Alpha Betrayed: A Dark Shifter Romance

Juliet

Ford turns right on what looks like a service road, bypassing the main entrance to the dump, where the weigh stations and ticket machines are located. There's a small hut near the entrance as well, but there's no one there this early in the morning and the main gate is still closed. There are probably cameras filming us as we zoom around to the right side of the large landfill, but they'll only go back and check that footage if something goes wrong. Otherwise, they'll most likely film over it in a week or two. Places like this don't hang on to surveillance data for long. It's too expensive.

It's a fact Gorey counted on more than once, when sending his men out to kidnap unsuspecting supernaturals. Not all of the acts in the Circus of the Strange were sold into slavery. Some of them were snatched off the streets, leaving their families and friends wondering what happened to the people they loved.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

So, Ford and I just have to be careful not to get caught or attract attention.

"That looks good," I say, pointing to a small clutch of trees near the twenty-foot gate guarding the dump from intruders. I don't know why they're so dead set on protecting the trash, but it's a good excuse not to drive any deeper into the waste. The smell is bad enough here on the fringes.

"It does," Ford says, slowing the van and veering off the service road. "And the trees should offer shelter from the sun. Feels like it's going to be hotter today than it has been."

After he parks and we step out of the van to relieve ourselves under separate trees, I realize he's right. The air is much warmer than it was in the mountains or at the motel. By the time I brush my teeth and get back in the vehicle, the back of the van is already feeling stuffier than it did before.

"I could open the windows and try to catch a cross breeze," Ford says, "but then the smell is going to get worse."

I shudder as I unroll my sleeping bag on the top bunk. "I think I'd throw up. I'm fighting my gag reflex already. Let's try without the windows open and we can crack them later if it gets too bad."

"Sounds good," Ford says, in a weird voice.

I climb up onto the bunk, stretching out on top of the sleeping bag before peering at him over the edge. "What?"

He looks up, his eyes nearly level with mine, he's so tall. "What what?"

"Your voice sounded weird."

He shakes his head. "It's nothing, just thought you might want the bottom bunk. It's cooler down here. Since heat rises and all."

"I'll take the top. Your bigger and run hotter than I do."

"Thanks. That's nice of you."

"Don't get used to it," I say. "And you're also more likely to get shot first if someone breaks in. It'll give me a few extra seconds to pull my gun."

He arches a wry brow. "Right. That sounds more like it."

"But hey, I'll avenge your death for sure. I'll even spit in the guy's face and curse him for killing my big brother."

"I'm not your big brother," he rumbles.

I fight a smile. "Oh, yes you are. Don't deny our deep sibling bond, big bro. The one that would make it nasty if you crawled up into my bunk while I'm sleeping."

He snorts. "You wish, brat. Keep it up and I won't touch you again until you beg for it, on your hands and knees."

"Perfect," I say sweetly. "Because that's never going to happen. My dad will become a Buddhist monk and renounce all his worldly goods first."

Ford leans back against the kitchenette counter behind him, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yeah, he loves his worldly goods all right. I've been thinking about that a lot since I found out he got rid of you, too. If we'd both been allowed to keep living our lives, there's a chance the pack would have split in two. People were already talking about half the pack staying with you on Anderson Island and the rest of us making the ski resort our full-time home."

I prop up on one arm, sitting up as much as I can with the low ceiling only eighteen inches away. "Which would have divided the pack's property and assets and reduced our status with the other Pacific Northwest packs."

"And diminished Hammer's legacy," he adds.

"Which he would have hated," I agree. "Being one of the richest Alphas in a very posh part of the country was always a point of pride for him. But who would he choose to replace us? Who would unite everyone around a common banner? It's been bugging me since I realized you didn't oust me. Not to inflate your ego, but you're the only one I could see uniting enough of the pack to rule. Half my cousins are loyal to me and wouldn't dream of betraying me that way and the other half are too stupid. And Hammer wants someone smart enough to expand what he's built, not squander it." I huff. "Can you imagine Bethany on the throne? She'd turn the ski resort into a reality show and expose shifters to humanity at large in the first year."

"She absolutely would," Ford agrees. "And she'd do it in a pink miniskirt that even I know is a sin against fashion."

I smile. "But to be honest, Bethany and I used to be pretty close, and she really liked you. She was always trying to get me to see your good side. I can't imagine her wiping our blood off the crown and plopping it on her own head."

"Unless she didn't know what happened to us. I'm betting most of the pack doesn't. I've been holding off on contacting the people I know are loyal to me, but maybe we should try tonight. See what kind of light they can shed on what happened after we disappeared, what they were told about it, and if Hammer's named a replacement."

I nod, hope flickering to life in my chest. "If it's someone like Bethany or Lucas, and they don't know what happened to us, this might be easier than we think. Either one of them would step down without a fight, I know they would."

