tagNonHumanBirthRight Ch. 01-03

BirthRight Ch. 01-03


The Patron, the Alphas Alpha

When you're the top wolf on the continent with the backing of the Goddess, how does an enemy topple your kingdom? By challenging you to a fight? No. By changing the rules.

After three hundred years of fighting and service to the Goddess, Silas Knight is the Patron, Alpha to the Alphas on the North American continent. As the top wolf, he fears little and has seen most things. But when he discovers someone or something has been quietly disturbing the natural order of things, he's surprised. Certain human women have the ability to birth fully functioning wolves, and that's a major problem.

Jasmine Bennett has no idea her deceased husband was a wolf shifter or that her twin sons are shifters. Her life changes when she rushes to her son's bedside after he's wounded in Afghanistan and returned stateside. Now her life's in danger because of her ability to give birth to a breed of beings she never knew existed.

Chapter 1

Tight-lipped, Silas Knight stepped off the private jet. Security was tight, as it should be. A costly mistake had occurred. Cameron, his godson, should not be in this military facility. Worse, the officers in charge refused to release him to the shifter hospital in the same area.

His anger buffeted everyone within close proximity. Alphas, who had come from multiple states, bowed in respect as he strode toward the car that would transport him to the hospital.

"La Patron," the local Alpha, Jayden Knight, murmured, head bowed. "Welcome to Bethesda. A car is prepared to take you to the Hospital where a shifter doctor has taken over the case. Cameron's papers are drawn and his transfer is awaiting your inspection."

"Good, thank you." He turned and gazed at all those who had come in deference to his visit and nodded. "I will be here for a few days. We will meet and discuss matters of importance to you soon. I look forward to talking with you."

The somber faces smiled graciously. Their excitement tangible in the stale air of the hangar. In spite of his godson's condition, life went on, and these men had pressing concerns to discuss with him. Keeping his face neutral, he waited until his security detail gave him a nod, and entered the car. Under normal conditions he would have bought his own car. But appearances needed to be maintained.

At least for now.


"I apologize for the mix-up, your Honor," the doctor said in low tones. "It appears the commander in Afghanistan who normally handles these transfers was in the field. Your godson departed with a few other injured soldiers to Germany instead of France. Later, they shipped him here. The attending physicians did not have a chance to look at him. I took over within an hour of his arrival. The head physician wanted to have a team examine him before approving the transfer to the specialty hospital," the smaller man said as he walked alongside Silas.

At the last comment, Silas stopped and raised his brow.

"None of them did," the doctor rushed to say. "I brought in another team who approved the change of venue."

"I am disappointed over such a break-down in the system. We have people in place all over the world to prevent these incidents. Now, I must decide if this happens often. The military notified me because I am listed as his next of kin. Otherwise, I would have had no knowledge of the fuck-up."

The doctor swallowed hard and followed Silas down the hall. Security checked and approved the safety of the hospital floor. Employees glanced in his direction, but quickly averted their eyes. His long-legged stride through the sterile space signaled his frustration. His aides walked a few feet behind him, waiting for a sign to come forward. The door to his godson's room opened as he approached.

His heart stuttered at the sight of bandages and machinery attached to the young man who was like a son to him. One of his greatest sorrows in his long life was his inability to reproduce. Cameron's parents had been his closest friends before his rise as Patron, and he'd promised to look after their son before they died in a tragic hunting accident

"Cameron," he lowered his voice as he spoke, not wanting to frighten the younger man.

At first there was no response. Then a slight movement of his hand signaled he'd heard.

"Son, I am here. We will take you where you can recuperate faster. You need special care, Doctor Fields has already made the arrangements, you will be leaving soon." He moved closer and touched the young man's hand. The slight flinching beneath his confirmed Cameron heard and knew someone, if not him in particular, was with him. For the moment he had to be satisfied with that.

"We will discuss this attraction you have with dangerous situations when you are able. You promised to focus on a family, that means a mate, kids," whispering, he leaned forward. "Pups." He pulled a chair near the bed and sat, hand on top of the injured man's hand and waited.

Within minutes, a gurney entered the room, and the transfer process started. "La Patron, may I have a word with you?" Dr. Fields asked with some hesitation and stepped backward.

