Bitter Beauty: An ADR Short (Fallen Cross Pack Book 5) Read online

  Bitter

  Beauty

  Aliya DalRae

  Bitter Beauty Copyright © 2017 by Aliya DalRae

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition, 2017

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organizations, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, locations, events or establishments is purely coincidental.

  Cover by RM Designs

  ISBN-13: 9781794054080

  For Kelly –

  Thanks for all your support.

  This flannel-wearing wolf is for you!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to RM Designs for another amazing cover.

  To my Fabulous friends and colleagues, for all your support and encouragement.

  And To Kirk, my Immortal Beloved. It’s been one helluva ride!

  Table of 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

  About the Author

  Social Media

  Also by Aliya DalRae

  Chapter One

  W hat in the name of God was that smell?

  Butch Montgomery was in his wolf form, scouting the dense forest surrounding the home of his new Alpha. Things were going fairly well since Patrick Dane took over the Fallen Cross Werewolf Pack. ‘Course that didn’t mean there weren’t a few wolves who’d got their noses out of joint when the old Alpha was killed. Derrick Devaris was a mean son of a bitch, and those who were loyal to him were just as nasty. Wouldn’t be the first time Butch had run across one or more of them trying to sneak onto the property to cause some sort of mischief or other.

  Which was why the smell of a fresh kill had him on guard. That, and the fact that there was something else, some other scent mingling with the blood and meat that had his hackles standing on end.

  The wind shifted, and Butch raised his nose in the air to try and get a lock on the scent. There it was, off to the east. He twitched his ears, and when he heard nothing out of the ordinary, headed in the direction of the kill.

  It took some time to reach the eastern border of what was once again Pack property. When his father had been Alpha, before that devil, Devaris, the land had seemed endless to Butch. Of course, he’d been a kid then, so the back yard was like a world in and of itself.

  Since Dane took over and put the previous Alpha’s ill-gotten funds to work for the Pack, their lands had expanded tenfold. No matter how large the Pack grew, there would always be room for them to run together during the full moon. Dane was making sure of it.

  Butch paused to get his bearings, the silver streaks in his otherwise black coat catching the stray moonbeams that broke through the trees. The scent was much stronger here, and he sneezed to clear that strange aroma from his head. It was baffling: roses and earth, mixed with the heady tang of fresh meat and…wolf. Something stirred deep inside of him, and he licked his nose to keep from panting.

  Get a hold of yourself, Butch.

  As though talking to himself would help.

  He snapped his jaws closed, and zeroed in on the scent, stalking it like a whitetail deer. Keeping downwind, he took one slow step, then another. He was getting close, so very close. Whoever was hunting on Pack property without permission was in for an ass-kicking, one Butch was eager to deliver. Dane was easy going, as Alpha’s went, but you didn’t trespass on his land, and you certainly didn’t hunt there without his say so.

  Just a few yards away now.

  Butch slid next to a tree and peeked his head around the trunk.

  There she was.

  Because it was definitely a female. She was small for a Were, with matted dark fur that clung to ribs he could count without too much effort. She was ravenous, her jaws snapping and pulling at the carcass of a small deer she had somehow managed to take down by herself.

  Without thinking, Butch entered the narrow clearing, enthralled by the creature before him. He’d never seen her before—he was certain that Dane had identified every Werewolf within twelve counties—and it was obvious she was on her own. Pack didn’t let Pack starve like this. Even Devaris had kept them all fed.

  Lost in thought, Butch started when the little wolf jumped at him, planting herself between him and her meal. He tried to talk to her, mind to mind, but it was more confirmation she wasn’t part of the Fallen Cross Pack. He could no more communicate with her than he could a human right now, not that it mattered. She didn’t seem to be real keen on talking, anyway. She was communicating, though, loud and clear. This was her kill, and she wasn’t sharing.

  Butch knew he should do something. He was one of the largest wolves in the Pack, and there wasn’t a whole lot to her. He could put her down with one paw. He knew it, and she knew it, but there she was, practically in his face, snarling and growling like she would take him out in a New York minute.

  It was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Two

  M arcela was in some deep shit now. What was it they said about the frying pan and the fire? Well she’d flopped into it big time, and she was cooking now.

  She’d thought she was free. Escaping her father hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had taken every ounce of patience and ingenuity she possessed, but she’d done it, and not a moment too soon. Much longer and she would have been too weak to run.

  Thank God for her wolf. If it wasn’t for her, Marcela would have died years ago. The old man had kept her locked in a cage for months after she’d first shifted. She knew it was out of fear, but understanding your tormenter didn’t make things any more palatable.

  Her mother had died when she was very young, having neglected to tell the man she lived with that she turned into a wolf every full moon. That left Marcela’s very human father to take care of her, which he wasn’t very good at when he was trying.

