Forgotten Alpha

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Forgotten Alpha copyright @ 2014 by Joanna Wilson. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Forgotten Alpha

I didn't know I'd ever be here. I didn't bring men home and I definitely didn't get drunk. That's not to say that girls who do it are bad or wrong, it’s just not me. I'm Iris Carlton. I’m usually intelligent, dutiful, and boring; but, I wasn’t tonight.

You see, about two months ago, I woke up in a hospital as a Jane Doe and I had no clue how I'd gotten there. This man, whose fingers trailed my body and left in its wake a burning desire for more, he was the key to what happened. I met him in a bar, drunk and frustrated. His kisses made me wet.

I pulled him into my bedroom and he followed, willingly and just as hungry as I. His green eyes practically glowed with lust. Here was a tall drink of water with mussed, deep brown hair and pale skin; too pale to have grown up here in the south. He pulled me into him, burying his hands in my mass of curly hair and nipping at my neck. I melted. He pulled frantically at my clothes and I at his. I dragged his leather jacket off of his shoulders and pulled at his t-shirt, pausing only to let him pull off mine.

His hands found my breasts, as I fumbled with his belt. He grabbed my hands and pinned then behind me, as his lips latched onto my nipple. I rarely wore bras, my breast being barely a hand full. I moaned when his wet mouth covered my puckered nipple.

He continued to lap at my breast, as he pulled my jeans and panties past my hips. I fell onto the bed behind me and watched him remove his jeans. His body was long and sinewy with broad shoulders and muscular legs. When his pants came off my mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock. It was surprisingly thick; I licked my lips in excitement.

"You ready, baby?" he asked in a deep, raspy voice that made my knees weak.

"Yes, please, I want you inside of me," I moaned.

Who was this girl? How was he able to turn me into this, a sexual vixen?  I reckon the liquor had a lot to do with it. He climbed on the bed on top me, growling into the kisses that he pressed to my lips. I drank him in as I felt the swollen head of his cock at my entrance. My heart raced as I anticipated his hard cock penetrating me.

With one long measured stroke, he pushed inside me. His thick cock filled me. I whimpered as he pushed in to the hilt. My eyes never wavered from his.

"Goddamn," he grunted, "you’re so hot and wet."

"For you, baby," I moaned, before pulling his face down into a kiss. With that, he pulled out and then pushed back into me, quickening his pace. I gripped his back as he pummeled into me. With every stroke he pushed me closer to ecstasy. My legs began to quiver as he picked up speed. My eyes rolled as I felt myself come closer to the edge.

"Oh shit, I'm going to cum," I wailed loudly as my fingers dug into his back. I felt myself stiffen just before an orgasm crashed into me. It ripped through me with a strong vengeance. It shook my body as I clung to him. His pace became frenzied as he buried his face in my neck, his teeth sinking into my skin. He came with a great thrust, filling me with his hot seed.

With the haze of intoxication, the exertion of sex, and the glow of orgasm, I slipped into a deep sleep.

Some people say that when they're drunk they don't dream, I was quite the opposite. I dreamt of what I remember of that night. Like flashes, they came to me. I dreamt of going out to the bar with the men I worked with. I managed my father's landscaping service and we had just finished the garden for the new City Hall building. It looked amazing. I took the boys out for celebratory beers.

Things got crazy and I got wasted, which isn't an easy task. I was a werewolf. The only daughter of Wes Carlton, alpha of one of the oldest packs in the South. Being a werewolf not only meant heightened senses, but also a higher alcohol tolerance.

I remember refusing offers for a ride home. My apartment was a block away and I decided a little fresh air would do me some good. I don't remember actually walking home; but, I do remember waking up in someone's arms, my head pulsing with pain. I remembered seeing his eyes, a dark green. His lips moved, but no sound came out, just loud ringing. The pain became too much. I passed out.

***

My eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. It took me awhile to realize I was looking at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure what woke me up, but I was suddenly aware of someone sleeping on my chest. His head, full of chocolate brown hair, lay between my naked breasts. He was still asleep. I realized, in horror, I didn't know his name. I was waiting to feel regret, but he felt familiar. I've recalled that face a million times since that night. Somehow, the feel and weight of this man felt comfortable, like home.

You would fuck him, wouldn't you?
I thought to myself,
simply talking to him would have been too easy.

There was a knock at the door and I jumped.
Dear God, how will I explain this?

He woke up, looked at me and recognized me immediately.

"Hey beautiful," he muttered with a smile. His eyes were at half-mast, before they rolled over and he slipped back into sleep.

The knocking at the door became more incessant. With much effort, I crawled out of bed and stumbled over balled up clothes. I was searching for something to put on to answer the door. The knocks grew impatient; so, I picked up the first thing I saw, a faded Pantera shirt. It must have belonged to the guy in my bed. I pulled it on and reveled in the smell of him. Despite not knowing his name, I was still very much attracted to him. The shirt was long on my five-two frame.

At the door was Jeff, a tall figure and one of my four older brothers.

“So, Papa sent his watchdog,” I said by way of greeting.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he said, following me into my apartment. Jeff was tall and fair. He looked like our mother, with ink black hair. We werewolves, like actual wolves, tend to have multiple births. Jeff is the middle son of triplets that all took after my mother. She later had me and Kenneth; twins who took after our father. We were short and tawny, with dark curly hair. We all had my father’s hazel eyes, too.

