Page 5 of The Alpha's Warlock
Matthew sighed and rubbed at his forehead, looking all of a sudden a lot older than thirty-one. “The pack council's been on my back about this, all right? I'm holding them off right now, but if I don't take a mate they approve of right away, I definitely can't take one they'd hate.”
He looked so exhausted and beaten-down that I couldn't stay cranky. I smiled in genuine sympathy. “No female werewolves have caught your eye yet?”
“Not like there are many to choose from,” he grumbled. “And no.”
Matthew wasn't being a picky jerk. The flavor of magic that flowed through werewolves' souls and veins heavily favored males — just the way it was. Most werewolf offspring were male, in a ratio of about two to one. Almost all alphas were male, too. A female alpha came along once every fifty years or so. The guys ended up marrying a lot of human women, and then their kids were often human too, probably the main reason why werewolves, with their speed and strength and healing, had never overrun humanity. Nature's way of finding balance, I guessed. But that meant that werewolf women were in high demand as mates, and could seriously pick and choose, even when it came to a smart, good-looking pack leader like Matthew.
“I'll be happy to listen to your many complaints later,” I said. I had to get him back on track. Much as I wanted to be there for him, he wasn't the one with a ticking clock. “We can have a beer. But that kind of depends on me, you know, being alive to drink it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. But you're not going to like the only option I can think of.”
And that was when it twigged. There weren't all that many alphas available. They had more magic, more strength, more everything; whatever it was that made werewolves what they were, alphas had it dialed up to eleven. They were popular, and not just because (so I'd heard, anyway) they had giant dicks to go with the rest of the perks.
And the only unmated alpha besides Matthew in the Armitage pack was that actual giant dick, the one who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire: Ian.
I covered my face with my hands and laughed, building to hysteria. I could vaguely hear Matthew saying something, sounding alarmed, but fuck it. I deserved a little hysteria. Because if my life depended on Ian being willing to bond with me, I might as well lie down in a grave right now and call it a day.
There were some more sounds in the background: a door opening, voices, Matthew saying something that sounded like, “Get your head out of your ass,” followed by Ian's angry response, and then I passed out again.
Chapter 4
In the Wolf’s Den
The next time I woke up, I was in motion. Gentle, careful motion, but it was enough to make my stomach turn over and my head spin. I sucked in a deep breath, and the scent of pine and fresh, rain-washed air settled my nausea a little. I was outside somehow, but I was still warmer than I had been, and the arms around me were…arms. Around me.
My eyes popped open. All I could see was a stubbled jaw and one ear, surrounded by auburn curls, and beyond that, the deep-green shadows of tree branches against an overcast sky.
“What the fuck?” I managed to choke out.
“Thought you probably wouldn't want to mate in the house that Jerry Garcia built,” Ian rumbled. I could feel his voice as much as hear it, since I was pressed against his chest. Being carried bridal-style, Jesus. There was irony for you. “I know I don't.”
And seriously? Ian had a sense of humor?
Okay, I could worry about that later. So not the point. “Mate?”
“I thought that was why you showed up here looking like a drowned rat and making sad eyes at Matt until he agreed to help you. Sorry, browbeatmeinto helping you.”
My heartbeat ticked up as the familiar rage Ian always seemed to inspire really got going. “Fuck you, asshole.”
He laughed, but it didn't sound all that friendly. “Other way around, you lying prick.”
Until that moment, I'd beenintellectuallyaware of what I had to do to survive this curse, yeah, but viscerally? Not so much. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I slumped in Ian's arms, breathing hard and squeezing my eyes shut against the spinning black spots that suddenly filled my field of vision. Different supernatural species had slight variations on the ways they mated, like vampires had to trade blood or gnomes…okay, not even going to go there, because seriously, gnomes were some kinky little bastards. But all the rituals involved sex.
And sex with an alpha werewolf meant one thing, and one thing only: getting fucked six ways from Sunday. Even though porn wasn't a very good guide to most sexual activities — learned that one the hard way, so to speak, when I was seventeen — I'd seen some knotting porn with actual alphas that made me wince in sympathy for the guy getting plowed. And maybe, kind of, also get incredibly turned on. I'd just never experienced the real thing.
That was about to change.
“Where are we going?” It came out shaky as hell.
“I have my own place. I don't usually stay at the pack house.” Ian shrugged, jostling me. “Matt calls it my fortress of solitude.”
“Yeah, because Superman's exactly what I think of when I think of you.” I gave that a moment's actual thought. “On the other hand, you have more muscles than brains and constantly fuck things up, so maybe it's not the worst comparison.”
Ian stopped abruptly and his arms tightened, hard. My ribs creaked and I let out a yelp of pain. Ian stared down at me, eyes as cold as glacier ice.
“You get that I'm binding myself to you for life, right? To save yours?” he gritted out.
“You're cracking my ribs,” I wheezed, trying — desperately — to ignore the fact that he was right. Sure, there were magical means to break mate bonds, but those spells were hard to do, involved disgusting components, and came with a risk of insanity or death. I'd missed the part where he agreed to do this, but it finally occurred to me to wonder how Matthew had threatened or bribed him into it.
