Southern Alpha Book Three Read online

  Southern Alpha

  Part Three

  Carina Wilder

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  8. Coming Soon!

  Also by Carina Wilder

  Introduction

  This is the third instalment in the four-part Southern Alpha Serial. It’s approximately 18,000 words long.

  You can find Parts One and Two here:

  Southern Alpha Part 1

  Southern Alpha Part 2

  These instalments are a spinoff of the Alpha’s Hunger Series of novels, which you can find here:

  Wolf’s Hunger

  Wolf’s Secret

  Wolf’s Choice

  Chapter 1

  Sierra

  By morning, I’d slept a grand total of zero minutes.

  From the moment I’d set foot in St. Anthony’s Cemetery the previous night, I’d felt like someone had taken the world as I knew it and twisted it around so many times that I could no longer tell what was real and what was fantasy.

  First, there was the impossible underground party filled with ghoulish guests. Then, the fortune teller who’d been way too specific in her predictions. Not to mention the unprovoked attack that had resulted in a devastating burn on my leg…which, by some miracle, was now gone.

  But most of all, it was the image of Trick’s face that had kept my mind alive all night, my body wide awake. I couldn’t stop thinking about his magical eyes, so strangely luminous, sexy, and intense, all at once. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to push away the stark recollection of the way he’d looked through me, like he was searching for some deep place inside my heart that even I had never uncovered.

  Trick had made it clear from the first that there was more to him than I could see on the surface. The man was a giant mystery exuding power, dominance, and raw sexuality. I’d seen his power reflected in the way the others looked at him. The frightened bouncer, who’d cowered in his presence. His friend Louis’ quiet reverence. The way the crowd of party guests had split apart to let him through like he was a king making his way to his throne.

  Trick was lord of all he surveyed.

  A lord, it turned out, who lived in a small shack in the remotest depths of a Louisiana bayou.

  Maybe it was my journalistic curiosity, or maybe just a desire to be close to the sexy beast who’d aroused so many of my senses to a fever pitch. All I knew was that by the time I dragged my tired body out of bed in the morning, I was more convinced than ever that I needed to see him again. I couldn’t just walk away from a man who’d reached out and snatched my heart from my chest. At least, not without some kind of closure.

  What we’d experienced the previous night was far more than an innocent almost-fling. It had been momentous, exquisite, erotic beyond measure. It was a meeting of minds, if not a full-on meeting of bodies. But even though I’d never gotten to feel him deep inside me as I’d craved, I’d walked away all too aware that I’d just experienced a sort of intimacy I’d never known was possible.

  Damn it. Why had the emotionally unavailable sex god pushed me aside just as we’d come so close to completing our bond?

  Oh, right. Because he was emotionally unavailable.

  When I’d wandered like an exhausted lump of sexually frustrated human into the living room, I reached out and picked up the business card Louis had given me the previous evening. My eyes scanned the words printed on its surface.

  Trick’s Boat Tours.

  Just seeing his name was enough to make my heart dance in my chest.

  Well, I had no choice.

  I had to go see him.

  Even if it meant making a total ass of myself.

  At eleven in the morning, the cab I’d summoned pulled up in front of my place and let out a polite honk. I took a look in the mirror by my door, checking to see that I hadn’t slapped too much makeup onto my tired features.

  Considering that I’d hardly slept, I was actually pretty pleased with how I looked. My freshly washed hair was falling in tidy blond waves around my face. My cheeks were looking rosy, which, admittedly, was most likely a symptom of silent terror.

  I threw a quick glance down at my outfit, which consisted of a pair of beige linen pants and a white cotton blouse. It was the kind of safari look that seemed appropriate for venturing into the wilds of the bayou—though something told me Trick would think it was a bit much. The guy probably wore jeans daily, even in the swampy marshlands of Louisiana. As well he should. The guy’s backside looked insanely good in denim.

  So did his front side, for that matter.

  Well, I told myself as I slipped a little lip gloss on and took one last glance at myself, if Trick rejects me again, at least it won’t be because I look like a dog’s breakfast.

  When the cab driver let out a second, more insistent honk, I rushed out of my second-floor apartment and down the stairs towards the street. My hand shook as I pried open the building’s front door, my mind swirling with renewed doubts and apprehension.

  Stop it, I commanded my stupid brain. You know you have to do this. Call it research, if it makes things easier.

  “Where you headed?” the driver asked as I slipped into the back seat of his cab.

  “Credence Bayou,” I said, “It’s a fan boat business on Harper’s Road.”

  He let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ve got to warn y’all, that’s a fair ways away. It’ll cost ya.”

