Alpha Mate: BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance (2 page)

“
I...will...kill...you!”

Her words were slow but clear, her voice low and
unfamiliar. “I will kill you, werewolf.” Her eyes
blazed with raw pain and hate.

The wolfman crouched, stiff black fur sprouting along
its legs. What was left of the man was gradually disappearing
beneath the wolf. With loud cracking of bone and painful snapping of
muscle, it morphed messily and completely into a huge, bloody beast.

Charlotte and the hulking black wolf circled each other
in the dark alley, which was filled with the smell of smoke, sweat
and blood. The wolf tilted its head to sniff the air, and Charlotte
flicked her eyes up to see the full moon slide behind a cluster of
clouds. No doubt the wolf could see much better in the dark than
her. But she was past caring about her own safety. She just wanted
vengeance. Vengeance for Charlene.

She would kill this werewolf. Even if it killed her.

At the back of her mind, she heard a voice that sounded
so much like Charlene's.
Live!

She gasped, and jerked from the sudden stab of pain
through her heart. She would never hear her sister's voice again.
And she hadn't listened to Charlene tonight. If she had, they
wouldn't be here, and Charlene would not be dead. She should have
listened to Charlene and not insisted on taking this shortcut.
Cutting through this alley would save them fifteen minutes. They had
just watched a midnight movie, a rare treat, since Charlene usually
worked the night shift at the convenience store. It was also to
celebrate Charlotte's promotion. She had just been promoted to
senior clerk in that large, telecommunications company that she had
been with since she was eighteen. The walk home from the movie
theater would have taken them about an hour, and Charlotte was
already yawning non-stop. Fifteen minutes! Charlotte choked out an
anguished laugh. She'd wanted to save fifteen goddamned minutes!
For that, she had lost years, decades. She could have had so many
more years with her sister. Charlotte was just twenty-one and
Charlene twenty-nine going on thirty. That sweet, painfully shy guy
who worked at the convenience store with Charlene had finally screwed
up enough courage to ask her out. But Charlene would never get to go
on that date. She would never get to hold his large, gentle hand and
kiss him goodnight, would never get married, have kids, grow old,
have grandkids, have the life she deserved. And Charlotte would
never get to hear her laughter, her nagging and her wisecracks ever
again. It wasn't fair. This—can't be it!

Charlotte's eyes stung with tears, and she furiously
brushed them away. She was still facing the wolf, who was staring at
her, its nose and ears twitching.
Don't cry. Not now.
Now
she had a wolf to kill.

Carefully she lowered herself, all the time keeping her
eyes on the enemy, and snatched up the broken bottle lolling near her
feet. She held out her weapon and pointed the lethal end of the
bottle at the wolf.

Her heart was pounding with rage, regret and hate—some
of which was directed at herself.

For Charlene.

She would kill this wolf.

But—

This was no ordinary wolf. It was a werewolf.

The realization slammed into her like a fist in the gut.
Werewolves couldn't be killed with a glass bottle. They could only
be killed with—silver.

Shit, shit, shit!

Frenziedly, her eyes darted around the dump. Where was
a silver knife when you needed one? She just needed a silver stick,
blade, bullet, something, anything! But why would a silver anything
be lying around a garbage dump? She steadied her breathing and
narrowed her eyes. Maybe this glass bottle wouldn't kill the
monster, but she could make it hurt. Charlotte gripped the neck of
the glass bottle harder. This baby could cause some very nasty cuts
and gashes. She would inflict as much damage and pain as possible.
Count on it.

The wolf bared its teeth in what looked like a smile.
Staring intently at her, it stepped to the side so that Charlotte was
presented with the stark view of her dead, mutilated sister. Against
her will, a ragged sob tore from her aching chest.

In that instant, the wolf pounced.

