Alpha Song Read online

  ALPHA SONG

  by Nika Lucas

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  1st Edition

  v1.0

  Copyright © 2018 Nika Lucas

  Published by Nika Lucas

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Jennifer Pack at Black Cat Studios Design and Photography. https://www.facebook.com/blackcatstudios

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 2 - TREY

  CHAPTER 3 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 4 – TREY

  CHAPTER 5 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 6 – TREY

  CHAPTER 7 - CALEB

  CHAPTER 8 – TREY

  CHAPTER 9 - CALEB

  CHAPTER 10 - CALEB

  CHAPTER 11 - TREY

  CHAPTER 12 - CALEB

  CHAPTER 13 – TREY

  CHAPTER 14 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 15 – TREY

  CHAPTER 16 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 17 – TREY

  CHAPTER 18 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 19 – TREY

  CHAPTER 20 – CALEB

  CHAPTER 21 – TREY

  CHAPTER 22 – CALEB

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1 – CALEB

  Portland's city lights hide the stars. They cannot, however, hide the full moon, and I feel it stir something in my shifter blood.

  The wolf in me wants to run through the woods, taste the blood from a fresh kill, not walk through the crowded city streets, and most certainly not to a crowded bar.

  I walk arm in arm with our pack's other omega, Benjamin, behind the two betas, Jenna and Frank, and in the lead, our pack alpha, Mack.

  "Full moon," I say, nodding upward.

  Ben glances up, and his golden eyes reflect the moonlight. His ever-permanent crooked grin is all white teeth. He flicks his long bangs out of his face and fakes a wolf howl.

  "You feel it too, don't you?" I ask.

  "Oh yeah. We should go full werewolf, Caleb, you and I. Let’s terrorize the city."

  I laugh and rest my head on his shoulder. Going werewolf is a joke amongst us. We're not werewolves – there's no such thing. They’re legends, monsters based upon our race, wolf shifters, creating the superstition. None of us are controlled by the moon, though we feel it’s pull.

  Jenna and Frank are also arm in arm. Those two are a couple. They deny it, of course, but when you're pack, sometimes you know the hearts of others before they do. I see the way they look at each other, and I wonder how long they're going to play this game.

  Jenna is obviously the only female in our pack. Tonight, she’s wearing her hair loose, which is a change for her. Normally she wears it tied back. She’s also dressed in a high mini-skirt which shows her long legs off.

  I’m sure Frank is the only reason Jenna hangs with us, a pack of otherwise gay wolves. He’s bi, but she’s had his full attention for months.

  "Is this friend of yours any good?" Jenna asks, reminding me why we’re here in the city and not roaming the wilderness.

  Mack grunts. "Hell yeah, the guy's got a great voice. And you should see him play guitar."

  Mack is a big man with broad shoulders and a strong jaw, hair well-trimmed, and sexy as fuck. There was a time when I’d crushed on him, but we’d turned out to be better friends than lovers. Still, I could admire him from afar. And any chance of us being together were now long gone, lost to time and bad decisions.

  The Portland music scene is heaven. Not two weeks ago, we saw Urban Howl, an all-omega shifter boy band. They have this Japanese lead singer whose voice can make you weep. Two fox shifters and three wolf shifters, and they blatantly half-shift on stage. So bold.

  Tonight though, we’re not going to a big show. It's a small performance in a local shifter bar, Lunar Pub.

  Mack leads us toward this hole-in-the-wall bar, and the music reaches us half a block away. The guitar is loud and raw. There are other places I want to be, but it's too late. I’m committed, and this is important to Mack.

  "Come on," Ben says, tugging on my arm. "Stop dragging your feet. Maybe we’ll find you a sexy alpha to take you home for a shameful one-night stand. Shit, maybe I’ll find me one."

  “I don’t want a one-night stand,” I mumble.

  He pointedly ignores me. He knows how I feel – unlovable, damaged. No one will ever love me, not once they see the true me.

  Benjamin tugs on my arm again, his grin eager. He’s literally bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if he can’t wait to dance.

  The music assaults us as we walk in, blasting through the amp. The Lunar’s is packed, and Mack leads the way, pushing through the press of bodies and forging a path for the rest of us. Somehow, and it's a freaking miracle, we manage to get a table that another group of college students have just vacated.

  I sniff the air, trying to take in all of the scents at once. Most of the crowd are shifters, primarily wolves. As we sit, Mack calls the waiter over and orders the table a round of beers. "First one’s on me," he says.

  The table is off to the side of the stage. Most of the crowd is right up front, directly in the blast of music, and I get my first glimpse of this friend of Mack's. The music sounds like there are multiple musicians on the stage, but he's solo. He's using a looper pedal, and it delivers a created rhythm and bass line while he plays lead over the top.

  Just like Mack promised, this guy makes the guitar sing, and I find myself staring at his fingers. They fly along the neck of the red sunburst-painted Fender as though they've traveled those paths a thousand times.

  He’s obviously talented, and I think he’s all right, but not great.

  Until he sings.

  As the words pour out, smoothly laying down a melody over the intricate layers of guitar, I find myself entranced.

