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Alpha
Rachel Vincent
The final battle…Everything is about to change for werecat Faythe when her father is ousted from the council that controls their secret world. And a shocking tragedy jeopardises her future as Alpha of the pride. Now a rebel on the run, Faythe's biggest fight lies ahead.Old allies from the supernatural world are ready to stand by her side. And weretoms Marc and Jace would give their very souls in the duel for Faythe's heart…Yet as their enemies draw near Faythe knows that she—and she alone—can lead the pride into what may be their final battle.
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author
RACHEL VINCENT
“I liked the character and loved the action. I look forward to reading the next book in the series.”
—Charlaine Harris, author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels
“Compelling and edgy, dark and evocative, Stray is a must read! I loved it from beginning to end.”
—New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter
“Vincent’s urban fantasy series features a well-thought-out vision of werecat social structure as well as a heroine who insists on carving her own path, even if it means breaking some of her society’s most sacred taboos.”
—Library Journal
“I had trouble putting this book down. Every time I said I was going to read just one more chapter, I’d find myself three chapters later.”
—Bitten by Books
“Vincent continues to impress with the freshness of her approach and voice. Action and intrigue abound and Faythe is still a delight.”
—RT Book Reviews
Alpha
Rachel Vincent
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Find out more about Rachel Vincent by visiting mirabooks.co.uk/rachelvincent and read Rachel’s blog at urbanfantasy.blogspot.com
Shifters series
STRAY
ROGUE
PRIDE
PREY
SHIFT
ALPHA
Coming soon…
Soul Screamers series
MY SOUL TO TAKE
MY SOUL TO KEEP
MY SOUL TO SAVE
MY SOUL TO STEAL
To everyone at Mira Books whose unsung efforts behind the scenes helped make this, my debut series and first venture into publishing, the experience of a lifetime.
To all the friends I’ve made through my writing. You’ve kept me sane—or at least convinced me that I’m not alone in my neuroses.
And finally, to all the Shifters readers who have stuck it out with Faythe and with me as we grew and learned. This has been an amazing journey, and I’m so thankful for everyone who travelled it with me. I’m not bowing out, but this is Faythe’s last hurrah. Thanks for helping me send her off in style…
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Kim, who first saw potential in me and in Faythe. Yours was the first real vote of confidence in me and I will never forget it.
Thanks to my agent, Miriam Kriss, who made it all happen.
Thanks to my editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, for kick-starting this project and seeing it through. I appreciate both your gentle nudges and the occasional neon flashing arrow.;-)
And thanks to Number 1, who takes care of so many practical concerns, so I can spend so much time in my fantasy world. This series would not have been the same without you.
Chapter One
“Are you sure about this?” Jace hesitated, one hand gripping a bare branch overhead, the other poised over his zipper. But I could see the truth. He wanted this as badly as I did.
“Absolutely.” I pushed my last button through the hole and let my shirt fall to the ground in a patch of mottled sunlight. My skin was already covered in goose bumps, as much from anticipation as from the February cold. “Now shut up and take off your pants.”
He shrugged and grinned. “You know I’m always up for some sweaty fun.” But the look in his eyes as his gaze roamed south of mine belied his casual zeal. Part bloodlust, part real lust, and all exhilaration—just like me.
“I’m not sure that’s quite how I’d describe this.” Not that I wasn’t looking forward to a little action. It had been days, and I was really starting to crave—
“What the hell is this?” Marc growled, an instant before he tore through the brush to my left. Sunlight burst into the woods with his intrusion, spotlighting my exposed bra and Jace’s…total nudity. Damn, thatboy’s fast! Fury emanated from Marc like a deep, dark glow, emphasizing his strong, dark features. “You are not doing this without me.”
Shit. “Marc, this isn’t what you think, and we don’t have time to explain…” My eyes narrowed as his last few words finally sank in. “Wait…what?”
“I said, not…without…me.” His brow rose in silent challenge, and all words abandoned me.
I blinked, lost for a moment in the possibilities, then I shook my head to clear it. “But we’re not…” I waved one hand back and forth between me and Jace, unable to actually vocalize what he surely thought we were doing. “We’re going after Ryan. I caught a whiff of him on my run.”
“Vic told me.” Yet he was still clearly pissed, even knowing Jace and I hadn’t run off for a secret, midday tumble in the…underbrush.
“You didn’t tell my dad…?”
