“Ah. Thanks?” He laughed. “Nothing like my mate thinking I’m not capable of killing if I had to.”
Lilliana looked at him sideways. “For money? I don’t think so.”
“All right. That I’ll take.”
“No one knows who killed him?” That couldn’t be good. The firebombing, someone trying to frame Travis for hurting Cyrus’ pregnant females, and Lucian’s death? Someone was playing a dangerous game.
No one would hurt Travis to win whatever this was. Not as long as she lived.
****
Travis grinned, watching Lilliana across the room. She said something, and Beth, one of the Beta females, laughed. It was hard to make Beth laugh since her mate died, but Lilliana did it on a regular basis. In the six weeks since he’d brought her home to Philly, his whole world had lightened up.
He stroked the new ink on his chest, a giant lily. The beautiful flower had been etched in right over his heart. He strode to the other side of his office. Before he could overthink it, he picked up the phone.
Cyrus answered on one ring. “What?”
“Meet me in Jersey tonight. I want to blood oath. You and me. No war. I’ll defend you; you defend me.”
Cyrus sucked in his breath. “And?”
“And nothing, man. I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you. You don’t want jack shit from me. Nothing but a promise not to bother each other and to protect each other. In blood.”
Because that kind of oath called for blood. The safety of his people required no less. Lilliana’s life would be protected by an oath he couldn’t break.
****
Cyrus held out his hand, and Travis took it. Together, they held on until their joined blood slid out of their hands onto the ground beneath their feet. Matilda, working in the diner right then, shouldn’t know what went on outside her restaurant, and yet in the way she always knew everything, he suspected she did.
“I swear to you, Travis, that as your cousin and as Alpha of the Manhattan Pack, I will not attack you unless you attack me first. I swear to come to your aid if someone else attacks you.”
Travis nodded. “You know we’re not really cousins except really, really distantly. Like our grandmothers were cousins.”
“Are you going to swear it or not?”
He grinned because he couldn’t help himself. “It would be a really dick move, wouldn’t it, if I brought you out here to swear, got you to do it, and then didn’t do it myself?”
“I’m standing here bleeding.” Cyrus growled.
“Squeamish? All right already. I get it. I swear not to attack you unless you attack me, and I swear to come to your defense if someone else attacks you. Cousin. I, Travis Michaels, the Alpha of Philadelphia make this vow to you.”
They waited a beat and then separated their hands. Travis took a handkerchief out of his pant’s pocket and wiped away his blood. “This is how it starts, you know?”
Cyrus nodded. “Look. I don’t intend to make this oath with a whole bunch of people. Okay? I’m not going to go around swearing blood oaths with people until I’m Alpha Prime. I have to assume you’re also going to limit who you do this with.”
“Yeah.” This was why he’d hesitated, and he knew it was why Cyrus had too. They had a lot of assuming to do with each other.
A lot of trust.
He could let Cyrus in, or he could end up losing everything, and that was no longer an option.
He wouldn’t break; he wouldn’t fail.
Travis turned his back on Cyrus. A scent wafted through the air, and he knew immediately Lilliana was there. How had she known where he’d be?
She leaned against a car he’d seen in one of his shops earlier that morning. Had she borrowed it?
“What are you doing here?”
“Well…” She grinned, the wind whipping her hair around her face. “It’s not every day my mate takes a blood oath. I thought perhaps you might like some company after. Besides, I hear this place has a great meatloaf.”
He pulled her into her arms and sighed when her scent enveloped him. “You were worried I might go and have a real freak-out the whole way home. Beat myself up over it and generally assume I’d done the wrong thing bringing Cyrus this close to us.”
“Yes.” She kissed him. How could she always be this soft? “You never did eat the meatloaf I brought you.”
“Would you like to do that now? Go see Matilda and actually have a meal here?”
“I would.” She smiled and he felt like the luckiest man on the planet. She made him stronger by loving him, she made him the Alpha he should be.
