An Alpha on Her Terms

Chapter One: The Alpha at Booth Seventeen Sylvie Ferrick knew three things about the Avenport Technology Expo before she finished her first coffee. The registration queue was a crime against humanity. The complimentary tote bag could not support the complimentary brochures. And someone had set up a Wi-Fi network called FREE_EXPO_FAST that was almost certainly going to ruin several people’s morning. Beneath a banner proclaiming CONNECTING THE FUTURE, she stared at her laptop. “Absolutely not.” Liora adjusted her bag. “The network or the man wearing a headset microphone indoors?” “The network. The man is a separate emergency.” “Can you fix it?” “I can report it.” “Excellent. Report it while walking towards coffee.” Sylvie glanced at her paper cup. Liora gave it a pitying look. “That was not coffee. That was a threat.” Fair. Sylvie shut her laptop. Around them, screens glittered and people enthusiastically described products that appeared to be spreadsheets wearing expensive shoes. Her wolf stirred. Sylvie stopped. Not fear. Fear had a sharp taste and an unpleasant habit of getting into her shoulders. This was warmth. Awareness. Something inside her had lifted its head. “You all right?” Liora asked. “Yes.” “You’ve gone weird.” “I’m at an IT convention. You’ll need to narrow that down.” Then the scent reached her. Cedar. Cool air. Something warm beneath it. Her gaze moved before she could stop it. Across the aisle, a man stood at Booth Seventeen, listening with the patient expression of someone who had understood the explanation and was politely waiting for everyone else to arrive. Tall. Annoyingly tall. Dark hair, broad shoulders, rolled shirtsleeves. No tie. Then he turned. Their eyes met. Sylvie’s wolf did something deeply embarrassing. Not a howl. Worse. A delighted little internal leap. Oh, no. The man went still. The representative continued speaking, unaware that his audience had abandoned both him and his presentation. “Sylvie.” “What?” “You’re staring.” “I’m assessing.” “His cybersecurity?” “His threat level.” “Looks substantial.” The man excused himself and crossed the aisle. Directly towards her. Sylvie looked at her laptop as though professional business might make her invisible. It had never worked at family gatherings, but optimism was important. “Hello.” Low and warm. Of course. A man like that was never going to sound like a squeaky shopping trolley. The universe lacked kindness. Close up, he was worse. A faint scar near his chin. Amusement at one corner of his mouth. “Hello,” she replied. His gaze dropped to her badge. “Sylvie Ferrick.” “Yes. They put it there so I don’t have to remember it under pressure.” His smile appeared properly. Her knees became unreliable. “Torren Vey.” She checked his badge. TORREN VEY VEY SYSTEMS “Well. One of us has committed to the branding.” Liora made a sound that might have been a cough. “Are you enjoying the convention?” he asked. “I’ve been here eighteen minutes and found a suspicious network.” “So that’s a no?” “That’s a promising start. I like having a villain early.” He laughed. Actually laughed. Her wolf approved. Her wolf, Sylvie decided, could mind its own business. “What’s the network called?” “FREE_EXPO_FAST.” His expression changed. “You’ve seen it?” “It isn’t official.” “No. But its login page uses the convention name.” “You connected?” “To inspect it. Isolated environment, no personal credentials.” He nodded. No lecture. No surprise that she knew what she was doing. Interesting. “I was heading to the organisers’ desk.” “I know where it is.” Liora glanced between them. Then her silent phone became fascinating. “Oh. My ten-thirty meeting has moved.” Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “Has it?” “Tragic scheduling development.” “With whom?” “People.” “What kind?” “The meeting kind.” Liora smiled at Torren. “Lovely to meet you. Sylvie has my number, her own transport, and an extremely unpleasant right hook.” “Good to know.” Then she leaned towards Sylvie. “Public place. Keep your phone on. Don’t marry him before lunch.” “I wasn’t planning to.” “Excellent. Sensible boundaries.” She disappeared into the crowd. “Subtle,” Torren said. “She’s been practising for years. Sadly, there’s been no improvement.” He indicated the aisle. “Shall we?” They walked with a respectable space between them. Sylvie was absurdly aware of it. Her wolf wanted less. Sylvie wanted information. Neither appeared interested in compromise. “Are you presenting?” she asked. “Tomorrow. Secure infrastructure for regional businesses.” “Actual infrastructure, or will you say ‘ecosystem’ forty-seven times and show us a cloud?” “Thirty-six. I’m trying to be accessible.” She looked at him. Perfectly serious. Then she laughed. His expression softened. “What do you do?” “Cybersecurity consulting. Testing, audits, incident response. Liora handles the business side.” “And you handle suspicious free Wi-Fi.” “I have a gift.” “So I’m discovering.” An unnecessary flutter moved through her stomach. She looked at his badge. “Your company?” “Yes.” “Founder?” “Yes.” “Always answer in single syllables?” “No.” She stopped. He stopped beside her. His mouth twitched. “That was deliberate.” “I hoped you’d notice.” “I notice things for a living.” “I’ll remember.” At the organisers’ desk, he greeted the woman by name, introduced Sylvie as a cybersecurity specialist, and stepped aside. She explained the network. He did not interrupt. Did not turn her discovery into his. While the organiser called the technical