Prodigal (Outcast Sons Book 1) Read online

  Jon wasn’t sure the Alpha ever truly relaxed, anyway. After all, he was responsible for every person in this town—over five thousand wolves. That had to be a hell of a responsibility. As an omega, Jon couldn’t quite imagine it.

  But he had no trouble at all imagining what the Alpha was going to do to him. Because although the Alpha had to watch out for the whole town, the people he was most protective of were the members of his family. Not to mention his heir. The heir that Jon had just had hot, wild, animalistic sex with.

  Jon was screwed, and he knew it.

  Head down, he trudged slowly toward the big white house at the center of town.

  Chapter 11

  The Alpha was pissed.

  The old man was seated in an old, comfortable leather chair in his cherry-paneled library, a huge room lined with thousands of antiquarian books. He didn’t get up as Jon walked in, didn’t even glance up from the newspaper he was reading. But their kind were sensitive to body language, and Jon could almost see the rage shimmering around the old man in a cloud.

  Lupus help him. He was in deep, deep shit.

  “Sir,” he said. His voice wavered, and he tried consciously to steady it. But he was an omega in the presence of an alpha—the Alpha—and it was beyond him to sound anything but meek.

  The Alpha didn’t lift his head. “Jon,” he said, and his low, deep voice seemed to rumble with ominous overtones, like distant thunder. “You bring me good news, I hope.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jon heard his own voice squeak despite his best efforts. “I brought Cae—I mean, Caeden. I brought Caeden back, sir.”

  “Good work.” The Alpha managed to make the compliment sound like the direst insult. “And what would you like for a reward, young man?”

  For you not to kill me, Jon thought. Or even to maim me. But there was no point in saying so. The Alpha would do what he wanted. And the rules of the outside world didn’t really apply here. Officially, this town was part of the United States, and subject to its laws, but in reality—

  Well, the federal and state governments seemed to think it best to leave the shifter towns alone, for the most part. Ordinary humans weren’t aware of the substantial shifter population, but the government certainly was, and they kept that information quiet. Wolves and other shifters generally repaid the favor by remaining firmly in their own territory.

  And amongst the wolves, each town was ruled by an Alpha, who was the mayor, judge, jury, and executioner, all rolled into one.

  “I don’t need—I’m just glad he’s—no reward, sir.”

  “You have earned a reward, Jon.” The Alpha looked up from his reading at last. His golden eyes, so like Cae’s, were filled with an icy, glittering fury. Despite himself, Jon took a step back.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

  “Sorry?” The old man rose slowly to his feet. He was as tall as his son, and still impressively muscled despite his grizzled hair and beard. The gleaming eyes met Jon’s gaze, flaming with fury. “What have you to apologize for, Jon?”

  “I—I didn’t mean to.” Jon hated himself for his cowardice, for the stammered excuse, but he couldn’t help himself. He was only an omega, and when faced with a furious alpha, he had no choice but to roll over and show his belly—whether literally or metaphorically. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself, he wanted me and I love him and—”

  The Alpha took a step forward and slapped him across the face, so hard that Jon’s head snapped to the side. The wolf inside him cowered, trying to manifest, but Jon held his form with a desperate act of will. In his human guise, the Alpha was unlikely to beat him badly enough to kill him. He would likely wind up bruised and bloody, but he wouldn’t be dead.

  But if he shifted to wolf form—well, then, the Alpha would too. He wasn’t certain the Alpha was angry enough to forget himself and attack a much smaller and weaker wolf. But if he did, Jon would stand absolutely no chance against the Alpha’s massive lupine form.

  The Alpha slapped him again, harder. Jon cringed, helpless to defend himself, a prisoner of his own biology. He heard a soft whimper rise up from his throat, and hated himself for his weakness.

  “You’re pathetic,” the Alpha snarled. He was so close now that Jon could smell his odor, the strong and unmistakable scent of dominance and power. It was a scent that, when associated with Cae, he found comforting—a reminder of protection and safety. But right now it terrified him, because right now it meant pain and humiliation and terror.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. The Alpha raised his hand a third time, and he whimpered, more loudly this time, and flinched pitifully, covering his face with his hands.

  “Look at yourself,” the Alpha said, his lips drawing back in a snarl that was reminiscent of his wolf form. He gestured at the ornately gilt-framed mirror over the fireplace. “You can’t even defend yourself against an old man. You’re nothing, Jon, nothing at all. How could you possibly think you were worthy of him?”

  Jon lowered his hands, cracked his eyelids open, and hesitantly looked at his own reflection. He saw himself, cringing and terrified, ready to beg for mercy. The Alpha hadn’t even bothered to deal him a serious blow, had just slapped him a few times, and already he was practically weeping. The look of craven fear he saw in his own eyes was unmistakable, and it turned his stomach to see it.

  The Alpha was right. He was nothing. He was worse than nothing. He was a lowly omega, and he would never be worthy of Caeden Wolf, not if he lived a hundred years and strove to improve himself every single day of that century.