The kind that would risk it all to keep his people safe. Lilliana completed him.
“You’re so whipped.” Cyrus walked by them to get to his car.
“You’re just jealous.” Travis smiled not turning to the other man.
Anyone would be. He had Lilliana. Hand in hand, he brought them into the diner. Meatloaf had never sounded so good.
The End
Coming Next in the Fallen Alpha World, Alpha’s Chosen, in 2014
A Thank you from Fated Desires
Thank you so much for reading Alpha Rising! We’re so happy that you had a chance to look into the paranormal world of the Fallen Alphas. We do hope if you liked this, that you would please leave a review from where you purchased this or on another platform. Not only does a review spread the word to other readers, they let us know if you’d like to see more stories like this from us. Rebecca loves to hear from readers and talks to them when she can. You can reach her through her website and through her Facebook and Twitter accounts. You guys are the reason we get to do what we do and we thank you.
If you are looking for more stories like these, you don’t have to wait much longer! Leia is cooking up new works in this series and a few others. Also, we have a few new authors coming that will be sure to whet your appetite.
About the Author
As a teenager, Rebecca Royce would hide in her room to read her favorite romance novels when she was supposed to be doing her homework. She hopes, these days, that her parents think it was well worth it.
Rebecca is the mother of three adorable boys and is fortunate to be married to her best friend. They’ve just moved to Texas where Rebecca is discovering a new love for barbecue!
She's in love with science fiction, fantasy, and the paranormal and tries to use all of these elements in her writing. She's been told she's a little bloodthirsty so she hopes that when you read her work you'll enjoy the action packed ride that always ends in romance. Rebecca loves to write series because she loves to see characters develop over time and it always makes her happy to see her favorite characters make guest appearances in other books.
In Rebecca Royce's world anything is possible, anything can happen, and you should suspect that it will.
www.RebeccaRoyce.com
Also from this Author
Now Available:
The Capes:
Seductive Powers
Adrenaline Rush
Fallen Alpha:
Alpha Rising
Alpha’s Strength
The Outsiders:
Love Beyond Time
Love Beyond Sanity
Love Beyond Loyalty
Love Beyond Sight
Love Beyond Expectations
Westervelt Wolves:
Her Wolf
Summer’s Wolf
Wolf Reborn
Wolf’s Valentine
Wolf’s Magic
Alpha Wolf
Angel’s Wolf
Darkest Wolf
Lone Wolf
The Warrior:
Initiation
Driven
Subversive
Redemption
Justice
The Conditioned:
Eye Contact
Embraced
Other Works:
Behind The Scenes
Yes, Captain
Return to the Sea
One Night With A Wolf
Another Chance
Light Me Up
I’ll Be Mated For Christmas
The Edge stories: Unwanted Mate, Bar Mate, Mate by the Music, Out of Place Mate
Love In One Night
Hexed and Vexed
Crimson Lust
Demon Within
Forever
February Lover
Finding Her A-Muse-Ment
Dragon Joined
Did you enjoy this selection? Why not try another romance from Fated Desires?
From USA Today Bestselling Author Marie Heart:
Beast of Burden
Chapter One
“Well, well, look what the cats dragged in.” Eira smirked at the pair of huge, stone-faced guards standing off to the side in the main foyer of Folkvang—her goddess Freya’s grand palace. There were marbled tiles, gilded moldings, and halls aplenty for drinking, whoring, and fighting. Because anyone who didn’t fight didn’t belong in the godlands.
Life with the goddess in Asgard—the immortal realm—had its perks. Perfect weather, a divine landscape filled with sweet-smelling flowers, rolling hills, and enough practice ground to keep the warriors in residence in berserker paradise. Not to mention the muscled eye-candy staring back at her.
