Alpha Knight (Wolf Ridge High 2)

“Even if you have a girlfriend—especially if you have a girlfriend—stay the hell away from her tomorrow night. And I don’t subscribe to the sow your wild oats with humans philosophy. Boys, you are even less safe to human females right now. They can’t defend themselves. If I ever hear one of you forced a girl—human or she-wolf—you are permanently off this team, and I will personally kick your ass. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach Jamison,” we all reply.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Coach Jamison,” we shout, our voices echoing off the metal lockers.

“Wilde, you keep an eye out for every boy on this team during pack run,” Coach tells my buddy, who is team captain.

“Yes, sir.” He pulls a t-shirt over his head.

Coach lays a lot of pack-alpha responsibility on Wilde, which is one of the reasons I’m glad I wasn’t named captain. Yeah, I’m alpha. There’s a reason me and my buddies are called the alpha-holes of Wolf Ridge High. But ruling the school and leading a pack are two different things. One comes from a place of rebellion. We flip the bird to everyone but our coach and do whatever the hell we want. We make the social rules at Wolf Ridge High—who is popular. Who gets invited to the mesa. Who’s worthy to date.

But Wilde has to uphold rules now. Although Jamison’s list of rules is short: No fighting with humans. No impregnating females—human or wolf. No taking a female against her will. No mating bites, even if we think we’re in love.

We head out, but our meanest alpha-hole, Cole, hangs back. “Austin, can you take Casey home tonight?”

Abe, Austin’s younger brother walks over to catch a ride home, too. He’s a sophomore but already playing varsity with us, which says a lot because every guy on this team is an athlete of magnitude.

Austin narrows his eyes at Cole. “Yeah, why?”

We all know why.

Cole showed up to practice with the scent of that human all over him. His next door neighbor—the one he hates because her mom took his dad’s job.

Only everyone knows hate is pretty fucking close to something else. Something bordering on obsession, if you ask me. I’ve seen the way he crowds her up against her locker. The way he’s always looking for her.

Cole shrugs. “I have to see a teacher about homework.”

Uh huh.

But whatever. My dick’s hard for a human, too.

I went straight home after dropping the Cave Hills bitch off and yanked it all night. I had her scent all up in my nose. It had rubbed off on the back of my t-shirt where she pressed those luscious breasts against me while we rode, so I took the shirt off and wrapped it around my cock. Pretended she was giving me the handjob to show her gratitude for the ride.

I fell asleep to the image of her tossing that mane of hair over her shoulder with her flippant I didn’t throw it line as she walked away. Every time I replayed it, I had a different comeback. All of them physical. All of them ending with her on her knees in front of my cock, saying please may I suck it?

Yeah, as if that ever happens in real life.

The trouble with porn is that it makes regular high school sex about as exciting as sitting through American History class on a half day.

Sloane

I unlock my bike after cross country practice and fling my leg over the seat. My legs are still shaking from the long run, but I don’t mind the ride home. I think getting in a car and driving would just make my body tighten up. My muscles may be shaky and weak, but pushing them just a little more—in a different way—actually feels good.

Or maybe I’m just a masochist.

My car—or the one my dad let me use—was one of the many assets seized by the government when he went to jail. So maybe I have a little bit of deserve wrapped up in riding the bike.

I definitely don’t deserve the luxury of a car, and I ought to feel ashamed I ever had one, considering where the money came from. I shake my head to remove the flashes of the days after my dad’s arrest. The faces of people who had been my friends, known me my whole life, sneering and turning away from me in scorn as I walked the halls of my old high school to class.

Turns out the sins of the father aren’t just visited upon the sons. Daughters inherit that shit too.

I check my phone one more time before I take off to see if there’s any message from Winslow.

If I don’t get the money by tonight, I’m fucked.

No message.

Dammit.

I lean into the right pedal and take off, riding hard like I can outrun all my father’s past transgressions.

I just can’t seem to go fast enough today to chase away the shadows around me.