Silas nodded.

"There is another case here that has caught my attention. I think you need to know about this one, there is an unregistered shifter -"

"He dies." Silas retorted. "You know the rules."

"I understand, but this is different. The shifter is unusual, he's a hybrid."

"A hybrid?" His brow rose, but his voice remained neutral.

"Yes Sir, I'm not sure what all the components are. Wolf shifter for sure, his mother and aunt are here. They are human, but their scents are not right. I've had their blood tested, and it's positive, she's his mother. What do you suggest I do?"

From the corner of his eye, Silas watched them load Cameron on the gurney while his mind latched onto the comments from the doctor. After living three centuries, a puzzle of any type was too difficult to ignore. "Let me see him, I should be able to identify his bloodline."

"Thank you, Sir," the doctor said, walking behind him and pointing to the room with the wounded man.

Cameron had received a private room. This soldier shared his space with other injured comrades. The stench of suffering and pain assailed Silas' sensitive nostrils, leaving a distinct metallic taste on his tongue. With little effort he blocked out the other scents and focused on the lone male. As he stood near the door, the doctor spoke to the women and gestured to the male on the bed.

The doctor nodded and walked toward him. Together they left the room.

"He is wolf, with a hint of another shifter. It's too small to determine the nature. What is his condition?"

"He has fractures in his legs and arms, took a hit to his head and back. They'd pronounced him dead in Germany. He revived, and is now here. He has had surgery on his arms and legs. They are trying to decide the next step for his head."

Silas shook his head. The possibility of discovery was too great. He wondered how much the human part of the young wolf had kept his dual nature from discovery so far. "Take him with you," he said.

The doctor nodded and left.

"Excuse me Sir, excuse me." A small hand touched his arm before his guards could reach them. He stopped and looked at the brazen human woman. His brow lifted until she removed her hand. Things were becoming more and more interesting.

She stood around five seven, weighed around one hundred forty-five pounds, with large breasts and wide, round hips. Her dark brown eyes and full lips were prominent features in her oval-shaped face. Her flawless creamy complexion, long, thick, black hair covered a side of her face and gave her air of mystery. She was pretty in a willowy kind of way; unfortunately she had no interest in men.

"I watched you talk to the doctor who's dealing with my nephew. Now the doctor wants to move him to another hospital. Why now? Why should my sister agree to this? Who are you?"

Silas couldn't remember anyone ever speaking to him in such an accusatory manner. His first remark would have been cutting. However, he remembered his recent pain at his godson's condition and decided to be civil. At least his version of civil.

He looked down at the woman and spoke in a clipped tone. "According to the doctor, he has a similar condition to my godson who's being transferred for special treatment. Who I am is not important. And it's up to the military to decide what's in that soldier's best interest, not his mother. Don't forget, they own him." He turned and left her standing.

"Smug bastard," the woman whispered.

He waved his hand and kept moving.

Chapter 2

Jasmine Bennett walked down the hallway to her son, Tyrone's, room in the new facility. It was bigger, cleaner, and less crowded. When they'd arrived a couple of days ago, the sheer beauty of the facility had impressed her. The manicured lawn and what appeared to be acres of trees surrounded the red-bricked building with tall glass windows. Overall, the outside of the hospital offered a feeling of hominess. That impression lessened once you stepped inside. Modern equipment, doctors, nurses, and general hospital personnel filled the halls and rooms.

"Did you get any rest?" Renee, her older sister, asked, falling in step with her.

"About as much as you," she teased her sister. Neither had rested much since following the ambulance to this location. The nurse had offered them beds and a place to clean up, which they'd both utilized. Now, they waited while Tyrone underwent a series of tests.

"That much huh? Worried?" Renee asked as they turned a corner.

"Yeah, I know the doctor said he had slight brain damage, but Rone didn't seem too out of it to me yesterday. What did you think?" Jasmine asked as they entered his empty room.

Before Renee could say more, two huge orderlies wheeled Tyrone into the room. Both women stood and watched them transfer Tyrone from gurney to bed. The nurses checked the equipment and left with slight smiles.

