Southern Alpha Book One (Southern Alpha Serial 1) Page 3

  My jaw set in a determined scowl, I made my way over to a Valk who was standing in the far corner. She was perched on stiletto-heeled boots and dressed head to toe in morbid Victorian black: a mélange of fishnets, velvet, leather, and lace. As I approached, she scanned me up and down from behind her curtain of thick black hair, dark eyeliner, and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude.

  “My, my, don’t you look like a very fresh corpse tonight?” I said.

  I’d never been a fan of Valkyries, even if they were some of the closest allies wolf shifters had. They tended to show up at all the worst times, in all the worst places, always keeping an eye on guys like me. Making sure we weren’t fucking things up for the greater good. They were like sanctimonious school teachers, uptight and anal retentive.

  They also didn’t seem to realize that the greater good had abandoned New Orleans decades ago, leaving us in a perpetual, bloody fight for survival. The Valks were really good at watching the proceedings, but not so good at actually lending a hand when everything went to shit.

  “Patrick,” Layla said, using my full name with irritating clarity. No one called me that, not even my own mother. Then again, my mother had been dead for many years.

  “Layla,” I said in a frosty tone. “What’s new?”

  “The Marquis has been seen around town lately. But then, you probably knew that already,” she said, edging closer to me, those emerald eyes of hers narrowing at me like she was trying to figure out if I was even worth talking to.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I heard something about that.” I looked out over the sea of thrumming, sweat-soaked bodies until my eyes caught sight of Sierra, who was hanging out at the other side of the room by the bar. So, she’d found Louis. That was good. I felt bad about abandoning her, but it was nice to know that at least she was being taken care of. Unfortunately, the swarm of dark figures hovering between her and me threatened to smother her into nonexistence.

  She looked so lost in this place. A fish out of water. A shot of color in a world of darkness. I licked my lips, resisting the urge to fight my way over and lick hers.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Layla asked, trying to draw my attention back to the matter at hand.

  “About what?” I replied, my eyes still locked on Sierra’s bare shoulders. God, I’d like to bite those…

  “About the Marquis. Damn it, Trick, focus.”

  “Do about it?” I retorted, twisting my head to look at Layla. I leaned towards her so she’d be able to hear me over the loud music. “I’m not going to do anything. The Marquis is probably going up against me in the Alpha Trials. He wants his power back. All I can do is try to keep him from getting it. Then again, if I’m up against him, I’m as good as dead, so maybe I should just drink myself into a stupor and forget about the whole damn thing.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “No? You think I have a chance against the guy who’s butchered hundreds, if not thousands, of shifters over the years?”

  Layla shrugged. “The Marquis was strong once, but he’s getting on in years,” she said. “He’s not the man he once was.”

  “It doesn’t matter how the man is,” I replied, my irritation growing. “It’s his wolf I need to worry about. The guy’s more animal than human anyhow. Not that he’s ever been much of a human.”

  Layla didn’t seem to share my concern. All she ever cared about was that the shifters under her watch did their duty so she didn’t have to step in and fix things. “Well, it’s important that you win this fight, Patrick,” she said in that preachy tone that grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. “The Marquis is too close to the Seven, and word is that they’re on the rise. The She-Dragon is said to be gathering the others for some important meeting. If they come here…”

  The She-Dragon.

  A swell of nerves tightened my frame at the mention of the one member of the Seven who was never spoken of around these parts. None of us had ever seen her, but she still managed to instill fear in the boldest shifters. She was supposedly the most powerful of the Seven. The one who controlled everything. Her reach was limitless, or so they said.

  “You’re talking like I’m not perfectly aware of what’s at stake here,” I growled as my wolf paced inside me. The mere mention of the Seven was enough to set him off. “I know what will happen if they set their sights on New Orleans.”

  “Well, you should also know that you have a strong pack behind you, and a strong alliance with the Valkyries. You have our support in this fight.”

  “This fight?” I had to work hard not to roll my eyes. “I don’t need your support. I just want to compete in the Trials. Then I want to go back to running my business. I want to live in peace. I don’t want to deal with an ongoing war between drama queens.” I looked around the room at the sea of faces that surrounded us. Shifters and Valks, enjoying this fucking party like the world wasn’t about to come crashing down around them. It must have been nice not to have a damned care in the world.

  “If you just want to live your life, why compete in the Trials?” Layla asked. “Why bother?”

  I shrugged. “I like New Orleans. I like the wolves around here. I don’t want someone like the Marquis to turn this place into the horror show that it once was. Someone needs to step up. We need a new Alpha, and I need to be it. I know that much in my bones.”

  Layla stepped closer and grabbed my shirt, gripping it so hard in her clenched fist that I thought she was going to tear it. “Well then, you’d do well to take the Trials seriously,” she snarled. “Alphas are supposed to be strong, not indecisive. Hell, if I could fight for the position myself, I’d do it.”

  “I’ll bet you would, warrior woman,” I said with a nod and an impressed narrowing of my eyes. “Jeez, have a drink and loosen up, why don’t ya? Don’t worry—I’m on top of things.” The truth was that I was determined to win the Alpha position. But if I said the Marquis’ presence didn’t scare me, I would have been lying. The guy was a formidable opponent with a seriously psychopathic side.

