Chosen Alpha Page 3

  Isaiah pushed Orson to a full standing position and made sure he was steady on his feet before letting go. Orson flashed his wolf eyes at Isaiah, forcing a piece of him to turn before going back to the brown-eyed brother he knew. Orson’s wolf form was not one Isaiah was a fan of. He loved his brother, but as a wolf, he was destructive at best. He had inherited their father’s temper and good looks.

  “The party has just started brother. How could you possibly already be tanked?” Roman’s voice broke them both out of their thoughts as he spotted them and came over.

  “I don’t see why it matters, Roman,” Orson told him, glaring daggers at him. The tension between Orson and Roman had been getting worse since their father had fallen ill. It was just another problem on Isaiah's mental checklist to deal with. “Does it bother you, how much I’m drinking, alpha?” As Orson said the last word, he gritted his teeth and got right up to Isaiah's right ear so that his breath tickled the lobe. Orson had a bad habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his disappointment in not being alpha would be evident for a long while. Isaiah couldn’t blame him, though. Obvious emotions just might be a family trait.

  Isaiah sighed. “I’ll take him home,” he said, ready to lead Orson back to the house, but Roman stopped him.

  “Isaiah, they need you here. They just lost their leader, and you are the only one that can help them feel any better about that. I’ll get him in bed.” Roman was right, always putting duty ahead of other things, even if it hurt him.

  Isaiah watched both of his brothers walk away into the night before turning to the crowd and going the rest of the way to join them. He did not know what he could say to heal the wounds of those that saw his father as a strong and fearless leader any more than he knew what to say to those that were ready for a regime change. All Isaiah could hope for was that his presence would be enough to succor some of the emotional wounds that were going around the pack. He could figure out the right things to say in the morning.

  Isaiah went for a cooler where the beers could be found and pulled one out, knocking the cap off with his bare hands. That was one of the advantages of being a werewolf; great strength.

  “So, how does it feel to be alpha?” The voice came from a woman behind him who had also just picked up a beer. Isaiah was about to turn around and give whoever it was the what for, but then he saw her face. Her hair was a deep red, almost to the point of looking black in the moonlight. Her hazel eyes were rimmed with thick, black liner, and her curves were drawing the eyes of many pack members. Though, she at least pretended not to notice.

  “Tamara, you know better than to ask that question right now,” he told her, but his smile showed he was being playful rather than scolding. He and Tamara had grown up together. She was just a year older than Roman, and she was one of the only healthy, young women who was a part of the Olympia pack. Werewolf women were hard to find since it was a recessive gene for them, and the humans that married into the pack for breeding often did not survive the change while pregnant, nor did they survive giving birth to a werewolf child very often if left as human. Packs farther north survived by biting every stray woman they came across, but the Olympia pack was too close to civilization for that kind of behavior to go unnoticed. It also didn't help that most of the stray women they saw were witches.

  “Yeah, I suppose I do, but that doesn’t mean I don't want the answer.” Despite her beauty, she had always been great at being one of the guys. Isaiah had confided many things in her before, and he was certain his brothers had as well. “So, how the hell are you?” she asked, shoving her hand playfully into his shoulder.

  “I’m brooding and bitter, Tamara. What else can I say? I still don’t get why Dad chose me for this, but I have to take what I have been given.” Isaiah knocked back half of his beer. He was about to make yet another comment about how he wasn't going to be like his father, when he heard some screaming, and then a couple of tipsy pack members broke through the crowd towards Isaiah.

  “Excuse me, Isaiah,” one of them said, looking frantic before bowing his head as an afterthought. “We need you to come with us. There is a girl in the woods, barely moving and breathing. It looks like she has been bitten.”

  Isaiah dropped his beer bottle to the ground with a smash and turned to Tamara. “Go find Roman and have him come.” Tamara nodded and took off, leaving Isaiah to follow the two pack members into the edge of the woods to the west of the cabin. Sure enough, a small and dirty woman, wrapped up in nothing but a blanket was just stirring. She looked up at Isaiah in horror, and he could tell she was confused and had been attacked. The smell of the wolf who had done the job was gone, but the blood on the woman told him all he needed to know. She had, in fact, been bitten.

  Isaiah bent down to her and looked at her wound, only to find there was more than one. She had been bitten several times and left there. It was hard to tell how long ago, but the blood was not completely fresh. “Listen,” he said quietly, trying not to startle her more than she already was. “I am not going to hurt you. You were attacked, but not by me. I am going to pick you up and take you somewhere safe. Is that okay?”

  The woman was hard to make out under all the blood and muck that covered her. Isaiah could not even guess her age at the moment. She could easily be a child with her small frame, but he did see the nodding of her head through her mop of black hair as she whimpered with the pain of movement.

  Isaiah lifted her in one swift move, cradling her in his arms just as Roman and Tamara came running into the woods. “What has happened? Who is that?” Roman asked as Isaiah pushed through them and headed for the cabin. Her wounds needed to be tended to before anything else, regardless of what questions he and his brothers would need to ask her. If someone was attacked by a member of the pack, that member would generally come to the alpha to get help cleaning up the mess. The body also wasn't usually left for dead so close to the alpha’s cabin. There was something that seemed deliberate about it to Isaiah.

