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

  “No way. Nobody go except for guards. Alpha orders.”

  Dillon leaned forward, “You guys are the sharpest keenest most obedient in the set. No wonder we reign supreme.”

  “Yesshir sharrrp as a toolbox!” said one.

  “Orders are orders. No out.”said the other

  “But what you guys, surely need is some break. Doesn’t my friend here smell good?”

  “Well..” they looked at each other, “yussh”

  “Don’t you get aroused by her?”

  Then they got silent. Their eyes darted to the grounds, and they started to shift their weight.

  “Errr.. Lady think we make good mates?” they said as they both wagged their tails.

  “Well don’t just stand there… complement her.”

  They looked at each other. Silence. Typical Bavos wereguard. All bark no talk.

  “Well you’re obviously attracted to her. Isn’t she an attractive female?”

  Both heads go up and down.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  They were just mesmerized. Typical beta behavior. Yes, they belonged to an alpha clan but their behaviors are still pretty much beta. She stayed quiet the whole time marveling at the scene.

  “Well can we pass through?” she asked.

  “But nobody supposed to pass”

  She felt repelled by their betaness.

  “Well..” she started, “either you let us pass or I will get my Regan, your alpha, to reclaim your heads to poles. No amount of regaining can put your head back once it’s been severed to your body don’t you think?”

  Their slackened jaws hinted at the shock of her directness. Even Dillon gave a surprised smile.

  “Reclaim! Reclaim! Reclaim!” she said with furious authority.

  The two guards quickly parted to let her thru.

  “Well..” she started again. “I’ll make sure you guys get a promotion! Thanks!”

  Chapter 4

  The gates closed behind as her feet touched the fresh ground of the beta village. She turned around looking at the imposing fortress that looked ominously behind her. Dillon dashed to the side telling her to stay put so he can look for his delta lover.

  Some moments passed and she found herself restless. Everything was new. The textures of the foliage stirred something primal in her. The soft soil beneath had the effect of heightening her senses. In a fast paced strut, she explored her new environment with a sense of weightlessness.

  Stepping lightly, almost skipping, she noticed that the building, more like huts, were sparsely spread among the foliage. Their construction were flimsy, but to her, they were strangely natural and beautiful.

  The sun had set and the area was beginning to teem with life. The beta wolves, like her ancient ancestors, were nocturnal creatures. They preferred to be in their wolf form. She saw some of the beta werewolves running as a pack into the woods. They must be starting their hunt. The betas still hunted for food she reminded herself.

  Suddenly, she heard cracks of leaves from behind. Turning around she was met with a large werewolf that eyed her.

  “You’re not from here,” he gave a slight growl. “You smell different.”

  “You’re an alpha bitch”

  The potion had been wearing off.

  The hunting pack she saw earlier suddenly arrived, encircling her with eyes burning of malignant hatred. Her unfamiliar scent in their territory gave them the right to rip her apart according to their rules. Bavos rules only applied when Bavos wereguards were around.

  A wolf curled his lip and showed his fangs – a clear indication that she was meat. The wolf’s paws dug deeper into the ground. But his lunge was made premature. Suddenly, and much to Samantha’s delight, two wolves came rushing to the space in front of her, and growled fiercely back at the advancing beta pack.

  “The she-bitch is with me,” snarled Dillon in wolf form.

  When a beta wolf stepped forward, Dillon lunged quickly, sharply sinking his fangs in the attackers shoulder and tearing flesh. The quickness of the strike imprinted them with fear. Here was a werewolf that attacked fiercely, respect must be given. The beta pack acknowledges the situation and moves back, snarls, then goes back to their hunt. Deltas were not given importance here, only individual ferocity.

  “Almost broke a sweat,” Dillon said as his neck popped while shifting back to human form.

  “You still look great” said Ali, Dillon’s lover.

  “Dillon!!!” she hadn’t felt this emotion for a long time. She had forgotten what it felt to be truly happy. “I love both of you!”

  “I leave you for a minute. How troublesome can a madam wolf be?” Dillon asked as he buttoned his shirt. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re not hurt. That’s all.”

  “Oh yeah… meet Ali.. my ..”

  “How’s it going? I heard so much about you.” He was strikingly a handsome young man with an athletic build, like all the wolf in him didn’t seem to fit in his human form.

  “Dillon told me about your thrall dresses. I think it’s marvelous! The lovely wolf lady would be so thrilled to receive your work.”

  “Uhmrm.. it’s for her!” Dillon said as he elbowed Ali.

  “The wolflady is a wolfprincess then. Such a lovely face you have.” He surveyed her face. Delta’s were known to appreciate the beauty of females even if they weren’t aroused by them. “I hear you are looking for some fabric. I know just the place. The owner is.. well.. umm a gorgeous wolf. You’ll see. He’s not here often so you caught him in a good time.”

