Accidental Alpha: Second in the Tobias Finch Series Read online

  Accidental Alpha

  Second in the Tobias Finch Series

  Elisha Kemp

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Thank you for reading

  About Elisha Kemp

  Accidental Alpha © Elisha Kemp

  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 embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information contact the author at her website elishakempbooks.com

  Cover art and design © Elisha Kemp

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  For everyone out there who has ever felt like an imposter.

  This book is for you.

  Chapter 1

  Tobias Finch

  “Where should we park this one, alpha?”

  Christopher’s voice rings out from the open window of a pick-up truck, an almost obscenely happy grin spread across his face.

  Behind him, an RV teeters precariously on the steep gravel road. A road that would certainly not be to code, if it were anywhere else but on private property in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming.

  I rub both hands over my face, feeling the grit of sweat and dust coating my skin. It’s warm for late April, the midday sun feeling particularly relentless.

  “Just park it by the other ones,” I reply tiredly. “But maybe by the edge of the clearing, closer to the trees. It’s for Arlo and Theo.”

  “Ahh, right. Good plan, boss.”

  Christopher gives me a knowing smile before shifting the truck back into drive and continuing the slow ascent.

  Arlo and Theo are two of the original twenty-four shifters who came back with me from Blackwater territory. Being owls, they don’t particularly like being woken up during the day. They also have mouths that match their tempers.

  Let’s just say it’s better for everyone if they aren’t in the thick of things.

  Cody sidles up beside me, attention fixed on the tablet in his hands, probably checking one of the many spreadsheets he’s using to keep track of deliveries and contractors.

  “That’s the tenth RV,” he announces. “So just three to go now.”

  Yep. I know all this. I also know how much each of those RVs cost and how much we spent on groceries last week feeding twenty-four shifters.

  Hint. It’s a lot.

  Most sixteen-year-olds have ordinary jobs. Like working at a grocery store, mowing lawns or flipping burgers.

  If only I could be so lucky.

  When I’m not at school, I’m here, trying to make this isolated plot of land in the foothills of the Little Bighorn mountains comfortable enough to be considered habitable. So far, the best I’ve managed to come up with is RVs, tents and the blueprints for something permanent.

  At least we’ve been able to afford RVs, thanks to the money we got selling the Blackwater territory. It turns out that by defeating Huxley Black and taking over his territory, under shifter law, I owned the land. Which meant I was able to sell it to a neighbouring wolf pack who had been wanting to expand their territory, and who also didn’t want the risk of another pack moving in if I left it vacant.

  “The builders can start in two weeks, if the weather holds,” Cody continues, fingers tapping on the screen. “They’ll start with the central lodge, but they want to do the foundations for all the buildings at the same time. More efficient that way.”

  “Sure. Okay,” I reply, trying really hard to sound interested and engaged.

  I must fail abysmally, because Cody gives me a sharp look.

  “Then there’s the matter of picking a beta. And enforcers. Setting out everyone in the pack’s ranks…”

  I let out a frustrated sigh.

  It’s been three long months since the fight at the Blackwater territory. The Blackwater Fight. That’s what the guys are all calling it, anyway. Or Blackwater for short.

  I think of it more as a massacre.

  My wolf killed fifteen shifters that day. Tore them to shreds as if they were little more than a flock of lambs. Revelled in the bloodshed. The power.

  I feel sick just thinking about it.

  “Are you listening to me, Tobes?”

  I blink rapidly, trying to recall what Cody had been saying.

  “Um... the pack ranking system?” I say lamely.

  He shakes his head, drawing the tablet to his chest as he frowns at me.

  “The pack run, Tobes. I was talking about the pack run. It’s a full moon this weekend, and your pack is going to want to run. Fly. Whatever.”

  I fight to supress a smile. Cody still struggles to remember that most of the shifters in this pack aren’t actually wolves.

  “Yah. Okay,” I say. “If some of the guys want to do a run, that’s fine by me.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “You need to join them.”

  I wrinkle my nose. The last thing I want to do is let my murderous megalomaniac wolf loose on the world.

  “You’re their alpha. Alpha. They’re going to start asking questions if you don’t start joining them for pack runs,” Cody lectures.

  “Uh-huh, yah, so…” I scrub my hand through my hair, then wince as my fingers snag in the tangles. “I don’t really feel like shifting…”

  Cody looks horrified, visibly paling as he gapes at me.

  “Please tell me you haven’t gone without shifting this whole time. It’s been three months. That is seriously unhealthy.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, then look up towards the clearing where the RVs are parked, hoping that the gravel road will bring a distraction from this conversation with Cody. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

  “Hey, so back to selecting enforcers,” I say, trying to deflect the conversation away from the topic of my shifting.