  This isn't a song I know. Mack had said this guy writes his own material. The crowd knows him and they sing along. I find my foot tapping along, moving my head to the music.

  He's attractive, an Alpha, I suspect, though I can't get a good sniff of him with all the other bodies packed in this place. His hair is a shaggy mop of dark hair, and his wolf form is probably mostly black.

  There's a rawness to his voice, a combination of deep growl and words combining as only a shifter can accomplish. It's raw and hard and sexy, and the crowd looks like they'd love to eat him up.

  Both men and women seem to really dig him. Mack hasn't said anything about him, but I can't help wondering if he's single.

  That’s stupid, I think, obviously he's not. Guys like him always have a relationship on the side, maybe more. He's probably a dog, sleeping with anyone and everyone. He screams too much sex appeal for otherwise.

  Relationships. I shiver. The last one got me into trouble. It destroyed me. I can still remember his dark aura, cold and malicious. If not for my pack, I might've lost myself. Andrew was a punk alpha with violence in his veins, and somebody I never should have gotten involved with. I'd always been drawn to bad boys, those with troubled souls. It just doesn’t get any worse than Andrew.

  He liked to break things.

  Just thinking about him makes the bar that much darker, and I grab Benjamin’s arm and snuggle aga
inst him, forcing myself to focus on the music, on the musician, trying to drown out the memories of a relationship I never should have gotten involved in the first place.

  "Man, this guy is hot," Ben says, and I swear I see his gold eyes turn into gold hearts.

  "Maybe Mack will introduce you to him," I reply.

  A year ago, I might've wanted Mack to introduce him to me, instead. A lot has changed in a year. I have trouble sleeping. I don't like the touch of a lover. I seek comfort in my friends and my friends only.

  I'm a fucking wolf shifter and suddenly I'm afraid of the dark. What a twist of fate.

  "You think?" Ben asks, unaware of how uncomfortable my memories make me.

  "Yeah, but you'll probably be reduced to a groupie."

  "I could go for that."

  I laugh and let myself get lost in the music.

  Our beers arrive, and I throw mine back, with Ben's watchful gaze filled with mirth.

  Beer. Beer can kill all memories, even the fresh ones that give me nightmares.

  "Come on," I say, getting to my feet. "I want to dance."

  Ben chortles and joins me, and we merge into the press. Jen and Frank are right behind us, leaving Mack alone to guard the table. He kicks his feet up on one of the vacated chairs, watching as his pack joins the throng, watches as for one night, we don't have any other worries, no cares about our jobs. Just music and the crowd, dancing and the sexy singer.

  Ben and I dance, moving and blending with the crowd. The press of bodies turns me on. My body reacts as though this is foreplay. My omega juices are running, soaking my underwear, and I have a hard-on that won't relax.

  To make matters worse, my best friend, Ben, seems to know this. He keeps gyrating his ass toward me, as though he wants to be an omega to an omega. That would be an interesting relationship.

  Another alpha smells us, drawn in by our heavy sweat as though we're sending out a signal of interest for a mate. He approaches, dressed in a cheap yet well-fitting suit. In the press of bodies, it makes it easier for him to join Ben and me.

  Ben smiles lasciviously, encouraging the man, and laughing, I join in too. The two of us sandwich him, playing with his hair, grinding our asses against his crotch. He's chewing on his lower lip like he's going to bite it off.

  I can smell his lust, his scent, his musk. He would be a good time. When the song ends, I look away from this alpha and look at the stage again, at the musician.

  Trey watches me with an unreadable expression. I have to shake my head to clear it. Every time our eyes meet, I feel as if a part of my spirit is being pulled toward him, as though his spirit calls to mine.

  The dancing alpha grabs my elbow and says, "You want to slip away?" He licks his lips, as though expecting me to say yes. As though I'm incapable of denying him. My scent must be telling him I'm eager and willing, just looking for a good alpha fuck.

  But my last boyfriend has left me too damaged for more than anything other than flirting and teasing. It makes it easy to tell him no.

  "Sorry," I say, "I'm just here to dance."

  He's not, though. Apparently, he's only willing to dance with us if there's going to be body bumping afterward. He slips away, stalking another omega.

  Ben meets my eyes and laughs.

  CHAPTER 2 – TREY

  The crowd is electric. I flash the manager a grin during a guitar solo, and he nods and smiles back. Jake is a good friend and we've known each other a long time. He keeps me doing shows. I play all around Oregon and sometimes Washington, but my world is here, in Portland. And this place, it's my home. He brings me in once a month, but this is by far the biggest crowd I've ever pulled.

  I've got more people on their feet than I’m used to, moving in time, moving as one, sensually, sometimes aggressively, and I am amazed by the sheer number of people who sing along. To my songs! Sometimes I’ve doubted that they're any good, but tonight they make me feel the same energy in myself that they must feel. It's like we’re all a part of my music.

  There are familiar faces out there. I sing to them, those I’ve seen before, watching as their faces light up with my attention. I almost feel like I've made it, like maybe I could allow myself to become just a little bit bigger, like I should start chasing bigger venues.