Marc had been talking war strategy with my father when I’d come in from my run, and I hadn’t told them where we were going because I didn’t want my dad to know about Ryan. Not when we could easily take care of the problem ourselves and spare him—and my mother—the additional tension.
He shook his head slowly, as if doubting his own decision. “Ryan’s the last thing he should have to deal with right now.”
“Yeah.” And I was really looking forward to the exercise, to burn off a little stress through good, clean exertion. As opposed to the other, sweatier kind, which we were all currently denying ourselves, to keep Marc and Jace from killing each other.
Whoever said two is better than one was either stupid or crazy. Or heartless.
“I’m coming with you, so get dressed. Now. You’re not Shifting.”
“Do not start ordering her around,” Jace growled, and dread pitched deep in my stomach, like nausea with a heartburn upgrade.
Marc snarled, and I saw the instant he lost control of his temper. He lunged for Jace. Jace leaped forward. I threw myself between them.
Both hard bodies slammed into me. Air exploded from my throat. My grunt of pain hardly carried any sound. For just an instant, I couldn’t move, crushed between them, confused by the collision of scents and hurting all over. My torso was one giant bruise—I wouldn’t have fared much better between two oncoming cars.
I’m not sure which of them moved first, but suddenly I was on the ground, staring up at two concerned, angry faces. “Damn it, Faythe, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Marc snapped.
I sucked in a painful breath, and my voice came out hoarse. “Evidently that’s what it takes to keep you two from killing each other.” Though truthfully, while Jace would eagerly defend himself, he had yet to actually attack Marc. The reverse could not be said.
I shoved them away and pushed myself to my feet, glaring at Marc as they both stood with me. “Look, I know this whole thing is my fault…”
“Not just yours.” Marc glowered at Jace over my shoulder.
“…and I know the timing could not have been worse. And I’m sorrier about both of those than I could possibly explain. But if I have to spend all my time and energy trying to keep the two of you apart, I really am going to get myself killed, and it’ll be your fault.”
Marc reeled like I’d punched him. But he recovered quickly, with a fresh dose of anger. “You reap what you sow, Faythe. And I’m still going with you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to ignore the fresh chill bumps. “I think you and Jace should stay away from each other until you’ve cooled off.”
“Why? So you two can top off your hunt with a little more…reaping and sowing?”
I closed my eyes, breathing through the acute ache in my chest, which had nothing to do with the midtom collision. Then I made myself look at him. “Do you honestly think I’d do that to you?”
“I think you already have.”
He was right, but the barb still stung. I hadn’t even come close to earning forgiveness yet, but this was not the time to try. Something always seemed to get in the way. “We’re going after Ryan. You’re welcome to join us, if you can control your temper.”
I’d never seen Marc as bitter or openly antagonistic as he’d been over the past week. His anger was getting in the way of his concentration, his sleeping pattern, and his job, but he couldn’t work around it because he couldn’t solve the problem—that was up to me—nor could he get away from it. Every time he turned around, Jace and I were there, our very presence reminding him of what had happened.
This wasn’t going to get any better until I made a decision, one way or another.
Marc’s dark brows dipped low and he stepped closer, so that I had to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m going—on my own terms.” He pulled his black T-shirt over his head, and my gaze caught involuntarily on his chest, sculpted by years of enforcer training and scarred by the rogue who’d brought him into my life fifteen years before. I wanted to trace those scars with my fingers, but I wasn’t sure I had the right to anymore. He’d barely touched me since he found out about me and Jace.
“You don’t outrank me yet,” he spat. “So put your shirt on—you’re staying on two legs. And this time see if you can keep them together.”
I actually staggered backward, floored by the depth of his anger. But not really surprised. I deserved the worst he had to dish out, and he deserved the outlet, especially considering that he couldn’t vent where anyone else could hear him. But damn, the venom in his voice stung.
Jace growled and stepped forward, but I put a hand on his stomach to stop him.
I wanted to yell at Marc, to fight back, but that would only make the whole thing worse. So I swallowed my anger and stuck to the subject. “Hell, no. I’m faster on four legs.” My private run had been cut short by the unauthorized scent in the woods, and I was dying for some exercise in cat form to help clear my head and fight off the bloodlust we’d all been battling for the past couple of weeks. Ever since Ethan died—my brother murdered on our own property.
Marc snatched my shirt from the ground and shoved it at me. “Unless you’re planning to kill him, claws and canines won’t do you any good this time.”