  Scowling, Layla released her death-grip on my shirt. “Just…don’t fuck this up, Trick. It’s not one of your games. Lives are at stake here.”

  “Thanks, Elvira,” I said, eyeing her white face and smoky eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyhow, I’m going to get a tasty beverage. I strongly suggest that you get shit-faced, or at least yank out that stick that’s pushed its way up your ass.”

  I turned away and took a few steps towards the dense crowd.

  “Kara is here in town!” Layla called out across the space between us, stopping me in my tracks. “She wants a word with you.”

  My shoulders slumped for a second.

  Great.

  Kara was a more impressive Valkyrie than any of the ones around here. She also happened to be a loyal sidekick to Tristan Wolfe, one of the most powerful shifters in the country.

  Tristan had been in the Big Easy a few weeks back with his lady love, but I’d gotten the impression that he’d left for good. If he was back, things were probably about to get ugly.

  “Oh, great,” I muttered, not sure if Layla could hear me from this distance. I turned around to face her. “Why didn’t you just invite her to tonight’s festivities?” I called out.

  She threw me a grim, mocking smile. “Oh, don’t worry—I did.”

  “You what?”

  I charged towards her again, anger drawing blood to my face. If she’d been a guy I might have taken her head clean off. “Why the hell would you do that?” The last thing I needed tonight was to deal with more drama.

  “Because she said she wants to see you as soon as possible. I told her where to find you. Simple.”

  “God, you Valks are annoying. You know that?”

  “Yeah? So are you wolves,” Layla said with another grin, one that told me she was enjoying my discomfort way too much. “Anyhow, I suggest you talk to Kara. She seemed pretty serious.”

  “I’ll bet she did.”

  Chapter 5
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br />   Sierra

  I sat at the bar for a few minutes with Louis, trying to focus while he leaned in and told me a few stories about New Orleans and its inhabitants.

  But I didn’t exactly do a great job of listening.

  The sad truth was that I couldn’t stop thinking about Trick. Even with my back to him, I could feel his eyes scanning over me from time to time. But every time I turned around to get a glimpse of him, he was back to being deeply engaged in conversation with the pale woman in dark leather.

  At one point when Louis was fixing a tequila for one of the other guests, I found myself turning to stare across the cavernous Undercroft at the sexy behemoth, licking my lips as I studied his gorgeous face and undulating shoulders as he sauntered his way through the crowd.

  To my horror and delight, his eyes met mine just as my tongue slipped over my top lip. As his lips curled up in a suggestive smile, I clamped my mouth shut, trying desperately to set my jaw in some serious, off-putting expression. But apparently, I was too late.

  Trick had already started making his way through the room. The other guests parted like the Red Sea to make way for him, and he was closing in on me fast.

  I spun back to Louis, who was now busying himself by cleaning a glass behind the bar. I took a swig of my beer, debating whether to run off and hide among the throng of bodies.

  Much as I wanted another close encounter with Trick, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to handle it. He was too attractive. Too addictive. Too…forbidden.

  “Hey, big guy, what’s going on with you?” Louis asked casually as Trick drew closer and leaned up against the bar. I stared straight ahead at the wall behind Louis, deftly avoiding Trick’s piercing gaze.

  Damn it, I scolded myself silently. I should have made a run for it when I had the chance.

  “Apparently Kara’s in town,” Trick said to Louis, a hint of irritation coating the words. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was looking my way as he spoke. I wondered if he was trying to gauge my reaction.

  Was Kara an ex? Some former lover who’d wronged him?

  I couldn’t help but feel a shot of jealousy poisoning my veins, if only for a second.

  “It sounds like she’s on her way here,” Trick added. “Her friend over there told me she wants to have a chat.” He nodded towards the woman he’d been speaking to, and I couldn’t help but turn and take a quick look. She was still standing over there, tall, lithe, and a little scary-looking. Like the others, she was dressed entirely in black, her eyes fierce, bright, and daunting. An entirely new kind of chill crawled down my spine as I looked at her, though I had no idea what had brought it on. I twisted back around, fixing my eyes on the bottle in front of me.

  “The mysterious Kara’s back in New Orleans, huh?” Louis asked as he cracked open a beer and handed it to Trick. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, though I’d heard she was here a few weeks back.”

  “Yep, she was,” Trick said, downing half the beer in one gulp.

  “Well,” said Louis, “if she’s back, Tristan can’t be far behind…and you know what that means.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. Tristan’s presence always spells trouble.”

  Like a prey animal avoiding a predator, I kept still, staring at the grey stone wall behind Louis and awkwardly sipping at the remnants of my beer. I’d begun to wish for an invisibility cloak so I could disappear before Trick got a chance to turn his attention to me.

  “Tristan’s a complicated man,” said Louis. “If he’s back, he has his reasons.” He paused for a few seconds then asked, “Do you think this has something to do with the Marquis?”

  The Marquis? Okay, now I felt like I’d walked into some twisted gothic novel. Well, even more twisted than it was before. Why the hell were they talking about a marquis?

