed the snow. Moving back to Wolden Valley seemed like a good idea."

  "You're not traumatized?" Hunter asks from beside me.

  Leon screws up his face, only glancing briefly in Hunter's direction without even looking up to his face. "Of course I'm not traumatized." He huffs impatiently. "Can I go now?"

  "Um..." It's a long time since I've been lost for words, so I turn to Hunter hoping he has something to add to the conversation. He looks at me blankly for a moment.

  "Okay," Hunter says, "I'll um... I'll drive you home."

  "No," Leon says immediately, again not looking in Hunter's direction. "It's a short walk."

  "Can I walk you home then?" Hunter asks, his scent starting to reflect his confusion.

  "No," Leon says again, shaking his head as he inches toward the exit.

  "At least take my phone number," Hunter says desperately, fumbling with his pen as he tries to write down his cell number on a paper napkin. When he's finished he actually tilts it toward me in a silent question. I nod when I see that it's both correct and readable. He steps forward to hand over the paper and flinches when his mate takes a small step away from him. Hunter nevertheless pushes the piece of paper into Leon's hand and then quickly steps away, far away.

  Leon crumples the paper in his fist as he hurries out the door.

  Hunter's hand is shaking when he drags it down his face. "Well that didn't quite go the way I expected," he says on a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh.

  I try to smile in solidarity but I can't help but remember that this is the man who wanted to shout his happiness from the rooftops once he found his mate. Judging by the way their first meeting just went chances are that Hunter will be going home alone to lick his wounds instead.

  "He probably just needs some time to adjust."

  "Do you really think so?" Hunter asks, still staring at the exit Leon used. "That seemed like a pretty definite rejection to me."

  It really did, but the last thing my friend needs right now is me confirming it.

  "Come on," I say, physically turning him away from the door. "Let's get something to eat."

  ~*~*~*~*~

  ** John **

  I think I might have a concussion. Everything is kind of blurry and dreamlike and I'm not entirely certain that what I'm hearing and seeing is actually what I'm hearing and seeing. It's quite a strange disconnect from reality, but I'm grateful for that metaphorical distance as events start to unfold.

  I don't know where the police officers take me but it sure as hell isn't the police station. When the vehicle stops they throw a tarp over the cage and then carry the whole thing out of the truck and down what seems to be a set of stairs. When the cage is finally opened, instead of being interviewed or processed or whatever it is that police officers are supposed to do when taking someone into custody, I'm instead ordered to strip down completely. That proves to be an impossible feat since they refuse to remove the handcuffs and I end up being cut out of my clothes while several people point guns at my head and chest.

  Once I'm naked, I'm herded into a brightly lit room before being shoved into a something large and shiny. The inside is smooth and rounded and I have trouble staying upright.

  Shivering from both cold and fear—I've done nothing wrong so I really have no idea why I was arrested, let alone why I'm in this place—I quickly take in my surroundings. The slippery metal floor basically curves into walls and then into the low ceiling above. It's not quite a perfect egg shape but it does seem designed so that anything on the floor, walls, or ceiling can be hosed down and will drain toward the hole at the lowest point.

  I have all of three seconds
to "appreciate" the view before the door is locked behind me and the room is plunged into complete darkness. I've never actually been frightened of small spaces, but this seems like the perfect experience to set off a claustrophobic meltdown of epic proportions. Thank fuck I've still got the damn headache or I might be freaking out about now.

  The smell is unpleasant—kind of like a poorly maintained public toilet facility—so I choose not to risk moving any closer to the drain. My hands are still cuffed behind me, so I sit straight down on the cold, hard floor, unwilling to slip and hurt myself even more than the police have already managed to do.

  Trying to ignore the ache in my arms and shoulders I attempt to remember everything that has happened from the moment I heard the knock on my front door. I think I might fade in and out of consciousness a few times, but judging by my thirst and the growing need to piss—I'm beginning to realize that's probably what the drain is for—I'm guessing I've been here for several hours at least, possibly an entire night.

  I'm so busy replaying the events over and over in my head that it takes way longer that it should have to realize that I can't hear any sound either. I'm basically being deprived of my senses. No light, no sound, no warmth, no company other than the toilet smell, and no clue why I'm here. As a human the situation is pretty awful, but for a werewolf with enhanced senses who craves wide open spaces and is used to being surrounded by a pack it would be completely terrifying.

  With that new perspective I start picking over the events of the past few hours again. There were a few comments that hadn't made sense at the time. The guy who'd eventually cut my clothes off had threatened to put me down if I "shifted." At the time I'd thought it was a strange way to tell me to stand still. And at my apartment one of the uniformed officers had warned another not to get close enough to me to get scratched. Considering how blunt I keep my nails so that I can type quickly, I hadn't understood his concern at the time.

  But what if they think I'm a werewolf?