Alpha Ivan's Rogue Mate

“Daddy?  Why are we here?”  I know I’m whining and Daddy hates whining, but I can’t help it.  It’s cold and dark and scary and I want to go home. 

            “Shut the fuck up!” he orders.  Though his voice is gruff and the words that he says are mean, he isn’t really paying attention to me right now.  He’s too busy peering into the gloom that’s all around us.

            Daddy looks down at his watch and then looks back into the trees that surround us.  His movements are fast and jerky, like he’s on that special medicine again.  Well, more like he needs to have another shot with the special medicine.  He always gets meaner whenever he needs the special medicine.

            “Are we really going to see Mommy out here?” I ask.  That’s what Daddy had told me when he made me get out of bed.  He was bringing me out into a deep dark part of the words beyond our pack borders where the teachers always tell us that we’re never allowed to go so that we could get Mommy and bring her home.  He needed my help so that he could get her back.

            “Yeah, kid.  Now shut up.  I’m trying to listen.”  This time, Daddy’s words come with a hard squeeze to my arm which he hadn’t let go over since we got out of the truck.  The squeeze is so hard that I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out.  Daddy really wouldn’t like that, especially since he just told me to shut up.  But I already know that I’m going to have a bruise that looks like Daddy’s fingers when he lets go.

            I wish I had my wolf.  Then it would be harder for anybody to hurt me.  My wolf wouldn’t let them, she’d protect me.  But even if I did get hurt, I’d be able to heal really fast.  A bruise would be no problem.  Neither would the broken arm that I had from earlier in the year and just got the cast off for. 

            Then I might have been able to keep Mommy at home.

            And stop Daddy from hurting either of us.

            I watch, keeping my eyes peeled like Mommy would say, trying to see what might be in the woods, but I don’t see anything for a long time.  With each minute that passes, Daddy’s movements get faster and more jerky.  I can tell that he’s starting to get angry and I wish that he would let go of my arm.

            The only way to get through Daddy getting angry is to hide from him.  Once he gets his special medicine, he’ll be fine.  Calm and sleepy.  Then he won’t even notice that I’m there.

            That has happened a lot since Mommy left.  A lot of times Daddy will forget to get me any food.  It’s ok, because I know how to make pb+j sandwiches and ham and cheese and how to heat up some chicken nuggets in the microwave if I scoot one of the kitchen chairs over to the counter and then stand on that to reach the microwave.  But the last couple of days, there hasn’t really been a lot of food in the house.

            Still, I’d rather be hungry and go next door to Ms. Margaret’s house and ask for a snack than to have to hide from mad Daddy.

            Mad Daddy is scary.

            Mad Daddy hurts me.

            Mad Daddy made Mommy go away.

            By now, Daddy’s squeezing my arm so tight that I can’t stop the whine of pain that comes out of my mouth.

            Daddy turns to me in a flash and I see that he’s about to get me when there is the sound of a low growl through the trees.

            Daddy whips around and we both look up in time to see three big wolves coming out of the woods.  Two of them are brown, one is gray with white markings.  All three are big and shaggy.  Dirty and obviously not well fed.  And all three have the deep dark brown eyes and the dark furred spot over half of their faces.

            The rogue mark.

            A mark that is there in both human and wolf form.

            The mark that shows that they are unwanted by a pack.  Dangerous and unpredictable.  Not to be trusted.

            Instinctively, I start to back up.  We are taught to fear the rogues.  You never know what they will do.

            But Daddy pulls me forward.  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

            I stumble as my body flies forward and I land in a heap in front of the gray wolf.  He sniffs me, snarling when I cry out and pull back from him.

            In a flurry of cracking and breaking bones, the wolf in front of me shifts back to human form and in its place is a large man.  More cracking and breaking sounds let me know that the other two wolves are shifting as well, but I don’t take my eyes off of the first man.

            He has scars all over his face, chest, arms, and legs, something that isn’t often seen in wolves, but litter the body of rogues because they have poorer nutrition than pack wolves.  Though the man’s body is muscled, it’s a wiry muscle without body fat beneath, showing that this man spends most of his time in wolf form, eating a wolf’s diet without much fat in it.  Hair covers his face and falls down his back.  It should soften his face, but all it does is draw attention to the glittering, angry eyes that are staring at me.

            “This is the one that you have brought as payment to find your wife?  This scrawny and cowering child?!  What good is she for us?  We can’t rut her.  There’s no way that she can have pups or hunt.  How old is she?”  The man’s voice is rough from disuse and his body is still, only his mouth and eyes moving as he speaks.  It’s scary.

            “She’s seven, but she can cook some and clean and she’s good with kids.  She can help you care for the pups that you have until she’s ready for you to take her,” Daddy says quickly.  “You can make her into whatever you want her to be.  She’s young and will learn quickly.  She won’t give you the trouble that an older she-wolf would.”

            I don’t really understand what Daddy is saying.  All I can do is stare into the eyes of the scary man in front of me.  He’s just watching me, his eyes looking over my body, eyes lingering on my bright read, curly hair.

            One of the men behind his says, “The she-wolves have been complaining that they need more help with the pups.  Especially since Juniper died.  And the more that this kid takes care of them, the more time we can rut them.”

            The man continues to look at me for a few moments longer before nodding his head.  “Done.”

            Before anything else can be done, the man bends down and grabs the back of my hair, holding my head still.  Then his hand comes down on one side of my face and a burning sensation soaks into my skin everywhere his hand touches me.