"Rone, how you feeling sweetie?" Jasmine asked while gently touching his swollen face. She ached seeing him like this and cursed the military that kept taking from her. Her baby was too young to fight.

He moistened his tongue. Renee picked up his cup and placed an ice chip on his lips.

"Umm thanks Aunty." His voice was just above a whisper.

"You're welcome. Now answer your mom. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been blown up." He grimaced and chuckled.

Jasmine's hand flew to her chest as water filled her eyes. "Baby boy, I'm so sorry you're going through this. What —"

"Ma," he interrupted. "That was... horrible bedside humor on my part." His voice sounded stronger. "Actually, I am feeling somewhat better. They have been treating me with meds that seem to be working. The nerve endings in my fingers and toes are healing." He moved the digits as proof. "All in all, seems I will be around for a little while longer."

Jasmine broke down. Loud gushing sobs tore from her throat, her body shook as the fear of losing her son overcame her.

A nurse rushed into the room, checked the equipment, the patient, and then turned to Jasmine. Renee stroked her back as tears rolled down her face unchecked. The dam had broken with Tyrone's words. He looked better, but he had been on death's door just a few days earlier.

"She'll be okay," Renee said, her voice cracking. "She's just grateful he's recovering."

The nurse nodded, looked at them askance, and left the room.

"Mom... mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I know you hate Rese and I joined the military after what happened to daddy. I can see this is too much for you." He paused as if to gain strength. "Aunty, why don't you take her for a ride, maybe she needs to get away from here for a little while."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jasmine countered, steel in her voice as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Yes, I hate the danger you and Tyrese are under in your line of work. As a mother, a part of my job description is to worry over my children. Your father loved what he did, and that made him who he was. I don't begrudge him that. But never think for one second that because I disagree with your choices, I love you any less. It hurts me to see you in pain. You and your brother are my heart. That will never change, Rone. Never."

He nodded. A slight smile on his face. "Okay. The doctor should be here soon. I want to know his diagnosis. And you haven't called me baby boy since I was seven, thanks." He winked at her.

Her heart lifted as the small gesture. He was trying hard to convince her he was okay. She couldn't accept it, not after seeing him all bandaged up a couple of days ago. Granted, he looked much better now, but he had almost died. Had died and then revived. She was too grateful to take his recovery for granted.

Doctor Fields walked into the room looking over papers attached to a clipboard. "Someone wants answers I hear, let me see what we have." He paused, flipping the pages and reading. "Well, there's good news and not so good news here. First you, young man, are responding to the medications I have prescribed and are progressing very well. There is no apparent damage to your brain. Your back needs more work to insure no skeletal or nerve damage. If all goes well, we will start your treatment and therapy in three days. By then your legs and arms should be functioning enough to determine the extent of the damage to your back." He lifted kind eyes to Jasmine and then Tyrone.

"How long will all of this take, Doc?" Tyrone asked.

"It all depends on your arms and legs. If everything is the way I think, then about six to eight weeks. Maybe less."

"How is he healing so fast? What are you treating him with?" Renee, the skeptic, asked.

Jasmine hadn't thought about it before, but one of the doctors at the VA had said Rone would be down for months. They had been here for a couple of days and Tyrone showed remarkable signs of improvement.

"You aren't giving him experimental drugs are you?" Jasmine asked, voicing a new fear.

The doctor walked over to the IV, and glanced at the writing before answering them. "No Ma'am, this hospital specializes in severe trauma cases, we have fewer patients and place all our energies on them getting better. Your son is in good hands." His soft-spoken words offered the comfort she desperately needed.

"Thank you," she murmured as he left the room.

"I'm glad you're doing better," Renee said while bending down to kiss his forehead.

"I'm glad you came, Aunty. It's good seeing you. Tell Mandy hi for me when you talk to her."

"You bet, speaking of which, I need to call her to check and see how the business is going. I'll be right back." She left the room, cell phone in hand.

"Mom, how long are you going to be here?" He looked out into the hall and then back at her.

"Until you're much better." She eyed him with determination. "Much better, so don't count on me leaving anytime soon."

He grinned.

