Chasing the alphas son, p.27
Chasing the Alpha's Son, page 27
So instead I head for the emergency exit and the stairs. It’s already cooler when I burst through the door into the industrial stairwell. I wonder briefly if Mia and Olivia are still out here, but they were down a floor and I need to go up. I need to get as high as possible—to the roof, where the air will be freezing and I’ll be able to breathe.
Hoisting myself up the banister, I stumble to the top of the stairs and find just what I need, the exit to the roof. I freakin’ love New York. The door is a little jammed, so I ram it with my shoulder and tumble out into the night.
Immediately, I feel a little calmer. The drama and calamity of the party is below me now. There’s no noise from the wolves, no incessant feelings intruding into my brain. To my right is a clichéd-looking water tower, to my left some large exhaust vents, and other than that just clear night air. I put Times Square, with its lights and crowds and countdowns, behind me and head over to the edge of the roof that looks out on Central Park.
It’s dark down there, just the lights of the baseball field and the lamps lining the paths. I take a deep breath and let my mind drift up to the stars. I finally start to find calm.
But then the questions begin to bubble up: did I just break things off with Jasper? Did I do the right thing? Should I have listened and waited? Should I have given him one last chance? Or am I better off? Have I made the right decision in the long run? Is this really the end?
“Nice night,” a smooth voice says from behind me.
I turn and find Clayton standing a little ways off, masked by the shadow of the water tank. He takes a step into the moonlight, a dangerous glint in his eye.
“What’s wrong? Not enjoying the party?”
Oh no…
MEET ME ON THE ROOF
“What are you doing here?” I ask, pressing my back against the rooftop’s railing.
Clayton scoffs and takes another step forward. His quaffed hair is blowing in the breeze. He’s wearing a white suit jacket over a crisp button-down, with pants a deep shade of navy, and shiny boots. An undone bow tie hangs loosely around his neck.
“Me?” he says, grinning snidely. “I belong here. This… All of this”—he throws open his arms as if he’s gesturing to the entire world—“is my birthright!”
“Oh yeah, then why are you hiding on the roof?”
He hisses and his lips curls back, his grin becoming a snarl.
“I know why I’m up here,” I say, thinking I’m onto something. “Because you’re right: I don’t belong down there. That isn’t my world. But that’s all you have, it’s all you know. And yet you’re up here with me all the same.”
His snarl becomes a growl, and the wind picks up, throwing a lock of hair across his face. I don’t know if he’s drunk or just mad, but I know I don’t want to spend any more time up here than I have to. Unfortunately, Clayton is standing between me and the door. I may be fast, but there’s no way I’d make it before he could get to me. And if I run I might provoke him. Better I try and keep him calm. Only, from the way his growl is turning into a manic laugh, I don’t think I’m doing a very good job.
“You think you’re so important!” he yells, spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog’s. “You think you’ve got it all figured out. You’ve managed to brainwash Jasper, and now you think you have a place in society—that you’re worth more than me.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I think.”
“You think you deserve the life that was supposed to be mine!”
“No, Clayton. I’m not trying to take anything from you. All I did was show up.”
Clayton takes another worrying step toward me, his hands at his sides, fingers splayed.
“You’ve done a lot more than show up and you know it. Don’t deny it! But only an idiot would think I’d give up the life I was born into, the life I was destined for, without a fight.”
He’s lost his marbles, gone right off the deep end. I’ve done literally nothing to this dick, but for some reason he’s interpreted my existence as a slight against him.
“I don’t want your life, and I don’t want to fight you.”
“The fight started the second you sank your claws into Jasper.”
Speaking of claws…Clayton’s have started to extend from his fingertips.
“The day you showed up thinking you could have even a sliver of my birthright.”
Man, he is obsessed with his birthright.
“But what you don’t understand is you can’t win.” His maniacal smile is back. “Not against me or my family. We have been the real power in this pack for centuries, and now because of you, we’re finally going to show just how powerful the Bridgerses are.”
Is he talking about using Jasper and me to help overthrow the alpha?
“You think outing someone is going to give you power? You think this pack will just roll over and let archaic bigots like you win? You’ve got another thing coming.”
Okay, Max, you were meant to be keeping him calm. Don’t poke the bear!
Clayton raises a clawed hand as his fangs extend, his eyes glowing like a wolf’s at midnight. “Maybe you need a taste of my power to believe me.”
The metal rail is solid and cold against the small of my back. The door is impossibly far away and blocked by the approaching figure before me. There’s nowhere to run or hide. I could try to shift, but even in my wolf form I’m no match for Clayton.
“If you hurt me, Jasper will tear you apart.”
“Well wouldn’t that be a shame… At least then the pack will know what sort of wolf their future alpha is. You think people will fall behind an alpha pathetic enough to love someone like you?”
“Yes! And not just because he’s the alpha’s son. Because he cares, because he’s worked hard to be the sort of wolf that’s fit to lead. He’s made sacrifices.” Lordy, do I know he’s made sacrifices. “He’s made the hard choices an alpha has to make. He isn’t content to sit around and claim his family’s power just because he was born into it. He isn’t lazy or entitled like you.”