  Not that I particularly want to talk about selecting enforcers either.

  “I was thinking everyone currently living at our territory could be an enforcer. If they want.”

  Which means we would have twenty-four enforcers, since that’s how many of us are living in RVs and tents on Jamison’s territory. Red and Orrin stayed back in Montana, but they’ve been threatening to come visit once the weather warms up and Orrin comes out of hibernation. So, I guess then we’d have twenty-six. No, twenty-eight when you count Gareth and Hamish, who also aren’t here…

  Maybe that is too many enforcers.

  “You’re kidding me.” Cody says incredulously, eyebrows disappearing under the dark curls that have fallen across his forehead. “No pack has that many enforcers.”

  “So what? It’s our pack,” I say with a shrug. “We can do whatever we want, right?”

  Cody taps his fingers on
the back of his tablet, jaw ticking in irritation. It’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation.

  “There needs to be structure. Pack rankings. A hierarchy.”

  I shake my head.

  “I disagree,” I say, willing my voice to stay calm despite the building irritation.

  Cody and I don’t usually go head-to-head.

  In fact, I’ve been pretty happy to let Cody run things. He’s organised the architects and contractors for the buildings, made all the design decisions, chosen which pack members should room with each other, and created working rosters for the many, many boring tasks that need to be done.

  But this is the one thing I feel strongly about. I didn’t want to be alpha, and I sure don’t want to be at the top of some pyramid scheme.

  “I want everyone in this pack to be equal,” I say firmly. “I’m not going to have crappy power dynamics. I don’t want anyone having more say than anyone else. If I have to be alpha of this pack, fine. Whatever. It doesn’t have to be…”

  I don’t get the chance to finish my rant because searing pain tears through the right side of my chest, hitting me with enough force to cause me to stumble backwards. A second later, the cracking of thunder rips through the clearing, a sound totally incongruous with the clear blue skies.

  Pressing my fingertips to my chest, I’m momentarily confused by the warm dampness I find there. Until I lift my hand and see blood.

  So. Much. Blood.

  I drop to my knees as a second crack echoes and this time I hear the hiss of a bullet singing its deadly song mere inches above my head.

  Vaguely, I’m aware of Cody shouting for help, of Tyrone’s voice calling out to us from the cluster of pine trees that line the gravel road.

  Within me, my wolf is raging. Clawing at the cage I’ve built in my mind to confine him. Maybe he only stayed in it to humour me. Or maybe the pain is like fuel to him. Either way, in a matter of moments he’s tearing the mental cage I’ve created apart, as if it’s made of tissue paper.

  My bones crack, skin and flesh rippling, and for a brief moment, the pain of shifting overpowers the burning pain of the gunshot wound. Then the pain of shifting subsides, leaving power and anger in its wake.

  I take a deep breath, drinking in the familiar smell of the forest and the scent of my pack, all magnified a hundredfold in this lupine form.

  Amongst the familiar is the distinctive scent of an unknown shifter, mingled with the acrid smell of silver and gunpowder. My hackles rise, and I let out a low growl, ready to chase. To hunt. To attack.

  “Alpha, stop.”

  Samson’s voice rings out from across the clearing.

  “Let Tyrone and Danny deal with him. You’re injured.”

  He’s by my side in a matter of moments, long limbs moving with feline grace as he sprints towards me. He lets out a low hiss between clenched teeth when he gets close enough to see my injuries.

  “They weren’t messing around, that’s for certain. Not every day you see silver bullets.”

  I rise to my feet, ignoring Samson’s insistence that I stay put. Ignoring the pain radiating from my right side. A pain that hasn’t lessened at all by shifting into wolf form.

  Probably because of the chunk of silver still imbedded in my body.

  I pause the clumsy attempts to move my four legs when I notice Tyrone and Danny have already tackled the strange shifter to the ground, Cody sprinting over to assist them. The assailant writhes and struggles, but Tyrone and Danny easily overpower him.

  By the time I hobble over to them with Samson at my side, the shifter is lying motionless, Tyrone’s half-shifted claws pressed to his throat.

  “Move and you’re dead,” Tyrone hisses, lips close to the stranger’s ears.

  The stranger trembles beneath him, eyes glowing with fury as he takes short, panting breaths between gritted teeth.

  Cody bends down, bringing himself eye level to the male.

  “You better start talking,” Cody growls, neck muscles bunching with tension. “Who sent you? What pack are you with?”

  “I - I’m not with a pack,” the shifter stammers out. “It was just a job.”

  “A job?” Tyrone’s lip curls in disgust. “What, are you a rogue for hire?”

  When the shifter doesn’t answer, Tyrone tightens his grip, letting the tips of his claws pierce skin.