  But before I got a chance to hear anything more, Trick pivoted to look at me, his elbow pressed into the stone bar. I took another sip of my beer, averting my eyes despite an overwhelming desire to turn and stare at his striking features.

  “Sierra, isn’t it?” he said, his rich baritone voice vibrating through my nerve endings.

  I nodded, unsure whether to be flattered that he remembered my name or annoyed that he felt compelled to confirm it.

  “Listen, would you mind leaving us alone for a minute?” he asked. “I feel like you’re listening in on our business.”

  When an explosion of shame heated my cheeks, I swung around and stared at him. “I’m not listening in the least,” I lied, “but fine. I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

  “That would be just super.” His eyes danced with mischief. I felt like he was testing me, seeing if I’d obey or if I’d just get offended and pouty. I got the distinct impression that no one ever said no to the guy. I could see why. His hypnotic voice was the perfect accompaniment for that amazing, powerful body.

  I stood up, grabbed my drink and made my way through the large, crowded room. I should have been relieved to get away from Trick, but as I moved, I had to force myself to swallow the strange feeling of hurt that had slammed into my chest with his coldness.

  It was so stupid. I didn’t even know the guy, yet somehow, I felt crushed that he’d pushed me away for the second time tonight.

  I told myself that maybe it was just that he’d hurt my pride. But I knew full well that this was about something else entirely. The simple truth was that for some insane reason, I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to breathe in the air that surrounded his gorgeous body. Something about him had hooked me and drawn me in the first second I’d set eyes on him, and it hurt to realize that he didn’t want the same. I didn’t want to believe that he could be more interested in his little gossip fest with Louis than he was in paying attention to me.

  God, I’m stupid, I muttered as I squeezed between a man and a woman who were each dressed head-to-toe in vinyl jumpsuits.

  Thankfully, as I shouldered my through the Undercroft and away from the man who’d pushed me away twice now, the feeling of rejection dissipated a little. I was beginning to wonder if it was only the proximity to Trick that made me feel so disastrously needy. He seemed to emit some mysterious chemical compound designed purely to stir up some kind of raw sexual desire inside me.

  Apparently, distance was the cure…or at least a form of temporary respite.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I moved along until I spotted a small teal sign posted on the wall. A large black arrow at its center pointed to a small door to my right. The sign’s text read:

  Get a Reading with Madame Lola

  Free! Tonight Only!

  Madame Lola. I wondered if she was one of the psychics that Louis had mentioned, some kind of fortune teller who spoke with a fake accent and told you that you’d be wealthy one day beyond your wildest dreams.

  I was oddly tempted.

  Come on, do it, I told myself, this is why you came to this crazy shindig. You wanted to experience weirdness.

  As I let the thought sink in that I’d pretty much missed my one chance with Trick, I made my way through the door to discover a small table draped in a burgundy cloth, a crystal ball at its center. On a smaller table set against the far wall sat a deck of ancient-looking tarot cards.

  A woman stood near the smaller table, her dark hair wrapped up in a red and gold silk scarf. Her face, which was mapped by a series of expressive lines, was an impossible combination of young and old. Her eyes were bright green—probably from a set of novelty contact lenses. That kind of green didn’t exist in nature, at least not in my experience.

  Well, whether she was the real deal or not, I couldn’t say she hadn’t committed to the role.

  “You must be Madame Lola,” I said, knowing full well that she was. After all, who else would she be? The woman standing before me was a living, breathing cliché.

  She nodded. “Yes, I am. As for you, you don’t belong here,” she said. Her accent sounded part French, part ghost, and part drunk.

  “It
doesn’t take a fortune teller to figure that out,” I chuckled. “Everybody I’ve talked to tonight has pointed it out. Apparently, I’m a freak.”

  “Hmm.” She looked mildly annoyed, as if I was wasting her time. Still, she limped over to sit down on the opposite side of the table.

  “Would you do a reading for me?” I asked. “Even if I’m an oddball who doesn’t fit in?”

  “Of course. Sit.” She gestured towards the other chair.

  “Thank you.” I sat myself down on the seat opposite hers, bracing myself for whatever nonsense was to come.

  “Show me your palm,” she said as she perched on her own chair, reaching two gnarled hands out towards me. I was shocked to see how skeletal they were, how frail-looking. Her face had so much strength and vitality to it, yet her extremities reminded me of the talons of a bird.

  All of a sudden, she seemed more legitimate.

  I held out my left hand, palm up, and she took it, leaning over to stare at the lines crisscrossing its surface.

  “You’ve come from far away,” she said.

  I resisted rolling my eyes and told myself that I should open my mind to the experience. If I was going to write about the Big Easy’s dark secrets, I needed to be open to all of them, right?

  “The accent’s a dead giveaway, huh?” I asked, just barely masking my sarcastic tone.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You don’t believe in my abilities,” she said. “You think my gifts are a fraud.”

  “I’m a skeptic,” I told her, a pang of guilt hitting me for being so blatantly untrusting. “But I apologize. I promise I’ll try to be open-minded. I’m here to learn.”

  “Good.” She stared at my hand for a few more seconds. “I’m seeing that you will find love here in the south,” she said. “You are here alone, then.”