Taking the Beta Male

"Hardly. As far as my Aunt Linda can tell, he never heard a shot fired in anger. She's my dad's sister, the historian of the family. Give her half a chance and she'll bore you to death about which Smith died of dysentery, and which one died of cholera, and which one in childbed, and which one in a blizzard, and which one somehow managed to die of old age.

"But that's just the thing. History isn't made of kings and presidents and generals and all that crap. It's made up of ordinary people. Give me one man, and I can't do shit. Give me a thousand, and I can build a cathedral. Give me a million, and I can end slavery, or give women the right to vote, or send a man to the moon."

She nodded slowly. It was, she thought, strikingly similar to what Graham had been trying to accomplish, in his own way. A world where the pack would not be held under the uneasy control of one dominant alpha, but would work together, for the good of all.

A world which had been consigned to a might-have-been with Graham's death.

She was suddenly tired, and wiped her lips with a napkin. "I think I'm going to go to bed early," she said. "What we saw up at your father's place..." she trailed off. "I'm worried. The way Tate is taking advantage of the ignorance of those kids...he's going to get someone killed. Maybe a whole lot of someones. For centuries, we've survived by hiding. There's not enough of us to challenge humans, even if we wanted to. And most of us don't. He's combining the worst of both worlds. Putting us at risk of discovery with no reward."

Calvin nodded. His face was uncharacteristically solemn; the good humor driven out by concern for her. And perhaps for her people. "I'll see you in the morning."

*****

After showering, Laura lay in her bed, her thoughts a scattered whirlwind.

She had done right that evening, that she had to believe. Despite the age-old edict against revealing herself to mundanes, what choice did she have? The only alternative would have been to consign Lowell to the local jail, and possible exposure to people who would never understand him. At least this way she had bought him a temporary reprieve, little though he seemed to appreciate it.

She turned over on the narrow mattress, pulling the quilt tight around her. The windows were closed tonight, as the temperature threatened to drop back below freezing. She ached, with a sudden intensity which was almost painful, to be out in the wild, stalking the wary nightlife, hunting for a meal. Quick, sure-footed rabbit; cautious mouse; or the glorious victory of taking down an elk or caribou, the hot blood flowing into her mouth as she throttled the life from the dying animal.

Suddenly her nostrils flared, catching a familiar scent. Familiar, but at the same time, wholly unexpected. The scent of an aroused male.

Oh, God. I so do not need this.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the tantalizing aroma, but it seeped into her mind, elusive and seductive at the same time. Not the scent of a male shifter, with its hidden undercurrents of violence and danger. Instead, this was safe. Comforting. But no less desirable for all that.

Come to me, it said. I will never hurt you.

No. I don't want this. I don't want you. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

She swung her legs out of bed. A drink of water. That's what I need.

She walked down the hall to the kitchen on silent feet, steadfastly keeping her eyes away from the cracked door of Calvin's bedroom. She almost staggered as she passed his room, the scent so strong it took all her self-control to keep herself from flinging it open.

She pulled a plastic bottle of water out of the fridge, and leaned back against the door in the dark, drinking thirstily. It had been too long since she'd had a man. During her last weeks with the pack, Graham had been too worried about Tate to make love often. And even if he had been in the mood, he had been approaching the time where men start to lose their virility. The gray hairs in his beard hadn't been the only sign of approaching age.

I bet Cal wouldn't be like that. He's only twenty-seven. He could be my lover for decades.

Stop it. You know there is no future for you two. Your worlds are too different.

She sank to the floor, suddenly tempted to burst into tears. Why does God hate me so much? I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't even want it. Every time I have a tiny slice of happiness it gets taken away from me.

Her fists clenched, and it took all of her self-control to stay in human form. She wanted nothing more than to shift and to run. Run far from this town, up into the mountains where everything made sense, and kill something small and helpless to fill the emptiness inside her.

Instead she capped the bottle of water and shoved it back in the fridge, and trudged back towards her room. But as she passed Cal's room for the second time, her dark-accustomed eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Drawn towards the motion, her head turned, and she stopped, motionless.