team, Sylvie studied him. Werewolf. Definitely. Her senses had settled enough to confirm that much. But his presence was unusually controlled. Substantial without pushing against hers. She knew wolves who could turn waiting for a lift into a small demonstration of rank. Torren appeared more interested in whether she had finished speaking. Her wolf settled a little. Not less interested. More comfortable. That distinction concerned Sylvie. Attraction was inconvenient enough without her instincts beginning a character assessment. The organiser thanked her and promised to investigate. As they moved away, Torren glanced at her cup. “Can I buy you a coffee?” “That depends.” “On?” “Whether you’re about to explain cryptocurrency.” “I wasn’t planning to.” “Or tell me your app will disrupt friendship.” “No.” She considered him. “All right.” They joined the café queue. “What brings you to Avenport?” she asked. “The convention. Business meetings. I’m usually at Brackenmere Reach.” “Where’s that?” “Highlands. Two hours inland. We’re rebuilding an old timber township.” “We?” “My pack.” “Oh. You work for the pack?” “In a manner of speaking.” “Technology officer?” “No.” “Accounts?” His eyebrows lifted. “I’m the alpha.” Sylvie waited. So did he. Then she laughed. “That’s good.” “What is?” “The alpha thing.” “It wasn’t a joke.” “Of course.” “Sylvie.” “An alpha at an IT convention?” “Alphas can attend conventions.” “Technically, my printer should work when I ask it to. Yet here we are.” He folded his arms. A mistake. She had been doing well at ignoring his forearms. “What do you imagine an alpha does all day?” “Territorial disputes. Meaningful staring. Standing on balconies looking burdened.” “Only on Thursdays.” She smiled. He smiled back. Then the title caught up with the rest of her. Alpha. Her grip tightened around her laptop. She knew what people expected around that word. Her wolf remained inconveniently pleased. Apparently, they would be discussing this later. Torren’s gaze lowered to her hand, then returned to her face. “Is that a problem?” “The balcony schedule? Deeply impractical.” “The title.” Sylvie looked towards the café counter. She had known him for minutes. He did not require her history. “I’m deciding.” He nodded. No demand that she explain. Then their eyes met again. The warmth returned, startling in its familiarity. Her wolf leaned towards him. “You feel it,” he said quietly. The convention noise seemed farther away. She could pretend not to understand. Instead, she took a careful breath. “I feel something.” Torren nodded. No triumphant smile. No announcement to the queue. “We don’t have to decide what it means standing here.” Relief loosened her chest. “Good. I make terrible decisions before decent coffee.” “Coffee first.” “And no meaningful staring.” “I’ll do my best.” The barista waved them forward. “Large flat white,” Sylvie said. “Extra shot.” Torren ordered the same. “Copying me already?” “Sound leadership. Recognise expertise. Follow it.” “Careful. Keep talking like that and I might let you buy a muffin.” “An ambitious milestone.” “One step at a time, Vey.” His phone vibrated against the counter. She looked away, but not before the screen lit. ELI WARD: Alpha, please tell me you haven’t agreed to another— Torren turned it facedown. Sylvie looked at him. Very slowly, she narrowed her eyes. “Your friends are committed to the joke.” “Eli is committed to several things. Unfortunately, discretion isn’t one.” “Should I be concerned about the unfinished sentence?” “Probably a community project.” “Probably?” “There are several.” “A dangerous man to leave unsupervised.” “He says so.” Her phone buzzed. Liora: Please tell me you got his surname. Sylvie typed. Sylvie: Vey. Claims to be an alpha. Clearly has a bit. Three dots appeared. Vanished. Returned. Liora: Sylvie. Then: Liora: Please search his name. Beside her, Torren accepted their coffees. “One flat white.” He offered it without touching her hand. Such a small thing to notice. She noticed anyway. “Before I search something potentially embarrassing,” she said, “how attached are you to being right?” “Normally?” “Yes.” “Quite.” “And today?” His gaze rested on her face. “Today, I’m more interested in whether you’ll stay for the muffin.” Her wolf practically swooned. Traitor. Sylvie drank. Excellent coffee. That made everything worse. “One muffin. And an explanation.” “Fair terms.” At a small table, he pulled out a chair. Then waited. No hand at her back. No assumption that a strange recognition gave him permission to move her through the world. She sat because she wanted to. Her phone buzzed. Liora: You are flirting with an actual alpha. Then: Liora: Do not bite him before lunch either. Sylvie turned it facedown. Across the table, Torren’s eyes gleamed. She pointed at him. “Not one word.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She doubted that. Her wolf, meanwhile, had settled with the smug contentment of a creature that believed the morning was progressing beautifully. They had reported a suspicious network. Obtained proper coffee. Acquired a muffin. And apparently found a man her instincts considered worth knowing. Sylvie broke off a piece of muffin. “One explanation,” she reminded him. Torren leaned back. “Where would you like me to start?” With why her wolf wanted to curl up beside him. With why he had noticed her hesitation and left room around it. With whether she could trust the difference. She chose something manageable. “Tell me about the township.” He smiled. And began.