Sigma Wolf: The Lone Alpha's Claim (Paranomal Shifter Romance) Read online

  Sigma Wolf: The Lone Alpha's Claim (Paranomal Shifter Romance)

  Black, Clarissa

  (2014)

  * * *

  Sigma Wolf: The Lone Alpha’s Claim

  by Clarissa Black

  Copyright 2014

  ***

  The fabric Samantha chose was that of fareeza, a rare silken cross-weave made by the locals. She would drape it over the shoulder cut of the thrall dress so that the observer’s flow would fall unencumbered. It was in these materials, textures, colors, and combinations that allowed her to express herself freely. Pasting one over the other realized a pattern that catches the eye, gracefully bending light to an array of hues and contrasts.

  The sun had almost peaked in the desert island that was Nilama, a subjectory, and soon to be vassal, located on the eastern tip of the Bavos wolf empire. In Nilama the rhythm of life was set by the sun; it rose by the mountain, peaked above the wolf arena, and slowly descended to the beta slums by the sea.

  She remembers feeling a sense of peace when she first arrived. She was glad to leave the city life of the citadel -- it was highly structured, rigid and ultimately suffocating. She was eager to come to Nilama, not because of the prospect of breeding with an alpha, but because she just wanted to get as far away as possible. Besides, it was her duty to be bred by an alpha as royalty herself. She accepted this as a fact of life, an inescapable part of her being.

  Chapter 1

  Dark prison cells held disobedient werewolves. Captured, they trembled awaiting their fate as the arena stood above them ominously rumbled. The wolf arena, as prescribed by the wolf builder protocols, was built for the precise reason of ritual assembly marking the full moon.

  Tonight a silver threaded full moon peered from the sky, piercing thin mountain clouds, and cascading evenly into the walls of the fortress. The night’s light washed over six hundred pairs of attentive amber eyes, whose focus was solely transfixed on the alpha’s podium. Only when the message had been delivered, the protocol states, can bereft prisoners be thrown out for the enjoyment of the werewolf warriors. It was needed to satisfy their carnal desire. That deep-seated primal nature of seeing life separated from flesh under their collective fangs. That is the Bavosi way.

  Heavy stones from the unruly mountain was quarried to make the alpha podium. Resting evenly, it was their testament of rising above nature, stomping the wild, and ultimately subjugating their conquered. It was the space where their alpha’s message was fit to be delivered according to their traditions.

  Before the Bavosi came, this space where the podium now rises belonged to the wild; shrubs, grass, trees stood in its place. But their arrival marked the end of the wild replaced irretrievably with the rock hard dominance of slab over fresh ground.

  It wasn’t just the wild that was subjugated. Other wolf packs had methodically dwindled from the world, their territories absorbed, their females taken, and their warriors hunted. It was this methodical control of conquest that set them apart. The Bavos wolf empire, like their many fortresses, stood erect subjugating all wolf territories under their fanged desire for domination. As the undisputable alpha pack of the land, the empire’s territory stretched from its high wolf capital all the way to the farthest sea. Here, in this mountain and sea-locked land was the farthest they’ve ever been. In this new territory, much like in their many conquered territories, they installed an alpha podium. A high stone that proudly stood as a simple reminder that their power was built from above.

  Their expansion did not happen overnight however. It took many generations. Time, the Bavosis believed, arbitrates that order comes from chaos. Thus, as order comes from chaos, so do wolf-ranks give rise to royal blood. It was of the royal bloodline that the Bavos’ alphas were bred from. This alpha family bloodlines ruled over the empire. Their podiums stood testament to their leadership.

  The werewolves in the arena hulked around, a swarming flesh illuminated by moonlight. Rolling in and out of formation they brushed against each other. As aggression escalate to hostility, manes bristled and fangs were displayed. This was the way of the wolf. But no one dared to incite a fight, lest the dungeon would be their home. It was a simple rule for them. They obeyed pain.

  “Listen up you stupid dogs,” a low growl tore from the chest of an old wolf. Clearing his throat, he gave the command.

  “Regenses!” he said in an authoritative deep rumble.

  On the regenses command the werewolves instantly formed tight ranks strewn in lines. It was meant to regain their senses. Silence now filled the arena.

  “The alpha council had spoken,” the battle hardened voice of the old wolf said.

  The werewolves had been waiting to hear for news from the high wolf citadel, their capital. It had been several decades now since the local pack had been subdued. It was time to transition the new territory into a vassal of the high wolf citadel as prescribed by the protocols. This means an alpha royalty would be installed. The so called high alpha. It should have happened sooner, but this was a unique case. They all knew who this was going to be.

  “Sons of sons, alpha of our blood,” the battle hardened voice continued, “Regan.”

  He said as he relinquished the podium to Regan. Regan, soon-to-be-alpha, was bred here in this land. The Bavos believed in breeding an alpha within territory. Which meant Regan was bred for the sole purpose of becoming the alpha male of the territory. His blood hailed from a long line of Bavos grey wolves.