  “I don’t know, but she's been bitten,” Isaiah explained. “She needs to get cleaned up and heal, and then we can figure out who did this to her.” He looked at Tamara and silently pleaded for her help. He doubted this woman would want to be tended to by a male werewolf in her state.

  “Isaiah,” she hissed, just as they broke through the woods to the pack watching their every move like hawks. They wanted to know what was going on, but they were just going to have to wait. “She’s not a human.”

  Isaiah paused at the steps to the cabin and looked back at her. “What do you mean by that?” he asked as coolly as he could manage.

  “She's a witch. Can’t you smell it?” Some of the pack that was close enough to them to hear began whispering and the news spread through the crowd like wildfire. He looked down at the girl in his arms for confirmation, and she nodded, the best she could communicate with him still.

  “Well, she's not trying to hide it, so she obviously means us no harm,” Isaiah said, taking her up the steps and into the cabin. He quickly set her body down on the bed that used to belong to Orson. He doubted that Orson would ever want to come back there anyway. “Tamara, get her cleaned up and on the mend, nothing else. Do you understand?” Tamara looked tense but nodded. She had to follow the alpha's orders just like the rest of them, best friend or not.

  Knowing what kind of uproar was coming from the pack, Isaiah headed for the door again. Roman grabbed his arm and stopped him. “You know what this going to look like, Isaiah,” he warned. Isaiah unfortunately did know how it would look. It looked like a werewolf had attacked a witch, and if any of the Olympia pack did such a thing, it would break the treaty they had with the coven. Despite the strength of the large pack of wolves, the coven could find a way to annihilate them if they wanted to, which they would if one of their own was harmed.

  “I do know, which is why we will question her once she has gotten some rest, but not until then.” Isaiah did not say the words harshly. He did not want to give an order to his brother, but he
looked deep into Roman's eyes as to get the point across. Roman nodded, his jaw set tight in frustration before letting Isaiah go back out to the whispering crowd that was now getting louder.

  “Is it true, Isaiah? Is she a witch?” one of the pack members called. Isaiah tried to make him out in the dying light and saw that it was Hector, making his way through the crowd. Technically, he was something that was inherited from his father as well.

  “Yes, she is,” Isaiah said, knowing that lying was not going to help him or anyone else at the moment. “But that means nothing until we question her, unless one of you would like to come forward and claim responsibility for the attack.” The pack members looked at each other as if waiting for someone to step forward. The truth was that even if someone in that crowd had done it, why in the world would they admit it? “That’s what I thought,” Isaiah said with authority. Apparently, there was no waiting until morning to say the right thing and be the alpha. The time to step up and fulfill his destiny was now, like it or not.

  “What if the witches find her here?” someone else called out, making Isaiah feel a bit of anger rolling up his neck and into his head. Isaiah had gotten pretty good at controlling that part of him, which was like his father, but he could see how it could be so easy to lash out at the pack members when they were not respecting the alpha.

  “They won’t. Not if we keep our mouths shut while she is here. Nothing is decided until morning, and if anyone tries to touch her until my word is given on the matter, they will be let go from the pack.” That seemed to silence the crowd. They knew being a solitary wolf, no matter how tempting it had seemed earlier in life, was not a path anyone wished upon themselves. It was a harsh way to survive, and many went crazy or were hunted down.

  Isaiah turned around and nodded for Hector to follow him inside. “As long as you guard me, you guard her,” Isaiah growled into his ear. Hector nodded stoically.

  They entered the cabin and shut the door. Isaiah ordered Roman and Hector to guard the entrances to the cabin, and he went to see how the progress was with Tamara and the girl.

  He knocked on the door with his head down as not to see something that was not his right to see. Someone like Orson would have jumped on the opportunity to see a woman’s body, but Isaiah had much more respect for women than that.

  “It's alright. I’m dressed.” The voice came from the girl, who he could now tell was not exactly a girl. She was a young woman. Her black waves were wet and reached down to the bed where she was sitting and even past that, like the train of a wedding dress. Her eyes were a piercing blue. Tamara had done a good job of cleaning her up, but Isaiah could now see that her wounds were horrific. If she had been a human, she would not have survived.

  “Does your kind have a way to heal?” he asked as he dared to come in the room, standing awkwardly a couple of feet away from the bed.

  Tamara stood up and walked past Isaiah. “She’ll be fine with all you men. I am sorry, but I don't particularly like witches. I think I am going to go back out with the others.” Tamara said it softly enough that hopefully the woman could not hear. Hatred from their kind was the last thing she needed right now.

  “Thank you,” the woman said, bringing his attention back to her. “I know your kind doesn't always like us, so I am very grateful that you brought me here before just killing me or leaving me for dead. And yes, we do have ways of healing, but it is still slower than what you have without the use of medicines made by our healer, which I do not have access to here.”

  “You’re welcome,” Isaiah said, and it felt strange coming from his mouth. He had always been a good man, but he had never truly been thanked for the things he did. He was expected to help others. It was sad that it took a witch to make him feel appreciated. “I am going to let you rest for tonight, but in the morning, my brothers and I will have questions. I thought you should know that.”