Eira should have been ecstatic surrounded by paradise. But for all that she’d never gone hungry, thirsty, or sleep-deprived in Asgard, she’d also never gotten a rise out of Freya’s favored guards either. No joy from Hall or Avarr in five long decades. Damn. She was better than that.
Lowe, her friend and battle companion, nudged her. “Leave them alone. They’re probably tired from pulling that big cart all over the sky.”
They snickered. Freya’s chariot was no mere cart, but to be strapped to such a thing to haul their goddess’s ass around… Embarrassing. Yet who else could pull it? Not Freya’s battle boar. He didn’t have the temperament, or the strength, despite his size. The goddess’s warriors? The shapeshifting falcons and eagles wouldn’t sully their precious talons, and no valkyrie worth her spear would ever consider such a lowly task. Eira sure the hell wouldn’t. Besides, Freya’s battle-maidens had better things to do, like hauling worthy souls from the battlefield. Drinking, swearing, fighting…fucking.
She eyed Hall and Avarr again. They certainly seemed built for war. They didn’t talk much, but they looked fierce. Too bad their appearances didn’t reflect their true characters. They might be strong, sexy, and more than appealing with all that muscle, but they bored her. No fights? No inexplicable rages? No passion?
Such a waste. Both men towered over her, and she was no slight female. They had dark hair and eyes, with square jaws and massive shoulders. Dark trousers outlined their thick muscular legs, and she’d had dreams about those broad chests covered in sleeveless tunics. By Hel’s breath, the golden bands around their arms would nearly fit around both of her thighs. Their hands looked large enough to span her entire head. Yet they’d never held a sword, bow, or axe.
She felt sorry for them.
“Do you two ever do anything other than breathe, hunt mice, and pull that chariot around?” An unfair question, as they lived to serve and protect their goddess. But Freya never used them as more than intimidating bookends who constantly escorted her immortal tush all over the place.
Hall raised a brow. Oh gods, a reaction. She felt positively giddy.
Like Avarr next to him, he possessed a feline soul—a giant battle-cat the size of two grizzlies. Not a falcon or a boar, but still an impressive animal when shifted. Too bad she’d never seen him fight anything but a harness.
Avarr stared at her, his eyes so dark they looked black. “Little Snow, is there something you wanted?”
“Eira, I’m hungry. Are you coming or not?” Lowe griped. The elfin valkyrie was just visiting before she returned to Midgard, where she normally lived with her mother’s people among the humans. The girl’s blood sugar had been a popular topic of conversation of late. When Lowe grew hungry, she turned bitchy. Then heads rolled, bodies crumpled, and wars started.
As much as Eira loved her warmongering buddy, Avarr’s tone warranted further discussion. She scowled and ignored Lowe’s urging to join the others in the feast hall.
“Fine. I’m going without you.” Lowe left Eira alone with the brutes.
Finally.
“What did you call me?” Eira asked and stomped to within arm’s reach of them. This close, they made her feel small, an odd feeling for a valkyrie to have. She’d been bred of Odin’s lightning and Freya’s will but born to mortal parents. The heart of gods, the flesh of humans. And now in her prime, she was a warrior strong and true with the muscle and battle sense to take on even these beasts. Her heart raced at the thought, wondering if—how—she’d defeat them if they chose to fully engage.
“I called you by your name,” Avarr rumbled. Eira meant snow in Old Norse. “And you’re little. Little. Snow.” Avarr leaned closer, and she swore he inhaled her and purred.
No. Avarr didn’t do things like that. He had to be teasing her. Another first. Except she found it annoying. She wasn’t little, by any stretch of the imagination.
Hall sighed and crossed his arms over his broad chest, bringing attention to his thick forearms.
“What? Nothing to say, Hall?” she snapped. Her stupid white hair had been responsible for Eira. She’d loved her human parents, but really? Snow? Thank the gods she hadn’t been born with buckteeth. They might have called her Bucky for an eternity.
“What is there for him to say?” Avarr asked. “It’s your name, is it not?”