  Cae had been born to be a leader of men… and he himself had been born a cringing dog with his tail between his legs.

  He swallowed, and looked back at the Alpha. Slowly, with an immense act of will, he lowered the protective hands from his face and straightened up, squaring his shoulders. He stared at the Alpha, meeting his gaze, and lifted his chin.

  “I am not worthy of him,” he said, and to his own surprise his voice was steady and calm. “I know that. I have always known it.”

  In the depths of the Alpha’s golden eyes he thought he saw a flash of grudging respect. But in an instant it was gone again, and the old man looked at him with contempt.

  “You saved my son and brought him home to me,” he said, his voice glacially cold, “and for that I shall let you live. But because you dared to reach above your station and lay with the future of our people, the pride of the Pack, you may not remain here. You are henceforth exiled to the mountains. In one hour, you will be taken there.” He spoke in a ringing voice. “You will never return here again.”

  Jon felt his mouth drop open. Wolves were social animals, dependent on the Pack, and as a consequence exile was a serious punishment, rarely invoked. His parents had only managed to exist in the outside world because they had been together, with a cub to care for, but he still knew how much they’d longed for home.

  He himself could probably survive on his own in his wolf form, but he would be miserable and lonely. He wanted to protest, to object to the unfairness of it, but he knew that to argue with the Alpha was to court death.

  He’d already tempted death quite enough today.

  And yet he had to stay. He had to.

  Cae needed him.

  “Please,” he whispered. “He’s not well. We both know that. I have to stay, to—to help him. To watch over him.”

  “An omega, watch over an alpha?” The old man sneered. “Ridiculous.”

  Jon wondered if the old man’s sneer might fade if he knew how Jon had protected Cae against the humans. How he’d shifted, and lunged straight into the path of gunfire in order to drive them away.

  But no, the Alpha would never believe it. He could hardly believe he’d done it himself.

  “He’s my friend,” he said, trying as hard as he could for a firm tone. But he could hear his own voice shaking. “Before he was my—my lover, he was my friend. He was always my friend. And—and he needs me.”

  The Alpha drew back his fist,
and when it slammed into Jon’s cheekbone he flew backward, collapsing on the floor. The Alpha kicked him in the ribs with a booted foot, and he curled up on himself, whimpering.

  “As if an omega could ever support an alpha, or keep watch over him,” the Alpha growled above him. “I have spoken, Jonathan MacArthur. I will let you live despite your defiance, because you were always Caeden’s friend, but argue no more, or I may change my mind.”

  Curled on the floor, Jon nodded silently.

  When the Alpha strode from the room, Jon struggled upright, buried his face in his hands, and sat in a crumpled heap on the floor, grimly awaiting his fate.

  Chapter 12

  “Don’t cry, Cae.”

  The summer heat beat down on the back of Caeden’s neck as he sat on the rocky ground, his head bent. All around he could hear the buzz of insects and the song of birds. It was a beautiful afternoon, and school had let out a week ago. He and Jon had a whole summer stretching before them, three glorious months together to just explore the woods and the fields around Wolf Green.

  At least, he’d thought they did. But now—

  “I’m not crying,” he said gruffly, wiping surreptitiously at his cheeks. He was eleven, and he and Jon had been best friends for three years now. Even so, he’d never cried in front of Jon, and he wasn’t about to start. He was an alpha, and alphas didn’t cry.

  “Yeah, but you’re hurt. Let me help you back to town.”

  Caeden squeezed his eyes shut. He and Jon had been racing, and of course he’d been winning, until he tried to leap over the ravine that cut across a field, and hadn’t quite made it. He’d fallen onto the uneven rocks and lost his footing, and when he’d tried to struggle back to a standing position, he discovered he couldn’t put any weight at all on his right foot.

  He was pretty sure his ankle was broken, and if there were tears stinging his eyes, it wasn’t because of the pain, but because his summer of running free with Jon was going to be ruined.

  “I don’t think I can get up,” he mumbled. It wasn’t easy for an alpha, even a young one, to admit to weakness. But Jon wasn’t just anyone; he was Caeden’s best friend, and he was able to lower his walls a little in front of him.

  “Let’s try.” Jon scrambled down the side of the ravine and knelt beside him, and Caeden slung an arm across his shoulders and let Jon try to heft him to his feet. Their kind were stronger than humans, even as cubs, but Cae was in a growth spurt, and he was quite a bit heavier and stronger than Jon right now. Or maybe he always would be. Regardless, Jon couldn’t make it to a standing position while bearing Cae’s weight, and then fell back to the ground together. Cae’s ankle burned like it was on fire.

  “I’m sorry.” Jon looked wide-eyed, as if this was somehow all his fault. “I don’t want to leave you, but I’m going to have to go back to town and get a grownup.”

  Caeden didn’t want him to go. He longed for the comfort of Jon’s presence. But he also knew that if he couldn’t limp his way back to town, then getting a grownup to help was the only option.

  Jon was waiting for him to make the final decision, as an omega should, so he nodded crisply.