  “That’s fine. My…work is paying for it.” It was true, after all. Included with the publisher’s advance on my book contract was a budget for travel, in case I wanted to venture outside of New Orleans for any reason. Now I just had to find a way to convince the publisher that this trip was necessary—which would probably mean hopping on one of his Trick’s boats and going for a ride. For research.

  Actually, that sounded nice. Heading out on the water with Trick guiding the way, my eyes fixed on his…

  Stop it, Sierra. You’re only heading there to clear the air. That’s it. No staring at bulges in jeans or drooling over handsome eyes.

  When the taxi pulled away from the curb, I leaned my head against the window, embracing the coolness of the glass as the car barreled out of the French Quarter and towards the bridge that led over Lake Pontchartrain and out of New Orleans.

  “Going cruising on the bayou, then?” the driver asked me. “Hoping to spot some gators?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “Although I’m really not a big fan of things with scales and huge pointy teeth.”

  “Oh, you’ll see some other wildlife. Nutrias, snakes, big ol’ spiders, you name it.”

  “Nutrias?” I asked. “What are those?”

  “Big ugly rodents with yellow bucked teeth and red eyes. They’re gross as all shit, but at least they won’t eat ya.”

  “Sounds…appetizing,” I said, laughing at his frank description.

  “Oh, naw, ya don’t eat them, either,” he chuckled. “They’re awfully good for target practice, though.”

  I clenched my jaw, tempted to blurt out that I had no respect for people who shot at innocent animals. But I reminded myself that if I had to spend the next half hour in an enclosed space with the guy, I should probably just nod and smile at any tales he chose to share.

  When I didn’t say anything in response, the driver put on some music—an old Madonna CD from 1980-something. It was pretty funny to watch a guy who had to be at least sixty-five bopping and singing along to Like a Virgin. I smiled to myself, my body relaxing into something like actual pleasure for the first time since last night. Even
though I knew this was just the calm before the storm. Seeing Trick again would probably be like walking into the heart of a tornado. The two of us were hot and cold fronts, colliding so violently that we had no choice but to blend together into something raging, dangerous, and wild.

  The only question was which of us would get destroyed in the process. Something told me it would most certainly be me.

  When we’d driven out of the city and into the more wild territory of the surrounding wetlands, the trees began to change. Leaves thickened to a glossy and exotic version of themselves, moss dangling decoratively from long branches. Occasionally, I spotted some unusual-looking road kill or other by the side of the road, a grim reminder that I wasn’t in Massachusetts anymore. A possum here, a small gator there. I tried to take mental pictures, to get excited about the strangeness of this place that was so different from my home.

  But all I could manage to focus on was clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. The sad fact was, there was only one form of wildlife that I was interested in today. The wild southern sex-god with the gifted tongue and magical fingers.

  Pushing out a sigh, I let my mind veer back to him. The way his hair fell in a thick curtain around his face as he looked down at me. The erection that had made my mouth water and come so close to burying itself so deep inside me…

  And how the man at the center of it all had leapt away from me, retreating as if I’d burned him.

  I tried to force him out of my mind, but in the moments when I managed to tear my thoughts away, dark memories of his enemies moved in to replace them. Those awful, silent silhouettes throwing flaming bottles our way as their terrifying, massive hounds looked on. The eyes that had stared at us through the darkness, so similar to Trick’s. So feral and bright.

  The difference, of course, was that there was no kindness in their eyes, no humanity. It was like they were being controlled by a force outside themselves, something powerful, inhuman.

  There has to be some sort of explanation, I thought. For their eyes, their behavior, their strangeness…

  I reminded myself that I was a researcher. My entire life had consisted of searching for answers, and I usually found them. So I pulled my phone out of my handbag and opened the voice memo app. After clicking the button to start recording, I dictated the words, “Find out what you can about the giant dogs. Who is the Marquis? What exactly was the blue fire that burned me?”

  As I slipped my phone back into my purse, the driver reached forward and turned the music down. When he sat back, his eyes found my reflection in the rear-view mirror and he raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

  “Ma’am?” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t mean to listen in,” he said, “but did you say something about giant dogs?”

  I hesitated for a few seconds before replying, “Yeah, I did. I saw some really huge ones last night. Why? Do you know something I should—?”

  “Where did you see them?” he asked, cutting me off.

  “It was in…a cemetery,” I replied, reluctant to divulge the secret location of the Bash. I pressed far enough forward in my seat to see a grimace set itself on the driver’s face. “Why do you ask?”

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Thing is, there are a lot of really big, really mean dogs around New Orleans, especially at night. Only…they ain’t dogs.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was kidding, but I smiled just in case. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “They’re wolves.”

  “Really?” I replied.

  “Yup.”

  Well, it would explain something about their size. But what kind of weirdo walked around with wolves by their side? “They were with people,” I said. “It wasn’t like I stumbled upon a pack of wild wolves or something. These were someone’s pets.”