“Have we caused offense? It wasn’t our intention,” Hall apologized.
As usual, the mere scent of a fight was enough to pull them back from a confrontation. So disappointing.
“Ech. I’ve better things to do than waste my time on beasts of burden.” She sneered then turned on her heel and left, wishing they’d stop her. Yell at her. Fight her. Something.
As usual, they did nothing of the kind.
She joined her friends in the feast hall, no longer pleased over their earlier victory on the battlefield, and wondered if any of the falcons would object to her using them as target practice for entertainment later. Probably. Birds could be such pussies about losing a limb.
Avarr clenched his fists. “I can’t continue like this anymore. I’m through.”
Hall caught his shoulder and stopped him when Avarr would have followed Eira inside. “Not yet.”
“Always not yet. It’s been fifty years already. I’m not getting any younger.”
Hall snorted. “You’re not getting any older either.”
Though not brothers, they shared a common beast. Freya’s children all possessed god-like abilities, and she’d gifted them with the eternal ability to shift form. While many boars, falcons, and eagles filled her halls, few battle-cats roamed the lands. Used as guides to pull her chariot and entrusted with Freya’s safety, he and Avarr had a special place of honor among all in the Norse pantheon. Try telling that to the sexy hothead who had the incessant need to wield an actual weapon. Like her friends, she disdained his lack of a sword. Apparently the ability to crush an opponent’s skull between his teeth meant little to her and the other braggart warriors needing axes and bows to do damage.
“This is intolerable. Her insults, her scathing looks.” Avarr’s eyes lit with battle lust. Not a good thing with so many provocative shifters in residence for the afternoon meal. “We end this. Right the fuck now.” He gave Hall a mean smile. “And I do mean the fuck now.”
“We’re close. Bear with it just a bit more.”
Avarr seethed, and Hall couldn’t blame him. Ever since they’d laid eyes on Eira, they’d been in a constant state of lust and frustration. While both men had often shared women before, Eira was different than the tame females they’d pleasured. Mighty, full of life,
gorgeous. She possessed a silken fall of long white hair, violet eyes framed by a forest of dark lashes, and a full, provocative mouth. Her attitude got him hard every time. It was a constant exercise in restraint not to take her over his shoulder and carry her away to his den. To be his and Avarr’s forever.
Freya demanded they wait until they’d fulfilled their duty. Until they were “ready.” She’d promised them eternal riches and rewarded them constantly with overeager maids and the occasional male intent on pleasing them. Yet Eira the goddess held in the distance, their prize…when the time was right.
“Yes, Avarr. Just a bit longer,” Freya said as she materialized behind them.
“Damn it. I hate when you do that,” Avarr snarled.
Hall elbowed him in the gut. “Your apologies, Freya. You caught us unaware.”
Avarr bowed his head. “Goddess,” he muttered, no doubt choking on his rage. How he went day after day muting his emotions still baffled Hall, because the moment they had any privacy, Avarr exploded.
Freya laughed at them. “You’re both so very cute.” No one but Freya ever called them such. Ferocious. Brutal. Monstrous. Cute? Not so much. “So close, yet still the answer eludes you,” she mused.
“Answer?” Hall frowned. “You said we had to be ready. Nothing about questions needing answers.”
“And that’s part of your problem. You aren’t open. But you will be.”
She kept him in a state of hope. Hall was constantly trying to find the answer to getting Eira into his arms. For good. “Yes, Freya.”
“Don’t be glum, sweetness. You’re in luck. I’m feeling particularly joyful this day. We’re about to play the games again!”
“The games?”
“It’s been five hundred years. Ah, but it seems like just yesterday.”
“Uh, Freya, we’re only three hundred and eleven years old.” Yet he knew what she meant. Ludos Deorum—Games of the Gods. He’d heard about them for years, and now they’d play them again. He wondered if the stories the falcons and valkyries liked to tell were true…