Oh, my God. He's beautiful.

Eyes closed in silent reverie, he lay on his bed, nude, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, which poured in from the western window. He seemed to shine silver, as if captured moonlight was gleaming through his fragile flesh. One hand was clasped around his cock, slowly stroking. A tiny bead of liquid shone at the tip, and her mouth watered, hungry for the taste. The other hand held a small wad of tissue, and even through the sudden jolt of lust, she couldn't help but give a tender smile. It was so like him, to prepare, even when he was engaged in self-pleasure.

Her voice, when she heard it, startled even her. "You're driving me crazy, you know."

Calvin's eyes popped open, his face filled with a look of comical dismay so profound she nearly laughed. No. Don't laugh. He wouldn't understand. "Laura? Shit! What are you doing?" He scrambled to pull the scattered sheets back up and around him.

She slowly stalked into the room, letting him see her body. Her breasts swayed slightly with her sensual strut. "What am I doing? What are you doing, foolish man? Do you think you could jack off and not have me realize what you were doing? That I couldn't smell your musk? That I couldn't hear the creak of your bed?" She bent over him. Looking him in his eyes, which were wide and white, she whispered, "Who were you thinking of, Cal? Some bimbo on TV? Maybe that weather girl you were drooling over last night? Or was it some of the human cows around town?"

She leaned over until their lips were only inches apart. "Or was it someone else?"

His throat worked as he swallowed. "It was you," he whispered. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. I can't-" He cleared his throat with a raspy noise. "I can't stop thinking about you."

She let her lips curve in a slow, dangerous smile and set her hand on the inside of Calvin's thigh. She couldn't miss the way it trembled under her touch. Inch by inch, it crept up until her palm was pressing against the sac of his scrotum. She lifted his balls in her fingers, weighing them experimentally. Calvin eyed her nervously, and she knew what he was thinking. Had his declaration touched her? Or had it insulted her to the point where she would crush his testes in her hands, leaving him writhing in agony?

"Thinking of me, were you?" She let her voice fill with quiet menace.

"I didn't-"

"Quiet. You're playing a dangerous game, Calvin Smith. And you don't even know the rules." She let her hand slide up the length of his cock. Oh, it was lovely. Just like the rest of him. Not needlessly aggressive, but filled with a quiet male strength which was the match of hers. "Did you know," she went on conversationally, her hand now stroking him, nudging his fingers away, "that wolves mate for life?"

She slid onto the bed beside him. Bending her head, she inhaled his aroma, savoring the clean male scent of him. "What?" Calvin stuttered, then gasped as she licked the side of his shaft.

"This. Be careful, Cal. Be very, very careful. Because once I have this," her hand tightened slightly, her nails pricking his scrotum, "I am not ever letting go.

"You will be mine. Mine and mine alone, until death.

"Do you want that, beta male? Can you live with that? Knowing that this belongs to me? That you are mine, solely and only mine? That if you stray I will geld you as surely as you slice the balls off some poor cat or dog whose owner doesn't want any more puppies or kittens around the house?"

He looked at her, not speaking, for a very long time. His eyes drank in her curves, and she suppressed an urge to pose for him, to make herself look as appealing as she could. His gaze met hers, and she met it firmly, wondering what he saw. At last his hand rose, and brushed her cheek in a gesture of tenderness so pure it made her heart ache inside her chest.

"I love you," he whispered, his gray eyes wide and luminous in the moonlight. "The day I found you by the side of the road, I thought you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen." As he spoke, her eyes pricked with tears. "But I was wrong.

"I don't care what form you take. Wolf or human, human or wolf. I love you." His lips quirked in an impish smile. "And if I have to give up other women to have you at my side, well, I guess I can learn to live with it, somehow."

"Do you mean it?" she said softly. Taken off guard by his declaration of love, her heart began to sing. Had anyone truly loved her for what she was? To her mother, she had been an embarrassing reminder of a quickly-regretted love affair. And then, she had been a horror. Graham had taken her in, had been affectionate. But had he truly loved her? Laura doubted it. If he had, he would have taken steps to protect her. Tate, of course, had seen her only as an impediment to be broken, as quickly and as brutally as could be.