  She was five—no, six—the first time the moon grabbed hold of her and pulled her into its foul embrace. The old man had come home to find her writhing on the floor, her bones cracking and her skin sprouting fur. Needless to say, he was not amused.

  Marcela had been sure she was dying, that she would be joining her mother in Heaven, or wherever it was that bad little girls went when they died. While she could still form the words, she’d begged her father to do something, anything, but he had his own issues. Instead of getting help, she’d ended up shivering on the linoleum while her father cowered in the corner with a cast iron skillet in his hand.

  Once she found her footing, which wasn’t easy when you suddenly had four legs and a tail, she’d hobbled over to him, hoping for an explanation, or some comfort at the very least. What she got was a whack in the head with that skillet. That alone should have killed her, but nope. She woke up in the barn, lying on the floor of a reinforced cage, naked, but human again.

  Her father was there, of course. By all appearances, he’d stood guard over her all night, making sure she couldn’t escape. Her head hurt like hell from where he’d thwacked her, and she’d cried. Oh, how she’d cried and begged him to let her out. She said she was sorry, she didn’t mean it, but once was all it took for Russell Cowan. To him, she
was nothing but a beast, and he made sure she knew it. It didn’t matter that she was human three hundred fifty-some days a year. To him she was an animal.

  Eventually, he figured out the cycle, that she was only forced into her wolf form once a month. After that, he would let her out during the day to perform household chores. The first two years, he stood watch over her the entire time, a pistol in one hand and that iron skillet in the other. Eventually, he let his guard down some, but that pistol was always close at hand.

  The winters were horrible. No matter the weather, once the sun found its way to the western horizon, her father would lock her back in that cage in the barn with nothing but some straw and a thin blanket to shelter her from the cold. The one time she complained, he told her to “grow some fur.” He then tossed her a hunk of bread for her daily meal, and left her alone in the dark.

  His disability checks, courtesy of a bad fall he’d taken at the Sand & Gravel, kept food in the fridge and the electricity running. Not that she was allowed to avail herself of either, but for his whims, and since he had no job to go to, she was rarely without his supervision.

  Being home all the time also gave him ample opportunity to take out life’s frustrations on her. She’d been a child, for chrissakes, one who just wanted to be loved and cared for, but he treated her like a creature that needed to be whipped into shape, literally. Only by breaking her was he able to put his head on his pillow at night with any likelihood of sleeping.

  It didn’t take Marcela long to figure out her best chances for survival. For years she submitted to the beatings, never striking back. She did her best to stay out of his way and to do everything he demanded of her, despite the wild creature inside her fighting for control.