  The driver shook his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his tone withering with something that sounded an awful lot like fear. “They were no pets, and those people you saw? They ain’t people. They ain’t like you and me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the fact that something in his tone was tying my insides into nervous knots.

  He turned to me for a second before refocusing on the road. “Look, you seem like a nice lady. You probably came down south to have a good time, see some sights, maybe have a drink or two. Just trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to be hangin’ around people with wolves for friends. It won’t end well for you.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, pressing back into my seat. The guy was beginning to seem a little nuts. He had to be.

  Still, he was the second person in twenty-four hours to warn me about hanging around with types who hung around at the Bash. The fortune teller, Madame Lola, had cautioned me about the perils awaiting me. Hell, she’d even gone so far as to tell me to get out of town.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure not to involve myself with the wrong people.”

  “Heh. People ain’t your problem. Those folks—the ones with the strange eyes and their good-lookin’ faces…way too good-lookin’, if you ask me…”

  My heart jumped in my chest. He’d basically just described Trick. And Louis. And countless others at the party.

  “Yes?” I said, grabbing the seat in front of me again. “What about them?

  “They’re devils,” he said in a voice that sounded a little too much like a hiss. “Devils of the worst kind.” With that he crossed himself and said a quick French prayer. “I ain’t gonna say no more about it. I don’t want to scare you, lady. Just do yourself a favor and stay far away from those folks, for your own good.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I will.”

  Starting tomorrow.

  “We’re here,” the cab driver said as he pulled into a narrow dirt driveway several minutes later. An all but hidden sign at its entrance read Trick’s Boat Tours, but I couldn’t see even a hint of any buildings through the thick forest of trees and ferns surrounding us.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “This is it?”

  He nodded. “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way. I won’t be able to turn around, from the looks of things. The last thing I want is to get my tires spinning out here.”

  “Right. Of course,” I said, extracting what I owed him from my wallet.

  “Be careful out there,” he said as I handed him the cash. “I’m not kidding. If you see a wolf, run as fast as you can the other way. You don’t want to get yourself sucked into their world. They say that once one of their kind lures you in, you never get free again.”

  “Thanks. I promise I won’t go petting any wolves.” The only petting I’m interested in involves Trick’s hands and my lady parts.

  “Do you want me to wait for you? Just in case?”

  “No thanks,” I said with more confidence than I really felt. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, then. You take care, now.”

  I said a hasty good-bye as I climbed out of the cab, shut the door, and began to make my way along the lane, inhaling the sweet-smelling air that rolled in humid waves around me. The day had grown hot, but something about the enveloping shade of the trees was almost refreshing. Or maybe my body was finally learning to adjust to the southern scorch.

  I trudged along the lane until I spotted a brown wooden building in the distance, a small sign hanging off its side that read “Tour Office.” When I got to the entrance, I noticed a woven mat at the base of the door that said Come On In!

  I hesitated for a second before reaching out and pulling the screen door open. With a quick inhale, I stepped inside. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to see that I was standing in a large, cluttered office. A broad wooden desk and rickety-looking chair sat at its center, the desk covered in a mess of papers, flyers, and a half-empty coffee mug.

  I stepped forward, reached out and pressed my fingers to the cup. Still warm. That mu
st mean…

  “Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling with nervous excitement.

  A second later I heard footsteps before a familiar, smiling face popped in through a rear door.

  “There you are,” said a deep voice. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Louis?” I asked, though it shouldn’t have surprised me that last night’s bartender would be here. After all, he’d told me he worked for Trick. The more important question was how did he know I was coming?

  “So, I guess you’re here to see a fan boat,” he said, a raised eyebrow telling me he knew exactly why I’d come.

  “Yes. I…wanted to see…”

  “The bayou,” he shot out. “For research purposes.”

  I nodded, letting out a nervous snicker. “Yes. Sure, I was hoping to go for a ride. Like you said, so I can write about it.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. Trick’s just stepped out to have a look at one of our boats. He should be back any second now.” When he held up a finger, we both went silent until we heard the sound of a twig snapping outside.

  My heart began beating a mile a minute. I suddenly wished I had somewhere to freshen up after the long cab ride. Better yet, I would have liked to sprint away so fast that Louis would forget I was ever there.

  Oh, shit. He’s going to be pissed. Why did I come? This was a seriously horrible idea.

  “He’ll be glad to see you,” Louis said as he perched himself on a stool and set to work on a piece of equipment, apparently oblivious to my discomfort. “He’s been a miserable dick this morning.”

  “Oh?” I asked. Him and me both.

  “Yeah. My theory is that he’s going through withdrawal.” He put down the object in his hand and spun around to look at me. “He enjoyed your company last night. More than he’s willing to admit.”