It was pure reflex that saved her life. Instinctively,
Charlotte jerked away and raised her hand. The glass raked across
the wolf's underside, drawing a line of blood. But the wolf simply
landed lightly on its feet behind Charlotte and shook itself. It
attacked again without hesitation, its teeth sinking into Charlotte's
arm. Screaming in agony and fury, she lashed out blindly, stabbing
indiscriminately with her bottle. She could feel teeth and claws all
over her, on her face, neck, arms, legs, torso. The wolf was all
over her, having pinned her to the ground with its massive weight.
Using all the strength she had left, Charlotte dragged the shard of
broken glass that she was still clutching in her hand straight across
the wolf's snarling face.

The wolf released her abruptly, and she managed to push
herself up. Every muscle in her body hurt, but still she allowed
herself a smile of victory when she saw that long, deep cut across
the wolf's face. She had just narrowly missed its eye, slicing all
the way from the corner of its left eye to the right corner of its
mouth. She gripped the glass shard, feeling it cut into the soft
flesh of her palm, and pointed it at the wolf.

“
Next time, I won't miss,” she said evenly.

Blood was dripping from the wolf's mouth, and Charlotte
spat out a mouthful of her own blood. Both were injured, and both
were intent on killing the other.

But only one of us can live. And it'd be me.
Because Charlene said so.

The air rippled with tension as both took a bracing step
back. This was it. A kill would be made.

Animal and human cry echoed through the fog as wolf and
woman collided.

She aimed straight for its eye.

It zeroed in on her jugular.

Charlotte screamed and released her hold on the glass
shard as she felt long, sharp fangs sink into her neck. The pain was
burning, excruciating, and she could feel her lifeblood spurting out
of her. “Get...off...me!” Her words were incoherent
pants, but she managed to shove the beast off her. She would not die
under this piece of shit. She tried to get up, but her limbs felt
weak and useless. Her body disobeyed her mind, and just lay limply
on the ground even though her mind was screaming for her to get the
hell up.

Only her eyes moved. Even as her vision dimmed and her
strength ebbed, she could see the wolf stumbling back and hear its
agonized howl. A long piece of glass was sticking out of its left
eye socket. What used to be its left eye was now a mess of bloody
bits.

Charlotte gurgled a laugh.

In the distance, she seemed to hear voices and running
footsteps. She tried to call out but nothing worked. Her voice and
body failed her.

Shadows loomed over her, and someone shouted, “Miss!
Can you hear me? Hang on, just hang on! We'll get you to the
hospital. A healer has been notified.” A crackle of static.
“All patrol units, a rogue wolf is on the loose. Last seen at
the corner of Rising Street. One dead.”

One dead.

Charlotte let her eyes slide shut. She was just...so
tired. Too tired to think and feel. She was vaguely aware of hands
holding her, and to her surprise, she didn't feel any pain. There
was just no more pain. In fact, she couldn't see or feel anything
anymore. There was just blackness, and...hate. So much hate.

One dead.

Ah hell, make that two.

Wherever Charlene was, Charlotte wanted to go and join
her. Charlene was a good person, the best, so she had surely gone to
the light. But why was there only darkness and shadows here? The
whispering, shifting darkness was seductive and dangerous. The
shadows took on all kinds of shapes, pretending to be anything and
everything, but promising nothing.

Charlotte's closed eyelids flickered and fluttered as
she struggled against the inviting, embracing darkness. She kept
hearing Charlene's voice. But it wasn't soft and soothing. It
sounded stern, angry even.

Live!

And in a louder voice, and even more strident tone:
Live, or I'll kill you myself!

Her sister, bossy as ever.

Charlotte found herself muttering “Yes Mam”
in a voice that sounded too petulant and grudging. “And you
won't be killing me, sis,” she mumbled triumphantly. She
always got the last word in every argument. Ha! “I'll be
killing all those murderous monsters! I promise!”

“
Good girl,” a cheery voice answered. “Now
drink!”

What?

