All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

For a second, a memory flashes into my mind—we’re pups, monkeying around on the boards, and he slips into the marsh. The water’s deep, and he’s scrawny, and his legs get tangled in the weeds. I hold him tight under the arms, and I fight to keep hold of him as he flails his legs until they’re free. I don’t let go until I’ve got him safe on the walkway again.My eyes prickle. Why am I misting up? What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like my sister when she’s got a pup in the oven.“Shit, cuz. Is it that bad?” Bevan cranes his neck to get a glimpse of himself in a mirror.I shake it off and focus. His shifter healing has already kicked into gear, and the cuts don’t go too deep. Cadoc did restrain himself. The injuries are mostly cosmetic.“No. You’re okay.” I feel his scalp, and he yelps, ducking his head. He’s got a big ol’ goose egg. “After school, come with me to Abertha’s. I’ll make you a poultice. It’ll speed things up.”“No way. I ain’t going to the witch’s.”“She’s not a witch. She’s

“I got it!” Brynn says, jogging over, holding up her phone as if everyone hadn’t just frozen in abject terror, and there isn’t the scent of piss coming from the humans. “Found your phone. It’s there. Under Rosie’s chair. In her backpack.”Phones have tracking devices?With my luck? Of course, they do.Brody doesn’t waste a second. He darts forward and snags my pack by the strap. “So what do you have in here, thief?”Tears collect on the rim under my eyes, and it tickles so bad, I stifle a sneeze.He holds my bag over his head and gives it a vigorous shake. “Confess and maybe we’ll go easy on you.”Cadoc’s face is made of harsh slashes—brow, nose, jaw. He’s folded his arms. His legs are braced apart. He’s every inch his father’s son, imposing, inscrutable, and unforgiving.I’m screwed.“Well, scavenger?” Brody gives my bag another shake. He’s really dragging this out, no doubt getting off on it. His nostrils quiver, his top lip is peeled back so he can better savor the fear in the air.

“Cadoc Collins covered for you. Brody can’t move against us for this, or he’s going against the alpha heir.” Nia shoots me a quizzical look. “Why did he do that?”“I have no idea. Maybe ’cause I’m female?” That doesn’t usually stop ranked males when it comes to scavengers. Maybe he remembered the pup struggling for the bottle cap? I can’t imagine he would.“He was probably worried that your face was going to explode.” Bevan snorts. “You looked like a fucking stop sign.”“No, a stop light.” Nia playfully pushes me and then hugs me back to her side.“Yeah, you better stick to poking around in the woods, cuz. You want something, tell us. You’re a liability.”He doesn’t mean it unkindly. I reach over and give him a scratch behind the ears. For the next mile or so, he recounts his beating in exuberant detail. Nia interrupts occasionally to correct his facts. Apparently, Bevan did not get any licks in, but Cadoc did have to tell him to bend the neck twice before he complied.By the time we

It’s been a long day. I want peace while I mend the zipper on my backpack—and play with my new watch and earbuds. Maybe Cadoc came after me tonight to get the rest of his stuff back. He should have come and asked then, instead of standing there, all menacing.But he wasn’t there for his stuff, was he? I stamp the burgeoning knowledge down like sparks in dry grass. Not yet. I’m not ready.My belly cramps. I need food.I hop down the two-by-four bridging our platform and the plank and leap over Uncle Dewey. Per usual, he’s sprawled half-in and half-out of the trailer, rear paws dangling over the steps, snout mashed against the door frame. His fur reeks of beer.Sometimes he shifts back to his wolf before he finishes his drink, and he tries to lap the dregs. Then he ends up soaked or with his tongue stuck in the neck of a bottle.“Find anything?” my sister Drona asks from the kitchen table.She’s braiding my oldest niece Avalon’s hair. Kadi, the youngest, is bent over the sink, and her o

I want to cry.It can’t be.I cannot be going into heat, and Cadoc Collins absolutely, positively cannot be my mate. It would never be allowed. Not in a million years.Fat, hot tears trickle down my cheek. My heart hurts and a wave of pure panic surges higher and higher, looming, about to break. I can’t breathe. My lungs won’t expand.And then, out of nowhere, music floods my ears. I startle, almost whacking my head on the ceiling as I pluck the earbuds out and fling them down beside me on the bed.The music still plays, faint and tinny. Guitar. Harmonica.A human sings. He has a nasally voice, but it’s kind. Cheerful. There’s another instrument, the strange one that makes a spooky squawk. A theremin.I lay my head back down, my ears next to the buds.A hi-hat begins, and then it’s joined by the steady thud of a bass drum. A sweet female’s voice chimes in on the chorus.It’s a pretty tune, lovely and simple.I don’t know how I started the music—I don’t think I tapped anything—but it’s