But Calvin Smith loved her.

The declaration pulled at her fragile self-control. She wanted nothing more than to mount him, to take him within her body and ride him until he came. To make him completely and irrevocably hers.

No. Control. You must have control.

"I do," he replied.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I love you, too. I love how you care about everyone. And I love how you laugh and make silly jokes. And I love how you feel in my hands right now. I even," she said, "love your awful taste in music."

"My what?"

"You heard me," she smiled, bowing back to his shaft. It really was quite wonderful, she decided, as she ran her tongue up and down its twitching length. Not so thick that it would hurt when they made love, or so long that she wouldn't be able to fit it inside her. Rather, it was just like the rest of him; well-made, and more than strong enough for the needed task. She pulled back the foreskin surrounding the spongy tip, her eyes exploring his male beauty. The moonlight made him a study in alabaster and shadow, and her fingers suddenly itched for a pencil, to capture this moment in art for all eternity.

"Laura," he breathed, so quietly she thought she might be imagining it. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to last long."

She frowned up the length of his body, noting the way a soft trail of brown fuzz led from his crotch to his navel, and then again surrounded the rose-colored nipples high on his chest. "Already?"

"Well, I was pretty close when you came barging in," he said, a trifle tartly. "Not that I'm complaining, but-" he cut himself off as she lowered her lips to his head, her tongue sweeping up the tiny droplets of his pre-cum as they leaked from his slit. "Jesus." His voice was half-strangled. "You're incredible."

For her part, Laura was rapidly losing herself to the fires of lust. Her nipples felt like throbbing cherrystones on her chest, and her pussy was on fire, a vessel of hot liquid. She braced on one arm, letting the other hand drop down between her legs. She found her button easily, and she gasped as her fingers spread her lips and strummed the sensitive nubbin of flesh. "Go ahead, baby," she whispered, pumping his shaft, her voice promising untold pleasures in the days to come. "Come for me." She felt the rise of his seed in his cock, the tidal surge of desire, answered in her own frantically dancing fingers. His hips lifted up, pushing against her stroking fingers, and as he erupted she kissed him for the first time, her lips searching out his. She could hear the splatter of his cum on his chest as he spent himself, her tongue diving into his mouth, her teeth nipping at his lips, and the sound, the proof of his orgasm sent her spiraling over the edge herself, screaming out her joy.

*****

When he softened under her fingers, she moved away, ignoring his faint sound of protest. She drew back, her eyes finding the limpid pools of his semen lying on his chest. "Mmm," she hummed, the sound almost a purr, or a growl. She bent her head, licking up his cum. He tasted wonderful, of virile man, and she found herself wanting to bring him back to life and take him.

When Calvin's chest was clean, the only remnants of her efforts faint traces of saliva, she snuggled in beside him, her legs twined with his. He looked back with an expression of mild hilarity. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he asked, then snickered. "I was just thinking," he said, "about how most wolves are content to mark their territory by peeing on it. Rather than by licking up a man's...love-juice."

She giggled. "Do you want me to pee on you, Cal?" Her eyebrows rose as his words registered. "His what?"

"His man-butter. Baby-gravy. Oil of Ulay. Penis Coloda."

She hit him on the shoulder, drawing a mock-whimper. "Is this what I have to look forward to? Terrible jokes?"

"Maybe. Probably." He frowned in mock concentration. "Yes. Sorry."

Before she could hit him again, his expression shifted. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't..." He gestured at his groin. "Why didn't you, you know, get on?"

She raised her brows at him. "Are you ready to be the father of a wolf-shifter?"

He blinked, suddenly completely serious. "Oh."

"Right," she replied. "I'm not on birth control. I haven't had the chance to buy any yet."

"But I'm not a shifter. So there's no way..." he faded to a halt. "How does it all work, anyway?"

She sighed. She didn't want to reveal everything about her world, but if she was going to take Calvin as her mate, he deserved to know. "No, we probably won't make a shifter baby, Cal. Not even when we start to try. The chances are vanishingly small. Of course," she continued, her voice colored by nearly a decade of bitterness, "they were incredibly small for my mother, too."

