The Alpha King's Captive

GWEN

It sounded like an explosion.

A roar tore through the metal ward, quickly followed by wild, erratic bangings. The immortal shifter threw himself against the enclosures repeatedly. If I only walked further in the direction of the sound, I'd see the gruesome smears of blood painting the impregnable glass.

But like always, I stifle down bile and turn away. Armed men rush past me, going to subdue the shifter, speakers blaring out commands.

"Hold him down!" one of the men orders.

"He's too strong! We need reinforcement."

I make my way down the linoleum floors, making sure to keep my gaze away from the transparent prisons. White LED light shines down, the air rife with the cloying scent of antiseptic, death, and decay. I clutch my logbook closer to me, my chest constricting with each breath I pull in.

Rounding into the clinic, I head toward Dr. Sarah's cubicle.

She looks up when I drop the book in front of her. "Here. All done," I say.

She grabs it immediately. Her eyes scan the report from behind her glasses. "Odd," she muses under her breath. "Experiment 107 doesn't seem to be reacting to the substance."

My chest tightens. I hate the way they refer to the shifters as experiments, like they're nothing more than their biological reactions. My thoughts halt once I realize the pronoun I'd used. They.

As the months progress, I realize I've started to see myself apart from them. Which is a dangerous thing, because I am a Hunter. Will be until I die.

Anything to protect him.

"How is that possible?" I ask, bringing myself back to the present.

She looks up, surprised to realize I'm still in the office. "I have no idea. Either he's too strong or has developed a mutation from the previous shots that allows his system to be immune. Anyway, we move on to phase 2. Iridium."

My breaths cease and without thinking I blurt, "But that could kill him."

The office goes deathly quiet.

I had shown consideration for the enemy.

What the hell was that, Gwen? I fire internally.

Dr. Sarah appears to also think the same thing because the eyes on me narrow. "And? What is one more death?" Her palms land smack down on the table, causing me to jump. "They've caused countless of ours!"

"I--"

"Am I right in thinking you're becoming a liability, Miss Ryder? You know we don't hesitate to cut our losses."

I swallow, looking down at my feet. "I'm sorry, Dr. Sarah."

She sits back, throwing the logbook back at me. "Experiment 487. Check his vitals so we can begin working on him."

I have a bit of a struggle catching the book and after it dances precariously on my open palms, then lands on the floor. The picture staring back at me is his.

Experiment 487. The organization's latest conquest.

The Alpha King himself, Malcolm Blaine.

My heart slams against my chest and I pick up the book, palms clammy. Steel grey eyes stare up at me, seeming piercing and life-like even in the inanimate pages. A cold face peers through. So do a pair of high cheekbones, a proud aristocratic nose, and a strong jaw. The expression on his face is fierce, but that does nothing to distract away from his otherworldly beauty.

Locks of hair fall across his stern brows. They're midnight black and look so soft that I find my fingers itching for a feel of them.

I realize I'm staring and worse, Dr. Sarah's gaze is trained on me. My blood cools when I meet her eyes. With an awkward, "I'll be... back soon," I leave her office.

My heels click against the vinyl floors. The fighters give me a nod of acknowledgment as I pass through, recognizing me as one of their own. I suddenly feel uncomfortable, like my button-down and pencil skirt are a size too tight. I feel like I'm harbouring a dirty secret.

Which, in reality, I am.

I turn into endless white hallways and soon find myself in an elevator. The ride up is long. Understandably. Mount Pyre has got like a hundred floors.

My memory of when I first joined the firm flits in. Two years ago. They were in need of more scientists and I was fresh out of college, looking for a way to get into the organization. But just as soon I got in, I wanted out. This place is filled with murderous fanatics and people who believe the shifters are the ones responsible for the worst things to ever happen to humanity.

Like humans are saints.

The glass partitions slide open and I step into a different part of the building. I feel the first threads of dread slide into my stomach. It's always like this. The fear, the uncertainty. I know that before testing the immortals they were sedated out of their minds. But that never stops me from worrying. What if one of them wakes up and decides to be the scourge of the human race the fanatics pipe about?

"Evening," a fighter standing post greets.

"Good evening," I say back.

Taking out my card, I slide the chip into the side of the door. It whirs open, letting me entry.

I walk in. The doors slide close behind me with a finality that has the hairs on my nape rising.

Loosening my shoulders, I draw closer to the large hospital bed.

It is my first time seeing Malcolm.

I wonder how in hell the hunters had managed to capture him. The thought leaves my mind once I get a full view of him.

"Wow..." My face colours at how breathy I sound.

The man is large.

His tan skin stands out amidst the white linens. He is naked from the waist up and I get an eyeful of huge shoulders, corded muscles, and a ripped abdomen.

I move closer and check his temperature, recording it. Werewolves have a normal body temperature of what humans consider sick. It still amazes me how different we are from the Shifters. I move the sheets away in an attempt to reach for his wrist and I pause when I see he's naked safe for a pair of boxer briefs.

His lower torso is also uncovered and I make out black ink. What is written there is indecipherable.

I catch myself staring for too long and redden. Really, Gwen, a new low? Ogling a man who's knocked out?

I get back to work, freezing when a low mumble escapes him. My head snaps up, but I calm on seeing his eyes are still shut.