He was right, so I groaned and shoved my arms through the sleeves, then turned my back on them both, already running toward the spot where I’d first caught Ryan’s scent. “Catch up with me when you’ve Shifted.”
I wasn’t a leader. Not really. Not yet. But my father was training me to replace him as Alpha someday, and an Alpha had to be ready to ask questions and issue orders, both of which were hard to do in cat form.
Normally, an Alpha—even a trainee—wouldn’t haul ass through the woods on her own while looking for a known trespasser. Especially in human form, and virtually defenseless against someone with claws and canines. However, this particular trespasser was more than merely known. He was reviled, scorned, and pitied. But he was not feared.
Also, he was my brother.
My pulse raced as I ran and each breath came faster than the last. I tried to exhale it all—to purge my body of the poison I’d been living and breathing since I’d started lying to Marc. That was all over. He knew that I’d slept with Jace—once, in the onslaught of grief for Ethan, while Marc was missing and presumed dead—but the truth had only made things worse. I could apologize, and I had many, many times, but I couldn’t tell him it was over. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t love Jace. Not without lying to him again.
I hated myself for that, but it was a useless hatred. It changed nothing. I loved Marc, but I didn’t deserve him. I loved Jace, but I couldn’t give up Marc. And no matter what I decided, Marc had made it clear that he couldn’t live with Jace anymore. Once the war was over, one of them would have to go. But I didn’t want to lose either one.
Lost in my thoughts and ungainly in human form, I tripped over an exposed root and caught myself on a twisted branch, sparing only a moment to regain my balance. Then I was off again, my lungs burning from the cold.
A few steps later, two sleek, dark forms passed me so quickly I couldn’t even focus on them. But I could smell them. Marc and Jace, fully Shifted into cat form and embroiled in an impromptu race. Everything was a competition now, whether or not it involved me. Everything was tense, and dangerous, and painful. And I could practically taste Marc’s frustration. He could probably have outrun Jace—except he didn’t know where they were going. He hadn’t been there when I told Jace where I’d smelled Ryan.
By the time I got there, they had him treed, a slim human form clinging to the branches overhead. Ryan was little more than a patchwork of shadows cast by the crisscross of branches, but I could swear I saw those shadows tremble.
Marc had wanted him dead all along for what he’d done to me. For giving me to South American tabby traffickers, who would have sold me to the highest bidder.
“Stand down,” I said, and both toms obeyed. Even in his unprecedented state of rage, Marc wouldn’t expose the dissention in our ranks to the enemy. And despite my mother’s soft spot for her second-born, the rest of us definitely considered Ryan an enemy.
“Get down. Now,” I ordered, and after a moment’s hesitation, Ryan dropped to the ground in front of me, knees bent, arms spread for balance. I tried not to acknowledge the skill in his dismount. I attributed it to the frequency with which a coward like my black-sheep brother was probably treed.
“Faythe.” Ryan nodded in tentative greeting, careful not to bow his head too low. He wasn’t prepared to acknowledge my rank in the Pride. Not yet, anyway. Even though he was no longer a member.
The shadow of a bare branch fell across his face, and in my mind I saw steel bars. He’d shown up under a truce flag of sorts for Ethan’s funeral, but there was too much else going on then—I’d hardly given him a second thought. But seeing him here, hiding in the shadows, brought it all back…
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let them tear your arms off and watch you bleed out.”
“Because Mom would smell my blood the next time she gets within half a mile of here.”
I raised both brows, reluctantly impressed. I’d expected him to beg for his life, or at least appeal to our frayed familial bond. But he obviously knew that would do no good. And that even if I were willing to kill someone who posed no immediate threat, I wouldn’t hurt our mother, even to punish him. She’d already buried one son, and I would not put her through a second funeral in less than a month.
“What the hell are you doing here? And keep in mind that Shifters can take a lot of pain without actually dying.” I’d know.
Ryan had seen me beaten into a mass of blood, lumps, and purple bruises after fighting off the first of the psychotic rapists and murderers he’d helped kidnap me and two other tabbies, including our cousin Abby. All to protect his own ass. For him, that was always the bottom line. Ryan was a Grade-A coward. Just looking at him made me feel sick.
“I need to see her.” Our mother, of course. His crutch, bank, security blanket, and the only member of our family he actually seemed to care about.
“I don’t give a shit what you need,” I spat, and Marc huffed in agreement.
“Fine. I get that and I don’t blame you.” Ryan nodded, always eager to placate, to keep from getting his face pounded in. “But she needs to see me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why would she need to see you?”
