Trapped With the Alpha (Balfour Shifters Book 1) (3 page)

“What,” he barked, a chill prickling his skin. “What is it, my love?”

Her lips parted as if to respond to his question, but no sound came out. Suddenly, she began shaking her head back and forth, the look of horror upon her beautiful face growing more severe by the second. 

He lunged forward, clambering across the bed to reach her, frantic to get that look off her face and just make her move. Moving to the end of the bed in seconds, he reached out to drag her to him. Instead of grasping her soft skin, he slammed up against an invisible barrier of some sort.

“No!” he roared, pounding his hands upon whatever it was that kept her from him. He allowed his wolf to partially take over, his claws bursting forth from his fingertips. He struck out with everything in him, gouging at the barrier, desperate to get to her. Wild with panic and on the very verge of falling apart altogether, he let out a loud roar, realizing that even his claws could not break the barrier. “What sort of witchcraft is this?”

All of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, and stopped his wild attempts to reach her, panting for breath from his panic and rage. His warrior training kicked in, and he went for his sword. As soon as it was in his hand, he searched the room. Nothing else was there, however, only his Pixie. 

She was standing on the other side of this mysterious barrier, with her hands reaching out, palms flat, as if they were resting on a pane of glass. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

He slammed his hands to the barrier, on top of where hers should be, but instead of feeling her silky soft flesh, he felt nothing but ice-cold hardness. “No, no, no!” he roared, shaking his head in denial as tears built in his eyes. “No, Pixie, you hold on. I will get you. I will get you out of there, my love.”

She continued to stand there with her hands up, palm to palm with him through the invisible barrier. The tears that appeared to be silent from his end were now pouring down her beautiful face. She slowly started to shake her head no, and as she shook from side to side, her silken hair swinging around her shoulders, she began to fade. She faded to nothing right before his very eyes, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Unable to react, unable to attempt to free her, he stood there, frozen in utter horror. A sob built up in his throat, and as he tried to resist the urge to let it loose, he blinked. When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

He reached out, wanting to fight the witchcraft that held her prisoner. Instead of hitting the wall that was her prison only a moment before, he stumbled through and crashed to his knees, his palms slapping against the stone floor. His hands moved across the floor as he searched for her, but alas, they came up empty. 

He knew he should call his warriors to his side, but he could not force himself to leave the room and possibly miss the chance of finding his mate.  He searched his chamber for what felt like hours, but there was nothing to be found. Finally, he had to admit his mate was gone, having vanished before his very eyes. He slowly sat back on his haunches, bringing his fist up to his mouth to stifle the agonizing sobs trying to break free.

In a fit of fury, he stood and grabbed the closest thing within reach. The wooden chest sailed across the room as he whipped it with all his might. Before it had even landed, he moved to the next object, hurling it across the room in his fury. 

Within minutes, the room was completely and utterly destroyed, just like his heart. He stopped his savage rampage, looking wildly around the room before collapsing to the floor. He laid there, still naked as the day he was born, grasping at his deep brown hair, pulling at it with desperation and pain.

Suddenly, he rocketed up to his knees, threw his head back, and screamed. He felt as if his soul was being torn from his body, the loss of his mate leaving him utterly broken. He screamed with everything he was worth until his screams became those of howls as he freed the creature from within. The beast’s pained howls continued on for what seemed like forever, alerting the clan still down below at the festivities to the pain-filled cries of their pack mate.

Before his wolf was even able to gasp for breath and release another howl, he shifted back. Blackness tightened in on him, bringing on a magic-induced sleep. Fighting to remain conscious, he laid there, determined to keep his eyes open.

Just as the darkness overtook him, he could swear he heard a woman whispering in his ear. Through his pain and bewilderment, it sounded like she was saying, “You may have won the war, but this battle, this battle is mine.” As the last of the whispers quieted, he tiredly gave in and closed his amber hued eyes. 

After his servant shouted for help, the pack Alpha ran into his son’s chamber in a state of panic. He stumbled over the remains of a wooden chest, as he stepped next to the bed. Only then did he see his son in a state of what appeared to be deep sleep upon the floor. 

They would never find out what happened that fateful night, or what rage caused him to destroy his chamber. Instead, when he awoke the next day, it was as if he was waking from a drunken stupor. In fact, many members of the clan suffered the same. No one quite remembered what had happened the night before, even the Alpha himself.

The Alpha questioned many of his men, including his son. Each stared back at him with a blank look on their face, unsure of what had taken place the night before. After much contemplation, the Alpha declared that the ale drank during the celebration must have been tainted. Any that remained was ordered destroyed, and the incident was never to be spoken of again.

As for his son, he assumed he had retreated to his bed after a night of too much ale during the summer solstice festivities. He was sure he had come up alone and passed out after a long day. Still, there was a tingling in the back of his brain, as if he were missing something, something of vital importance—something that caused his beast to howl from within. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember what it was.

Luna Rock, Minnesota

June 3
^rd
, 2015

Brody

AS MY
Pixie walked toward me, her long blonde hair seemed nearly silver in the moonlight, the beautiful waves swaying side to side with each step. “I’m yours, Brody.”

My lips started to turn up in a rakish grin, just before the sound of laughter reached my ears. A chill raced up my spine, a feeling of foreboding filling my soul. As quickly as possible, I rolled from my bed and grabbed the great sword. “No,” I shout, but it’s already too late. 