His hand drifted down her back, a comforting caress. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Fuck no I don't. But...

"My mom...she was a good woman. Still is, I guess, though I haven't seen her in over eight years.

"I was an accident. Mom was working as a cashier at a car dealership. She didn't like it much, but it was a good, steady job with a steady paycheck.

"Dad came in one day to get his four-by fixed. Called himself Joe Crazy Wolf. Mom thought he was just another indian off the rez. She grew up in Wall, in South Dakota, and there's a couple big indian reservations near there.

"Well, he was charming as hell, Mom says. The only good thing she ever said about him. They had an affair, he moved in with her, and two months later he was gone. He split on her without a word. A few weeks after that, she found out she was pregnant with me."

"You don't look like you've got any Native American blood," Cal observed gently, fingering her blond hair.

She snorted. "And that's just the way Mom wanted it. She couldn't stand anything that reminded her of him.

"Well, she had me, and raised me. And things were okay for a long while. And then the Change started."

Even from years away, she shivered at the memory of those terrible weeks. "You have to understand, Cal. Not even shifters know if their children will share their gift. Or curse. It hits not long after puberty. But no one has ever figured out how it is passed along. Even shifters with bloodlines as pure as thoroughbred racehorses occasionally throw out children who can't shift. And every once in a while, two normal humans sire a shifter.

"For kids like me, who have no idea what's happening..." She trailed off. "It's horrifying.

"It started with dreams. I was running in wide-open plains. Or through a forest. Or through snowy mountains. But no matter where I was, I had four feet and a tail.

"I didn't think much of it. But then I started hunting in the dreams. And I wasn't scared of it. Not in the dreams, at least. I loved it. The taste of blood as I killed some wild unwary animal, pulling the flesh from its bones..." She shivered in memory.

"But then the dreams turned into reality. And I was trapped in a nightmare.

"The first time...I was a junior in high school, walking home after softball practice. It was about this time of year, maybe late April. Close to sundown, and all the birds and other wildlife coming out.

"Well, I saw a rabbit in a field, eating. And I had this, this compulsion to go after it." She laughed bitterly. "So I shifted for the first time. I suppose it must have been funny, to someone looking from outside. This wolf struggling out of a sweater and a pair of jeans and then bolting into a field, trying to catch a rabbit which had already gone back into its hole.

"But I was terrified. I had no idea what was happening. And, of course, there was no one who could tell me. I tried to do some research on the internet, but it was all bullshit about werewolves and silver bullets and crap like that. I would have had better luck researching chupacabras or Bigfoot.

"It got worse and worse. Mom had no idea what was happening. She just knew I was hiding something from her. Until one afternoon she came home from work and found me with a half-eaten goat in my bedroom."

Tears dripped down her face. How long had it been? Had she ever been able to give vent to this ancient grief? "I can barely remember what happened after that. All I know is I found myself leaving town one night. Seventeen years old, and all my life was blown out like a candle. I had a bit of money, and as many clothes as I could fit into a backpack, and a silver hair ring.

"I hitchhiked as much as I dared, heading west, towards the mountains. I had picked up one bit of information on the internet which was worth a shit. There were rumors about bands of wolf-shifters in the western states. Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho. It wasn't firm, but at that point, I would have chewed off my own leg if someone could have explained what the fuck was happening to me. By the time I showed up on Graham's doorstep, up on Lupe Mountain, I was half-feral. In a few more months, I would have been like Tate, and the only good thing anyone could have done for me would be to put me down."

Cal tightened his arms around her, and she burrowed close, taking comfort from his warm body and his silence. "He took me in and explained things to me. Of course, the rest of the pack would have been happier if a big tree fell on top of me. They never trusted me. Especially after Graham and I became lovers."

"What was he like?" Cal asked quietly.

"Truly? I think you would have liked him. He was quiet, like you. His wife was dead, and his daughters had married into other packs. If he had been able to hold on for another five or ten years, I know he wanted to make one of his grandsons alpha. He thought it was a better way, to have a clear line of succession."