The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas) (2 page)

Using
her hands to touch everything as she walked in baby-steps, she made her way
through the room. She started to make out shapes: a big, upholstered chair in
the corner by the door, a chaise sofa on the opposite corner with a rug in
between and a few small tables with lamps that, when she turned the switch,
refused to turn on. On another wall, she found a bookcase.

The
male voices came closer, the words muffled. Her heartbeat kicked up into a fast
tempo and she moved faster, fumbling to find a weapon. A book fell off, slamming
into the floor like a small explosion and she jumped at the sound, letting out
a little scream.
Get a hold of yourself, Alicia!
Finally, she felt a gap
in the shelf where there were no books. Her hand closed around something. She
squinted at it. It was some kind of little statue not even a foot tall but it
felt solid and heavy in her hands. Maybe even a trophy.

She
heard two voices as she raced to hide behind the door. The door handle jiggled
and her breath caught. This was it. Someone was coming in here.

She
raised the little statue above her head, making sure the door would hide her
when it opened, and then she waited.

She
did not have to wait long.

The
door unlocked with a metal click and swung inward. No light entered which meant
they were keeping her from seeing whoever came inside; no hallway light,
nothing. A heavy footstep, another, and then the weight settled as someone
stopped.

He
must be wearing boots or be very fat because he sounded heavy.

A
thick shadow stood in the door like a black mass. She couldn’t discern much in
the few seconds she saw him but she catalogued what she did see: heavyset
shoulders, broad, tall at over six feet, feet braced apart, flannel shirt,
sleeves rolled up, hair thick but not long. She could almost make out a
spattering of gray though her eyes could be playing tricks on her.

She
struck. As hard as she could, she yanked her arms down letting her muscles burn
and connected with his head.

Then
the consequence of what she just did struck her because he did not topple to
the ground as she’d seen people do in movies. Heck, he didn’t even make a
sound, not so much as a peep or a grunt.

No,
but he did turn around and not slowly, but fast as a fox grabbed the statue out
of her hand and tossed it across the room. Before she could react, the big man
grabbed her by the arms and pushed her away from the door.

“We’ll
have to tie her up,” a new voice said.

Alicia
stiffened for two different reasons. For one, another younger-sounding man came
into the room, cursing as he bumped into something.

“Yeah,”
the big one agreed.

And
two, the big man who spoke his one-word reply had a unique voice unlike
anything she had ever heard.

The
younger man came at her, grabbed her by the arms. Alicia didn’t hesitate to
shove him away. The man was young, maybe in his twenties. He had a skinny body
and when she pushed he stumbled back a few steps.

The
man turned to the bigger, scarier man still shadowing the door. “She won’t let
me.”

The
air froze at his words. Alicia’s eyes bugged at his ridiculous statement. “Of
course I won’t let you, you idiot.”

The
man, whose skinny body felt more like that of a boy’s, grabbed her again, this
time getting behind her and wrapping her in an impenetrable bear hug.

“Try
not to hurt her,” said the man with the voice. What had happened to him to get
a voice that sounded like that—like he’d had his windpipes crushed before?

As
she fought in his hold, her eyes squinted to find focus on the man in charge,
but she could no longer make out his impression. He’d gone.

“You
should be doing this,” the boy said, venom lacing his words. Was he mocking the
big man?

“Please
let me go.” She tried begging; it was worth a shot.

The
one holding her didn’t say a word, but his grip did tighten around her with his
answer—a resounding no.

Suddenly
hard footsteps were coming straight for her as the big man came back into the
room. She fought harder, pushing back and shoving her hips, anything, to find
purchase.

“Hold
her tight,” the man rasped.

“Don’t—”
was all she got out before a screech and rip sound shut her up. Was that...?
Cold, sticky tape was clamped over her mouth. Yes, yes it was. Duct tape.

Panic
reared its ugly head; she bucked, putting her whole body into it and knocked
the boy off her. Without hesitating, she ran for the door, but didn’t make it
far as her shoe caught the edge of a table and sent it tumbling over with a
crash. She lurched through the air arms flailing, feeling nothing but empty air
for bottomless moments, then her fingers trailed over a hard, flat wall and she
flung herself toward it.

A
moment later, he caught her. The big man, the man in charge. He did not say a
word as he jerked her arms behind her back and began tying them. The material
was scratchy and firm and she closed her eyes with the realization that she was
now bound by rope and gagged with tape. A hollow, cold sensation settled in her
chest and spread out to encase her limbs in a heavy, drugging feeling.

With
a jerk on the ropes, he walked her backward. Even close up she couldn’t make
out his features. Just a tall, strong looking man. He pushed her back and she
fumbled as her knees hit the sofa. She knew what he wanted and this time she
gave in and sat.

He
moved away from her. The room was so dark that even with her eyes as adjusted
as they could be, she only knew he moved because the air around her became less
stifling.

Her
nostrils flared as she breathed in quick breaths through her nose.

The
boy came back and she could no longer feel the bigger man’s presence. Had he left
or was he lurking in the shadows? The boy fidgeted with the lamp on the table beside
her. She heard a distinct metallic sound and glared at the boy in the darkness.
It sounded very much like he was screwing in a light bulb. So that’s what they’d
done, but why?

He
turned the switch. At once, her eyes blinked fast to adjust to the new light.
Then she took in everything about the boy and the room. He was about
twenty-one, so younger than she was. He wore a pained grimace, had golden brown
eyes, and shaggy blond hair.

“Mmmfff!”
At her failed attempt to speak through the tape, he laughed at her.

