Alpha Male

Havermouth, Seven Years Before

Heath was dressing in his bedroom when Charlie entered. Heath tucked his shirt into his jeans and turned, picking up his knit top from the bed. He could remember precisely five times since Heath had entered his teens that one of his parents had entered his room. Other than the housekeeper, Heath’s room was his own territory, and he guarded it like any alpha guarded his den.

Charlie saw the flash of wolf in Heath’s eyes and sighed. “I am here to speak to you.”

“Yes, dad?” Heath remained where he was.

“Your hostility is not appreciated, Heath,” Charlie reproved.

“I would have come to your office. This is my room.”

“Your territory,” Charlie concluded for him, wryly. “It is perhaps fitting that this conversation starts this way, on the night that you become formerly recognized by the pack as an alpha, something that is normally reserved for older werewolves.”

“I am only two and half years off,” Heath replied defensively.

“A lot can happen in two and half yea