  Chapter 5

  The Satas used to be a mountain pack, but the arrival of the Bavos forced them to settle in the lower areas of the forest. The Satas, masters of adaptation, with their claws, learned to inhabit the trees. They became the first of the werewolves to master the art of climbing trees; and eventually, they learned to live in the trees. That’s why she didn’t see many structures looking down from the tower she realized.

  When she walked through the forest, they smelled her alpha blood. Hissing and snarling they looked at her with contempt. Their hair bristled when she walked past them. Deep growls and fierce glances accompanied her as she walked to the merchants hut.

  “Wud yur lukk at dat onesis”

  “Herkind rotten strong buth rotten.”

  “filthy wolf, not even shift, currsseed.”

  “Pay them no attention,” Ali said to her. “They’re just betas of the beta. Lumbards, with no grace at all.”

  The hut was unusually darker in hue than the rest. It had no markings. Its dominant expression was that of plainness. Definitely a hut of no importance was her first thought of it. She cringed at the thought that drapes of fabrics were strewn in the floor of a messy warehouse. Yet, it smelled different. It smelled like masculine notes of pines and ground and male. Following her nose, she steps inside.

  A smorgasbord of fabric, textures, and colors organized neatly in an array of choices greeted her. Some fabrics glittered creating a luminous effect. She felt she had just stepped into a museum. She thumbed through the fabrics, enjoying the softness and textures as it passed through her fingers and delighted her senses.

  “Welcome. How can I help you?”

  She was shocked by the formality and clear intonation of his words. Batlhus comes out in human form holding an inventory sheet. The bones of his human face were, angular panels, striking in their symmetry. She looked at the hard planes of his chest. The region between her legs began to throb. Such was his effect on her. The scarf that he wore caught her eye. It had a strange texture and unique patterns. She recognized it as a fareeza.

  “How did you come upon such wonderful fabrics?”

  “You are from the capital, yes, am I correct in saying so madam wolfstress?” He replied.

  “madam..wolfstress? you’ve been around … trader if I may say so?” She said trying not to look at the bulge between his legs.

  A trader is a werewolf of the seas who travels by ship to different por
ts of the empire trading goods she learned in her classes.

  “You would not be mistaken, and if I may, that I have not seen a beauty like yourself in many of my travels.”

  She blushed. She just met him. Who is this guy?

  “Well.. thank you.” “And I have not met many who carries the fareeza fabrics. If you may, tell me how you have found this wonderful material?”

  “First let me introduce myself to the madam. My name is Balthus. The madam would know that the fareeza was made in this island by the same beta clans that exist to serve you.”

  “Yet it is not made any more for it was made for alphas,” she caught him draw breath, “and alphas do not exist in our shores anymore.”

  “Oh,” she wanted to get these fabrics, “that is a shame…”

  “We have more fabrics. Colored silk, mereeza, red loin, dark fur, beaver coat.. we have many fabrics. Whatever the madam wants.”

  Their interaction would have been purely commercial if he hadn’t ventured, “it is sadder to see such, if I may so madam, that a beautiful fabric be ripped and destroyed.”

  Her heart sank. That was exactly what she was feeling. She found herself moving closer to him, feeling a strange sensation fluttering in her stomach. She appreciated how different he was: a handsome wolf, a traveler, and someone who was involved in fabrics. She appreciated the store, her place outside the wall, and his presence. Leaning forward with her lips parted, she sensed something electric between them.

  “Do you know of fated mates?” said Balthus relaxed and holding his hands behind his back.

  “The Satas believed that not only does smell determines who becomes alpha, but smell is also the means in which two wolves are destined to be together.” Balthus said as he walked with wide steps towards her. Looking directly in her eye he asked, “Do you believe that there is such a thing as fated-mates madam wolf?”

  She saw a gleam in one of his eyes, an inner-light. Slightly parting her legs and losing muscle tension she leaned forward.

  “Yes.” But she knew that her kind, the Bavos, denied the idea of smell. To them these nature signals were inferior. Alphas inherited their positions not their ‘smell.’

  “I bbb bbbelieve… ” she said stammering. “In fated mates,” she quickly corrected.

  “The truth is,” Batlhus leaned towards her, “that I have traveled many seas in many territories, in places with different podiums, in different places. Never have I come across a smell such as yours.” Balthus had an openness in him that made him unbothered by what other people think. He was direct. This she respected.

  Balthus noted how she was twirling her hair.

  “Would the madam wolf like to step outside for air?”

