Above an Alpha Ch. 03

"Trent!" she screamed.

"Leah!" he moaned.

"Trent-"

"Leah!" he said again. "Take it!"

"Trent?"

"Leah, take it! Take it! Eat the hamburger!" Trent wailed, grinding his hips... into the air, as new laughter broke out in the cells. He woke now, noticing Greg was standing outside the cell, shaking his head in a confused combination of disgust and horror.

"What the fuck, Trent? What. The. Fuck." Greg announced.

Eyes wide, Trent hurried to find his glasses and to straighten himself, falling off his bunk in the process. "I'm sorry; I must have fallen asleep there for a moment." Getting to his feet, Trent added, "I apologize for that. Was there something I could help you with?"

Greg stared at him; disturbed enough that he almost forgot why he had come down to the basement in the first place. "Uh... I thought you'd want to know, the alpha is taking his mate tonight -- claiming her, the old fashioned way. So you better start working on your apology for trying to suggest she was yours. --That is if you ever want to get out of here." Greg turned as if that was all he had to say.

"What?" Trent's anguished whimper actually cut through the various laughs and chatter of the other prisoners. "She accepted him?" The wind was knocked out of his wolf; how could she accept anyone else? His world had ended. His life was meaningless.

He was nothing.

Greg had to work hard not to smile now. He had him. He turned back to the sad omega in the cage. "Nope. Not really. He tried wooing her, but she's not interested. She's too terrified of wolves to accept any werewolf."

On the other side of the room, Moe, Luis and Bartok looked at each other in confusion. Leah was NOT afraid of wolves. --If anything, she had been friendlier to them in wolf form the few times she had seen them that way. All three stood, listening to Greg's words more intently now.

Greg continued, "So, rather than draw things out, he's just going to force the mating. --Becoming a werewolf and being mated usually solves the whole independent woman problem."

The wolf inside Trent that had been dying a moment ago, froze. The alpha was going to force a mating? On Leah?

Oh hell no.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Greg had been working so hard to contain the giggles that threatened to erupt when he observed Trent's sadness, that he didn't notice immediately the anger coming off of Trent in waves. But Greg found himself suddenly stumbling a few steps back, and wondering why it happened, he looked up at Trent in wonder. He was shocked to find Trent seething, hands balled up into fists in his cell. --This was actually what Greg wanted, for Trent to get angry. But he hadn't expected to sense any power with the anger. --Not from some measly omega.

Greg had never sensed anything like this from any omega before.

Trent couldn't speak he was so mad.

But Moe could. "What? Your alpha's going to force a mating?"

Everyone was a little surprised Moe cared. --Everyone other than Luis and Bartok.

Moe seemed surprised he had spoken up though himself, then added, "Well, what are we doing here then?" He looked around at the other rogues, before waving a hand at Greg. "What makes your alpha better than us? Why is it we're the ones imprisoned? So we took some women. He's doing the same thing! That doesn't even make sense! Why are we in here if it isn't a crime?"

Greg not expecting this, remained silent.

Trent now found his voice. "He can't. He just can't."

Greg looked back at Trent. He couldn't go back now, no matter the fact that the little omega seemed, suddenly, more. "There's nothing you can do... except..."

"What?"

"If you want, I can bring the alpha news of your challenge," Greg offered carefully.

Elias, sitting in the darkest corner of his cell, laughed. He knew exactly what was happening here. Packs were for hypocrites -- people who talked about family and safety and rules, then would stab you in the back for a little entertainment. Elias was beginning to like his front row seat though.

Trent's wolf answered before he had a chance to even think, "Yes. Thank you. I challenge the alpha. --For the hand of my mate."

Trent said to his wolf, yes, I understand; we must die for the honor of our mate.

His wolf said to him, no, we will not die; we will have our mate and she will have us.

Trent argued, the alpha will defeat us.

No, his wolf said, he will be defeated, because we love her, he will be defeated, because he does not deserve her, we will win, so that she can be free.

Trent couldn't argue with the last; regardless of whether he lived or died, Leah would be free. He would see to that much.

----------------------------------------------

"I saw an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker like this once," Leah said, drinking her wine. She nodded to the humongous bed sitting a foot away from the table where she and Mark were supposed to be eating dinner. "One of the millionaires planned a date next to a bed. It was ridiculous. Patty had a fit."

"I guess I missed that episode," Mark said. "This is really good," he added, popping some of the veal parmigiana in his mouth. Leah, true to her word, hadn't touched any of the food. But she was already through half a bottle of merlot.

"He seemed to think they were going to have sex after dinner," she went on. "Rude, right? First date. Any date, really... I mean, sex shouldn't be an expectation ever."

"But always a hope," Mark replied.

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "Never hope for more than your own hand can't handle."

Mark choked on his veal.

Once he got it down, he wiped his watering eyes, and said, "I'm sorry, but my room is the only place I thought we'd get any privacy. Real privacy."

Leah finished her glass. "Don't think we need it."

He poured her another. "Leah, we should..." he accidentally glanced at the bed, and found himself imagining her naked on it. --But he wasn't going to force her, no -- she was going to want him, seduce him, before the night was through. She would be begging him on her knees for his mark. He'd make sure of that. That's what his dad would have done to a female he wanted. "Er... Find out more about each other. You're the woman I'm destined to be with. You're the mother of my future children."

Leah didn't sip her wine as planned, but put it on the table and pushed it away a moment. "I think we may need to have a conversation about what I am. --Because 'mother of your future children' is probably not it."

"You are. I can smell it."

Leah sighed, began to answer, then paused before saying, "You know what would make a great wedding gift? -Freeing the rest of the women."

"I can't," Mark said, looking away. He didn't understand why she was so adamant. These women would find mates! What else did they need? What business was it of hers, anyway? She was destined for the alpha; she should have been more concerned with him, and their future together.