  Regan steps to the podium with authority. He was still a young wolf. He was large but his corded muscles hadn’t compacted yet. Grey hair, a mark of royalty, enveloped every inch of his body. His eyes glowed bright amber. Pulling his lips, he displayed his fierce fangs.

  “Relaxxx,” he ordered with his deep voice resonating in the silence filled arena. The relax command was rarely given.

  “I, Regan, of grey wolf, alpha-to-be, and future wolf father of this territory...” pronouncing his title from memory. Bavos alpha royalty had been groomed since birth for leadership, and ceremonies constituted part of their training.

  He looked at a young wolf at his corner and gave a slight nod. The young wolf trotted along with a white dove clamped between its jaws.

  “.. have chosen a mate.” The announcement was not necessary, but it served to legitimize his power. He liked this order, the structure in which he found himself on top.

  The pigeon sat motionless in the mouth of the young mouth craning its neck wondering what the commotion was about. Regan looked to the young wolf and gave a confident nod. The young wolf clenched his mouth as the flurry of feathers marked the futility of a struggle. Crimson blood dripped from the young wolf’s mouth and into soft white cloth. This cloth would be draped over to his mate on his thrall.

  When the alpha’s message had been delivered, several gates were opened, releasing the prisoners to the arena alongside the werewolves. But not a single Bavos moved. The prisoners desperately tried to go inside but the gates had fallen closed. Six hundred pairs of amber eyes looked at the prisoners menacingly.

  “Go get them boys,” Regan commanded. A virulent smile formed in his young lips when he saw his wolves still stiff in strewn line formations. Then with emphasis he barked, “Reclaim!”

  In an instant the arena turned to a swirling mass of werewolves, biting, chomping, ripping and ultimately separating the life of prisoners from their flesh.

  The moon watching ominously above them. His hold on this island will finally be complete. He will finally have a place in the empire. Facing the old wolf who served under him, Regan felt a sense of destiny.


  “Are the preparations met?” said Regan commanding authority.

  “Yes of course..” said the old wolf.

  “Good. What is the order of the gates towards the beta camp?”

  “We received a few aggressors but our walls had kept the betas out. They know nothing.”

  “They know something,” Regan looked directly at the eyes of the old wolf, “remind me again about your failure to capture the Sigma wolf”

  The old wolf’s eyes fell to the ground.

  “No matter. Once I breed into her, our next phase will bring an end to him.”

  Chapter 2

  Her silky pale hands never darkened with the sun. Samantha was of the old werewolf Bavos blood. The royal female werewolves of the Bavos were relegated to domestic roles by the protocols of their elders. As breeders and mothers, they slowly left touch of nature. It was proposed that their separation from nature, their new ‘civilized life,’ was what had made them unable to shift, losing an irretrievable part of their being. She would rather not think about it. It was just another sad fact of life.

  Samantha found unyielding monotony in her daily duties. Her only simple escape she found in creating thrall dresses. It gave her the needed release, her only true sense of artistic expression. Thrall dresses was supposed to look delicate and this she conveyed easily. Today, the dress she was creating was special. It was for her own thrall with her mate of Regan, alpha soon to be.

  From what she can recollect from her lessons, the thrall was a ceremony reserved for the coming of an alpha and his mate. A female would be gently laid on the alpha podium under the full moon. Then her alpha would rip the ornate attire, called a thrall dress, and then mounted her in front of his werewolf warriors. There was a pigeon in the event but the details are lost to her. She didn’t care about Regan, nor the thrall event. It was just another fact of life.

  Many females, intrigued by her presence, asked if her heart sank when her creations were destroyed. Blankly, she told them she did not. It was good for the empire and it was her duty. Besides, it was just an event and this dress that she was making had problems.

  She was running out of the fareeza fabric.

  It was then that she heard a familiar knock.

  “Good day madam wolf,” greeted Dillon. His reference to ‘madam wolf’ was meant to indicate her station from the high wolf capital.

  He was wearing the imperial coat of arms for the Bavos. It was unusual to see him wearing that, given his self-proclamation of being a delta wolf. A delta wolf is a male werewolf that is attracted to his fellow male werewolf. It was supposed to be kept a personal secret. Whatever the case, she found in him great joy and freedom.

  “Samantha, my love, you will not believe the story that I have for you!” he ecstatically said.

  “Another daring escapade?” she asked him as she put down her work. She welcomed any chance to interact with him as a break from her utterly uneventful life in the tower.

  “Please do tell.”

  “Well remember that hot werewolf that I told you about?” he smiled earnestly while saying it. “I’m going to see him! He’s in a fire event tonight! Can you imagine how hot he would be like with that fire twirling across his hard body?”

  “Isn’t he a beta?” she asked inquisitively.