  Her eyes widened and glowed. Her face beamed, giving a strong color and sheen.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 6

  They walked under the moonlight with the dirt of her feet comforting her. The night had been a strange and a welcome relief to her quotidian life. The pack returned from their hunt dragging the carcass of a large elk. Ferociously, each wolves lunged at the elk, digging their fangs deep in the flesh. Wolves challenged other wolves, leading to fighting and snarling. It was gloriously noisy, but in their frenzy there was structure and rank.

  They obeyed the strength of fangs, nothing more. She remarked how their frenzy was a version as refined as measuring and slicing. In the end the elk was nothing but bones and that’s what mattered.

  After the feast, some wolves shifted to human form and lit fires. Fire wolves as they were called, unique to the peninsula, twirled batons of flames over their body. She felt intrigued by their mastery over fire. In the distance she sees Dillon watching his lover in deep trance as Ali freely twirled the batons around his masculine frame.

  “Must be a cold night..” Balthus said to her as he removed his scarf and gently placed it in on her neck.

  She felt a tingling jolt when his fingers touched her vulnerable neck. She wanted to squeal but she stopped herself. The thrall, she reminded herself. Duty.

  He leads her to watch the fire dancers. Their bodies inched together, growing familiarity, increasing rapport every second that passed.

  She sensed something different in him. The way he was held in regard by the other wolves. The beta wolves yielded to him, and they parted like seas as they passed. Growl and fierce glances thrown towards her were replaced by stares of reverence. She liked it. She felt like a cute couple with him.

  He had a handsome look to him. His eyes glowed red and his hair was unusually black. His long hair slithered from his head all the way to the muscular arches of his back. He moved alone, swiftly and freely. She on occasion peeked at the bulge of his crotch. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Uhmm.. so ummm… “ she can’t believe she was getting tounge-tied.

  “Go on.. nothing to worry about… express yourself” his words flowed. His words made her felt safe and secure.

  “Do you like dresses?” Why did she ask that! To a werewolf! She wanted to slither away.

  “Do you want me to rip a dress of you?” he boldly said.

  YES

  This is what she wanted. Someone who said things like that, without regards to rules and for convention. Love was not a formal ceremony, it was a flame of attraction bending together to form an understanding. She felt her crotch moisten at the thought of him ripping her thrall dress. He could smell it. There was tension in the air. It was strong. Fated mates naturally attract.

  “Have you ever felt so…” was the words that came out of her mouth but she quickly stopped herself.

  Express yourself.

  “That things were so right even if it were so wrong?” Her body swayed closer to him. The twinkle of her eyes held his solemn stare. For a moment they shared a space, a podium of memory that echoed in eternity.

  She caught herself inching towards his lips.

  He leaned forward as if to receive her kiss, but she abruptly turned away.

  “I’m sorry.. I don’t know what’s gotten over me!!” she exclaimed. It was so embarrassing. How can a young wolfstress like herself be so direct.

  He positioned himself behind her. His arms came down on either side of her, caging her beneath his large chest. She felt the warmth of his body as she pressed her back on the solid panels of his chest.

  “Don’t worry,” Balthus said. “I feel the same way. Something about you makes me think that my fate is locked into yours.”

  He looked at her directly, held her neck, moistened his lips and inched his lips towards her. Two lips touched as she flickered a longing tongue in his mouth.

  A second had not even passed when garbled growling of werewolves drew close. She knew what it was just from the sound of skirmishes. The Bavos warriors had encircled the fire event. Grabbing her close to him, Balthus turned to his wolf form. The rest of the beta werewolves hurriedly climbed to the safety of the trees. Seven large werewolf warriors closed in on Balthus. In the commotion she remembers Balthus defending her, but the Bavos werewolf guards rushed him. She tried to help him, but she heared a thud from the back of her head and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Chapter 7

  Her eyes flickered in soft light. The light swirled to the dark outline of a pair of eyes looking intently at her.

  “Balthus?”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” a soft voice told her. “It’s Regan.”

  She cleared her eyes and slowly focused her senses and saw the outline of Regan’s face.

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  “Relax” he said the command but softly, and with gentleness. He truly cared for her. His life mate.

  “You were asleep for 22 hours 12 minutes 23 seconds from when the guards rescued you.”

  “Rescued me?” she asked as she regained some of her strength. “From what?”

  “From the betas that had wanted to stop the thrall of course. Don’t worry, it was explained to me that the only reason you came there was to finish your
dress. I understand. But next time, take a couple of wereguards with you. You know what. Starting from this point on, you WILL be guarded.”

  “But…” she laid in the room still confused.

  “Is there anything you need Samantha?” the sweet voice of the alpha to be said to her. He could really be a gentle werewolf.

  “I have everyone on standby for your every wish.” He follows, “You are important to me. More than you know.”