Protector of the Alpha

Protector of the Alpha

Parker Williams

Protector of the Alpha is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Parker Williams

Cover Art by Laura Harner

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition Published in the United States by Parker Williams

ISBN: 978-1-937252-93-9

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Contact the publisher for further information: will@pride-promotions.com

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Laura Harner, Havan Fellows, Sylvia Violet, Becky Condit, Mary Phillips Wallace, Cate Ashwood, and Jae Ashley. Your help is greatly appreciated.

And a huge extra special thank you to Laura Harner for the utterly amazing cover art.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Also Available

Blurb

Adopted at an early age by a wealthy family, Jake Davis has always seemed to have an easy life. Even in college he was blessed with good grades and an apparently clear path to a pro football career. Good thing his best friend keeps hanging around to keep his head from getting too swollen.

 Zakiya Incekara has always been...odd. Being fluent in six languages and having a flair for international cooking should open the world to him, but those skills leave him isolated.

When Jake sees Zak for the first time, with water beading down his slender form, something inside him shifts, and it hungers for Zak. To have him. To claim him. And Jake knows that whatever it is, it won’t be denied.

When they are approached by a man who claims knowledge of a secret past they share, Jake and Zak are thrust into a world they would never have believed existed. The forests of Alaska might seem an odd place to find your destiny, but these men will meet the challenges head on, as they learn that sometimes you have to make sacrifices to be Protector of the Alpha.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Bailey’s Irish Cream: R & A Bailey & Co. Limited

Captain Morgan: Diageo North America, Inc.

Chevy Suburban: General Motors, LLC

Harry Potter: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

Jim Beam: Jim Beam Brands Co.

iPad: Apple, Inc.

Meg Ryan: Ryan, Meg

NFL: National Football League

Spider-man: Marvel Characters, Inc.

SpongeBob: Viacom International Inc.

Sun Tzu's Art of War: Art of War Inc.

Taurus: Ford Motor Company

PROLOGUE

Tendrils of fog clung to Steven Lawrence as he ran. A soup so thick, he would have thought he was in London, instead of the streets of Englewood, Illinois. He ran as though the hounds of hell were on his trail, certain he wasn’t far off with that belief. He’d barely escaped from the stranger who had tried to drag him into the alleyway. Only luck, and the fact he was able to shed his jacket and take off, saved him at all.

The man laughed and set out after Steve, whispering harshly, Run, little pig. I enjoy the hunt.

Steve had tried shouting, but no one in this neighborhood would get involved, especially this late at night. If he hadn’t needed a job so badly, he’d be safe and warm at home with his family.

Each footfall caused a splash on the rain-soaked street. Louder still was his panted breath and whispered entreaties for safety. He cursed himself for being so out of shape. He ached from the exertion, muscles he hadn’t used in years screaming for oxygen. Desperate to find a way out, to keep the man from finding him, Steven scurried into an alleyway behind a restaurant. He found a disgusting dumpster overflowing with garbage and vermin that he hoped he could hide behind. Ducking behind it did little good as the patter of his assailant’s steps on the wet pavement continued at their maddeningly slow pace. He was being hunted. He couldn’t call it anything else.

No matter where he went, he could hear the man still approaching, stalking him. He’d catch a glimpse every now and again of the wicked grin on the man’s shadow-darkened face. Steve wondered if he could confront the man directly, but decided escape offered a better chance of survival. Though Steve wasn’t built, he could hold his own. His stalker outweighed him by at least fifty pounds and towered over his near six-foot frame. He couldn’t put this man off. If he hadn’t left the goddamn gun at home, maybe…there was no time for self-recrimination. He’d make sure that everywhere he went from now on, that snub-nosed .38 went with him.

Steve heard the bells toll eleven p.m. and rushed toward the old church, its stone façade weathered by the elements. A lapsed Christian, he could almost appreciate the irony of hiding out in a church. Still, it offered sanctuary. He made a mad dash for it, grateful to find the doors unlocked.

The inside was much like the outside. The stained glass windows were thick with a buildup of grime, allowing no light into the church. Dust covered the altars. Obviously the building had seen better days. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees, then began babbling any prayer that came to mind.

Bless me father, for I have sinned. I've not been to church since I was a wee lad, but I pray thee to have mercy on me this night.

A damp breeze ghosted over Steven’s skin as the door opened, and his heart began to thud painfully against his chest. There would be no answer to his prayers. Still, he tried. He begged to be saved, for more time, arguing that at twenty-one, he had not yet lived. He apologized for all his wrongs. Then, as the shadow fell across the altar and he knew his time was done, he glanced at his wedding ring and prayed once more for his family, for his wife and their twin boys. That they would grow up strong. That she would move on and find love with someone who earned it. He prayed—

Large hands wrapped around his throat, lifting him off the floor like a rag doll. The pressure choked off all but grunts as his lungs screamed for air. Hot, fetid breath hissed against his ear. He tried to kick, gouge at the man. Something—anything—that would give him another chance to run. It was to no avail. The body was like granite, and Steven’s blows were useless against it.

