The Alpha's Mate

  The Alpha’s Mate

  An Ironhaven Pack Romance

  Piper Fox

  Contents

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  Siren in the Night

  Surrounded by Sharp Teeth

  Broken Pack Law

  Bite, or get Bitten

  Epilogue

  Also by Piper Fox

  About the Author

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  Siren in the Night

  Sometimes, being sheriff sucked.

  Merrick’s nose twitched at the stench of stale coffee and leftover donuts permeating the bullpen. Usually, he didn’t mind the station—it was more like a second home than a workplace, since he’d practically grown up here.

  But tonight, everything grated on his nerves. Between the constant threat of attack from the rival pack a county over and losing one of his best patrol-wolves to a human mate, even Merrick was starting to doubt his place as Alpha over the Ironhaven wolves. He could deal with stress; what he didn’t like was the uncertainty.

  He leaned forward at his desk, grabbing his lukewarm coffee, and stared down at one of his best friend’s missing person’s files. Leo hadn’t contacted anyone in the pack and Merrick didn’t know what pissed him off more, that he found a mate in a human or that he left without giving the pack a chance.

  His head jerked up at a knock at the door.

  “Boss, we got a call from the Redwater Alpha while you were out.” Merrick’s second, in both the pack and the station, stepped into his office and closed the door. Dom was built like a wall—six foot, six inches of pure muscle and snarl. Only one wolf evoked more fear and respect—Merrick himself.

  He set his coffee down. “Good news?” Merrick leaned back in his chair, already knowing the answer in his gut. None of the packs he’d reached out to dared to go against a curse.

  Not when female wolves were something to be cherished and protected at all costs.

  Not when Merrick had let the tensions between packs rise so much that the Bellemares sought out a witch.

  “Reed’s sympathetic. But he can’t risk the few eligible female wolves he has in his pack when we still don’t know what’s causing this. He doesn’t want to condemn his females by sending them here to fall prey to the curse, when they may be mates for the Redwater pack.”

  “I can’t begrudge him that, but…” Merrick let out a snarled sigh and slapped the surface of his desk as he stood. “I’m going on patrol. Reach me on the radio if you need anything.”

  “Merrick, you can’t just walk away from this. We have to talk about what we’re going to do. The pack’s looking to you.” Dom blocked Merrick’s path to the door, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his stance slightly, grounding himself.

  Merrick had just over an inch of height on Dom, and if he needed to, he could’ve thrown his second to the floor just to prove he was Alpha, to prove he was the strongest, the most powerful wolf in the pack.

  But this wasn’t about the pack. This was his friend, his second in command, trying to make Merrick see reason. Merrick took a deep breath. “I need to clear my head, okay? You think I don’t know we’re in a dumpster fire of a situation here, with no way out? The Bellemares won’t stop until they’ve taken over our lands, killed our pack, and destroyed the town just to spite us. The only females we have left are a few old, mated women who have had their pups.”

  This situation was more than a dumpster fire—it was a shit show and he was the only one who could fix it. Not that he knew how. The ache deep in his gut wasn’t an ulcer. It was his wolf tearing to get out and protect what was his.

  “Leo ran off into the night with a human in tow, her house reeking of their mating.” Merrick’s scowl deepened. “I’m losing control of the pack, Dom. Or at least what’s left of it.”

  “The blood of an Alpha runs through your veins. None dare challenge your place in the pack because none could do better.” Dom clapped his hand onto Merrick’s shoulder. “The Bellemares fought dirty, using underhanded spells to try to weaken us. But they sent their wolves into our town, and we chased them back, even killed a couple of them. We’ll beat this curse too. Give it time. The answers will come, just as we saw the last Alpha solve the problems of his day.”

  When Merrick didn’t answer, Dom stepped back, away from the door. “Go for a drive. Clear your head. Maybe stop off at Gwen’s for a drink. Take the rest of the night off.”

  Merrick grabbed the keys to his squad car, knowing that he couldn’t turn off being sheriff any more than he could turn off being Alpha. He’d patrol the borders, make sure the scent lines were still strong, and if all was well, maybe he’d turn in for the night.

  He nodded at Dom as he passed by and headed out.

  Normally, he would’ve driven north, toward the lake, and then clockwise around the territory, a familiar path that took him past the wolves who lived on the outskirts of town first and allowed him to check in with his pack before taking him back home.

  But tonight, something in his gut told him to start on the south side of Ironhaven.

  Following his instinct had rarely led him astray before, and he wasn’t about to start questioning it now.

  The beat-up Honda with smoke coming out from under its hood was twisted the wrong way on the side of the road, almost like it hit a patch of black ice—only it was August. Even in northern New York, it wasn’t cold enough for ice or snow.

  Whatever the reason, the car called to Merrick’s wolf. He flicked on the lights, without turning on the sirens as he pulled up in front of it. He secured his non-regulatory long hair back in a ponytail in case he needed to get elbow-deep in an engine.