  But her wolf had finally had enough.

  ~~~~~

  M arcela shook her head to clear the memories, trying to maintain a ferocious bearing she didn’t feel. The wolf in front of her was huge, and he looked like he wanted to have her for dinner. Or steal her dinner, which she wasn’t about to give up without a fight, no matter how intimidating he was. Never again.

  Are you like me? she wondered. Or are you just a regular old wolf, that can’t think for beans?

  The wolf took a step toward her, and Marcela reacted. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d sunk her teeth into the big fella’s nose. She was so surprised by the taste of his blood that she let go immediately and jumped away with her teeth bared and the fur on her back standing on end.

  Where the big wolf had been puzzled before, now he just looked pissed. What was it she was thinking before? Frying pan? Fire? Yep. Her goose was definitely cooked.

  Chapter Three

  D umbstruck as he was, it wasn’t until she bit him that Butch came to his senses. This was a strange wolf pulling a dominant move on him, second to the Alpha, on his Pack’s land. Whatever it was that had been holding sway over him disappeared when the bitch drew first blood.

  It took less time than he’d imagined to get his jaws around her throat. One quick minute more and she was on the ground, showing her belly in submission with her tail tucked squarely between her legs. Much better.

  Through the Pack bond, Butch sent for reinforcements. He wanted to walk this one in while in human form, and he didn’t trust her to behave while he shifted.

  He eased up on her throat, and she whined as she tried to pull away. He tightened his jaws, applying just a bit more pressure as a warning before letting her go.

  Wisely, she didn’t go far. She backed herself against the trunk of an ancient oak tree, curled into a tight little ball and trembled, the fierce creature of moments before a distant memory.

  Two wolves emerged from the forest. The larger one, a grey wolf with black mask markings around his eyes, approached Butch and snarled at the intruder. David was a good wolf and an even better man. He’d stood with Patrick when the shit hit the fan, and Butch trusted the male with his life. Not that this was a life-threatening situation, but still, loyalty mattered.

  Butch communicated his intentions to the two newcomers, and wasted no time in triggering the change. As a born wolf, the pain generally associated with shifting was nothing compared to that of a wolf who’d been forcibly turned. While it still took a moment or two, and he wouldn’t exactly call it pleasant, the agony borne by his unnatural brethren had been bred out of Wolves of the Blood. Every time he watched his Alpha shift, he thanked whatever gods were out there that he’d been spared that indignity.

  Once in human form, he looked at the female through new eyes. Her coat was shabby and dull, and the ribs he’d noticed in wolf form were even more identifiable now. Eyes that had sparked with yellow fire to protect her meal, now lacked that preternatural glow. She still watched him with a wary eye, but she seemed tired now, beaten.

  “I can take it from here, fellas.” Butch spoke aloud, mostly for her benefit, “I’m taking her back to the Alpha. See what he wants to do with her.”

  The female snarled as his pack mates sniffed her abandoned dinner before melting into the forest. Butch had no doubt they’d be back to clean it up after he and the little wolf were gone. No self-respecting canid would let fresh meat like that go to waste.

  He knelt beside the female and held his hand out for her to sniff, but she bared her teeth at him, a bit of her former fire flashing in those lackluster eyes. It soon faded, though, as she dropped her head to her paws, and lowered herself before him.

  Whoever she was, she’d been mistreated, Butch was sure of it. Beaten, probably, and obviously starved, and though she was playing the submissive now, he could sense that it wasn’t in her nature.

  As he reached to pick her up, to carry her back to the Alpha’s cabin, he couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit sorry for her. Then he raised a hand to his nose, remembered the feel of her teeth, and he let those feelings go. This was not a female to be underestimated, and he’d do well to remember that.

  With a curt nod he lifted her up and pinned her legs in his arms to restrain her as well as to protect himself. Once he had her secured, he marched her through the woods toward the Alpha’s cabin.

  Chapter Four

  D id you see that? Marcela wasn’t sure who she was talking to, and if she had been human she would have pinched herself. That big wolf just changed into an even bigger man, right before her eyes!

  Unfortunately, the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t very happy with her. Probably had something to do with the blood still leaking from the holes she’d put in his face. She would never regret protecting herself. Still, she couldn’t help feeling as though that little piece of home that had crept inside of her at the sight of one of her kind might have been premature.

  Not wanting to be left behind, she submitted to the indignity of being carried like an unwanted package. Besides, her head was spinning. After freeing herself from her father’s clutches, she had run. There had been no plan, no clue where to go, but once free she had chosen a direction and gone as far and as fast as she could.

  Was it fate that brought her to these woods, or had some innate power guided her? Either way, it looked like she was destined to be here. The way this man grumbled, though, left Marcela wondering if she might have been better off taking a different route.

  The man-wolf shifted her in his arms to get a better grip. The movement caused the meat she had just, well, wolfed down to slosh around in her belly as it did a tango with her nerves. He’d said something about an Alpha and a cabin, which to her sounded like “jailer” and “potential prison.” It couldn’t be any worse than where she’d come from, but it did beg to question if her effort at freedom had been a big fat waste of time.

  The man-wolf was tall and broad, with unruly brown hair, a full beard and strong arms that felt right wrapped around her, even in this most undignified situation. Wherever he was taking her, it wasn’t close by, but the big man held her like she weighed nothing. His breathing was steady, and the rhythm of his heartbeat thumping against her side soon lulled Marcela into a relaxed
state. It was against her better judgment, but she was so tired.

  On the plus side, he wasn’t dragging her through the dirt by her tail, so that had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Deciding to roll with it, Marcela tucked her nose into the warm space between their bodies, and, feeling safe for the first time since her unfortunate transformation, she slept.

  Chapter Five

  W hat do you want me to do?” Patrick paced his office like a circus lion. “Come on, Butch. This is your job. It’s what I pay you for.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to do with her.” Butch forced himself to stand still. He wasn’t about to show his Alpha how far out of his element he was. “I’ve tried everything to get her to change. I’ve hosed her off, offered her food and clothes, but she won’t budge.” And all he’d gotten for his efforts were a few more tooth marks in his skin—another thing he wouldn’t be telling Patrick about.

  “So what? You think she’d change for me?” Patrick dragged a hand through light brown hair that was a bit on the long side, and glared his displeasure at his second in command.

  “Well, you’re the Alpha.”

  “And you’re my enforcer. So just go and,” Patrick waved a hand in the air, “enforce.”

  “You’re not helping me here,” Butch frowned. Sure Patrick was his superior, but they were also friends. He thought he’d at least get some guidance from the man, but maybe he’d overstepped.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “Well, I’m not locking her in the barn, or in any other kind of cage. That was some Devaris shit, and I’m not gonna do it.”