  The woman looked resigned to it. “I figured. I am not sure what I can give you. I don't remember much, but maybe I will in the morning.” She suddenly laid down and closed her eyes, seeming exhausted. Isaiah stepped out of the room, not even knowing her name, and shut the door, heading to his old room to lay in the bed that was still in there. As he lay there all night, all he could think of was the implications of keeping her around and alive. The witches would find out eventually, and the relationship with the coven was too shaky for Isaiah to think that they would believe him if he told them his pack did not do this. But could he sacrifice a young woman who had already been victimized just for the good of the pack after he had promised not to be like his father?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Annalise woke up feeling so sore she had to try and hold back tears in case the werewolf alpha came into her room at that moment and began questioning her. Her body was wrecked, and her magic was faint, though she had been afraid to express that the night before, and she feared she would not be healing anytime soon. She had grand doubts that the pack was going to just let her go home. If they didn't kill her, they would send her off in the opposite direction with a threat to never come back. She was smart enough to know just how this attack would be viewed by her coven, and she was sure that the new alpha would know that too.

  Hyacinthe, her aunt and current reigning leader of the coven, would instantly view a werewolf attack on a witch as a violation of their treaty and would retaliate. The pack would be vulnerable due to the loss of their alpha and probably unable to fight the witches off. It was the worst situation to be caught in the middle of, especially without her powers. She would have loved to hope that the attack was done by a real wolf, not a werewolf, but she could feel the bites already changing her without the presence of the full moon.

  Annalise could not stand the thought of just staying in bed, especially with the pain she was in. It would be hard to get up and walk on her own, but she thought if she could only get to the shower, she could use the water to pull from for power. Everything in nature held a magical energy source as long as you knew how to unlock it. Then, she could heal herself. It was too bad that she wouldn't be able to heal herself from the werewolf curse, though. Spirit magic just was not something that witches had the power to influence. It was older than time itself.

  Annalise struggled to swing her legs over the side of the bed, grunting with every move of her broken body. Once her feet dangled over the hardwood floor, she told herself that she had to put weight on them and take it one step at a time. It was the longest walk in history, or at least that was what it felt like to her in the state she was in. She broke a sweat just fighting to keep up the momentum to get herself into the bathroom. As she paused for a breath at the doorframe, she could feel her black hair clinging to her neck and was happy she was about to shower. Possible enemy or not, she was not about to let a good-looking alpha werewolf see her like this.

  Finally, she pulled herself into the shower and turned on the water, sucking in her breath at the new shot of excruciating pain that ran through her body as the water splashed against her wounds.

  Annalise focused on her breathing, letting her chest lift for four counts and then down for another four, telling herself the hurt was only in her head. It was only an illusion. Then, she focused on the water. She felt its pulsing through the showerhead and imagined the power of it soaking into her skin. It was a healing water, wrapping itself around her wounds like a hug. She knew that it wasn’t going to be enough to heal them entirely. She would have to repeat the ritual every day for at least a week, but the pain was bearable now as she let the water go down the drain along with the worst of her wounds.

  Annalise loosened her neck and enjoyed the warm water against her skin for the next few minutes before shutting off the water and ringing her long hair out. She stepped out of the shower with much more ease than she had climbed in and dabbed her body down with a guest towel that hung from the rack by the mirror. As she padded back into the bedroom, the door opened, and she was suddenly quite aware of the fact that she was entirely naked underneath that
towel.

  Isaiah looked at her for a moment, and Annalise comically questioned herself if he was actually checking her out. There was no way. At the moment, they were enemies, and she was healing from horrible wounds. What a ridiculous notion. “Sorry, I came in here to see if you were feeling alright this morning and ready to talk to us. My brothers are anxious to get this questioning done.” Annalise doubted it was just his brothers. The whole pack was probably calling for blood, and she couldn't say that she blamed them.

  “It’s alright. I was just using the water to heal myself a little.” He looked confused as he cocked his head to the side. A tiny giggle escaped her lips. “I’ll explain some other time. Let me get dressed, and we can get this show on the road. Like I said, though, I really don't remember much. I’ll do the best I can to give you the answers you need.” Annalise tried to sound sincere even through the concern on his face. They were not going to like that. Would she have to learn how to live without the coven when they sent her away? It was something she tried not to think about on top of the fact that as soon as the full moon hit, she would turn into a werewolf, and there was no precedent for anything like that; a witch and werewolf hybrid.

  Isaiah gave her a stoic nod and popped out of the room again. Annalise could hear voices coming from somewhere else in the cabin but could not make out the words. She could only assume his brothers were already there.

  Without much of any other option, she was forced to search the dresser in the room for some clothes. The few pieces left in there belonged to a man, and she was forced to pull out men’s sweatpants and a short sleeve button-down that was several sizes too big. Not that she was in any position to be making demands, but if she stayed with the pack much longer, they would need to let her have some clothes from one of the women in the pack or she would be walking around in her birthday suit in the alpha’s house. She doubted that would go over any better than hanging onto a witch who was bitten by a werewolf at the risk of inciting the anger of an entire witch coven.