Please, he begged, his voice choked. I have a family.

A low, guttural laugh was his reply. In that moment, Steven accepted his situation and hung limply from his captor’s arms.

It was a good chase, said the raspy voice that had dogged him since earlier in the night. One of the finest. You are not one of those I seek. Still, I won and claim my prize.

Steve’s ring was torn from his hand, ripping off the finger at the knuckle, but the pain paled in comparison to the hand that was crushing his throat. I’ll not make you suffer, though. You have given me good sport this night, but the hunt must continue. And don’t worry, I promise I’ll take care of your family. You’ll see them again very soon. It’s taken us years to track you all down, but I will ensure none of you mongrels survive. The purity of the enclave will be preserved.

The hand tightened again. Steve’s spine screamed as his head was pulled back. Intense pain radiated through his body as sharp edges drove into his throat. Then he felt nothing more than warmth rolling down his chest. He could hear the gurgle from where his larynx used to be and an odd roughness against his skin, lapping at the wound.

Then Steven Lawrence shuddered as the blackness fell over him, knowing the leering face of his attacker would be the last thing he would ever see.

CHAPTER ONE

"Mate!" Jake Davis cried out, slamming his meaty fist onto the arm of his seat. His nostrils flared wildly at the sweet scent, like lemons, grass, and sunshine blended together. He scrubbed at his eyes, which itched like crazy. For a few moments, he swore there wasn’t any color in things he was seeing. His mouth was the worst, though. It hurt so badly he felt as though someone was driving nails into his gums.

Professor Ashworth nudged her glasses down just a bit and gave him a hard stare. Jacob? Is there something you’d like to talk about?

Jake’s face burned. He slumped in his chair even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide. He could see everyone watching him, some of them snickering, most just slack-jawed.

I’m sorry, Professor, he mumbled, ears feeling like they could burst. I was thinking about, you know, chess.

The class erupted, some of them choking on their laughter. Bessy Daniels laughed so hard tears streamed down her face.

Chess, the professor drawled, giving Jake a condescending glare. "Yes, Jacob, I can very much see why that would be something you’d think about during my session. I know that Friday isn’t your favorite day to be in class. Believe me, I’d rather be out, too, but as long as they continue to insist on it, I think it would be best if we both gave it our all. What do you think?"

Jake tried to shrink down farther into the small seat. At just over six feet three inches and topping the scale at two hundred twenty pounds, it was no small feat. He rubbed his face and sighed contentedly when the pain finally subsided.

His focus, not that it was ever actually on world history—his last lecture of the day—was even more fractured as the tantalizing scent tickled his nose. It was faint, just on the edge of his awareness, but it filled him with happiness. He wanted to roll in it, cover himself with the deliciousness of it. He’d never get enough of that smell. It called to him on a primal level he couldn’t understand, but needed to claim and possess.

Jake crossed the campus to get his car and head for home. He was so embarrassed. Jake wished he’d gone home instead of hanging out on campus until practice. People would snicker whenever he walked by, and several teased him with chess references. He was grateful to finally be headed home. He could only hope that Casey—

Chess, JD? Really? That’s the best you could come up with? Sad, bro. Your excuses are usually a lot more…inventive. I think in the nineteen years I’ve known you that was probably the lamest one you’ve ever come up with.

Casey fell into pace with Jake, nudging him with a slender shoulder.

What? I play chess.

Casey struck a pose, hand on hip, his expression telling Jake he was waiting to hear the truth.

Fine, I play checkers. The board looks the same.

Except instead of saying king me, you say queen me, right?

Jake glared at Casey Scott, his best friend. I was zoning, okay? No idea what the hell I was thinking about. There was this smell—

Casey fanned a hand behind him. My bad, bro. I had the burritos for lunch.

Jake rolled his eyes, but grinned. "No, asswipe. I’m not sure what it was, but there was…something there, and it smelled so good."

I know what you mean, dude, Casey whispered. After I eat burritos, even I like the way they smell.

Jake gave Casey a playful shove. That is so disgusting. I don’t even think I want to know you right now.

Casey’s expression grew serious. What about this smell?

Jake grew excited, trying to come up with words to express how the smell made him feel, but everything paled to the sensations that flooded his body. I don’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t like anything I could compare it to. I can still smell it now, but it’s faint. I’ve got this urge to track it down and… He raked his fingers through his hair. I don’t know, own it? Keep it safe? It makes my brain itch.

