Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

at least contentedly, down a straight path. His life had always been about serving his Alpha, who was both his father and the Marrok, in whatever capacity he was needed.
    When his father had told him what he intended, had told him he needed wolves to give a public face to the werewolf, wolves Bran could trust not to screw up in public, Charles had agreed to be one of them. Not that it would have mattered if he’d refused; in the end a wolf obeyed his Alpha or he killed him. And Charles knew with an absolute certainty that left him content that he would never be able to take on his father.
    But that had been before Anna. Now his life was about her, about keeping her safe. As much as he agreed with his father about what the proper course of action to follow was, he and Brother Wolf were both concerned that keeping her safe and presenting himself to the public as a werewolf were not compatible.
    This week, he couldn’t let so much as a breath out that might express his true feelings on this. It was necessary for the wolves to come out. He knew that.
    But now there was Anna, and she changed things.
    â€œShould we go see if she’s here?” asked Anna, still examining the houseboat from the safety of land.
    Dana, no doubt, already knew that they were there—he’d felt magic brush over his skin as they walked down to her dock, but she’d wait until they approached her properly.
    Dana, La Belle Dame Sans Merci , had conducted this kind of business for his father before. She was being very well paid, but with a fae it was always a good policy to bring an extra gift in lieu of a “thank-you.” Saying those words could be dangerous, as some fae took them to be an admission of obligation. The Marrok wasn’t the only one bringing her a gift, but his must be greater than the rest combined. Still, Charles could have presented it to her at the first meeting rather than making a special trip.
    His da had suggested that Dana might appreciate a visit from him before business—and that Anna might enjoy it as well. So here they were, he with a small, wrapped painting under his arm, and Anna, who, a few steps ahead of him, had taken the first step onto the dock and discovered that a floating dock bounces.
    She gave him a happy look as he followed her out on the water-soaked wooden walk. “This could be fun,” she said, then turned, took a running step, and did a couple of back flips—like a middle-school kid at recess. He stopped where he was, lust and love and fear rising up in a surge of emotion he did not, for all his years, have any idea how to deal with.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, a little breathless from her gymnastics. She brushed her wavy hair out of her face and gave him a serious look. “Is there something wrong?”
    He could hardly tell her that he was afraid because he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to her. That his sudden, unexpected reaction had brought Brother Wolf to the fore. She threw his balance off; his control—which had become almost effortless over the years—was erratic at best. Sternly, he tried to bring his wolf brother to heel, to bring his own control back.
    Anna winced and put her hands to her temples. “You know, if you don’t want me to know what you’re feeling, you could just distract yourself. It hurts when you block me out.”
    He hadn’t realized he was. Didn’t want to hurt her. He began opening himself up, and Brother Wolf took over and opened them both up all the way. It was very much like a man opening an umbrella that had been stored for years. Some parts creaked and groaned and shed dust—others cracked under the sudden stretching and threatened to break.
    He felt naked—only more so. As if he’d shed his skin and stood with raw nerve endings waiting to be filleted by the next stray wind. All he was, all he’d been, was there in the broad daylight, where it had never been meant to be seen. Not even by him.
    There was a pause, a waiting moment, and then everything hit.
    There were too many memories, things he’d seen and done. Pain and pleasure and sorrow: all there as if they were happening now—too much, too much, and he couldn’t breathe . . .
    And Anna was there, holding him and releasing the spring that held him open, allowing his thoughts and feelings to settle back into private places, but not as hidden as they had been. He waited for the