  But that doesn't matter. Not now, not tonight.

  I've shared drinks with some of the dancers. I even see an omega that I’ve had a one-night stand with. We've remained friends, though neither of us have pushed for more.

  I move across the stage, stepping on a pedal to launch another prerecorded loop as I merge into another song. I'm not one to talk to the crowd. I'm just here to play. That's all I want to do. Sing. Play. The guitar is an extension of me, linked to my soul. It allows my spirit to speak when I struggle to put words to my feelings.

  And tonight, the words I've dug up are good enough.

  Off to the side I see one of my old pack, Mack, another alpha I grew up with. He nods when we make eye contact. After high School, the two of us went separate ways, yet we’ve remained friends. He has his own pack now.

  Not me, I'm a lone wolf. I don't want pack dynamics, I don't want responsibility. My pack is me and my guitar.

  Besides, when Mack and I were kids, we were in our teen packs, kids posturing and pretending to be more than we were. Sometimes such packs survive, though it's rare. Adulthood draws other pack mates, as you meet others outside the cliques of youth.

  And despite crossing paths with other musicians, I've never wanted to be a part of their scene. I've never wanted to mold myself to what they expect or give them any control over my own musical creativity. Maybe one day, maybe after I've written ten-thousand songs, knowing that they're all my own.

  And yes, I realize, I'll never write that many songs. I will one day die without a pack, probably strung out on prescription drugs and whiskey.

  Something to aspire to, like the greats before me.

  I play back to the other side of the stage, toward the mic where I go into another verse. I scope out the audience while I sing, and for a split second, I forget the words. There's a man amongst them, and I'd bet my guitar he's an omega, and he's the sexiest guy I've ever seen.

  He's got sad eyes, the kind that if you're not too careful you can drown in.

  For that split second my ears ring, and I cannot hear my own music. There’s a gulf in this moment, a vast void where time has no concept. He dances to my music, not singing along, but moving as though the music is new to him and he's still learning.

  He stares back up at me quizzically as our eyes meet, and I see the golden truth that he too is a shifter, and a wolf.

  I recover, quickly, and just barely before I screw up over my loop. but after that, I can't concentrate on anything else. I find myself scanning the audience, searching for this shifter.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I have no time for love. Maybe I just need to possess him, just for a night, to get him out of my system.

  It's nothing, just lust. I tell myself this because I don't believe in anything else. I don't believe in love.

  I once did, however. I walked away, once I realized it had happened. The broken heart had been wonderful, a source for lyrical pain. The wounded spirit opened up a whole new world of emotions to put into song.

  And I never explained it to him, why I’d hurt him, never let him know who the songs were about. When he'd declared his love, that had been enough to walk away. I even blocked his number.

  And this man, dancing in the crowd with another shifter wolf, could be another source of pain, of inspiration.

  Who hurt you, to give you those sad eyes? Who hurt you to give you that hint of longing and fear?

  I would know his story.

  Would he stay until the end of my set? Would I be able to find him afterward? Most people leave as soon as I’m finished. A few linger to meet me, and I might go home with one, for one night, to take the edge off my loneliness.

  I tell myself this is all I want,
just a break, just a touch and a taste. Just enough to walk away in the morning and return to my music and my guitar. I promise myself this little reward, if I can find him.

  Even if I don't, I won't mess with anyone else – not tonight. I want to remember those eyes. If I can't meet him, I'll make up what I believe he must be going through. Maybe he's already suffering a broken heart, some fool man has let him get away.

  When I finally perform the last song, I lose him to the crowd. My heart sinks, just a little. Life is always full of disappointment. Mack is still there, and much to my delight I see the sexy wolf shifter sitting with him, with the other omega, and the rest of his pack.

  Is he Mack’s mate? I won't do that to my friend. If he's just one of the pack, maybe Mack will introduce me to him. The song can't end fast enough, but I won't let down my audience. My sweat stings my eyes, I peel out of my soaked shirt, and finish the song bare-chested. I see the desire in my audience, and at no point during the entire show do they sing as loud as now, in this moment.

  We are one.

  And I still can't wait for it to end.

  The most electric show I've performed in such a long time, and all I want is to meet the shifter with the sad eyes.

  Am I so pathetic?

  "Thank you!" I say, my voice booming across the noisy and packed bar, the smell of cigarettes and booze the aura and symbol of my world. "I'm Trey. Have a great night."

  The crowd roars. The crowd howls. I join them, throwing back my head.

  CHAPTER 3 – CALEB

  I join my pack at the table next to Mack. The beer is cold and we've all worked up a thirst.

  "So what do you think?" Mack asks.

  Ben answers first. "Is he single?"

  Mack throws back his head and laughs. "Knowing Trey? Yes. He's single. And he likes good looking guys like you. I got to warn you though, he’ll use you and leave you."

  "Then he's perfect," Ben replies. "Did you see when he took off his shirt? I slicked my underwear."

  I don't say anything. Ben's obviously got his eyes on the hot musician, and there's no way I'm going to hurt Ben's feelings by going after this guy. I know exactly what he's talking about, though. When he took off his shirt, he made me wet, too.