Alpha Betrayed: A Dark Shifter

FORD

The next week and a half rushes past in a haze of barely suppressed rage, near misses, adrenaline rushes, and a serious lack of sleep that convinces me I don’t have what it takes to be a spy.

No double life for me, thank you.

Either one of the lives I have right now—psycho New Lupine Brotherhood member or hardworking Variant sympathizer and man willing to do whatever it takes to make sure his fated mate makes it through the trials even though she’s equally determined not to fall in love with him—would be a full-time job.

As it is, I’m so strung out, most of the time I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

All I know for sure is that every time Juliet tries, and fails, to reach her shifter form—collapsing into my arms with skin so hot I’m afraid she’s going to burn herself alive—my heart stops. It literally stops beating until her breath shudders out, her skin starts to cool, and I know she’s made it through another “practice session” in one piece.

Though I don’t think what we’re doing can really be called practice, at this point.

It’s more trial and error, with extra error.

Catherine’s scoured the library for advice, and Alexander and I have tried every first-time shifting tip gleaned from the dark web, friends, relatives, and random people in the quad, but all our best efforts have gotten us nowhere.

Well, Alexander has asked his friends and relatives. I still can’t risk reaching out to mine, since Juliet and I are supposed to be dead. The two charred corpses Natalie arranged to be found in that motel room have bought us the time we need to prepare to face my stepfather. But they’ve also isolated us from even the hope of connection with the people we care for in Zion.

Juliet’s literally the only tie I have to my former life.

I tell myself that’s part of the reason I crave her company and her body and the honor of being the only one she trusts to catch her when she falls like an addict craves a fix. I miss my life before the fight pits and the betrayal. I miss my pack and my people and my friends and the smell of the Pacific Northwest in summertime.

It’s beautiful here, but it’s not the same.

I want to go home, and Juliet is the closest thing I can get to it. Combine that with the fact that she’s my fated mate—after that night on the roof, neither of us can deny that—and not falling for her was a lost cause.

Still, I never thought I’d be this guy, the one following his girl around like a puppy dog, desperate for the smallest scrap of affection. The one who stands by her with my hopeful tail wagging, no matter how many times she makes it clear that she’s having a much easier time resisting me than I am resisting her.

I dream about Juliet every night and wake up hard, burning with the need to make love to her. To f*****g worship her. I’d be happy with a chance to bury my face between her legs and taste her while she comes. I’d give her a full body massage with a happy ending and never ask for a single thing for myself.

If she’d only let me in.

But she won’t. She isn’t cruel. In fact, she’s kinder than ever, treating me with respect, gratitude, and a warm friendship that tears me apart with every friendly smile and platonic thump on the back. Because it’s the same warmth she shows Layla and Diana and even Alexander and Catherine. I’m just another member of her inner circle, the one I know she’d give her life to protect.

But I don’t want her to die for me. I want her to live for me. I want her to seek my company above all others and to crave the comfort of my body as much as I crave the comfort of hers.

It’s not just about the s*x act itself. It’s not even primarily about that. I want to be naked with Juliet for pleasure, yes, but also because I want to be connected to her, to know her in a way no other person ever has or ever will. I want to prove to her with every k**s, every stroke of my body into hers that being fated mates doesn’t mean what we feel isn’t real. It just means that the stars or our DNA or something currently beyond our understanding designed us to be a perfect fit.

It means we were made to love each other. That’s f*****g amazing, not something to sneer at or to be ashamed of. We’re not weak because we hunger for each other on a cellular level; we’re lucky.

Lucky to have a fated mate and lucky to have met while we still have so much life ahead of us.

Assuming Juliet isn’t one of the Variants picked off during the trials, of course…

I’m no longer sure rigging the game is the end of this. I’ve caught Beck and his cronies whispering in small groups at the brotherhood’s near nightly bonfires in the woods. Some things they share with the group, but some plans are made in secret. Rumor has it that our strongest wolves will be given two assignments at the trials.

One: Come out on top and prove that wolves should rule this school.

Two: Attack as many Variants during the trials as possible, always ensuring they either don’t see who hurt them or that there are no third-party witnesses to testify if it comes down to our word vs. theirs.

So far, however, Beck hasn’t asked me to take anyone out. Maybe he senses that would be pushing me too far. Or maybe he doesn’t trust me, after all. Maybe he’s playing some kind of game, keeping his enemy close until the time comes to strike.