  As he got out of the car and strutted up toward the opened hood, he couldn’t help but note the sweet scent of a female. He scanned the area, listening for anything intruding on their territory. As he rounded the front of the car, he said, “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

  The woman standing at the front of the car wheeled around, her eyes reflecting the red of his cop lights in fiery irritation.

  Merrick bit back a smirk. He knew this woman, and the irritation in her crystal blue eyes. Sierra Vance—the wild child of Ironhaven High.

  She smacked the hood and “What does it look like? The damn car’s a piece of shit. I got ripped off, and now I’m going to have to hike the last five miles home, in the dark.”

  Merrick’s heightened sense of hearing picked up on her muttering, “Last time I buy a car from a shady used car lot. Working brakes would’ve been fucking nice.”

  She’d lost the streaks of purple in her blonde hair and cut it into a choppy pixie, the nose ring was now a delicate stud with a small diamond, and she’d graduated from drawing on her skin to wearing permanent ink down both her arms.

  Merrick couldn’t help but notice how she filled out her low-cut tank-top or the way her black jeans hugged her ass. She’d definitely grown into her curves. With the way she blew out of here after high school, he was surprised to see her even this close to town. He was sure she’d made it to New York City and never looked back.

  She pulled back from the engine and let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you just going to stand there staring at me? Or are you going to do something to help?”

  Merrick nodded at the passenger side of the car. “Get in the patrol car, Sierra. I’ll drop you at your momma’s house and call Old Man Michaels to tow t
his rig to his shop.”

  She squinted at Merrick and shook her head. “Well, I’ll be damned. Merrick Davis. Or…” She glanced at his chest. “Should I say Sheriff? You grew up tall.”

  Merrick grinned, an easygoing smile that never failed to disarm and charm. “You gonna get in my car? Or should I call your momma? Isn’t that who you called the last time you were in the back seat of a patrol car?”

  Her growl could’ve rivaled some of the wolves in the pack. “You know what, Mer, I’d rather walk.” She turned on her heel and stormed away, her combat boots carrying her away from town.

  He admired her ass in her jeans for a moment. A shake cleared his head and he hurried back to the car. “Sierra!” Merrick followed her at a snail’s pace. “Just get in the damn car.”

  “I’d rather get eaten by rabid wolves than get into a car with you.” She flipped Merrick off and kept walking.

  With a sigh, Merrick pulled off to the side of the road and parked the patrol car. He couldn’t just leave Sierra alone in the woods, not this close to Bellemare territory.

  But as he stepped out of the car, the scent that hit his nose wasn’t territorial.

  It was something else entirely and it made Merrick’s wolf want to howl.

  “Sierra, come on. You can’t just walk off into the woods alone. You have no idea what’s out here. Let me drive you into town. Or at least turn around and go the right way.” Merrick wanted to grab the woman around the waist and just throw her over his shoulder. His wolf was on edge, snarling just below the surface, adding to the tension and paranoia Merrick was already fighting against.

  “Just go back to town, Sheriff. I’m not one of your constituents. You don’t have to protect me.” Sierra spun around, propped her hands on her hips, and glared at Merrick. “I don’t need some badge-wearing Barney Fife type watching my back.”

  “Barney Fife was a deputy.” Merrick growled.

  But it didn’t rival the growl coming from the shadows.

  A wolf.

  “Shit.” Merrick lunged forward, grabbing Sierra, and shoving her back toward Ironhaven. “Run. Now.”

  With Sierra behind him, Merrick realized he wasn’t in his pack’s territory anymore. They’d crossed into Bellemare land.

  “Sierra, I’m serious, you need to get out of here.”

  “Mer, it’s a wolf. They’ve lived in these woods my entire life. They don’t come near people.”

  She moved to step around Merrick, her scent full of irritation. And something Merrick couldn’t place, something he wanted to roll around in, cover himself in. It was distracting, and Merrick needed to keep his wits if he had any hopes of taking on whatever Bellemares were circling.

  “Get your ass in the damn patrol car,” he growled, and when she didn’t budge, he added, “Now,” using his Alpha command. If she were a wolf, a member of the pack, even the most rebellious of pups wouldn’t be able to deny him.

  Sierra wasn’t a wolf. Not only was she human, she was more obstinate than the most stubborn ass.

  She pushed past him, running, not toward Ironhaven or the patrol car, but toward the Bellemare pack.

  “Fuck.” Merrick kicked off his shoes and socks, and then removed his belt and his badge. He kept spare clothes in the patrol car, and he could easily get dressed again before he went back into town, but his boots and his badge weren’t as easily replaceable.

  As soon as he stashed his things, Merrick’s wolf ripped loose, shredding the uniform he wore as his shoulders broadened, his muscles and bones shifting. The shifting process was as natural as breathing for Merrick and by the time all four paws were on the asphalt.

  Merrick took off running, faster than any human could. There was no way he was going to leave Sierra to the Bellemare wolves. That pack was a million times worse than rabid wolves in the wild.

  Surrounded by Sharp Teeth

  God, Merrick was infuriating.

