The Prophesied Claim

Into the Woods

"You're a good man, Alec." I whisper cupping his cheek in my palm. "You'll be an amazing Alpha."

He shakes his head, "Woman."

"Man."

We share a laugh and walk to his truck. Alec's gaze continuously sweeps the parking lot, not stopping until we're well on our way to his house.

We talk about the mundane for the fifteen or so minutes it takes to wind our way to the edge of the city and cross into a more rural area. His house is tucked into a copse of trees that broaden into dense forest. A two story clapboard farmhouse blends into the shaded area, its simplicity is beautiful. We sit for a moment in silence.

"We aren't immortal, but we have longevity. We usually live well past one hundred. Some live much longer. Most don't seem to age after forty or fifty."

I laugh softly, "That's marvelous. Also explains how Finn could look more like your brother than Father. How old is he really? More importantly, how old are you?" I demand realizing what he's saying and what it could mean.

He chuckles, "Thirty. Actually thirty. Finn's closing in on eighty if he isn't a day. When there were mates, true mates, wolves were said to live for hundreds of years. I've never met one though, so I can't speak to the truth of it."

"And silver? Will it kill us?" I inquire sliding from the truck.

"Myth. Most things you think you know are probably myth. Humans loved the wolves of Ireland for hundreds of years, but feared them as well. The wolfhound was bred to kill us, but it only killed actual wolves, not the shifters or werewolves if you prefer. Now, wolves aren't found anywhere in Ireland. They've gone elsewhere."

We walk toward the house, hand-in-hand, as I think of more pressing questions to ask, "If silver doesn't kill us, what's our kryptonite?"

"The same things that kill everyone else. Old age. Disease. Mortal wounding. It looks different for us. We tend to heal rapidly, and most diseases don't affect us in the same manner. Most have good pain tolerance. Short of bleeding out, it's unlikely we'll die from even being shot multiple times. Our bodies seem to have a natural barrier or mechanism to prevent serious harm from occurring, but we scar. Every injury leaves its mark."

I pause, thinking about the marks on Alec's body. I haven't asked about them. I didn't feel I had the right to ask, but he's covered in scars. Some are small, just little white lines marring the perfection of his body. Others are puckered and raw looking. Even his face bears a scar. From the top of his jaw to the cleft of his chin, a thin line runs across, nearly splitting his lower lip. Initially, I put it down to his job as a police officer and dismissed it. Now, I wonder if it doesn't have more to do with his job of hunting rogues.

"So, the real reason you're a cop isn't what you told me before." I state as we enter a sparsely furnished living room. Of course, a gigantic TV takes up an obnoxious amount of space on one wall, but it is surprisingly clean and take-out box free.

He shrugs pointing to the stairway leading to the second floor, "It is, but it's more complicated than what I may have given you to understand. I do a lot of work in the department hunting rogues. We've found that the lack of true mates has diluted the werewolf bloodline so while we can still reproduce with a human mate, not every child can shift. Those who can't still have the animal instincts and traits of the wolf, but no outlet. Some turn feral and go rogue fairly quickly. Being in the department usually keeps me ahead of any rogue activity."

"Do they know about you then?" I question, fascinated.

He stops with one hand on the bannister, "Finn runs the department. Any town with a pack usually has a few in the force, if not running the force."

I snort derisively, "Explains a lot about him. Good way to keep tabs on the family too."

"How do you think he found out about you?"

"Owen." I respond immediately.

He only grins in response.

"That dirty rat. I was feeling all nice towards him too. Freaking tattle tale," I begin to grumpily think of all the ways to slowly strangle Owen for telling who knows who about my existence. Then I realize, "How'd he know though? He doesn't work at the school does he?"

Alec clears his throat, "And here's the bathroom, and if you get hungry there's probably stuff in the kitchen."

"Alec!" I demand sensing I won't like his explanation.

He grimaces, "The day we met. I went on shift...you know...after. We were working on a case together, so he may have...smelled you," he says the last under his breath, but I both hear him and know exactly what he means.

"And Finn?" I ask, feeling a little sick.

"Yes."

"Everyone you work with?"

"Not then, but after today..."

Today. In the woods, when I practically tore his clothes off. When I had him nearly inside me before Owen interrupted us. The gleam in his eyes tells me he's also remembering, and that quickly my panties are damp again.

"Which reminds me," Alec murmurs slowly stalking forward, "you let Owen take your clothes off. Then, you said you didn't care if he watched me f**k you. I think you're in trouble."

My n*****s tighten at his words, remembering the feel of him inside me, and the overwhelming need to have him after I shifted. I didn't care if Owen watched. I wouldn't have cared if the entire pack had watched, as long as I had his c**k inside me.

"Would you have cared?" I question, "you had your hands up my skirt with Smith right outside the door. He probably saw you finger f*****g me. That's probably why he stayed so long. Maybe you're the one who's in trouble."

He growls lunging forward, but just as he's about to grab me, I dash from the room and make for the stairs. Halfway down the steps, I laugh in exultation thinking I have the advantage, but without warning he vaults over the bannister and lands in a crouch at the bottom. Already close to the bottom, I have no way to outrun him as he leaps forward, catching me around the waist and dragging me down the remaining steps.