The Pack Rules 2: Taken by the Alpha (Hot Werewolf Shifter Romance Serial) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Before You Begin…

  Copyright Information

  Taken by the Alpha

  A Special Note to Readers

  The Pack Newsletter

  So, You Like Werewolves?

  About Michele Bardsley

  Before You Begin…

  Dear Reader,

  The Pack Rules 2: Taken by the Alpha is the second part of a five-part serialized story and it is meant to be read in order. If you have not read The Pack Rules 1: Chosen by the Alpha, please purchase a copy from Amazon now.

  Thank you!

  ~Michele

  Copyright Information

  The Pack Rules 2: Taken by the Alpha

  A Hot Werewolf Shifter Romance Serial

  By Michele Bardsley

  Copyright 2014 by Michele Bardsley

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Taken by the Alpha

  Part 2 in The Pack Rules Serial

  “WELL, WELL. IF it isn’t the great werewolf killer,” sneered a female voice.

  I whirled, heart thumping, and pressed a hand against my chest. I stared at the stranger who was behind me, leaning next to the door of my room. Well, the room in which I’d been staying at Aunt Lila’s.

  Werewolf killer. It was true. Last night, I’d killed a werewolf in self-defense and in a couple of hours… I was mating with one.

  My husband-to-be was none other than the alpha of the Shadow pack—Greyson Burke. Memory flashed, and my stomach squeezed with nerves. Grey was a handsome man—squared jaw, aquiline nose, full lips, and gray-green eyes. His hair was a waterfall of shiny black. And lord-a-mercy, he was big and muscled and…and intense.

  My stomach clenched at the very thought of seeing the man again. Because when I did, we would—by werewolf standards at any rate—be married.

  Then we would mate.

  Sweet mercy.

  I studied the woman towering over me by at least six inches. She had long, brown hair that curled in shiny ringlets down her back. Her eyes were sapphires, two jewels in a heart-shaped face with a sharp, dented chin. She was lean-muscled and tan, obviously someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors. She was also dressed in tight black leather pants and a matching vest designed to show off her navel. She didn’t have much in the way of breasts, but she certainly didn’t mind showing them off within the deep vee of the vest. She wore calf boots that jangled with silver chains. The shape of her irises, her ridiculous height, and her bristly attitude made it obvious she was a werewolf. I would’ve been fascinated by meeting such a rare creature—but she made my less-than-curly hair stand on end.

  “Are you mute?” asked the woman, her tone the epitome of discourteous.

  “No,” I said as politely as I could. I was raised with manners, after all. “Neither am I rude. Who are you?”

  “Neela.”

  My politeness only extended so far. I couldn’t say it was nice to meet her, and I didn’t want to proffer my hand for a welcoming shake. Instead, I inclined my head. “I’m Arabelle Winton.” My friends called me Belle, but I wasn’t inclined to ask her to informally address me.

  “I know who you are. Grey sent me to fetch you.” Her full lips curled into a hateful smile. “He does like his little pets.”

  Fetch me? His little pet? Embarrassment heated my cheeks, and Neela seemed to delight in my discomfiture. In fact, she made quite the show of studying my blushing face and smirking. Her arrogance got my blood up, and my mortification turned to anger. Given Grey’s recent and thorough “scenting” of me, I knew she could smell his claim.

  “I’m not his pet.” I held her gaze. She wasn’t intimidated by me, but neither was she stupid enough to threaten me outright. “I’m his mate.”

  “Mate,” she spat. “Humans are not our equals. The Choosing does nothing more than weaken our pack with inferior stock.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to her vitriol, so I said nothing. The Choosing was the ceremony held every twenty years in Bleed City, Nevada. It was part of a pact made by the townspeople nearly 150 years ago. The Shadow Pack, in exchange for mating with our eldest daughters, offered protection, shelter, and food to the town. I was the eldest daughter in my family by default—my twin sister (older by six minutes) had committed suicide three years ago.

  And so here I was, one of the town’s tributes—except that I belonged to the alpha, whether I wanted to or not. For me, the Choosing had become a mere formality.

  Oh. Neela’s fury made sense now. I’d been chosen by the alpha, and she had not. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the rival standing in front of me, vibrating with what I’d call homicidal rage. Grey would be my husband, but I didn’t yet know him. He inspired within me contrary and riotous feelings, the strongest of which was pulse-pounding desire. So, I supposed I knew one thing about my werewolf groom: I wanted him.

  And so did Neela.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  She snorted. “Because I’m in charge of the enforcers and, apparently, your bony ass.” She shoved off from the wall. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t wait for me to agree. Instead, she sailed past me and bounded down the stairs with the grace so prevalent among her kind. I followed more slowly. Partially because I still ached from fighting off the werewolf that had nearly taken my life. And my muscles—not to mention my emotions—had not recovered sufficiently from Grey’s thorough and enjoyable scenting. An added bonus: I knew taking my time would irritate Neela.

