Dead Wrong: The Dead Mates of Silver Lake Book One

Blue eyes, so bright they looked like pockets of sky reflected from a still mountain lake. Creamy skin dotted with a million tantalizing freckles. Curly red hair like a halo of burnished copper around the sweetest heart-shaped face he'd ever seen. And screaming. So much screaming. Her face contorts further, those beautiful blue eyes widen and then grow hazy with pain. Her full lips part in another wail. Bloody specks decorate her mouth and chin. The droplets gleam like rubies in the low light. And the screaming continues. Not the shrill keen of a young girl experiencing a scare or her first heartbreak. No. This is a death knell. She's dying. She knows she's dying and she can't do anything to staunch the pain, the bleeding, so from deep in her gut the sound escapes. Ripped straight from her soul. He can't- he can't get to her. He can't help her. But he needs to. He needs to save her. She's counting on him. His wolf knocks against the cage of his ribs, howling in desperation. Mate. My mate. Mine. Save her. Save her. Save her. Save- Amos jerked awake and took a gasping breath. The sweat that had collected along his brow trickled down his face to his heaving chest as he sat up. The sheets were soaked. How long had he been trapped in that nightmare? No, not a nightmare, a memory. Of a kind. A horrible, traumatic memory from her. The one that he tried his very best not to think about. To never think about. Because if he were to stop, to think about it, think about her… if he thought about the fact that his fated mate was dead - that she died before he ever even got a chance to meet her.... Well. He would fall so deep into that gaping hole in his heart that he'd never be able to crawl out. And that wasn't not an option. Not for the heir of the Silver Lake pack. Amos snorted as he got up out of bed, sending the damp sheets to pool around his bare feet. The disgraced heir of the Silver Lake pack was more like it. Sure, his father may be Alpha. And sure, he may be the eldest son in a long line of eldest sons to bear the title. But there was no way in Hell that he'd be the one to assume the title. Not now. The whole pack thinks I'm a sorry excuse for a wolf. And they're right A wolf’s fated mate was precious beyond compare. And he lost his. He scoffed bitterly at that. Lost. Like he'd misplaced her. Like he should check under the bed or behind the fridge and maybe he'd find her. He didn't lose her. She was taken from him. Stolen from him and the world. Amos didn't know how she died. He didn't even know her name. But he knew exactly when it happened. He'd felt it. Felt the searing pain of the mate bond tearing, felt her fear. His vision had blacked out and he had collapsed. All he was able to see was her. All he could hear were her screams, all he could smell was the metallic tang of her blood. He'd woken up some time later in the pack hospital. His entire body ached and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. When the young nurse saw he was awake she bolted out of the room like death itself was nipping at her heels. He moved to sit up and found his arms were cuffed to the steel frame of the hospital bed. His father arrived shortly after the nurse had fled. She must have gone to get him. It wasn't fear surely, it was urgency. Though that didn't explain the cuffs… His father's stern face loomed in his peripheral. Amos didn't know why, but he had the feeling he'd disappointed the older wolf. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to. For his entire life he had always been the golden child. The good boy. The one everyone trusted. The one his father would trust to lead the pack some day. The bed shifted as his father sat down. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. His voice was clinical. Like a doctor's, or maybe a general reading a casualty report. According to bystanders Amos had fallen to the ground and had some kind of fit. They said his wolf, Farris, rose to the surface and wouldn't let anyone near him. That he bit and clawed at anyone who came close. That he was near rabid. That it took four wolves just to contain him long enough to get the cuffs on him. That even with the cuffs dampening his supernatural strength he still spat and hissed like a thing possessed. That he managed to dislocate one wolf's shoulder. Break another's wrist. The pack elders were scared. Shows of strength were the wolf way, but not against one’s own pack. And not in such a disruptive fashion. Amos had tried to explain.Tried to make his father understand that it wasn’t his fault. That his father would do the same if he lost his fated mate. That all the older wolves should understand. Instead of garnering sympathy from his dad the mention of True-Fated mates seemed to do the opposite. “Don’t be such a fanciful child. You had a fit. Hysteria even. Whatever you saw was not your mate. Don’t be ridiculous,” his father replied. Many of the pack elders though the same. Many expressed the same doubts to him in the days afterwards. ‘How do you know she was your mate? Do you really truly believe you have a True-Fated mate out there? Are you lying just to try to hide the fact you went crazy?’ and on and on and on. Eventually, Amos stopped protesting. He knew what he saw. Even if no one believed him. Worse, were the ones that did believe him. They believed that he was given a True-Fated mate. And they scorned him for wasting such a precious chance. There were several kinds of mate bonds among wolves and True-Fated bonds were by far the rarest. Most wolves were bound by an Assentive Bond, meaning when two wolves found the one they would take as their mate they would vow their compliance with the mate bond. After doing so they were considered bonded and as such would be able to sense each other's emotions and location. There were also political bonds, which were usually reserved for the Alpha and Beta families in a pack. Those bonds were similarly based around a vow, but they didn’t require love or respect to be taken into account. A True-Fated mate bond bypassed all of that. It meant that they were your perfect match in life, the only one for you. Legends told of True-Fated wolves being able to sense not just the emotions of their mate but also read their thoughts and send telepathic messages. Supposedly the completion of a True-Fate bond also gave both parties a large dose of power. Amos wasn’t too clear on the details of True-Fated mates. There were a lot of ins and outs that were rarely talked about. The council of elders preferred to focus their time on political matches for the good of the pack. He supposed if every wolf was waiting around for their True-Fated mate, one who may or may not exist, political couplings would get harder to manage. True-Fated mate bonds were so rare in fact that Amos had only ever heard of one in recent memory. His great-great grandmother Alda. It didn’t matter though. None of the others opinions on what happened mattered. He knew what he felt. He knew what Farris felt. The woman in his vision was his True-Fated mate. Emphasis on was. There would never be another female who could match him. There would never be another who would be truly made for him. Amos sighed and stretched his arms over his head, trying to twist out the kinks in his back. Farris was restless. He wanted to run. Amos could feel him pacing relentlessly in his chest. He always wanted to run when they had the nightmare. Run and run and run and never look back. Amos did too, but he couldn’t. He may no longer be the Alpha’s crowned heir, but he was still an integral part of the Silver Lake pack. He was the leader of the garrison, in charge of training the younger male wolves in the art of war, and so much more. He would not forsake his pack just because he was doomed to live a life of disappointment. Farris lets out a low whine in his head. “I’m going, I’m going,” Amos mutters. There would be no running today. Not even their regular sprint around the border of the packlands. The Autumnal Harvest Festival was due to being tomorrow. A week-long celebration held every fall, the Autumnal Harvest Festival was set to coincide with the Harvest Moon of each year. It was a week of dancing, food, gifting, and at the end the year’s mated pairs would claim their vow with each other. Amos had absolutely no interest in being part of the festivities, but his absence would be noted and disapproved of. Anyway, aside from all that, he’d promised Zachary that he’d drive him into the city today. And he wasn’t about to break a promise to his friend. Heading to the door, he grabbed a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt from the ever dwindling pile of laundry left by his desk. He’d need to ask one of the omega girls who did his laundry what the hold up was. It was rare that he’d be down to one last pair of pants. He made his way to his heavy oak door and pushed it open, and nearly trampled Zach who’d been standing on the other side with his face raised ready to knock. “Dude! What the hell!” Zach yelps as he hops a few steps back and teeters precariously before finding his footing. Zach is on the lithe side for a werewolf, but his lanky figure marks him as one of the most agile wolves Amos had ever met. Probably the fastest too. Which made him the perfect compliment to Amos’s strength. If he were still heir to the title of Alpha Zach would probably have been his choice for Beta. Instead, he acted as his second in command over the garrison. "Me what the hell? How about you, what the hell? What are you doing lurking outside my door?" Amos snapped. "If you must know, I was coming to get your lazy ass out of bed. You said you'd go into the city with me today and I've been waiting," Zach replied, somehow making it clear that he thought Amos had just been twiddling his thumbs this entire time instead of getting ready. Amos glanced behind him at the clock in his room and scoffed. 6:30 am. "Really? You've been waiting? It's barely light out you heathen," he said before pushing past his friend and making his way down the grand staircase. As an unpaired male wolf, his rooms were located in the communal pack house, close to the garrison barracks. When he was still considered worthy of being his father's heir, he had resided with his brother in the alpha manor. But after everything, his father made the suggestion that Amos would be more comfortable in the pack commons. Suggestion. He scoffed inwardly. The Alpha of the Silver Lake pack did not make suggestions. He made commands and thinly veiled threats. His father was right though. Amos did feel more comfortable amidst the ruckus of the pack house. Being surrounded by other unpaired males made it easier for him to forget what he’d lost. "Earth to Amos, come in, Amos!" Zachs braying tone sounded right in his ear, startling him enough to jump, snapping back to reality as he did so. Zach was nearly hanging off of his shoulder, face right up against his. When did he get so close? "What?!" he snarled as he shoved him away. "You were spacing. Like, thousand yard stare, 'nam flashback spacing." "Werewolves didn't fight in the Vietnam War," he grumbled, deliberately missing the point. So what if he was a little spacey? Usually he would have more time to collect himself after a nightmare.But Mr. Early-Wolf-Gets-The-Worm made sure that was out of the question. Zach huffed a breath and shook his head but