Clayton’s lips curl back again as his unleashes a fearsome growl, bending at his knees and preparing to strike.
“You want to know the truth?” he asks. “You’re right. If I try to hurt you, Jasper would probably give up everything to save you. But what if it’s already too late?”
Huh?
“You don’t get it! You don’t matter! You’re insignificant to everyone except Jasper. And with you out of the picture completely, the prince will crumble.”
For some inexplicable reason Clayton pulls off his jacket and tosses it aside, then throws off the loose bow tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“No one else will care, but his true colors will have been revealed. The alpha’s son will be labeled a coward, a weakling, unfit to lead! And I will walk away without a single consequence. In fact, I’ll become the next in line to lead the pack.”
Is he… Does he want to kill me?!
“What are you saying? That’s…insane!”
He cackles and drops his shirt, then undoes his pants. “Poor little Maxie, has no idea how the world freakin’ works. See, people like you disappear every day and no one bats an eyelid. While people like me…we get what we want!”
And with that, Clayton leaps forward, leaving his clothes in a pile and shifting, his claws extended in my direction. In a frightening moment, his wolf is revealed. Everything happens so fast—this manic, gnarly golden creature flies in my direction, fangs bared, eyes piercing into my soul. I have no time to shift, so I roll to avoid being tackled off the roof.
My shoulder hits the concrete, hard, and I barely have enough wherewithal to stagger to my feet before Clayton has turned and pounced.
He lands on me with a thud, sending my head crashing into the ground with a skull-splitting crack. With what strength I have, I push against his thick fur, trying to hold his snapping jaws at bay. Saliva trickles from his open mouth, spattering me in the face. I kick and thrash, but he’s too heavy, too strong.
Narrowly missing a snap of his jaws, I twist to the side and notice his exposed belly. So I extend my claws and swipe. He rears back, howling in pain, and blood splashes the concrete. In that instant I’m able to push him off me and scramble for the door.
Before I can take more than three steps though, he’s on me again, swiping at my back and tearing through clothes to shred my skin. I cry out as the pain burns and I fall.
In one movement Clayton catches the front of my shirt with his paw and, like I weigh nothing, he tosses me across the rooftop. I skid over the concrete, sliding to a crash landing as I collide with the wall. I try to stand but my leg is hurt, and the wounds on my back are searing with pain.
Clayton stalks forward, readying to attack once more. I need to shift if I’m going to have any chance of defeating him. But even as a wolf, would I be a match? Is it useless? In either form I’m too weak to beat him. He has the upper hand. He always has. There is no point letting my wolf out, because the result will be the same.
And in this moment of hesitation he pounces again. I groan as he hauls me up and holds me against the railing. The pavement seems miles away beneath me, the traffic streams past in miniature, headlights blurring as the wind tears at my face. I choke against the grip Clayton has around my neck.
He lowers his muzzle so he can stare into my eyes. He wants to gloat, to tell me he doesn’t care if I die—that he’ll enjoy watching me fall. I meet his gaze and know all this, and then realize…I can feel him. I can feel his hatred, his murderous intent, but more than that I can feel his discomfort, his loss, his displacement and feelings of inadequacy. And I realize I have a strength that Clayton doesn’t.
With my eyes closed, I relax my body, falling limp in Clayton’s arms. I sense a moment of shock but I move past it. I let my mind open, let the barriers fall, and reach out to Clayton, extending my consciousness like a net of blood-red electric pulses that stream into his soul.
At first everything is dark and I wonder if this is what Clayton’s subconscious is—empty…nothingness. He’s always been a dick, but recently he’s verged into homicidal territory, so honestly it wouldn’t surprise me. But then I see a glimmer up ahead, a shimmering light. I push forward, streaming through the currents of his mind. I travel instinctually, letting my senses lead me, and as I dive farther into Clayton’s subconscious I know I’m heading in the right direction. The glimmer opens up, revealing a memory.
When I arrive, the world whooshes into place around me, until I’m standing in the center of a vision. My legs wobble, unstable beneath me, like it’s taking energy to be this far in. The last time I experienced a vision it was an accident. I’ve never done it on purpose. It will be exhausting to maintain. But my blood-wolf senses brought me here, so I know I have to persevere.
A rose-tinted light filters through the oak trees overhead. I’m standing on grass, in the middle of a quad, with tall red-brick buildings surrounding me on three sides. Some kids in uniforms sit on the grass with workbooks open and backpacks tossed haphazardly to the side. This must be a school—a fancy one from the look of the place.
From behind a tree a wolf emerges. A wolf I haven’t seen before from this viewpoint, but one I recognize instantly, because it’s mine. My wolf-self saunters toward me, not lifting its head to make eye contact, but passing casually and continuing on. When it reaches the corner of a building, it glances back and I know to follow.