"As long as Hammer isn't still in control. If he has a puppet Alpha on the throne, doing his bidding, it might even be worse. If the puppet is someone we care about, he'll use that against us."

And even if by some miracle my father's dead, Ford and I would have to be united in how the transition of power should work or it would still be chaos.

But I don't say that out loud.

I already know what Ford's "solution" to that problem would be, and I meant what I said. I'm never getting married. I'm never letting another man-or anyone else-hold my life in his hands again. That's what would happen if Ford and I said, "I do." He's bigger, stronger, more popular, and better connected with the macho, "defend the pack" half of the people. The power would always be his. I'd fade away into the background, relegated to throwing parties and stepping in on the rare occasions when Ford was out of town, just like his mother.

"Think about it, and we can decide whether making contact now is a good idea later," Ford says, reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt. He shed his hoodie when we first arrived. So did I, but I'm still wearing my dress. I'm still respectably covered for co-ed sleeping. In a second, however, Ford is most certainly not.

The bare chest, with all those huge, stupidly sexy muscles is bad enough, but Ford doesn't stop there. He pops the button on his jeans and shoves them down around his ankles. Thankfully, he's wearing boxer briefs, but they leave nothing to the imagination. They hug his powerful thighs and the thickness he rubbed against me in the woods earlier. I've only been that close to a c**k once, with Chase, after we drank too much at a beach party and I decided it was okay to roll around in the sand for a while. He pulled my swimsuit bottom to one side and pressed himself against me, but I wasn't ready, and he didn't push. He knew I was a late bloomer.

Thanks to my pariah status within the pack, I didn't date until my freshman year of college. The pack boys who liked me were too scared of my dad to date me and the rest of the boys thought I was a worthless piece of mutant trash. I entered college a complete newbie to flirting, romance, and making out. And I loved making out, huge fan, but it still felt a little...scary back then, like something that shouldn't be rushed into too fast.

I could tell that s*x could be something amazing or awful-or a confusing combination of the two-and was determined to proceed with caution. I kissed a few boys freshman year, but it wasn't until Chase and I started dating at the beginning of sophomore year that I took things any further.

Chase was a preppy, future lawyer determined to make his cranky businessman father proud. That's why he wore the golf shirts to school and got his hair cut at a place that charged five hundred dollars a trim. But deep down, Chase was a total sweetheart who didn't care about money. We'd have a great time grabbing sub sandwiches and walking on the beach all afternoon. And while he wasn't the kind of guy, I could see myself with long term, if I hadn't been sold, he would have been my first. We were almost ready to take that step.

Now, I'll never take it.

I'll remain a virgin queen, untouched and unbothered by all the mate drama.

I will resist temptation, no matter how good Ford looks mostly naked or the fact that my thighs begin to ache when he murmurs, "Sleep well," and squeezes my calf before disappearing into the bottom bunk.

His fingers are on me for only a few seconds and the pressure is light, but I feel the imprint of his touch burning against my skin for a long time. Long enough for his soft, even snoring to fill the van. Long enough for the sounds of heavy machinery to begin to drone through the dump and the soft rumble of traffic from the highway to grow louder.

I'm about to give up on sleep and stretch my legs under the trees when I hear the crunch of gravel from outside. It sounds like another car pulling slowly up to the van.

My heart lurching, I glide quietly out of the top bunk, poking Ford with my bare toe on the way down. He wakes with a snort, his eyes flying open. Before he can speak, I press a finger to my lips and point outside, where the wheels-on-gravel sound is getting louder. I swiftly done my socks and shoes and Ford slips into his jeans. He's still barefoot, however, when the engine cuts off and a door closes quietly outside.

"I'll go get rid of them," I hiss as I shrug the hoodie on and tuck my gun in the pocket.

"You will not," Ford hisses back.

"Yes, I will. If it's someone who works here, they're more likely to take it easy on a girl. I'll tell them we're college kids on summer break trying to camp cheap and that we'll leave if we're not supposed to be here."

"And if it's another assassin?" he demands.

"Then I know what to do," I say, motioning to the gun in my pocket. "And I won't hesitate. You should know that by now."

He chews his lip as he steps into his boots. "Fine, I'll cover you from the window. But if things go to shit, hide, and let me handle it."

"Sure thing," I say, because now isn't the time to argue about who's giving the orders around here. But I'll take cover when I feel the time is right, not a moment before, and Ford and I are going to have a long talk about his bossy problem as soon as our unwanted guests are gone.

I glance through the dusty curtains covering the windows at the back of the van, spotting a silver sports car parked close, but not too close. The windows are tinted, but not enough that I can't see the seats inside are all empty.