Jake waited for Casey to make a smartass comment, which was his norm. His eyes went wide when Casey stepped in front of him, crossed his arms, and gave a gentle smile.

If you need help, bro, I am totally in.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. You believe me?

Casey seemed shocked. You’re not a good liar. Even Professor Ashcan knew you were full of shit. If you say it’s true, of course I believe you.

Jake’s face heated. Thanks. Seriously. It means a lot to me for you to say that.

Well, we can talk about it as you give me a ride home. Casey’s lips curled into a smirk. "And just so you know, I did have burritos for lunch."

Jake was wound tight after he dropped Casey off at his dorm. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change. Heading back to his rented house held no thrill for him. The scent lingered in his mind, poking into deep recesses like a nagging memory that he could not pull up.

The small brick house was dark as he parked in the detached garage. He secured the latch and keyed himself in through the side door. The smell of leftover Hunan beef caused him to wince. He cursed the fact he had left it sit out for a day and a half and that it wasn’t exactly appealing anymore. He emptied the contents of the plate into the trash, rinsed the dish, then tied up the garbage and took it outside.

The sound of snapping branches caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. His property was on a secluded street and surrounded by a large wooded area, so the sounds of animals in the night weren’t unexpected, but this was different. Jake could feel eyes on him. He tossed the bag in the can and rushed back into the house, before he slammed the door and bolted it. Jake’s heart pounded an erratic beat.

You’re being stupid, he grumbled aloud. There wasn’t anything out there. You’re just being paranoid. Still, his skin crawled.

A warm shower didn’t help alleviate the stress. Jake felt on edge, creeped out. The tips of his fingers throbbed, causing him to rub his hands together in an attempt to soothe them. A bang on the door made Jake nearly jump out of his skin. He picked up a baseball bat and stalked to confront whoever was there. He pulled the door open and breathed a sigh of relief at Casey’s shriek.

Dude, what the fuck?

Were you here about a half hour ago playing around? Jake snapped.

Casey blinked. Uh. Not that I know of. Dude, you okay? You seem fidgety, even for you.

Jake sighed and stepped back so Casey could come inside. Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.

Casey shrugged. "Con has a chick over, and I don’t feel like watching them suck face. The last time he actually did it while I was trying to sleep. Girl he was with could have been a porn star the way she was moaning and yelling out some dude’s name."

Jake snickered. She wasn’t even yelling Connor’s name?

Nah. Didn’t seem to bother Con, though. He just kept banging away. I can say one thing about my roommate, he’s single-minded when he wants something.

The tension drained from Jake as Casey kept up a constant stream of banter. Within an hour, he was rolling on the floor, laughing at the crazy stuff his best friend came up with. When the clock in the kitchen chimed two, Casey got up and stretched. Damn. That was quick. I should get back to the dorm. I’m hoping it’s safe and doesn’t reek of jizz like the last time.

Jake was suddenly desperate not to be alone. You could stay the weekend, he blurted. I mean if you want. Or I could run you home. We’ve got a bye, so no game until next week. We can hang out.

Casey eyed him warily. You okay? You’ve been so…

Weird?

Nah, you’re that every day. Today you seem really on edge. Does it have something to do with that smell from earlier?

Jake thought about telling Casey how he’d felt right before his arrival. He dismissed it as overactive imagination, though. Nah, I’m fine. Offer to stay is open. Spare room is all yours. Despite Jake telling himself it was all in his head, he prayed Casey would stay.

Sure, man. I got nothing else going on. With my luck, Con-man will be going at it all night. Say what you want about him, the jerk has the stamina of a stallion. You know, he’s not that discriminating in who he sleeps with, maybe I could set the two of you up.

Jake scrubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah, no. First off, ew. Second, ew, I wouldn’t touch Connor with your dick."

Casey looked affronted. I’m hurt, man. I’ll have you know, my dick works perfectly fine, thank you.

Jake snorted. I’ve no doubt. You give it plenty of one-on-one attention.

Casey smacked Jake in the arm. Douche. Yeah, I’ll stay the night. This time try to stay in your own room, okay? I don’t want to wake up with you in my bed claiming you’d been sleepwalking, Casey grumbled, doing the whole finger quotes thing.

"Once. I did that once. We were like eight! And I was sleepwalking. Like I’d ever go to bed with you."

Yeah, you know you want me. I can’t blame you. Even I think I look damn fine.

Jake choked back a laugh. Someone should. Look, I need to get an early workout in. I’ll see you in the morning. If you get up first, remember to start the coffee. And would it kill you to make breakfast?

Casey held up his left hand and waggled it around. Do you see a ring here? No? I ain’t your woman. Or man in your case. I’ll do the coffee, because I need it more than I need to breathe, but you get your own damn breakfast.

Despite the words, Jake knew