His boyish smile wrenched at her heart. She longed to take him in her arms, hold tight and rock him like she'd done when he was little.

His smile fell away as he looked into the hall. She noticed and turned to look in the hall. It was empty. Frowning, she turned back to him.

The contemplative look on his face concerned her. "What is it?" She didn't mean to sound worried, it was just hard to sit back, helpless.

Shaking his head, he smiled. But this one didn't meet his eyes. "Nothing, just thinking about things. Have you heard from Rese?"

Recognizing the change of subject, she let it pass and answered. "Not yet. I left him a message and so did your Aunt. I hope to hear from him sometime today." A chill skittered down her back and she pulled her sweater closer. "Are you cold?"

"No, Ma'am. I'm warm." He picked up the remote.

Sitting back in the large, comfortable chair, she picked up her purse and pulled out her electronic reader. The earphones came out next. She didn't bother hiding her grin when he zeroed in on a drama television program. Slipping the ear buds into her ears, she turned on her reader and tuned out the noise in the room.

Engrossed in the story, she felt a chill down her arms. She glanced at Tyrone. He'd straightened on the bed and appeared to be at attention even though he lay on the bed. She frowned. Pulling out the ear buds, she started to ask him a question. That's when she heard someone's footsteps leaving the room.

Confused, she looked at him again. He stared at the door without blinking. Alarmed, she ran to the bed and shook him. It took a few shakes and yells before he blinked.

"Ma. It's okay. Don't cry. I'm okay." His voice lowered into a crooning sound. She had no idea she was crying. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

"But... but you didn't respond. It was like... like you didn't hear me." She sucked in a breath, hoping her trembling would stop. Her heartbeat wouldn't slow down and she tried not to become hysterical. But she'd never before seen him in a trance or whatever it was he'd been in.

He placed his hand over hers, looked her in the eyes and spoke. "Mom, you're overreacting. I'm fine. It was nothing."

She jerked back as though he slapped her. "Are you... are you kidding?" She snatched her hand from his. "You must be joking. How the hell..." She stood up and walked off to the wall. This boy just told me I was overreacting. He's lost his mind. Calm down? Where was Renee?


Without looking at him, she threw her arm back and held up her hand.

He remained quiet.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled to slow her heartbeat. She visualized the boys when they were small. The twins had been a loving handful, but they'd filled her long days and nights. Now they were grown, and she was overreacting. She pushed down the anger that threatened to choke her.

Renee was right.

She needed to do something with her life. Maybe go back to school, take up a hobby, do something so she wouldn't overreact. Damn it.

She spun and stared at him. "I can't believe you said I overreacted."

He squirmed beneath the sheet. "Maybe that was the wrong word, but Ma, I'm okay. See?" He sat straighter.

"How the hell does that prove anything?" She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but he pissed her off and in a few minutes she would be overreacting.

The devilish grin he sprouted was reminiscent from when he was a young boy trying to escape a punishment. "It doesn't. I just didn't know what else to say to keep you from going off on me."

She stared at him and started laughing. "You were close to the line. Don't do that. I want you to get well, not make you worse."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said in a meek tone.

"So what happened?" She returned to the side of the bed just in time to see his face shutter closed.

"Nothing. Just a daydream." He didn't look at her.

"Tyrone Bennett."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You know the penalty for lying to your mama, right?"

He released a long, drawn out sigh. "Yes. But I can't tell you."

"Why didn't you just say that? You think I'd try to make you tell me everything? You're grown and entitled to your secrets. Everybody got secrets. I'm concerned that's all."

"I'm sorry. I'm not up to par. Could you get the nurse in here, I need something for pain."

Her stomach dropped. "If I left you alone for a while would you still need the pain medication?" she asked in a soft voice.

"No." His voice rose, and then he gave her a sheepish grin as if afraid to admit he wanted his mama. "I'm glad you're here. My side is sore and I want to sleep. I can't do that without the drugs. Have you eaten?"

The change in topics threw her for a loop. "What?"

"Have you had anything to eat? You or Aunt Renee?"

She thought back and realized she hadn't had anything since early that morning. "I can't remember and I don't know about Renee. I'll ask her when she comes back."

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