  “Beta or not – what does it have to do with it? He is still hot juice of fur and tail!”

  “I suppose so.”

  “How’s your thrilling dress coming?”

  “Thrall!” she corrected.

  “Yah whatever that thing is. Ripping things. How barbaric can we Bavosis be?” he said, thumbing through her dress.

  “Glad that you asked Dillon,” she said as her blank face turned a slight smile. “I’m in need of some more of the fareeza you graciously gave me. I wouldn’t bother you anymore but my duty calls me to finish this dress. I hope you do not mind.”

  “Duty?” he said, the sarcasm obvious in his voice. “Don’t be an old wolf! You should be enjoying this last few days before the full moon.”

  Being delta allowed Dillard to pass through the wall gateway and into beta territory. Deltas are rejected in alpha society, seen as a low class wolf, and shameful member of werewolf society. But Dillon’s chest protruded confidently forward as he made his identity his strength.

  “Well… if it isn’t too much trouble,” she said as she pulled back her slumped shoulders, mirroring Dillon’s confidence. ”The fareeza would really help give this dress some character.”

  “I just don’t trust the wereguards with the task,” she said, hinting that she trusts him. “They make great for biting into flesh but the intricacies of choosing fabric are lost to them.”

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you go with me?”

  “Well,” she started, “I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “I’m not supposed to leave the fortress, let alone go to a beta slum.”

  “Not supposed to or wouldn’t?” he said, mocking her. “And besides.. I want you to meet him.”

  “I don’t know. The guards will not let me leave. They know my scent and would not let me pass.”

  Then suddenly Dillon unfastened a bottle from a compartment in his imperial coat.

  “Ever wonder what I’ve been up to?” said Dillon slyly. Nila knew what it was. It was a potion that would mask her scent.

  “You sure about this?”

  “Grow a fang Samantha!”

  “Well.. ok.”

  Chapter 3

  “So what have you been doing?” Dillon said, starting some small talk so they wouldn’t look suspicious on the road. “Have you been exploring the city?”

  She hasn’t. Asides from excessive sleeping, her favorite activity outside of making her dresses, was propping her cheek with her fist, staring off at the distance out her window. One morning, she saw a white dove, the specie that frequented the island. Her dull eyes turned sharp, watching the lovely dove perched on a small platform near her window. She felt an urge to pet the creature, so she ventured out. Her feet barely grasped the ledge, and slowly she tried to make it through the ledge. But looking down the street terrified her. She let out a long exhale as she climbed back to her room. She spent the entire afternoon staring off at nothing.

  “It’s my first time out here,” she said, sighing dejectedly.

  “What a sheltered wolf!” Dillon said. “When I first got here I explored every nook and cranny, following the scent of the unfamiliar. Nothing is more exciting than unfamiliar scents. I just kept sniffing until I found my nose pointing outside the wall. This is the last unvassaled territory you know. Almost all of the beta clans have been absorbed by the empire. When that happens their scents changes and it becomes part of us, part of the familiar.”

  Dillon always spoke in long expressive words.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah then guess where I ended?!” Dillon continued. “Beyond the wall and it into the lap of the hottest wolf that ever existed! How delighted I was that he was a delta too! You see, just follow your nose and you will find treasure in unexpected places.”

  Samantha blankly listened to him as her barefoot touched the stone paved gravel. Something rushed inside of her. Her pace quickened with high energy as one step led to another. Quickly, she found herself breaking out to a run. A warmth radiated through her body, and she felt awake, rejuvenated. It was the wild that she craved, the soft texture of soil that had been denied to her. She had almost reached to the gateway when Dillion caught up with her.

  “What’s wrong with you woman? Slow down.”

  Breathlessly, Samantha looked at Dillon with her legs trembling. She quivered with the effort of controlling herself.

  “Ok. sorry. I’ll walk slow now.”

  They snuck around the perimeter by the gateway where two lumbering werewolf guards stood. Crouched over a corner they listened to the two.

  “arrr… ‘tis here is the worst job.”

  “You’d rather be shovelling drappin
gs in the arena then?”

  “’No.. ‘tat is worse.”

  “Shot your trapper then”

  “Ain’t noting badder than scoops of oops. Why can’t all wolves be chivilized like us?”

  Some moments passed and they began talking again.

  “ Looking forward to the thrall” One said.

  “Gon look goods.. saw her once.. ” Said the other.

  “Me too. She looked pale like deader than rabbits”

  “Tat’s how girls from capital are”

  Dillon leaves his hiding space. “Well hello you two. How you doing today dear distinguished werewolf guards?”

  “No needz for tem fansy words”

  “Fancy?” Dillon looked at Samantha as she emerges as the wolves suddenly hunched over as if to attack. “Wutz yur busines?”

  “Dear sir, I hope you don’t mind that I have to go shopping in beta region today.” She said sheepishly, trying to pull of an act.