Tired, I take a cab home later that evening. Once we round into my lane, I pay the driver and head down the hard concrete. This part of town is industrial, with buildings lumped together and rundown warehouses dotting the street.

Sliding my gaze around, I grip my keys and fit one into the lock. The sound of workers unloading cargo along the harbour fills the night. Once the door comes open, an excited shriek meets my ears, and soon a small body barrels through the living room, leaping into my arms. I giggle, catching him. Pulling back, I stare into his slitted eyes. Gradually they morph back to normal rounded pupils and I smile.

In my arms is the very reason for my existence.

MALCOLM

_

The resigned voice of one of the four elders in my council floats through the room, stirring my wolf. "Alpha, you need to take a step back and view this matter from a distance. This is not wise."

I eye the wide panorama glass stretching the entire east wall before me, scoping out the boisterous city of Manhattan down below. Humans flit around, bundled up in thick wool from the early November chill. My voice is low. "There is no time."

Another speaks then, louder and with more conviction, "Your Highness, Eugene is right. Going down to South Carolina is a bad idea. You'll be offering yourself up to the Hunters on a silver platter. Yes, they have your brother but they'll be lying in wait for you. This is a trap. With Prince Bowen being the bait."

When I turn around, three of them take a step back at the sight of my wolf's glowing eyes, except the stooped Elder standing in a secluded corner. Elias has known me since I was a little boy, practically raised me, and knows something I am not telling anyone.

"My mind is made," I say. "I won't allow any discussions on the subject. Rhon," I call my first Commander. "Get the jet ready, along with a few men. We leave in a few hours. The rest of you, out."

I turn my attention back to the glass, feeling my insides knot with a feeling I've become accustomed to for the past month. Expectation. Excitement.

Want.

When the door closes shut, I scrub a hand down my face. I become aware of a still lingering presence.

"I just gave an order," I say, adding, "Elias."

"That you did," comes his frail croak.

I face him. "Alright, let's hear it. Convince me to stay back. Tell me I'm going on a fool's errand."

"And why would I do that?"

My eyes narrow. "Should have known you'd resort to your mind tricks. You want me to say the Hunters are going to attack once I land. But you forget. They're just humans. Weak, pathetic humans."

He shrugs slight shoulders. "Last I heard, they've gotten creative. The bear shifters are one of the strongest species in the world, yet it was reported just last week they captured six. They didn't manage that by being weak and pathetic."

"Or maybe the six were just careless."

"Like you're about to be."

Silence settles in the air. I turn back around, my mind whirring.

He takes a step closer, his voice quiet. "Malcolm, I've never known you for a fool. What's in South Carolina?"

At his question, I stiffen. Though he may be old, his senses are quick. He picks up on the small movement almost instantly.

"Your restraint is legendary, your levelheadedness known throughout the clans. You've never had any trouble leashing your wolf, but I can count how many times in the past month you've let it take over. There's only one thing that can make a man act so carelessly."

I wait.

"Your mate. You sense her in South Carolina."

When I face him, I pass a cold look over him. "My beta has just been taken in by Hunters. Do you think I'll jeopardize any chances of his rescue because I'm impatient to meet a female that might not even exist?"

He doesn't reply, but a gleam enters his eyes. I could almost say it is... Satisfaction.

He heads toward the entrance, then disappears behind the door but not before saying happily, "Patience has never been your virtue, My King."

GWEN

__

Gooseflesh breaks over my entire body. I try to draw comfort from the guards flanking my sides, but the mere act only makes me painfully aware of all the things that could go wrong.

I hate this part of the job.

I'd be testing the intakes. While they are awake.

Several cases have been reported of immortals going off the rails completely and critically injuring scientists.

Hunters mill about the great white space. I make my way past them, entering into the elevator with the two fighters on either side of me. We begin a slow ascent.

The elevator doors slide open to reveal chaos. The Hunters flanking me instantly tense, drawing up their weapons. Confusion pounds through me as I take in countless Hunters filing into the ward.

"What's going on?" I scream over the noise and start moving.

"Apparently one of the test subjects has gone berserk."

A knot forms in my throat when I see the room they're going into. Room 207.

Malcolm.

Before I can think better of it I'm rushing into the ward. Fear and worry become a living thing in me. "Don't hurt him!" I find myself screaming. It goes unheard.

I am jostled around by moving Hunters. Then that's when they begin. The bloodcurdling roars. My stomach bottoms out when screams from the Hunters erupt.

"Hold him down!"

"I'm trying--f*ck!"

Another bone-chilling roar. My insides twist.

Finally, I burst through the mass of bodies blockading the entrance. Once my eyes lock with his glowing blue ones, he instantly falls silent.

His wild eyes run down my body as if checking for injuries, growing angrier and more frantic by the second.

He thinks I've been taken in by the Hunters, too.

The warriors immediately capitalize on this brief distraction and clamp new cuffs around his hands and legs. Dread knots my stomach. When he lifts those frightening blue eyes to mine, I freeze.

"Mate," he growls.

A slow blink. My mouth gradually falls open. The Hunters all stiffen and stare from me to the Alpha. I shrink backward and before I know it, I'm slinking away, rushing through the doors and away from the ward, my heart racing with the weight of a thousand probabilities. But only one sticks out.

My life is about to get messy.