22 Days until An Alpha’s Fate

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An Alpha’s Fate (An Ashwood World story)

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She’s coming home but what kind of trouble has she brought with her?

She had a lot of nerve calling him to help bail her ass out of whatever trouble she’d found. It’d been ten, long, painful years since Logan watched her car drive away, out of his life and his bed.

Part of him wanted to be angry with her, the other part wanted to believe the rumors and whispers among the Pack. Even his own Marshal, Connor, had told him she’d been forced into mating the new Alpha of Greenhedge. Yet none of it made sense to him. He and Reagan were best friends, fated mates. She would have come to him if she was in trouble, but she hadn’t. So, why now?

Like a lovesick puppy, he caved. He still loved her and clung to the hope of her coming home one day. He was fucking pathetic. Weak.

The soft, scared plea in her voice tightened his chest and made his wolf pace. Apparently yanking his heart out didn’t cure him from wanting to make yet another mistake.

He’d known Reagan since they were kids and loved her before they met. As fucked up as it was, he’d still do anything for her. Broken heart be damned. Hence why he sat in a booth at Beary Sweets—a bakery and café owned by a local bear shifter. Checking the time on his phone, he let out a soft curse. She was later than he’d expected. Her den was only a twenty-minute drive from the bakery. Surprise, surprise.

Tiffany, the café owner, stopped at his table. “Anything I can get you, Wolf?”

Leaning back in the seat, he raised a brow at her teasing tone. The Bears of Blackrock were neutral when it came to Pack disputes and wars. When outsiders entered their territory it was a rule they would respect one another or deal with the Black clan, which included Tiffany’s three older brothers and Alpha father.

“Water. Thanks.”

Tiffany hesitated for a brief moment before saying, “The female is outside the back door. She smells of fear and blood.”

“Cancel the water then.” His heart heavy with dread, he slid out of the booth and headed to the door. The Reagan he knew never cowed from anyone. She was so full of life and curiosity. What had that bastard of a mate done to her? And why the hell was she bleeding? Logan’s wolf growled and began to pace.

The thought of her mated always turned his mood lethal. He reined in his temper as he rounded the corner of the building. The sight of her lying on the ground in a tight ball made his heart stop for a brief moment. She wore a pink cotton T-shirt and blue jeans, both of which were inside out, telling him she might had traveled in wolf form, then changed once she arrived.

“Reagan?”

She didn’t respond. Crouching, he brushed the hair from her face. Her skin was cool, and she had a bruise across her cheek. A low growl escaped him, making her whimper and shirk back from him. Fuck.

“What did he do to you?” He scooped her up in his arms, tightening his hold when she struggled against him. “Shh. It’s Logan. I’ve got you.”

Instantly she relaxed and buried her cold nose into his neck. He closed his eyes for a few moments and inhaled her caramel apple scent mixed with dirt and blood. She doesn’t belong to you, idiot.

© 2015 Lia Davis