Sugar-Free Beta

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Angelique
Voisen

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-924-0

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Karyn
White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or
distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names,
characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Anna, who feeds
me the best sugar-free
treats.

SUGAR-FREE BETA

Wolves of New Haven, 1

Angelique
Voisen

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

It was the pain that woke Jack Lee up. Tendrils of it streaked from his
bandaged left calf and up his thigh, making him whimper. The bandages were
soaked and needed changing, but he couldn’t get up. Not yet at least. Not when
there was something large and heavy lying on top of his chest and breathing
down on him.

Jack had no idea how he got his leg bitten—at least it felt like it was
bitten. Heck, it felt like something with teeth had gnawed into it. He also had
no idea why he was naked under the sheets and why there was a large, reddish
dog lying on top of his chest either.

What the hell happened to him last night? The more he racked at his
brains, the more it hurt to think. He was supposed to catch the last train back
to the Upper Cities, but he’d missed it for some reason. He was on his way to
his motel to pick up his belongings, but he never made it there.

Jack frowned and strained his neck to peer at the room. Clean royal blue
wallpaper and wooden furniture. For some reason, the room smelled of
chocolates, vanilla, and musk. The scattered candy
wrappers
explained the chocolate, but not the other two smells. Vanilla and musk were
decidedly familiar smells, smells he could affectionately associate with a
particular someone, but he couldn’t place who yet.

Jack tried to sit up to have a better view of the room, but a deep
rumble reminded him why he couldn’t. “Get off me, you big—” Jack began, not
bothering to finish.

His heart thudded painfully against his chest, and goose bumps broke
across the surface of his skin. One quick look was enough to tell him that the
beast on top of him wasn’t a dog. For one thing, it was bloody huge. The snout
was long and slender, and probably hid razor sharp teeth. Everything about the
animal’s large but graceful form screamed predator, as if it was specially
built to take down large prey.

Jack couldn’t breathe. This was no dog. It was a damn fine huge wolf,
and he was certain it was no ordinary wolf either. The sight of the animal
wrenched something awful inside him. Something that was hard to swallow—distant
memories of pain, of always cowering and hiding in small corners, and of a
handsome and leering face.

Why couldn’t it be a simple dog? Why did it have to be his own kind?
Looking at the werewolf in front of him, Jack realized that he could never be
like this wolf. He was a submissive wolf and would always remain at the bottom
of any pack hierarchy. He’d always amounted to nothing except a plaything. It
was all coming painfully back to him now.

Jack was chewing on his lower lip when the wolf’s amber eyes opened. He
swallowed, feeling its large paws shift on his chest. It opened its mouth,
revealing an impressive set of teeth, and … it let out a yawn. Jack steadied
himself for an admonishing blow or a rake of claws to remind him of his place,
but it never came.

He’s being extra careful. His paws aren’t even
making a scratch on my human skin.
At that encouraging thought, Jack looked the wolf in the eyes. Instead
of the negative feelings he’d usually associate with dominant wolves, he felt
different towards this big red.

Gathering his wits and courage, Jack said a cheerful, “Good
morning.”
 
He blinked when the wolf
extended its long pink tongue to lick at his cheek. Surprise turned to
annoyance when the wolf continued licking and drool began to drip down his
neck. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if there was drool on the pillows. Good thing
this wasn’t his bed or he would’ve thrown a fit.

“Stop that.” Jack grabbed the scruff of its rich reddish-brown fur,
pulling his face away from its prodding tongue. “Can you get off me? You’re
damn heavy.”

Amber eyes stared at him for a moment.

“Off!” Jack demanded, unsure if the big wolf would listen. To his
surprise, it did. It rolled off him and settled beside him on the large bed,
great head turned towards him. Jack sat up slowly. The wolf flicked its tail to
and fro. Hesitantly, Jack reached out to stroke the fur on its back.

The big red let out a satisfied rumble. Why wasn’t he changing form? Was
he more comfortable in his second form than his human one? Jack was uncertain.
Most dominant wolves usually asserted their rights over their lesser wolves,
but this wolf was acting more like a dog than a wolf.

Most dominant wolves usually asserted their
rights over their lesser wolves.
Jack licked his lips. Did Jack belong to this wolf now? Strangely, he
didn’t dread the thought. In fact, a thrill of excitement shot through him at
the prospect of finally belonging to someone who could treat him right. Would
the wolf take him though? That was another question worth pondering, but Jack
found he was eager to convince the other wolf of the benefits of keeping him.

A nudge on his injured leg parted Jack from his thoughts. Catching sight
of those large jaws close on his calf, he yelped. Fear stabbed through him
again, reminding him that a wolf would never be a dog.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jack tried to push the red wolf back, but
it continued nudging at his wound. His fear receded when he realized the wolf
wasn’t planning on biting him.

“All right.
I get it.” Jack let out a huff and began to
unwrap
the bandage. Once the wound was exposed, the wolf
leaned its great head and began to lick at the bite. Admittedly, the bite
looked horrible. Like the
world’s
biggest dog bite in
fact. Pain stung Jack briefly as the wolf’s tongue touched the open wound.

“Look, this isn’t helping—” Jack stopped short. Was it his imagination,
or did the wound hurt less? He could only stare as the wolf continued to lap at
the blood. No. It wasn’t his imagination. By some miracle, the wound was
closing.

When only a pink scar remained, the red wolf took its place beside him
once again.

“Aren’t you going to change, you big dog?” Jack had a sneaking suspicion
he knew the human form this particular wolf wore, but he wasn’t a hundred
percent certain. Was it possible that the man beneath the wolf was shy? It was
just like him.

“You saved me last night, didn’t you?” Jack asked. The red wolf looked
at him with what he suspected were sleepy eyes.

It opened its large jaws again and let out a yawn. Seeing it close its
eyes, Jack sighed. There was no helping it. He’d have to wait for the wolf to
fully wake up. Maybe then he could confront the man behind the fur, and show
him just how much he was worth keeping.

****

24 hours earlier

Derrick Starr stared at the caramel frosted cupcake behind its shiny
glass casing, and it mutely stared back at him. The brown cake looked moist and
dense. The caramel frosting on top of it looked rich and equally tempting.
Sheathed under his oversized shirt, his stomach grumbled unhappily. His upper
lip trembled. Derrick wanted that cupcake so badly, even more badly than he
wanted a new mate.

It was just too bad that he wasn’t getting either the cupcake or a mate
anytime soon.

Despite being just in his mid-twenties, Derrick had just found out he
had type two diabetes. He knew he should really just avoid coffee shops,
bakeries, cafes, and candy stories altogether so he didn’t have to look at
anything sweet. As for finding a mate, being a somewhat porky and hairy
diabetic Beta werewolf wasn’t exactly honey in anyone’s pot.

Jared, his previous Gamma partner, had told Derrick that if his human
self wasn’t horrible enough, his wolf was practically a “brown sausage on
stumpy legs”. A brown sausage that ran on sugar rather than fresh meat, and
fresh meat was the only thing real werewolves ate.

That last comment had stung. Stung even more than the verbal abuse he’d
had to endure from the lesser wolf.

He was a Beta, damn it, and if he were a real, dominant Beta, he would
have smacked the cocky and attractive Gamma around to remind him of his place.
Being a Beta, second to an Alpha, should have stood for something in wolf
society, but he seldom exercised his power. Derrick couldn’t help it. He was
ashamed of his body, and ashamed of both his human and animal halves.