My Pixie was fading. All that was left of her was her ghostly figure, tears streaming down her face. “Remember me, Brody. Remember me.”

A pounding on the door brings me out of my dream, causing me to jump from the bed and grab the sword that still rests beside it. This same sword has been at my side since the day my father gave it to me. As soon as my hand touches the cool metal, I’m brought back to reality. My Pixie is gone. No, she’s not even real. 

Placing my sword back in its resting spot, I sit down on the bed and pull in a deep breath. Just as I’m regaining my breath, a hand touches my back. My wolf immediately goes on alert, and I twirl around, nearly jerking the arm off the person who dared touch me. “What are you doing in my bed?”

The redhead I met at the bar last night lets out a pitiful little squeak. “You brought me here… last night. Don’t you remember how hot we were together?”

I must have been drunker than I thought. I never let my one-night stands stay the night. I fuck them and then send them on their way. It doesn’t matter to them anyway.  They don’t give a damn if it’s me or not.  They all just want a piece of the Balfour pack.

These bitches may not know what I am—none of them would ever guess that I’m a shifter—but they know there’s something different about me and the other Balfour men. They hang around the pack bar, The Den, just waiting for one us to choose them for the night. Something dark in us must catch their attention, and they want a taste of the dark. The only taste they’ll ever get with me is a bit of dick, but that seems to be enough to keep them happy. Being a wolf has its perks, and the women seem to appreciate them.    

Letting go of her arm, I open my mouth just enough to let her get a glimpse of my canines. “I was done with you within minutes of getting your ass in my bed. You all know the rules. Once I’m done, you’re gone.”

She immediately rolls from the bed and grabs her dress from the floor. Without even bothering to put on her bra or panties, she shimmies her fake ass plastic body into the dress and heads for the door. As she opens it, she looks back at me. “I’ll be at The Den tonight, if you want me again.”

How desperate does this bitch think I am? I can happily get any pussy I want. Going for repeats is not something I tend to do… ever. “Yeah, right.”

My cousin, Knox, steps in as she’s walking out. A cocky grin is plastered on his face as he says, “Guess we’re hanging at The Den tonight?”

“No,” I growl out as let my chin drop to my chest. Closing my eyes, I think back to my dream. It’s the same dream, or at least a variation of it, that I’ve been having for hundreds of years. 

In the beginning, it would just be the sounds a woman’s laughter. Something about that laughter always made my entire body coil for a fight. Then there would be the sound of a woman’s lyrical voice saying my name. Just the sound of her voice created an intense yearning within me unlike anything I have ever experienced before. For years, I heard her but never caught a glimpse of her. Still, I knew she was important to me. She was a part of me, and without her, I’d never be whole. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. It was always this feeling I had that went deep, all the way to the very core of who I am.

Finally, a few months ago, I saw her face. The face of an angel haunted me, both in my sleep and my waking hours alike. Then, I dreamed of having her under me, being inside her, claiming her. Never in my life have I felt such pleasure as I have when dreaming of her. If I were to explain it to any other guy, they would look at me like I had grown a pussy. That being said, a week ago, everything changed, when the evil laughter got louder and my Pixie started to fade away. Even though my dreams are more frequent, my time with her is limited to watching her fade from my sight, causing me to become more and more desperate to be able to get her to stay. Every time I watch her fade, it’s like someone is tearing my heart from my chest, and each time the feeling is worse than the last.

“Her again, huh?”

My head jerks up, and my eyes lock onto Knox’s. “What?”

Without answering, he bends over and grabs the redhead’s lace panties. He brings them to his face and snarls before tossing them toward the trash can. “Could you not pick a woman who hasn’t been used by every member of the pack? Fuck, dude that is just nasty.”

Ignoring his question, I get back to my own. “Her, who?”

He walks to the wall and leans one hip against it. “Your dream woman, the woman who’s turning you into a beast. We know you’re Alpha, and we expect you to snarl, but you damn near tore Caleb’s throat out yesterday for no reason at all.”

The taste of my brother’s blood still lingers on my tongue, but I can’t seem to find even an ounce of guilt in my body. “The little bastard should have kept his mouth shut. You know he deserved it.”

Knox lets out a chuckle, but I can hear a bit of a snarl in it. “Brody, all he did was ask when you were going to find your mate, something you’ve been asked a million times.”

Meeting his eyes again, I let my canines drop down. “Yeah, but it was the million and one time that got on my nerves.”

The longer my dreams last, the less control I have over the creature within me. He emerges with a ferocious rage I am unable to tamper, and then he disappears. There are days I can hardly feel my wolf at all. The once powerful beast inside me has become almost dormant. The only time I can feel him is when I’m in a rage. In these quiet moments though? It's like he is a shadow of what he once was.

My beta pushes off the wall and walks to the dresser. Picking up a half-empty bottle of Single Malt, he brings it to his lips and takes a long drink, letting out a satisfied breath. “
Uisce beatha
. Nothing quite like good whiskey in the morning.”

I raise my hand to him. A second later, it’s holding the bottle, and then the fiery liquid is streaming down my throat. Setting the bottle on the table, I look over to him. “I can’t get her out of my head. She means something to me, something important. I just don’t know what yet. I swear it’s driving me insane.”

Knox stares at me for a second before finally looking toward the window. “Maybe it’s some kind of mate thing. Maybe you’re dreaming of her so you’ll know her when you meet.”

“No,” I reply automatically, sure that I’m right. “There’s more to it. There’s danger. I can feel it to my bones.”