Leah rested her elbows on the table, intertwining her fingers to hold up her chin. "You have all this power, Mark Mark Masters."

His lips quirked up; he liked that she associated him with power. But he replied, "Stop calling me that."

"That's your name, isn't it? That's how you introduced yourself."

"You're flirting with me," he said, pleased. Yes, this would go according to plan. "That isn't nice unless you're actually interested."

"I am interested; the problem is that I'm only interested in your body and that's not enough for me to mate or marry you -- which means it's definitely not enough for me to sleep with you. Now, if you were the kind of guy to let the women go," she began.

"I can't do that," he growled. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly. You're afraid. You're letting fear guide your actions, and it's making you a bad per... it's making you a bad alpha."

He looked at her -- anger ripping through him like an unexpected sword thrusting up through him belly-button to neck. She had no idea what it was like to be alpha, and even less idea what it was like to be him! Mark was too young to be alpha -- but look! The compound hadn't disintegrated and the pack was still alive!

And it wasn't fair! His dad should have still been there!

It took everything in him not to turn. He gripped the table.

Leah looked at his hands.

Then she looked him in the eye. "Do the right thing. Do the right thing. Do the right thing."

Mark suddenly stood and upturned the dinner table. "I'm not letting the women go! My father didn't do it, and it's a good thing too, because this is the same way he met my mother!" he yelled. "More to the point - I'm the alpha here! Not you, not yet. If you want to be an alpha, well, I can take care of that for you." He stalked toward her.

Leah, of course, was still seated and holding the glass of wine that she saved from destruction in the same blink of an eye that Mark had used to upturn the table.

Mark reached her, and knocked apart her knees with his own, so he could stand between her legs. She took a sip of wine.

"So about those other ladies," Leah began.

He grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her to her feet, dragging her roughly up his body.

She didn't spill her drink.

He kissed her, invasively.

He bent her at the waist, and her still open eyes went to the glass in her hand with worry. "Mark," she tried to say, into his mouth.

"Give in to me," he said, moving his mouth to her neck, kissing sloppily, finding the place where he planned to put his mark.

"Oh, dear -- you don't want to do that," she said, trying to figure out how to get another sip from her vertical glass when her lips were parallel with the floor.

"I do!" Mark moaned, grabbing a breast through Leah's shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Leah said, trying to push away his hand without losing her balance or her glass. "This is not proper first date activity."

Mark groaned. "I can smell that you want me," he said into her hair, smelling her, her... she smelled like luck and courage and smiling in the face of danger. And, yes she was aroused.

"Yeah," she replied, "That's not unusual though. Unless I'm super dehydrated I'm generally good to go. BUT, biology is never a reason to go about procreating. Would you do me a favor and let go? I'm only asking because you're pretty."

"Never," he said, kissing her neck.

"You're so beautiful; I really don't want to fight you, Mark," she sighed, a little depressed.

"Then don't," he ground out, pulling on her shirt. "Just let it happen." Finally he admitted, "Please. I need you."

"If someone imprisoned your sister, Sarah, and never let her see you ever again..."

He took her wine.

"Hey!"

He drank it himself. Then he said, "Get undressed."

"No."

He paused. She sounded like she meant it.

"On your knees," he said.

She laughed outright at that.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"Er... good?"

"I don't want to force you," he added.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes; "Like to see you try," she said. Then she seemed to realize what she said.

He certainly had.

He pinned her to the bed in an instant, grabbed her Doctor Who shirt and tore it open, exposing her breasts. "No!" she screamed, picking up a shred of her ruined shirt. "This was my favorite sleep shirt! It's so soft!"

His hands were already squeezing the handfuls, playing with the tips of them with his thumbs. They began to wake up under his touch, and he felt her begin to relax under him, falling under the haze of sensation he was creating in her. "Nope, nope -- can't do this. Not a good idea," she managed to say as her hips twitched under him. "My sister's going to kill..."

His mouth was on her now, and she melted against the hard, massive arm that now snaked beneath her head, twining fingers in her hair. His other arm played down her ribcage, to her soft stomach, and then the waistband of her purple star pajamas pants.

He pulled away from her and began to slip the pants off.

For a moment she looked like she would let him. Then, with a sigh, she said, "No. No this won't work."

She reached down for the waistband.

He held tight, continuing to pull her pants down.

"Do not rip my purple star pajamas pants, Mark Mark Masters," she said, eyes swirling green riptides. "You don't want what that will bring."

He smiled, and just began to tear the fabric -

She kicked him, and he flew off the bed.

She pulled her pants back up. "I'm sorry," she said, picking up the piece of her shirt, trying to figure out if it was salvageable. "I can't do this. Werewolves, werethings generally, bad idea. --I'm not allowed to tangle with you. Last time this happened... Well, it wasn't so bad for me, but I swore to my sister I wouldn't do were again." She got off the bed, and walked to the closest set of drawers in the room, hoping to find a shirt. "Okay, actually I swore I wouldn't get pulled into any more were-drama, but I think sticking up for the ladies here doesn't really count. I mean, I'm just being a good citizen. --Which really, is sort of the least I can do, considering what I used to be, back in the day. I mean, it's hard to make a change like that. Just flip a switch. But she insisted. --Thinks we're not human anymore, just because..."

She found a shirt -- a plain white hanes tee that actually fit pretty well, considering it was one of Mark's. She looked at him in confusion. "How tight do you wear your shirts?"

Mark was dazed and confused.

Okay, he finally admitted to himself, sitting on his ass where he had landed - Earlene was right; this girl was weird. "What are you?" he asked.

She smiled, rolling her eyes. "That's a long story, Mark Mark Masters... and I don't plan on being here past Sunday."