I honestly don’t know. The combination of lies, lack of sleep, and unrequited love for a woman I’m afraid is going to be killed has my instincts all messed up.

“I wish I could just slip into your skin for ten minutes and show you how it feels,” Catherine says, flopping down in the sand at the secret beach we’ve been using for shifter practice.

It’s inside the defended territory just outside the walls, but inaccessible from the main beach unless you know the secret entrance through the caves. It also can’t be seen by the wall patrol, which is both good and bad. Good because we don’t want anyone to know what a hard time Juliet’s having—some of the guards are on Beck’s father’s payroll and can’t be trusted. Bad because if our enemies do find and attack us here, we won’t be able to call for backup.

“I wish that, too,” Juliet pants, her hands braced on her knees and her head bowed as she sucks air.

“I wish we had more time. The trials start in two damned days,” Layla says, fanning Juliet with her copy of “Fetching” magazine, a shifter-centric fashion publication I had no idea existed until we arrived at Lost Moon.

The longer I’m here and the more I get to know about the average shifter experience, the more I realize how isolated Hammer kept us from the rest of the supernatural world. Maybe it was simply to make it easier to keep his double life a secret. Maybe there was a more sinister reason. I fully intend to ask him once I have him locked away in a dungeon somewhere.

“We should try something new,” Layla continues.

It’s just her and Catherine here today. Alexander had counselor duties he couldn’t blow off and Diana is doing extra training with the other Variants. As a bear shifter, Layla is better prepared to go up against wolves than the other Variants and felt okay about skipping the extra training today in the name of helping her roomie get furry and feathered.

Apparently, phoenix shifters have both fur and feathers, something none of us realized until we read the few articles that Catherine found in the library.

“Like what?” I ask, bringing Juliet a water bottle I stole from the dining hall. She accepts it with a weary “thanks,” that makes my heart twist. She’s gained weight and muscle in the past twelve days, and her catatonia-inducing night terrors have become a thing of the past now that the implant’s out. But if she can’t learn to shift without exhausting herself, she’s still going into the trials as the ultimate underdog.

“I don’t know, but doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity, right?” Layla shrugs. “So, we should try something else.”

“I think they should tweak that definition,” Catherine says. “Sometimes doing the same thing over and over again is the path to mastery. Back in my ballet days, I did at least a thousand double turns before I landed a triple.”

“But she’s right,” Juliet says, pressing the water bottle to her forehead. “I don’t feel like I’m getting any better or closer or whatever is supposed to happen. It’s like I get to the door to my shifter form and try to open it, but it’s locked and there’s no handle. I just end up beating on it until I’m exhausted and really, really hot.”

“So, try not beating on it,” Layla says, smacking the magazine into her hand with a sharp thwack. “Boom. New tactic.”

Juliet’s lips twitch. “Okay. But what do I do instead? Tell it to open sesame?”

“Or will it open with your mind powers,” Layla says.

“She might have a point.” Catherine sits up, brushing the sand off the back of her black tank top. Nearly two weeks into knowing the twins, and I’ve never seen Catherine in anything but black or Alexander in anything but jeans or chinos and a gray t-shirt. Or naked. Alexander’s also big on being naked, usually while he’s way too close to Juliet for my liking.

“Shifting’s not really a physical thing, after all,” Catherine continues. “At least not the start of it. The trigger into the physical transformation is something you pull with your mind.”

Juliet takes a deep swallow of water before asking, “But isn’t that what I’m already doing? I mean, obviously I’m trying to open the door with my mind, not in physical reality. It’s all in my head, the door, my hand, the lack of handle.”

“Maybe that’s it,” I say, her words making my brain stem tingle.

She frowns. “What’s it?”

“Maybe there’s no handle because a part of your brain doesn’t want you to shift,” I add. “Maybe it’s afraid of what’s waiting on the other side of that door and is trying to protect you by making it impossible to open.”

Juliet pales, Layla’s brows crawl up her forehead, and Catherine curses softly. “Ford, my friend. Maybe you should be a psychology major instead of English. Because that…” She points a finger Juliet’s way. “That sounds like a very possible thing to me. What about you, J?”

Juliet nods, just a tiny bit at first but with increasing size as she mulls it over. “Could be. I want to shift, I really do, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared of it, too.”