“What do you want, Jeff? I have company,” I said, making my way to the kitchen. I planned on making the beautiful man in my bed and myself some breakfast. Then, I’d grill him for information as he ate.

“You have company?” He asked, quickly looking around the tiny apartment before stopping at the closed bedroom door, making a face.

“Iris, you know you can talk to us. I understand, it’s a big deal and we just want to help you,” he said, sliding into his concerned brother tone.

“No,” I said, setting down a pan maybe too hard. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be trapped in your body, unable to shift. Two, Jeff! I missed two full moons.”

“I know,” he said softly, “but Papa can help you.”

“Just because he’s the Alpha doesn’t mean he has all the answers. He had two months to help me. Now, shoo-shoo. Go back to Jessica or Stephany or whoever else is the flavor of the week,” I said, gathering eggs and pancake batter.

“I’m not the one with ‘company’ in my bed,” he said.

“Shut up,” I simply said.

“I just wish I was there to see a grown woman sneak out of her parent’s house like teenager,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “I did what I had to do. The doctor said two weeks bed rest, not two months. I had to get the hell out of there.”

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked. He didn’t have to further explain. His tone told me he was talking about my shifting problem.

“The only thing I can do. Get some answers,” I answered.

After about ten minutes of trying to convince him to leave, Jeff finally did. However, it was only after he realized I had just made enough breakfast for two and he wasn’t getting any.

I heard footsteps from the bedroom and knew he was up. Inexplicably, my stomach filled with butterflies. I knew it was silly too, I mean we’d already had sex for Pete’s sake. I was afraid he might have regretted it. What if he was completely different from what I remembered? I didn’t remember much of last night.

What I do remember is that I stormed into that bar angry, frustrated, and at my wit’s end. It was yet another full moon night and I couldn’t shift. I successfully embarrassed myself and my family in front of the whole werewolf population in Hertford. It took a few whiskeys for me to calm down and a few more for me to become any fun. He was behind the bar with his charming smile, sparkling green eyes, and playful demeanor. He made me laugh more last night than I had in the past few months.  My memory ends towards the end of the night. That’s when his shift ended and he continued to drink with me. We were plastered when he walked me home. A simple brush of his hand against mine was all it took to awaken something in us both. It was strong and almost involuntary. His kisses were so sweet and powerful and his touch burned me to my soul.

I realized I was becoming turned on by the memory when the door opened. My breath caught in my chest and my nipples tightened. Sporting nothing but some boxer briefs and a hungry gaze, he still looked mouthwatering. His body was lean and powerful. His arms sported a few tattoos. His long face was angular with the perfect set of thin lips and a dusting of dark hair on his jaw. Those dark green eyes fired up and glowed when they rested on me. I realized then that it wasn’t the alcohol in my system. His eyes had glowed and that only meant one thing to me: It was the sign of a werewolf’s instinct taking over.

“Good morning, beautiful," he said, his voice raspy with sleep. I couldn't help but smile as butterflies filled my stomach. Those simple words elated me.

"Wait, do you not know my name either?" I asked as soon as the thought popped into my head.

He chuckled, as he took a seat at the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I take it you don't remember mine?"

I couldn't answer; I was too flushed with embarrassment. I simply placed a plate in front of him.

His smile widened, "Shame on you, Iris.”

“Don’t tease me,” I said.

“I should make you guess,” he said, with laughter in his gaze, “it’s Aaron.”

I laughed with him, his name did sound familiar. I took my plate and sat next to him.

"I never took you for a domestic," he said, digging into his huge helping of scrambled eggs

"I'm not, not really. I was going to invite you out for breakfast, but I'd rather not."

"What, you don't want to be seen with me?" he teased.

"No, of course not," I said before digging in, hoping a mouth full of food would free me from continuing the strain of conversation.

"Are you going to tell me why?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

"I'm still embarrassed, I guess," I said, remembering the fiasco that went down before I met Aaron at the bar.

"A werewolf who can't shift isn't a werewolf at all," I said simply.

"Bullshit, it happens all the time."

"Yeah, to created werewolves. I was born this way, it's my instinct. Add onto that being the only daughter of an Alpha, I should be able to."

"Instinct, I've never thought of it as instinct. It's always been a sense to me, like seeing and feeling."

"Ugh. That makes my problem so much worse. It'd be like if I woke up in a hospital blind or deaf. That would be...." I couldn't even describe what it’d be. The thought scared me. It would indicate that this was somehow permanent. If it were, I'd be devastated.

"What are you thinking?" he asked softly, as he leaned in.

"What if I never shift again? If I knew what happened to me, maybe I could figure it out."

"I doubt it would help."

“Easy for you to say, you were there."

He was silent for a while as he ate. It was killing me.

"Well, are you going to tell me?"

He sighed, "There's not much to tell. I was walking home after my shift. I saw some guy, he had to be homeless or something, grab you from behind and drag you into the alley.  I ran to help, but I was still pretty far away. I heard fighting and a few punches, so I ran faster. By the time I got there you had already fought the guy off. Just as I turned the corner, you were pushing to your feet. The guy quickly picked up some kind of metal rod and swung. He nailed you in the head. I caught you before you could hit the ground. The guy saw me and took off. He didn't take getting emasculated by a drunken woman too well. That's all it was. I dropped you off at the hospital."