Ford is instantly behind me, breathing down my neck. "That doesn't look like a landfill worker," he says.

"No, it doesn't." I press my face closer to the glass and scan from side to side, but I can't see any sign of the person who slammed the car door a minute ago.

"I'm coming out with you," he whispers.

I turn to tell him the "helpless, harmless girl" act could still work with whoever this is, too, but before I can speak the back door opens and a tall, willowy woman leans inside the van. Her white-blond hair is pulled into a tidy bun at the base of her neck, her eyes are covered by designer sunglasses, and she's wearing a long, expensive-looking camel-colored jacket.

She's also holding a long, metal thing that looks like a taser and a magic wand had a baby.

I jam my hand into my hoodie pocket as Ford levels his weapon at her chest.

She smiles and says in a posh voice that reminds me of podcast commercials for meal kits, "Shoot and you'll both be dead before the bullet clears the chamber. Or you can come with me, and I'll feed, clothe, and shelter you in style on our way east. If we hurry, we can have you registered before summer orientation starts on Wednesday."

I glance quickly up at Ford, who still has his gun locked on the woman's heart. "Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Natalie, your Lost Moon University ambassador," she says. "And you're about five minutes away from being swarmed by bounty hunters." She nods my way. "The implant to keep you from shifting into your phoenix form is also a tracking device, love. Your father microchipped you like a puppy and you..." Her lips turn down as she glances at Ford. "Well, you're just too big not to attract attention, but I'm guessing you might also be chipped. I wasn't personally able to lock onto your signal, but I didn't try too hard after I pinpointed Juliet's." Her focus shifts back to me. "Yours is really blaring out that 'come and get me' message loud and clear, sweetheart. But never fear, I have a signal scrambling device in the car and a plan to help you get rid of that beastly thing once and for all." She shrugs. "Or you can stay here and get blown to smithereens." She slips her glasses lower on her nose, showcasing the most beautiful, ice-blue eyes I've ever seen. "Do people still say smithereens? If they don't, they really should. Fabulous word." She eases back a bit, waving the prod/wand. "Come on then, no time to waste. I'd rather not have to shoot our way out of here if we can help it. Good way to attract the wrong kind of attention and the human authorities around here are so much more difficult to bribe than they used to be."

She vanishes, calling out as she moves back toward her car, "I'll answer your questions on the way, but we really must be going, darlings. Time and bounty hunters wait for no man."

I look up at Ford, my eyes wide. "Did you know she was coming?"

He shakes his head as he drops the gun to his side. "No, I didn't. But I think I remember her photo from the website. She's Natalie Manger, head of special admissions and recruitment. I guess they decided we were special enough to warrant a visit." "More like a rescue," I mumble, toes squirming fretfully in my new boots. "But why? What's in it for them? They don't charge admission so it's not money."

"I don't know. Maybe they just want to help people who can't help themselves," he says, acknowledging my eye roll by adding, "Or maybe they want to stick it to your dad as much as we do. Hammer has his share of enemies. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd managed to make a few at Lost Moon." He turns the safety on and tucks the gun into the back of his jeans. "Either way, I think we should go with her. Beats waiting here and hoping to shoot our way out of trouble again."

"Unless she's lying," I sputter as he grabs the bag of food and his duffel.

"She didn't kill us, and she easily could have," he says, moving toward the door. "That was an atomizer wand. In a tight space like this, she could have vaporized us both with a tap of her finger." He steps out into the sunshine. "And I got a good vibe." He grins. "Bad people are never that beautiful, right?"

"You can't be serious," I say, but he's already following the Pied Piper of Hot Guys to her car.

Looks like I have a choice-stay here and risk running into those bounty hunters that are allegedly on their way-or throw my lot in with Ice Princess Barbie. Reminding myself that I don't have to stay with this woman if I decide Lost Moon and women who inspire insta-crushes in my stupid stepbrother aren't for me, I grab the bag with my new clothes inside and hurry after them.

I slide into the back seat of the already purring sports car, plopping down in the new-car-scented cool within just as Ford and Natalie are sharing a laugh, like they've been old buddies for years.

Fighting the urge to growl at both of them, I buckle up and snap, "Ready."

"Then we're off," Natalie says in her luxurious voice.

We shoot off straight across the open field next to the landfill, stirring up a dust trail as the car zooms toward the access road ahead. Looking to my right, I see three similar dust clouds zipping along toward the main entrance, but they don't slow as they reach the gate. They keep zooming toward the van.

A moment later, the syncopated sound of multiple shots firing at once fills the air.

"Hold on," Natalie says, still sounding obnoxiously cheerful. "Best if we're out of sight before they realize there's no one in that van."

My head snaps back as she floors the gas.

Looks like I'm going back to school, after all...