  Even in high school, he’d walked around like he was the man in charge, leaving outcasts like Sierra feeling like hyenas, circling the edges of a pride of lions, looking for scraps. Even though he was never mean or cruel, he’d always been above it all.

  She didn’t want to think about all the times she’d thought about him finally noticing the intense goth girl. It just made her feel even more pathetic.

  Now that he was in charge? Sierra was sure it was just that much worse.

  But big man in charge or not, he’d grown up hot. And bossy.

  Sierra was done with bossy men telling her who she should be, what she should be doing, or where she should go. Overbearing men were what drove her back to this small-town trap in the first place.

  Or, more specifically, one man in particular.

  It should’ve been Sierra’s dream job. Sous chef in an upscale restaurant, working under one of the hottest chefs of the decade. A place where no one would care that she had tattoos, piercings, or brightly colored hair. A place where she could be as crass, as tough, as badass as she wanted, and not only was she applauded for it, she fit in all that much better for it.

  If only she’d been born a man. She should’ve risen through the ranks, gotten better shifts. But kitchen politics and male chauvinism won out, leaving Sierra passed over time and again, getting yelled at, blamed for everything that went wrong in the kitchen, whether it was her station or not.

  She was a glorified prep cook and when she called her boss out on it, she got painted the over-sensitive female, the troublemaker.

  It wasn’t enough to get her fired, but it was enough that she toppled a pot of sauce all over the kitchen and walked out.

  Not exactly her most shining moment, but damn did it feel good to see that “secret recipe” marinara splattered all over his spotless counters and floors.

  The last thing she needed was a demanding sheriff bossing her around, bringing up past indiscretions in the same breath. One drunken night on a fake ID, and goody two-shoes Merrick wouldn’t let her live it down.

  Why did he have to show up when she was once again feeling low and completely like an outsider of her own life?

  The howl of a wolf pulled her from rage into agitation. This was all Merrick’s fault. She wouldn’t have run around the woods like a fool if he hadn’t been ordering her around.

  The call sounded too close, and without headlights or the flickering red and blue of the cop car’s lights, the woods were entirely too dark, and the shadows lurked with unknown dangers.

  Another howl.

  A third.

  And then, what sounded like a whole pack, howling in near unison, all around her.

  Maybe Merrick hadn’t been so far off when he warned her about them. Maybe she should’ve listened.

  Too late now.

  The deep, rumbling growl coming from behind her sent chills all the way down Sierra’s spine. She shivered and fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself.

  Fuck. She was going to die, torn apart by wild dogs, and the only person who would find her was the golden boy of Ironhaven High.

  Glowing eyes moved out of the tree line, two at a time. Sierra counted seven. No, eight wolves, all moving in closer and closer, like they were strategic, working together.

  All except the huge russet-colored wolf behind her.

  That beast looked the most dangerous of them all, and he had his sights set right on her.

  And, if Sierra wasn’t mistaken, the look in his eyes was a hungry one.

  Another wolf leapt toward her, teeth bared, moving so fast, Sierra was certain she was a goner. Her heart pounded in her ears, as loud as the middle of a hurricane. She threw her arms up to protect her face and head, her only defense in the seconds she had.

  But before the sharp teeth could rip into her, the russet wolf jumped between them, snarling as he clamped down on the smaller wolf’s neck. The yelp from the smaller beast echoed through the trees as Sierra looked for something, anything, to keep the other wolves circling around her at bay.

  Every time Sierra was certai
n she was about to be bit, about to be clawed, the russet-colored wolf interceded. Almost like he was protecting her.

  Or keeping her for himself.

  Sierra wasn’t sure what scared her more. She’d heard the stories growing up, legends of men shifting into wolves. They were folktales. About as real as the boogeyman or fairy changelings.

  The wolves regrouped and flanked a white wolf. They were all angling for her protector, who, at the moment, was keeping Sierra from being wolf kibble. The white beast lunged. Then it was just a dog pile of claws, teeth, and growls.

  Where the hell was golden boy and his grand rescue? Did he just leave her to have her temper tantrum and die in the forest?

  The russet wolf threw a wolf off and then chomped down on another’s flank. The battle of fur and claws was terrifying to watch. Sierra wanted to help her fierce friend if it meant she would get out of the situation alive. A high-pitched whine startled Sierra. The savage beasts parted away from her wolf in the middle.

  Wounded wolves limped back into the trees disappearing into the darkness, giving the one still standing a wide berth as he seemingly guarded Sierra. He was close enough she could almost reach out and pet him.

  When the last tail flicked into the trees, the russet-colored wolf turned to Sierra. She noticed for the first time that he had lighter colored patches on his chest and paws, though they were stained with blood.

  His eyes softened, his snarls eased, and his teeth were no longer bared—the killer was no longer standing in front of her. His ears perked up and his tail wagged gently.

  Slowly, his fur rippled, and his body shape changed. The change was so smooth Sierra didn’t realize what was happening until it was nearly done.

  Sheriff Merrick Davis?

  A very naked, very hot, very well-hung Sheriff Merrick Davis.