“I’m Will
in case you’re wondering. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. I was just supposed
to put the bulb back in the socket to give you some light. It ain’t much but it’s
better than nothin’.”

Her
eyes flared. Why remove the bulbs? To scare her, Sarah, and others like them?
What kind of freak was this alpha? Only a deranged, perverted creep would go to
such lengths.

He
looked back at the door. “Good, I hear him coming. Now, if I can give you some
advice—” He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. When she
could only glare, he continued. “He won’t hurt ya, and it wouldn’t hurt to beg
to go home.”

She
glared so hard she could feel her eyeballs squishing. What in the world?

Boot
steps sounded. The light was so dim and the room so large that it barely
reached the doorway leaving it mostly in shadows. She could just make out an
outline outside the door of a hallway which looked like a house.

Will
gave her a mock bow then headed to the door to meet the Strange Man.

“I’m
goin’ out. If you need somethin’ talk to Jo or Hart.” This he said to the
Strange Man who seemed to stand perfectly in the shadows so she couldn’t see
his face.

However,
she could see the flannel of his shirt more clearly—red, green, and brown lines
and boxes. He also wore a pair of torn, worn looking blue jeans with boots
caked in crusty mud.

He
took a step into the room and closed the door behind him. Alicia fidgeted in
her seat then scanned the room for any possible means of escape but saw none.
No windows, only one door which he blocked.

He
walked toward her carrying something in his hands which rattled. Sucking in a
sharp breath, she jerked backward nearly falling off the sofa as he approached.

Only,
he never came close enough for her to make out anything about his face let
alone close enough for him to touch her. From what she could see he had to be
older than her, maybe late thirties or early forties with dark hair, but he
moved out of the light so fast she couldn’t be sure whether it was long or
short, black or brown.

He
set a tray on the coffee table in front of her but stayed on the other side of
it, away from her. She thanked god for the small miracle. Peering at what he
brought, she frowned. The motion pinched the skin around her lips, pulling the
tape tighter at what she saw. He’d brought her a glass of water, a cup of hot
tea, and a sandwich.

Really?

She
tried to meet the Strange Man’s eyes but failed to as he started moving around
the coffee table toward her. At once her eyes darted for his face but he kept
it averted, the light never quite catching it. He moved behind her chair and
when she tried to turn to keep him in her sights, he touched her shoulder to
keep her facing forward. With that one, firm touch she froze.

Warm
fingers trailed across her cheek and her blood ran to ice. With a quick snap,
he ripped the tape from her mouth.

“Ow!”

Relief
at having the tape gone was met with a fiery burn around her mouth. She could
feel a layer of skin go with the tape. Immediately, heat rose where the tape
had been making her feel like she had a strange sunburn. She licked her dry
lips, wetting them. He cut the ropes binding her wrists next and she hugged
herself. He didn’t give her long to enjoy her newfound freedom before he tied
her wrists in front of her.

“Eat.”
One word and it made her stiffen. What was wrong with his voice? It was too
scratchy, too deep.

“Who
are you?”

He
moved back to the door. In the light she confirmed he was tall, broad framed,
and probably quite muscular. She had an eye for seeing such things since she
made clothes. Proportions, dimensions, and sizes were how she saw clothes. With
some fabric, a little thread, and needle, she could make him a better-fitted
flannel. The one he wore was too long on him, dangling too far down his thighs,
and the collar was too big around his neck as if it was meant for a bigger man.

“Just
eat.”

She
didn’t spare the food another glance. “No.”

When
he turned around she wished he’d come close enough to show her his face. It was
too disconcerting not being able to see the person she was talking to. Besides,
what game was he playing at with all the theatrics?

“I
want you to eat it.”

“Why,
so you can drug me and make it easier on you to do your thing?”

Her
breaths quickened. Oh god, how little control she had here. Face it, she told
herself, you have none. He holds all the cards and right now he’s only showing
you a few of them. She rolled her shoulders to try to ease the tension in them.
Didn’t work.

A
long, eerily quiet minute passed, followed by another before he deigned to
speak.

“You
think you’re here to get hurt?”

She
could not keep her jaw from falling open. “Why else did my alpha tell me I’m so
pretty and send me here to be the new alpha’s…his, your, whatever. Josiah didn’t
offer me up to do the alpha’s dishes, you know. How do you think that sounds to
me?” Anger made her words sharp like snap-fire gunshots.

He
stayed silent as if contemplating her words—or how best to kill her and dispose
of the body. Her family was dead and her alpha had given her up so she’d bet he
could do it easily.

“No
one here will hurt you. Now eat. It was a long trip and they said you wouldn’t
eat.”

Seriously,
that’s all he had to say? He took a seat in the chair behind the closed door.
She sent him another of one of her glares. She was hungry, the food look
downright delicious and smelled even better, but it was his food and damned if
she’d eat it. Or maybe she could just have a nibble.

“You’re
going to watch me eat?”

“Yes.”

She
blinked. That voice…it was so unsettling but interesting at the same time. He
had a voice that raised questions.

She
sniffed the hot drink finding that it smelled like tea so she sipped it, found
it slightly sweetened with sugar. She set it down then waited a few minutes to
see if anything felt odd. She had no idea what she would or wouldn’t feel if
she were drugged but this was her only option.

She
repeated the process with glass of water and sandwich.

A
rough sound, something like a grunt, filled the empty space after several
minutes. “I told you it’s fine.”

“And
I don’t trust you.”

Another
pregnant pause. “I need to ask you some questions.”

He
wanted to ask her questions. She chewed on a bite of the sandwich. This whole
situation was getting more curious by the minute.