  Mission accomplished. Neela’s entire being crackled with annoyance and impatience. Her narrowed gaze lasered in on me, and I had the distinct impression she was fighting the urge to rip out my throat.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” said Aunt Lila. She swept past Neela as though the formidable woman was nothing more than a piece of furniture. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “All my packed boxes are at my house, but I didn’t get to say good-bye to my family.”

  Aunt Lila offered me a kind smile. “Grey’s already arranged to have your things shipped to the pack’s compound. You’ll see your parents before the Choosing begins.” She grasped my hand and squeezed. “Being mated to a werewolf isn’t the same as going to prison, Belle. You’ll be able to visit. You can email and call any time you like.”

  I nodded, but my stomach pitched anyway. I’d been raised in Bleed City, soaked in its history, mentally Superglued into its ideals, its expectations. I would not run away from my duty. Unlike my sister Carolyn, who’d chosen to hang herself rather than accept her fate, I was not a coward.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared.

  Fear crawled in my belly like a thousand creeping spiders. As I’ve said before, knowledge is not the same as experience. Grey had already explained that our first mating—indeed, probably all our matings—would be animalistic. In addition to that worry, I had to also consider what I�
�d be expected to do as the alpha’s wife. America’s government was a complex, gnarled mess, but it had nothing on werewolf politics. Of course, there was a lot less red tape when it came to carrying out justice. Werewolves guilty of death-penalty offenses did not sit in prison cells for years. They were beheaded, their hearts carved out, and their bodies burned. Werewolves had a real thing about hearts. And souls. A burned body lost its soul forever. After death, they wanted to join their revered ancestors. Literally. Shifters were placed in underground catacombs—their dead as protected and honored as living werewolves.

  “We’ll go in my car,” said Aunt Lila, jolting me out of my thoughts. She tugged me forward. “Neela will follow us there. Grey has sent his best enforcer to guard you, Belle, and that shows how much he values you.”

  I swear I heard a low growl—a short, ugly burst of werewolf fury. But I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t look back.

  “NEELA DOESN’T LIKE me,” I said, as we drove down the packed-dirt road. On either side were towering red rock cliffs.

  “Neela doesn’t like anyone,” said Aunt Lila. “And she thinks more of herself than she should.”

  “Because she was his once.” I glanced at Aunt Lila, who hesitated—and then gave a brief, sharp nod.

  “They were lovers before Grey became the alpha. After he took leadership, Neela assumed that she would become his mate, but she was wrong. Grey ended their sexual relationship and offered her command of the enforcers. If she wanted to stay in the Shadow Pack, she had no choice but to accept his decisions.”

  I sat with her words, looking out my window. Stone reached out to the blue sky like a child’s fingers trying to grasp the color. Scrub brush littered the desert sand, which made the landscape feel surreal, as though it were the hiding place of monsters.

  The Choosing was held in a space sacred to werewolves, located far within the twisty, maze-like canyons, in an area no uninvited human dared to tread. Grey had said that the Choosing was our ceremony—and while that was true, werewolves had a deeply entrenched sense of honor and duty. In the pack, there was no such thing as an individual. You worked with the pack for the pack. If you didn’t, you became a scruffer—or you got your head removed and your heart ripped out.

  Tourists often stopped to take pictures of the towering red-stoned cliffs and to look at the petroglyphs that had been carved into walls more than 10,000 years ago. What tourists had never seen—and would never lay eyes on as far as werewolves were concerned—was the ancient rock art left by their shape-shifting ancestors. Their carvings offered evidence that werewolves had long lived with—and bred with—humans. Bleed City was not the first human settlement to intertwine its fate with shifters.

  I had never been to the ceremonial grounds. Only the eldest daughters and their families were allowed the privilege—and the previous Choosing happened when I was a toddler. Aunt Lila, as the town’s werewolf liaison and our elder, walked between our worlds holding the trust of both wolf and man. She had been to the Choosing twice before.

  “Why didn’t Grey take Neela for a mate? She’s a female werewolf… And those are rare. It would seem a perfect match.”

  Aunt Lila squinted at the road. She slowed down and made a careful left onto a narrow lane, this one far less defined. She kept the Jeep at twenty miles an hour. As we hit pot holes and loose sand, I understood why.

  “Neela has a chip on her shoulder,” said Aunt Lila. “She was raised by a father who had no other heirs. Most shifters feel honored by the arrival of a daughter, but Kelt was disappointed she wasn’t a son. Neela’s birth was complicated and as a result, her mother had to have emergency surgery. She couldn’t have any more pups after that. Kelt was hard on Neela, determined to make her stronger than any male in the pack. Neela became a great warrior. Yet, no matter how many trophies she takes or honors she receives, she’s unable to win his approval.”

  “Because she’ll never be the son he wanted.”

  Aunt Lila glanced at me. “You’re wise for someone so young. That’s good.” She nodded approvingly. “You’re right to worry about Neela. She’s too often ruled by her temper. She keeps control—mostly.”

  “She’s a time bomb.”