thankfully dropped it. He was a good few years younger than Amos, not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of werewolf years, but it did mean that when Amos felt the break of his True-Fated bond Zach was too young to really understand what happened. All any of the younger wolves knew was that he’d had some kind of episode that rendered him incapable of becoming a capable leader. It caused some strife among the younger wolves, who preferred his leadership to his brother’s, but Amos tried not to feed into the disquiet. Bryton had his issues but he was still his brother and Amos would support their father’s choice. Even if it was the wrong one. "Well, come on then. We've got lots of stuff to do and I won't be kept waiting by your slow furry ass," Zach said as trots ahead, pulling Amos back to the moment. Amos spat out a half-hearted grumble but followed him down the stairs and out of the house anyway. Maybe this is what he needed. To get away from the pack lands for a little bit, some space from everything could clear his head. Or at least wipe away the ashes left behind in his nightmare’s wake. The air outside was brisk with September’s early chill. No doubt it would warm up later in the day, but for now his feet crunched frost that had collected on the ground and his breath billowed from him in great foggy sweeps. It was cold, and early, but the pack grounds were already beginning to show the first signs of the hustle and bustle of the day. "Hello ladies!" Zach crooned as they pass a trio of young omegas going about their chores. All three flush bright red and turn into fluttering, giggling puddles. Amos rolls his eyes so hard for a moment he thinks they may stick that way. Omegas are so gutless. All it took was one little dot of attention and they’d turn into a slobbering mess. "Come on, Romeo," he said, as he hooked his arm around Zach's and pulled him towards the garage. Zach, the big flirt, gives the girls one last wink and then lopes back to his side. "Y'know, you could have any girl here if you put even a little tiny speck of effort into it." Amos grunts. This is an old argument. For some reason Zach is convinced that what he lacks in life is love, and he wouldn't be such a 'cranky bastard' if he was 'getting some'. "Y'know, you could be less annoying if you put even a little tiny speck of effort into it," Amos parrots back to him. The young wolf smirks like he expected that response and hops into the passenger seat of Amos’s old truck. The second his scrawny butt touched the cracked leather of the seat he's kicking his feet up on the dashboard and fiddling with the radio. Great. "Stop that," Amos barked and shoved his feet off the dash. "Now remind me, where exactly have you conned me into taking you?" "I don't agree with the conning accusation, I'll have you know," Zach said primly. Amos bats his hand away from the radio knob and levels a hard stare at him. He could feel Farris rising to the surface. He's tired of Zach's s**t. He'd much rather be running or snoozing today. But instead he’ll take a fight. Warranted or not. He took a deep breath and tried to soothe him. Calm down. It’s fine. We are fine. Farris snorts but backs down. All the while, Zach is blissfully unaware that he just came close to getting his throat ripped out by an alpha wolf. Well, he probably wouldn't go that far. Farris just had very little patience for anything, which meant that more often than not Amos got stuck playing mediator between him and the world. "Conned or not, I'm still driving you into the city so I will need to know where we are going,". Zach seemed to think about it for a minute before nodding. "Yeah, that's fair enough. Okay, so you know Kittra?" he begins. Amos tried to put a face to the name. He wasn’t particularly cozy with most of the civilian wolves. Zach lets him struggle for a moment before coming to the rescue. "She's short, black hair, has a cute butt-" "Why would I know her off of her ass?" he asked. So much for Zach helping him out. His friend gives him a snippy look and continues. "She's Scotty's youngest daughter. She's one of the Harvest Festival's maidens this year." Oh, that did ring a bell. He had a vague memory of a sweet girl with a sleek black bob and slightly crooked nose. Every year during the harvest fest several young she-wolves were picked to be the symbolic Maidens Of Fall. Amos had never paid much mind to it but everyone else always made a huge deal over who got picked. It was kind of hard not to absorb at least a little knowledge through osmosis. But that didn’t explain why he was driving all the way into the city. He gestured at Zach to continue. "Well, she asked me if I knew a good place to get some desserts for the opening banquet and I said, of course I do, because you know I know all the best spots in the city, so she asked me if I could go pick up some treats for the pack, since she isn't going to have time to run down into the city, so I said-" "So, she conned you into running her errands, and now you've conned me into helping you." Amos deadpanned. Zach didn’t argue, he just rubbed his neck a little guiltily, which lets him know that he’d hit the nail right on the head. Zach liked to think of himself as a ladies-man but really he was just an over-eager pup. Amos let out a broody sigh. It wouldn't be the worst thing to go to the city for a bit. Even if he’d been conned into it. "Alright, fine. But you're buying me lunch," he affirmed as he turned his truck's engine over and started to drive out of the pack lands. It was going to take a couple hours to get to the city, and knowing Zach it'd be a couple hours after that before he’d allow himself to be wrangled back up the mountain. Better get going.