Charlotte gasped as warm, firm fingers grasped her mouth
to force her lips apart. A scalding, bitter liquid poured down her
throat. Spluttering and swallowing, Charlotte thrashed as heat and
pain began to consume her entire body. It felt as though she was
being burnt alive. Alive! Charlotte snapped her eyes open and
sucked in a sharp breath. If she could feel the pain so acutely,
then it meant that she was alive, not dead. The breath burnt her
lungs, and the inferno within her made her arch her back and scream.

Never had pain been so welcome, so glorious, so
invigorating. This was life. As she surrendered to the excruciating
agony and torment, she tried to hold on to the memory of Charlene,
but it simply slipped from her grasp, like sand through her fingers.
The harder she tried to catch it, the faster the memory receded from
her, until all she had was a widening, growing void. She felt empty,
and lost.

She could feel a warm hand on her arm, and the hand
slowly withdrew.

“
Charlene! Don't leave!” she cried.

She reached out blindly to try to grasp at that warm
hand.

“
There, there, you're fine now. You just need to
rest. And my name is not Charlene,” the cheerful voice
answered. “It's Jasynta.”

“
Ja—?”

“
Now, just let the Potion settle, and you're good
to go!”

As the red hot pain faded and she could finally catch
her breath, Charlotte snapped her eyes open and pushed herself up
with a wince.

“
Hi, I'm Jasynta. I'm your healer. And you're in
the hospital. Do you remember how you got here?” It was that
same cheerful, no-nonsense voice that she'd heard.

Charlotte shook her head slowly, connecting the voice to
the curvy brunette in a white coat. Her unruly brown curls were
scrunched up in a haphazard pony tail and she was preparing to shine
a torch into Charlotte's eye.

Charlotte hurriedly put up a hand to shield her eyes.

“
Oh, does it hurt? I'm sorry, but you'll have to
bear with it. I have to check that you're not having any allergic
reaction to my Potion,” Jasynta said matter-of-factly, flicking
on a small but powerful torchlight.

“
Potion? What potion?” Charlotte's eyes
darted to the empty glass at the bedside table. There was a drop of
purple liquid that was clinging precariously to the rim, before
losing its footing and sliding down the side of the glass. As she
watched its decent, the droplet seemed to ripple and change colors
right before her eyes. It was purple, then blue, and green, yellow,
red...

Charlotte blinked. Her eyes were definitely having an
allergic reaction.

Jasynta beamed. “My Potion of Promise. The best
witch's brew there is!”

Charlotte's arms suddenly wobbled and she slumped back
on her pillow. She almost groaned aloud. Her attending healer was
not a medical doctor, but a witch doctor. Jasynta was a witch. New
Moon City allowed witches and other paranormals who practiced the
healing arts to treat patients in hospitals, since their emergency
departments were overcrowded and understaffed. With paranormals,
particularly rogues, in the city, there was always an inordinately
high number of casualties.

But with witches and their spells and potions, there was
always a catch.

“
You gave me a Potion of Promise,” Charlotte
began.

“
Uh-huh.”

Charlotte took a deep breath, and managed to ask in a
calm enough voice, “May I ask, what Promise does your Potion
demand?”

“
Well.” Jasynta bent over Charlotte and
shone her torch determinedly into Charlotte's eyes, squinting as she
checked Charlotte over. The good witch doctor certainly took her
duties seriously. “You don't remember how you came to the
hospital, right? Some Enforcers found you, and you were sent to the
Emergency Department, pronto.” Jasynta snapped off the torch,
to Charlotte's relief. “Do you know why you're here, in the
hospital?”

“
Y-yes.”

Jasynta waited quietly, giving Charlotte time to compose
herself.

“
I was attacked. By a werewolf. Who killed my
sister. And...tried to kill me.”

Jasynta gave a nod, her brown eyes soft with sympathy.
But sympathy was the last thing Charlotte wanted. She didn't want
pity. She wanted vengeance.