  “Looking for a target,” agreed Aunt Lila. She slowed and made another turn. Now, there was no road, and we crushed our way through sand and sagebrush. The Jeep’s wheels made short work of the desert’s obstacles. “Grey never discussed Neela with me, but I have no doubt he realized mating with her would not benefit the Shadows. Neela is quick to judge and has little mercy—necessary qualities for an enforcer. But to lead the pack, one should have patience and empathy. She has neither.”

  Aunt Lila reached over and patted my leg. “You are a good match for Grey. I know your life isn’t what you expected. You were on your way to a typical human life, becoming a nurse, starting to date, learning who you really wanted to be.”

  “Yes,” I said softly. I felt some wisps of regret that the life I’d begun three years ago would not be mine. I had wanted very much to be a practicing nurse, to heal and comfort those in need. I was still angry with Carolyn—not because I’d assumed the role meant for her. No, my fury existed because she’d picked herself over her own family. She gave in to bitter selfishness instead of love for others, family, community, duty.

  Duty.

  Love.

  Honor.

  Those were the reasons why I sat in the Jeep, clutching the sides of my seat as we jounced the final mile to my destiny. That I already had an enemy before I’d even become part of the pack increased my anxiety tenfold. Well, then. I’d just have to get over it, wouldn’t I? I was chosen. I’d figure out how to deal with my new role in the Shadow pack—one werewolf at a time.

  “YOU’LL BE THE last to join the others in the circle,” said Aunt Lila. “And the first chosen.” She pointed to a jagged crevice a few feet away. Unlike the massive carved public entrance that was further down, this access point appeared to be a natural, super-sized crack in the towering red stone cliffs.

  We had parked among the rows of trucks and SUVs that lined a dead-end canyon. I’d followed Aunt Lila and Neela had followed me. Now, we three stared ahead into the sun-poisoned passage, no doubt each of us thinking different thoughts about what waited beyond.

  I shifted, nervous. More sand snuck into my shoes. High heels were impractical in the desert terrain, so I had chosen a pair of nude flats to go with my simple green dress. The dress was made from a soft, shimmery material my mother had found online. She’d ordered it when Carolyn and I had turned eighteen. Of course, she’d made the original dress for my sister. We’d been about the same height—I was an inch taller—and we’d had the same willowy shape. Over the last month, my mother had made adjustments for me, all the while clucking about how I was “wasting away.” I suppose I harbored so much anxiety about the Choosing I didn’t have room for food. The closer it got to the ceremony, the more it seemed my stomach filled with twisty knots of dread.

  I pressed my hand against my midsection, nausea roiling. It was one thing to be with the alpha alone in a bedroom —and quite another to be on display as he officially wed me in front of my family and an entire pack of werewolves.

  “You gonna throw up, princess?” asked Neela. “Do it here, if you are. You will not embarrass the alpha or the pack by losing your shit at the ceremony.”

  “Belle is fine,” said Aunt Lila in a soothing, but firm tone. “Your parents will be here soon. We’ll go ahead so you can have some privacy.”

  “She doesn’t get privacy.” Neela put her hands on her hips and nodded toward the passageway. “You go, and I’ll stay right here.”

  “Grey has made his wishes known.” Aunt Lila canted her head to Neela. “Belle is to be alone with her parents. If you require clarification about his instructions, I’m happy to call him.” She withdrew her cell phone from the side of her purse.

  “I know what Grey wants,” Neela managed between gritted teeth, “you don’t have to remind me
.”

  “Apparently, I do.” Aunt Lila waved her hand—a gesture that said, you first.

  Neela tossed me a look of such hatred, I flinched. I quickly straightened, but she noted the miniscule reaction and smiled. Now, she believed I was afraid of her, and that’s how she wanted me to feel. Well, feelings were one thing and actions another. Truth was she scared me. But that didn’t mean I had to show that fear. Next time, I wouldn’t.

  She stalked past Aunt Lila, who watched the werewolf’s long, angry strides. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and sadness. She shook her head slightly, and then she reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Take your time.”

  “Thank you.” I took her hand and squeezed it gently between mine. “For everything.”

  “Of course, dear.” Sorrow flashed in her gaze—a dolorous lightning strike so quick, I wasn’t sure if I interpreted it correctly. Then Aunt Lila walked away. Had I imagined her anguish? If I hadn’t, why would she feel such distress when she looked at me?

  “Arabelle!”

  My mother’s voice rang out, and I turned. My parents met me with double hugs—their arms drawing me close into their warmth, into their love. I held on to them both, soaking in the feeling of safety they invoked. For this moment, I didn’t feel so alone or so afraid.

  They let go, and as they stepped back, I saw the tears shining in their eyes. My father was a teacher at the school—one of three instructors who taught all the students in our town. My mother, like many mothers in Bleed City, stayed at home and took care of the house and the family.

  “We’re so proud of you,” said Mom. She grabbed me and embraced me again. “You have been such a good daughter.” Her arms tightened around me even more, and I knew she was thinking of Carolyn, and how she should’ve been standing here at this moment. I don’t think Mom ever understood my twin’s resentment about the Choosing. Carolyn’s suicide had left my parents mired in shock and confusion. Even three years later, they seemed befuddled by her actions.