  “Answer me, you sack of shifter trash,” Tyrone hisses.

  “Yah,” the stranger grinds out, glare flicking between Cody, Tyrone, Danny and Samson.

  When he finally looks over at me, some of the fire leaves his eyes.

  “So, it’s true then.” His gaze rakes over my golden fur, now stained with blood, then travels up to my gold eyes. “The only born alpha to rule in over two-hundred years. I didn’t believe it.”

  He gives a mirthless laugh and shoots me an accusatory glare, tilting his chin in the direction of the bullet wound in my shoulder.

  “How are you even still standing?”

  I open my mouth to reply, then realise I’m still in my wolf form.

  I try to push for supremacy, to shift back to human form, but my psychopathic wolf won’t budge. He’s been caged for too long and is now apparently relishing the power of being in control.

  Instead of responding to the shifter’s question, I bare my teeth and growl in reply. As if that conveys all the information anyone could possibly require.

  The shifter’s body trembles at the sound, and I notice for the first time how ragged looking he is. His clothes hang off his overly-thin frame, his straw-coloured hair lays flat and greasy on his scalp. Dirt coats his skin, darkening the fine wrinkles of his face, the creases of his neck.

  “It was a job,” he repeats, and then the words come tumbling out of him. “I needed the money. It was nothing personal, okay? I wouldn’t have taken it if I’d known the rumours were true. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  The human side of me believes him. He looks hungry. Desperate, even. I could almost pity him, if there wasn’t a silver bullet currently imbedded in my flesh.

  Unfortunately, my wolf does not share these feelings of sympathy. Especially when the pain from the silver is only getting stronger, as if the toxic metal is leeching into my blood, counteracting my body’s ability to heal itself.

  My wolf’s murderous intentions must show in my eyes, because the shifter blanches and looks away, expression almost pleading as he looks between my pack mates.

  I doubt he’ll find any sympathy from them either.

  “Who hired you?” Cody snaps, blue eyes like the depths of a glacier as he stares down at the shifter.

  The stranger gives a defeated sigh.

  “I don’t know who the client is. I work through a broker. We aren’t told the names of our clients. And would it matter if I did tell you? I know how this works. You aren’t going to let me walk, whatever I say.”

  Cody grunts his agreement, and my wolf huffs approvingly.

  “That might be true, shifter,” Tyrone growls out, voice cold and lethal, green eyes flashing dangerously. “But we can make sure your last moments are painful enough that you’ll wish for a quick ending.”

  Tyrone flashes a toothy smile, the whites of his partially elongated canines stark against his dark skin.

  It’s strange to see this cold, aggressive side of Tyrone. Out of all of my pack, he’s the most laid-back. The sort of guy who drapes himself over furniture rather than sitting in it. Who listens to others’ conversations with a bored, sardonic smile.

  With the exception of that horrible day at Blackwater and today, I don’t think I’ve even seen him exert himself with so much as a slow jog.

  The rogue gives an involuntary shiver.

  “Look, all I know is, whoever put out the hit, he was willing to pay a lot to make sure your alpha here was dead,” the stranger says, nostrils flaring. “Offered ten thousand dollars to any shifter that could take him down. I doubt I’ll be the only one coming this way to cash in.”

&
nbsp; “They gave you our location though,” Cody muses, drawing to his full height as he casts me a worried glance.

  As far as I know, there aren’t many out there who know of our location. Jamison’s land – now our land – was kept off the radar for years. My pack mates have been in touch with their families, so their previous packs might know where we are. The Clear Creek pack would certainly have an idea, since we haven’t exactly kept it a secret from the Clear Creek kids at school.

  But other than the Clear Creek pack, I don’t think anyone knows about us.

  Gareth and Hamish might have told some shifters about us, Samson reminds our little group, speaking telepathically through the pack bond. There’s no saying who they could have met in their search for Hux.

  Samson is right. Gareth and Hamish have been away for the past couple months, trying to track down Hux and the Blackwater enforcers who absconded with him. So far, they haven’t had any luck, but the last time we spoke they alluded to doing some ‘light recruitment’ on the side. Gods only know what that means.

  “Oh, the boss knows your location, all right,” the rogue sneers, glaring at Tyrone, who still has his claws pressed to the rogue’s throat. “So don’t go thinking killin’ me off is going to solve your problem. It ‘aint. The bounty is out there. And last I checked, born alphas weren’t invincible. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets you, Tobias Finch.”

  My wolf bristles, unimpressed by the male’s threats. The human (and more logical) side of me reluctantly acknowledges the rogue has a point. I might be hard to kill, but I can be killed. At least, I think I can. In any event, I don’t like the idea of being shot at by silver bullets again.