“What are you scared of?” I ask.

For a moment I don’t think she’s going to answer. But then, she proves she’s a braver, more vulnerable person than she was when we got here. “I’m scared of hurting myself or someone else. Of going full burn and forgetting my entire life.” She hesitates before adding in a softer voice, “And of finally finding my form and realizing it’s not going to help. That it’s as small and unimpressive as my human one, and I’m out of luck on both sides.”

“Small, yes,” Layla says. “But unimpressive? No way, woman. Not even close.”

“I’ll second that,” Catherine agrees.

Figuring Juliet knows how I feel, I say, “So, you have some very realistic and justifiable fears. But you need to get past them. How do we do that? What’s the opposite of fear?”

“Peace?” Catherine throws out.

“Pizza?” Layla asks. “Sorry, I’m still hungry. By the time I got to the dining hall after afternoon training, there wasn’t any salmon left. Just grilled tofu chunks.” She sticks her tongue out and shudders. “Why they keep making tofu when most people around here are hardcore carnivores, I have no idea.”

“I actually like the tofu,” Juliet says. “I’m weird all around.”

“Play,” I say, refusing to get distracted. We don’t have time to be normal college coeds and talk shit about the dining hall food. The trials start in two days.

Juliet’s gaze lifts to mine. “Play?”

“It’s the opposite of fear. Right?” I ask. “It’s creative instead of destructive. Relaxing instead of stressful.”

Her lips curve and a light I haven’t seen in a while sparks to life in her eyes. “Fun instead of scary.”

Layla nods. “Yeah. And if it doesn’t work, at least we’ll have blown off steam and had a good time.” She hops to her feet. “What should we do?” She c***s her head to one side with a scrunched face. “Do we remember how to play?”

“I do.” Catherine rises with one graceful flex of her legs and clasps her hands together with a mischievous grin. “And I know the perfect place to go. I’ve been saving it as a surprise, but today’s as good a day for swimming as any.”

“Swimming?” Layla perks up. “Oh my God, I’ve been wanting to get in the water for days. Take us to your swimming hole, woman.”

“It’s more like a cave of wonders,” Catherine says, motioning for us to follow as she moves to the other side of the small cove and an entrance to another cave we haven’t yet explored.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Layla scampers after her, but Juliet waits for me to reach the edge of her beach blanket before she steps off of it.

“You’re finally going to let me play with the cool kids?” she asks, her teasing tone making me hopeful this might work. Or that at least we’ll have some fun to balance out the non-stop hustle of the past two weeks.

I shrug. “I guess. You’re a lot less bratty than the last time you tried to follow me to a swimming hole.”

“Cave of wonders,” she corrects, poking me playfully in the chest as we start across the sand.

“I’d like to visit your cave of wonders,” I murmur beneath my breath.

She g****s and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling when she says, “I’m so glad I don’t have a d**k. You guys really struggle to think of anything else, don’t you?”

“Nah, I don’t struggle. I give in to the perve thoughts without a fight. Especially when it comes to your cave of wonders.”

“Call it that again and I’m going to poke you in the eye instead of the chest,” she says, bending to gaze into the small cave, where Catherine and Layla have already disappeared. “It’s a slick, sexy little crevice of wonders, not a cave.”

And then she ducks into the entrance, leaving me with far too many thoughts about her sexy little crevice and a hard-on I take a moment to get under control before easing into the cool darkness behind her. The tunnel is smaller than the one leading from the main beach to our hidden practice grounds. At one point I have to drop to my knees to get through and at another my shoulders force me to inch forward sideways.

By the time I step out into the main cave, where a hole in the rocks overhead makes the sea water below glow a magical turquoise blue, Catherine and Layla are already in the water. Juliet stands on the rocks on the other side of the pool, naked and so beautiful she takes my breath away. From her fuller breasts to the enhanced curve of her h**s, the weight and muscle she’s put on look damned good on her, and the small patch of blond hair between her legs sends memories of that night on the roof pulsing through my head.

I stand, frozen in longing and admiration, as she prepares to dive. She lifts her arms and her gaze, shooting me a heated look that has my heart pounding all over again before she slices into the ocean with a tiny splash.

Looks like this might be as much torture as play—at least for me—but that’s not going to stop me. Stripping my clothes off with a grin I run and cannonball into the water, spraying the girls with a massive splash.