Stealing the Alpha's Dad

Entering Dismal Falls was like driving into my own personal hell on earth, and boy did it ever smell like it. Even with the windows rolled up, the rotten stench of sulfur filtered in through the air conditioning, and, like I was nine years old again, I held my breath and started to count. One Mississippi… Two Mississippi, the ever-present voice in my head echoed. Three Mississippi… By the ninth ‘Mississippi,’ we were over the bridge, leaving the paper mill and its hellish scent behind us. I blew out my cheeks and rolled my window back down, filling my lungs with fresh mountain air. I hate this place. I hate the people. I hate that paper mill– My right tire hit a pothole, shaking my 80s Chevy Blazer from front bumper to rear. “f**k! And I hate these roads!” Come on, you know you’ve missed it. My wolf chuckled darkly. See, there’s the strip mall movie theater where we threw away our first kiss, and the seafood restaurant that paid us $2.13 an hour to wait tables. The optometry office that replaced our glasses when Brenna Shackleford stomped them into the sidewalk, and the pack house where we went to prom with Ed Gherkin who smelled like pickles. Ah, so many memories. I snorted out a humorless laugh, easing to a stop as I came to a red light. It was one of only three intersections between the highway and the bridge, with the entire town spanning little more than a mile. Romy was right. It was bad enough that Dismal Falls was a small town, with small-minded people. Add to it that those ‘people’ were actually werewolves, and my hometown started to feel like the set of a B-horror film. I leaned back against the headrest and rubbed my tired eyes. The three hours of sleep I’d caught at a truck stop were starting to catch up to me. What the hell am I doing here, Romy? I promised myself I’d never come back. What you have to, my wolf replied, sounding just as resigned as I felt. You had two choices. One, stay away and let Gramps get sent to a nursing home, or two, come back and take care of him. You’re a good person, Imogen Hale. You’re doing the right thing. The right thing just happens to suck. And suck it did. The Gramps I remembered was a crotchety old man with more bite than bark, and that was ten years ago, when he’d still had his wits about him. I pictured him as he was the day I’d left Dismal Falls in the rearview. Seated at the kitchen table, arms crossed over a red flannel shirt, and whiskered lips set in an unforgiving line. “Best go pack your things, then. Goddess knows, I’m too old and tired to argue with you. Learned my lesson with your mother. Nothing’s gonna keep you here, if here’s not where you want to be. So, go. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Thump, thump, thump. His footfalls had hit like nails in a coffin, the screen door banging closed at his back. And that had been it. The last time I’d lain eyes on my grandfather before driving for the coast. I’d left a phone number and an address, scribbled on a folded-up napkin, but Gramps had never called, and neither had I. For a decade, that was the way we’d left things. Until the day Dr. Lewis had found that same napkin taped to the door of Gramps’s fridge. “He’s in a bad way, Imogen. Won’t let anyone in the house. Won’t leave the house– except when he goes wandering off at night. Barely picks up the phone, and doesn’t remember anyone when he does. I’ve been making regular house calls, but Zeke’s memory is going downhill fast. I don’t want to get the Alpha Council involved unless I have to. You understand what I’m telling you?” Yeah, I’d heard that veiled threat loud and clear. Gramps was losing his marbles, and if I didn’t come home to handle it, somebody else would, in a way I probably wouldn’t like. So, there I was, back in Dismal Falls, the one town I’d sworn never to set foot in again, handling it. The light turned green, and hanging a right, I pulled into the gas station and cut the engine at the nearest pump. That’s when it hit me. The smell. Stretching and curling on the late afternoon air, it reached through my open window like a siren’s call. Pungent, citrusy, with a hint of spice thrown in for good measure. Not too sweet, not too floral, and distinctly masculine. Perfect. The kind of scent I wanted to inhale for days, tease with the bridge of my nose, bury my face into and– Fuck, I was in trouble. Romy, is that what I think it is? I asked, and my wolf’s answering whine was enough to send my heart plummeting into my stomach. She smelled it, too, that honeyed scent especially devised by the goddess to lure a werewolf to its soulmate. “s**t!” I sucked in a breath through my teeth and jammed the key into the ignition. I had not skipped town at the tender age of seventeen just to get saddled with a freaking mate at the local Quick N Easy. The engine ground out a whirring sound and promptly died. Because, of course it did. That was just my luck. “Goddess, why do you hate me?” I whimpered, trying again to the same crank and a miss. With each turn of the key, I gathered more eyes, more turned heads, and more raised brows. “You’re at a gas station. Put some gas in her!” a redneck in a ball cap shouted to the laughter of the men beside him. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that, asshat,” I muttered under my breath. “Soon as I can get this worthless, good-for-nothing, piece of s**t–” Three hulking figures stepped out of the Quick N Easy, but it was the fourth who held my full and rapt attention. Abner Payne– the golden boy of Dismal Falls– stopped in his tracks and lifted his nose to the breeze. Time had been good to him. He was taller, harder, more filled out in the chest and shoulders. Just as imposing as I remembered, but in a different way. He wasn’t the lean high school quarterback who could make all the girls swoon with a wink and a grin. There wasn’t anything boyish about the man before me. He was an Alpha in the making, and he’d grown to look the part. Romy’s rumbling growl broke me out of my trance. You gonna marry him, or get us the hell out of here? Open the door! We can’t just leave the truck! I reminded her, because the laws of man never seemed to hold any weight with my wolf. But for all of the engine’s grinding and bluster, it refused to turn over. It was, however, enough to garner Abner’s unwanted attention. His head snapped to the Chevy, and the six pack he carried fell to the sidewalk with a glass clank. He was still looking at me when he flicked a finger to the pavement, leaving the wolves who flanked him to pick up the rolling bottles. Heat rushed to my cheeks and spread like a stain to my neck and chest. Blushing made my freckles stand out even worse than they already did, and by the time those steel-toed boots came to a stop outside of my window, I probably looked like a red delicious apple. Ripe for the picking. Burly arms crossed on the sill and then Abner’s face lowered into view, jaw flexing as he chewed on a wad of gum. “Emily,” his chin tilted forward in a curt nod. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. In a graduating class of one hundred wolves, Abner knew damn well who I was. He was just being a d**k. “It’s Imogen.” “Right. You’re the Hale girl. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” Gum popped between sharp, white teeth, and his lip lifted with a sneer. “How’s your mama?” My jaw clenched, holding back my wolf's snarl. Steady, Romy. Goddess, help me. Steady. He isn't worth it. “Wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen her. I’m just passing through.” “Mm-hmm. You got your permits in order to be back in this territory?” My claws extended, digging holes into the leather steering wheel. So much for self-control. “Seriously? Is that really what you want to talk about right now? Whether or not I’ve got my f*****g permits in order? I think you should mind your own business and get your hands off my truck.” My chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and adrenaline flooded my veins, raising the hairs on my arms and prickling along the back of my scalp. “Hey, watch your mouth. That’s the Alpha you’re talking to.” One of Abner's goons stalked over to us, and I recognized him as Reggie Briggs, former high school linebacker. That’s when a dangerous spark finally jumped between the loose wires in my brain. Alpha, Romy breathed with real and true horror. Abner’s the Alpha now. And there’s Reggie, and Tavarius, and Clay. They’re his… Alpha Council. The Alpha, the Beta, and his two head Gammas. I’d fallen into some bizarre Twilight Zone where the jocks were running the whole damn show, and there I was, mouthing off to the very man who could toss Gramps into a home and throw away the key.