My wolf leads me through the expansive campus. From the look of the buildings I’d say we’re somewhere in the states—maybe New England, or somewhere that’s supposed to look like it, but definitely somewhere old. The buildings are grand, with ornate finishings, wrought iron gates, tall frosted windows through which I can’t see, and strange pained-looking faces carved into the stone walls. Kids in blazers, woolly hats, and scarves run by on their way to class, holding books to their chests. A couple of boys are tossing a ball against a wall, jostling to beat each other to it.
Up ahead, the paths between four buildings intersect. Benches sit in a square formation facing a leafless tree under which a couple is talking. My wolf walks right up to them and I approach carefully, unsure if they can see me or not.
It takes a second for me to realize I know both of them. Clayton has rosier cheeks and fluffier hair, but looks basically the same, filling out his school blazer the way he filled out his suit jacket. He has his arms around Aisha, whose blazer is on the ground. Her hair is tied back in braids and her face is flushed.
Why is he holding her like that?
My wolf glances back one last time before vanishing. I call out to Aisha, but my voice is silent; my slow-motion-waving arm does nothing to attract her attention. I step forward, eager to watch this memory play out.
At first they seem playful, joking—almost like a couple, teasing and acting coy. Aisha is wriggling, trying to escape Clayton’s arms, but he doesn’t want to let her go. To the unaware observer it might almost seem sweet. Finally, Aisha manages to free herself, but Clayton catches her by the hand and pulls her back to him. Her playful smile becomes an annoyed grimace. Clayton leans in in an attempt to kiss Aisha, but she ducks her head to the side, evading his advance. He pulls back, looking confused but not dissuaded, then goes in for the kiss again, and this time Aisha tries harder to break away.
Clayton holds fast. The dick… Let her go!
Their playful energy is gone and now Aisha’s grimace is a strained expression of panic. She doesn’t want this. She braces herself against him with her forearms to put some space between them. Yet Clayton continues to hold onto her. I want to run to them and pull them apart. I want to help her. But I can’t move. This is as close as the vision will let me get.
Finally, Aisha has had enough. She throws open her arms, breaking Clayton’s hold, and pushes him away. He approaches again, yelling, and tries to pull her back to him. But she turns and slaps him across the face, hard.
Clayton holds his reddening cheek.
And for the first time I can hear their voices clearly.
“You bitch!” Clayton yells. “I’m your mate!”
What?!
Aisha never told me she was mated to Clayton. But now it’s beginning to make sense, the way she warned me against him, the way she always bristled when he was brought up. They were mates once. But not anymore.
“I don’t want to be your mate, Clayton,” Aisha says, not missing a beat. “And you better believe I never will.”
“You’re confused. You don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She stabs at him with an angry finger. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I reject you, Clayton. Do you hear that?”
He grips his chest.
“I reject the mate bond. Find someone else to claim.”
Without another word or glance, Aisha turns and walks away. Despite the shock of learning Aisha and Clayton were mates, I want to cheer and clap, I want to jump up and down. Aisha really did that. She was destined to be with a jerk and a creep, and she said no. My respect for her skyrockets.
Back under the tree, Clayton’s knees give way and he crumples to the ground. He digs his claws into the brick footpath and howls. Tears stain his blood-red face as he screeches to the clouds. So that’s what it looks like when a wolf is rejected.
The world turns to liquid around me as the vision ends and I’m pulled backward—everything floats away, and I’m brought back to reality.
High-velocity winds tear at my cheeks as I open my eyes. Clayton’s slick jaw is barely an inch from my face, his frenzied eyes boring into mine.
Aisha broke the mate bond with the most entitled dick I’ve ever meant. I can’t help but think this has something to do with why he’s so desperate to hold onto Jasper and his position in the pack. But none of that is very useful right now.
Clayton still has his paw on my neck; I’m still leaning halfway over the edge of the roof as traffic drifts by a hundred stories below. Clayton is still huffing hot, sickly breaths into my face, rage and violence shining in his yellow eyes.
With a growl and a roar he lifts me from the ground and readies to throw me over the edge.
NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS
Aisha was mated to this monster, the wild animal clutching me in its paws and about to throw me off the roof of a hundred-story high-rise.
But she was strong enough to walk away. And I’m not about to let him hurt me anymore.
Clayton’s claws dig into me as he lifts me higher, and I can feel the shift in the air as he holds me out over the drop. I grunt in pain but manage to lift my hands to the sides of his face. With all my energy I force him to look at me, and as soon as our eyes meet I channel his pain, the agony of losing his mate, the pang of rejection, that howling sensation that still sits deep in his subconscious. I pull that pain into myself—like blood I let it flood my veins, course through me, and I feel every moment of it.
Then I give it back, serving his pain to him like a fresh steak, hot off the grill.
I let Clayton’s hidden feelings escape me and float, in glowing red tendrils of energy, back to him.
His eyes widen. His grip loosens. He stumbles backward.
Distracted and distressed, he drops me, and I flop onto the concrete of the roof. Safe.
Clayton huffs and spins. He shakes his muzzle.
Staggeringly, I’m able to push myself to my feet.
