The Alpha's Search (The Craven Trilogy, #1)
Read The Alpha's Search (The Craven Trilogy, #1) Online
Authors: Natalie Shaw
Tags: #paranormal, #paranormal romance, #werewolves, #werewolf, #shapeshifter, #shape shifter, #shifters, #shifter romance
The Alpha's Search
The Craven Trilogy, Volume 1
Natalie Shaw
Published by Natalice Publishing, 2014.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE ALPHA'S SEARCH
First edition. July 1, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 Natalie Shaw.
Written by Natalie Shaw.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Part 1 - Year: 2014 | Chapter 1
Part 2 - Year: 1974 | Chapter 12
Part 3 - Year: 2014 | Chapter 17
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H
is breath caught in his chest as he edged a little to one side to get a better view. He had to be careful—he didn't want her to spot him—not yet. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, and she looked not a day older than the last time they were together even though it was now forty years since she'd disappeared.
He'd spent the last four decades searching for her—now that search was over.
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“J
ackie! Jackie! Wake up!”
I moved deeper into the cave. Something or someone was ahead of me in the dark—I'd heard their footsteps. I knew I should turn back, but something was driving me forward.
“Jackie! Wake Up!”
The footsteps were louder now. Whatever or whoever was in there with me, was heading my way. The doubts began to surface. I glanced back the way I'd come, but I could see only blackness.
Two spots of light appeared directly in front of me. No, wait—they weren't lights—they were eyes.
“Jackie wake up! You're having a nightmare! Jackie!”
I opened my eyes to find a familiar face only inches from mine.
“Are you okay?” It was Alison—my flatmate.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position.
“Jeez Jackie. You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” I looked around the bedroom—half expecting to see someone or something else. To my relief, we were alone.
“I could hear you from in the kitchen,” Alison said. “I thought someone was killing you.”
“I'm okay.” I checked the room again.
“Are you sure? You don't look okay and you certainly didn't sound it.”
“It was just a nightmare.”
“Same one?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you get a good look at
it
this time?”
I shook my head. “Only its eyes.”
“You need to stop reading that shit! Alison nodded towards the book on my bedside cabinet.
After she'd gone back to the kitchen, I took another look around the bedroom—just to be on the safe side. I was all alone except for Bobby. Unlike Alison, I didn't have a huge collection of soft toys—just the one. Bobby the bear was on the bedside table. Next to him was the book, or as Alison had so delicately put it: '
that shit
', which I'd been reading the previous evening. The bookcase was full of similar titles. I loved to read and rarely watched TV. Three of the four shelves of the bookcase were filled with my books. The other shelf had a handful belonging to Alison although I'd never actually seen her read anything—unless you counted celebrity magazines. I'd chosen my current book, which was entitled 'Fated', on the strength of its beautiful cover. Ninety per cent of my reading was in the same genre. I loved stories about shifters. As far back as I could remember which admittedly wasn't that far, I always had. Needless to say, Alison didn't share my passion. I'd tried several times to convert her to the genre, but she thought the stories were ludicrous.
“Coffee's up!” Alison called from the next room.
“Thanks.” I had to give Alison her due—she made great coffee.
“Are you okay now?” She'd painted the toe nails on her left foot pink, and was now painting those on her right foot red.
When I didn't reply, she looked up to find me staring at her feet. “What's up?”
“Different colours?”
“Yeah. Looks great eh?”
“Hmmm?”
“You wait. Everyone will be doing it soon.”
“Hmmm? Not so sure about that.”
Alison didn't need my approval. She was the most self-assured person I'd ever known.
“Are you seeing Tom today?” I asked.
“Don't mention his name.”
“Whoops. Sorry. What happened this time?”
“I dumped him.”
“Again?”
“This time I mean it.”
“You meant it last time and the time before and...”
“All right! This time it's different.”
“What's he done?”
“I was late getting to Destiny last night.”
Alison was always late—it was her forte.”
“When I got there, he was all over Katie Wells.”
“Who?”
“You don't know her. She used to be at college with me. She's a slapper.”
“What happened?”
“I told her to sling her hook before I rearranged her teeth.”
Not one for subtlety is Alison.
“Then I told Tom to go fuck himself.”
Like I said. Subtlety—not Alison's thing.
“Maybe he was just talking to her?”
“He was eye fucking her. The bastard!”
“So it's over?”
“It will be if he isn't here by this afternoon. And he better be on his hands and knees begging for my forgiveness.”
I'd never understand Alison and her love life.
*********
A
s I stared at the computer screen, I tried to remember why I'd thought working at a travel agency would be an interesting career. Autumn was traditionally the slow season. So far that day, we'd had less than a dozen people through the door, and it was almost lunch time. Half of those had been brochure collectors who'd refused my offer of assistance.
“I'm taking my lunch now,” Sarah shouted. “Will you be okay on your own?”
I glanced around the deserted shop. “I think I'll manage.”
Dexter Travel insisted two people be on duty in the shop at all times, but that morning Candice had called in sick. We'd called head office who'd promised to organise a temp, but so far, no show.
The shop was located on a small retail park just out of town. It was ideal for me because it was only a few miles from my flat. To help pass the time, I'd decided to refill the brochure racks. I'd no sooner stepped into the stockroom than I heard the chime—a customer—at last. Before I stepped back into the shop, I glanced at the full length mirror that was attached to the back of the stockroom door. I hated the uniform which we were expected to wear. Red! Red blouse, red skirt, red shoes. Dexter Travel didn't do
classy
. They preferred an 'in-your-face' look which was why the skirts were an inch shorter than was comfortable, and why the blouses showed a little too much cleavage for my liking.
Strange. The shop was empty, but I was sure I'd heard the chime. I walked over to the main door and looked through the glass panel. Maybe someone had pushed the door open, but then changed their mind. There was no one within ten metres of the entrance, so I turned away from the door.
“Shit!” I'd said it before I could stop myself. Sitting at my desk, in the seat opposite mine, was a tall man with Jet black hair. “You made me jump.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” he said.
“I didn't see you come in.”
“You are open, aren't you?” He glanced around at the deserted shop.
“Errr. Yes, of course. It's been a quiet morning. How can I help you?”
I walked over to the desk and took my seat opposite him.
“Jackie?” He was staring at my name badge.
“Jackie Coleman.”
He nodded. “You don't look like a Jackie.”
“Oh?” I was beginning to wish Sarah hadn't left me alone. There was something about this guy. “Did you have anywhere in mind?”
“In mind?”
“For your holiday?”
“Not really. Where would you recommend?”
“Me? Errr. It depends. Will it be a family holiday?”
“No. Just me.” He hesitated for the briefest moment. “Maybe one other.” His gaze was fixed on my eyes, so I looked down at the computer screen.
It wasn't unusual to get customers, who had no fixed idea of where they wanted to go on holiday, so why was I so flustered?
“Where do you usually take your holidays?” I asked. When I looked up, I thought I saw a smile flit across his face, but then it was gone.
“I don't. This will be my first.”
“Never been on holiday?”
He shook his head. “What would you recommend?”
I glanced at the door—willing another customer to come into the shop.
“The States are always popular,” I said.
“Have you been there?”
“Yes, a couple of times. New York and L.A.”
“You must get to travel a lot,” he said.
I hated small talk. I already had him down as a time-waster.
“More than most, I guess.”
“What attracted you to this job?”
Most definitely a time-waster. Still, I had to appear polite.
“It was more by chance than anything else. I saw the job advertised and something about it appealed to me.”
“Did you travel a lot before you took this job?”
“Errr. I'm not sure.” The question had caught me off-guard.
He looked confused. I'd have to explain my non-answer.
“I have amnesia,” I said. “I don't remember anything before my accident.”
“Really? How interesting. Sorry—
interesting
is the wrong word—I didn't mean to sound flippant. It must be very difficult for you. You don't remember anything at all before then?”
“No.” I really didn't want to get into this discussion.
“How old were you when...
it
happened?”
“I don't know for sure, but the doctors told me they thought I was somewhere between nineteen and twenty-one. I settled for twenty.”
“You don't look much older than that now.”
“It was five years ago. I'm twenty five, but thank you.”
“I thought memory loss was only temporary.”
“Sometimes it is. The doctors thought mine would return, but so far—nothing.”
“That must be very difficult. What happened to cause it?”
“No one knows.” I hated talking about my amnesia, so tried to get the conversation back on track. “We have a number of general brochures on holidays in the States. Maybe you'd like to make a start by looking at those?”
“That would be very helpful. Thank you.”
Not all of the brochures were on display, so I headed straight for the stockroom. I planned to give him one of each, and hope he'd be on his way.
“This should give you a good idea of what's—”
I stopped dead in my tracks. The seat he'd occupied was now empty. I glanced around the shop, but there was no sign of him.
“Hello?” I felt foolish calling out—there was nowhere he could be. He must have left, but why hadn't the door bell chimed?
“Have you been busy?” Sarah asked when she returned from lunch.
“No.” I shook my head. “Only the one customer.”
“Did you make a sale?”
“No. He was a time waster.”
*********
I
t had been a long, boring day at work. I was glad to be back home.
“Did you and Tom make up?” I asked.
“Don't ever mention his name again.” Alison was wearing her white towelling dressing gown. Her wet hair was dripping all over the carpet.
“That's a
no
then?”
“That little shit had the nerve to phone to say he was dumping me. Dumping me? I told him he was too late—I'd already dumped him. He's such a shit head.”
“Oh? I'm sorry—I guess? Are you going out tonight?”
“
We're
going out tonight. You and me.”
“No. No way. I'm shot at. I just want to stay in with a giant bar of chocolate and my book.”
“Unlucky. You and I are going to Destiny, and we're going to pull.”
“Alison, I—”
“No excuses. You owe me.”
“No I don't. Can't you go with someone else? What about Kathy?”
“Kathy's all loved up with that spotty guy from her office. You and me are going to find two handsome, hunky guys, and we're going to fuck their brains out.”
“I can't. I'm too knackered.”
I should have known that arguing with Alison was a waste of time. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. Surprisingly, by the time I'd eaten dinner, and had a leisurely bath, I was more up for it than I'd expected to be. It was ages since I'd had a good night out. I wasn't optimistic about finding a handsome, hunky guy. My luck with the opposite sex over recent months (or was it years now) had been less than spectacular. I had a terrible habit of picking losers.