  “Go ahead, then. Get some help.”

  Jon nodded and tore off in the direction of town, as fast as his skinny legs could take him. When the Alpha himself came and rescued his son, lifting him in his powerful arms and carrying him all the way to the clinic in town, an x-ray showed that he’d broken his shin bone. The tibia, the doctor called it. He’d broken it badly, and a human would have needed surgery and a titanium rod put in to keep the leg straight, and probably would have been confined for the rest of the summer.

  Caeden only had to keep his leg propped up for two weeks, and the bones knitted back together perfectly.

  But at eleven, gazing out the window longingly at a gorgeous, sun-drenched summer, two weeks seemed a very long time indeed. Jon probably wanted to be outside too, but he never gave the slightest hint that he’d prefer to be elsewhere. He loyally spent the two weeks at Caeden’s bedside, reading him books and playing video games and watching movies.

  By the end of the two weeks, the two of them weren’t merely best friends any more.

  They were inseparable.

  ✽✽✽

  As Caeden stirred, awakening, a summer breeze blew through the window near his bed, and he drew in a deep, appreciative breath. For a moment his brain was fogged by his dream/memory, and he thought he was eleven, with Jon by his side. But then he remembered what he’d been doing for the past month. The acrid scent of the city that had clogged his nostrils for the past month was gone, and the softer, sweeter scents of trees and flowers filled the air.

  He was home.

  “So,” a dry voice said. “The prodigal has returned.”

  The voice was baritone, resonant, and he knew it as well as he knew his own name. He knew the tone, too. It was the tone that called him on the carpet, the tone that said, What have you done now, young man? It was a tone that spoke eloquently of disappointment and disapproval.

  Caeden sighed, and opened his eyes. Sure enough, his father was sitting next to him, glaring down at him.

  Caeden had to fight not to cringe. It wasn’t like he didn’t love his father. He did. And more than that, he admired the hell out of the old guy. His father was the glue that held this community together—strong, beloved, and powerful, a natural-born leader of his people. Caeden didn’t know how he could ever fill his father’s shoes. In fact he was pretty damn sure he couldn’t.

  Of course, he thought glumly, if he was never able to change forms, that wasn’t something he’d ever have to worry about.

  “Father,” he said in a cool tone. The detached, cold voice came naturally to him now, as did the unending anger that bubbled inside him. There had been a time when he usually called his sire Dad in an affectionate voice, but that time seemed very distant, a hazy memory of a long-ago past. It seemed impossible that it had only been a month ago. “I’m not staying.”

  His father scowled, and his gnarled fingers twisted together in his lap—a sign of anxiety the old man rarely let himself show. He spoke with slow deliberation. “Something is wrong with you, Caeden. I didn’t want to admit it before, but what I’ve been told about your behavior this past month has convinced me. You are gravely ill.”

  “I’m not ill.” Caeden let his lips curl in a bitter, snarling smile. “I was having a great time in the city.”

  “Yes, so I have heard.” His father frowned, so that the creases on his face grew deeper than ever. He was grayer than Caeden remembered, as if he’d aged quite a bit in the past month. “Your behavior is not that of a normal wolf, my son, but of a rabid one.”

  Caeden rolled his eyes, because everyone knew that their sort of wolf couldn’t contract rabies. “I’m fine,” he said coldly, aware that he wasn’t, “and I’ll be heading back to the city the minute Dr. Bronson finishes patching me up.”

  “Dr. Bronson has some other work to do first. He’s going to check your blood, run some tests, try to determine precisely what’s wrong with you.”

  “I know what’s wrong with me,” Caeden snapped. “Everyone knows. I’m twenty-five and still a cub.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” his father said coolly. “Of course we all know that. What we don’t know is why. There has to be a reason, Caeden.”

  “There isn’t a reason,” Caeden snarled, struggling to sit up despite the pain in his shoulder. “I’m just a freak.”

  “Whatever is wrong with you,” his father said, holding him by his uninjured shoulder and pushing him back down as if he were a toddler instead of a grown man, “is worsening, and something must be done. So you will remain here until Dr. Bronson can come up with a cure.”

  Caeden glared up at his father, but he was in no condition to argue. He could feel that his shoulder was healing, but it still felt like someone had stabbed him with a red-hot poker. All at once he remembered who had saved him from the pack of humans.

  “Jon,”
he said, looking around the room. “Where’s Jon?”

  His father’s eyes narrowed. “He has been… punished.”

  Pain and fear washed over Caeden in a wave. He knew that punishment could entail anything from a verbal reprimand up to death. The Alpha’s authority was absolute, and as an omega, Jon wouldn’t have raised a paw to defend himself. And if the offense was severe enough, no wolf would blink an eye if the Alpha chose to maul a lesser wolf to death. It was his right, and occasionally his duty.

  Caeden wasn’t entirely certain how annoyed his father would be with a male omega who willfully chose to shatter the taboos of the Pack and have sex with a male alpha, but he was pretty sure his father wouldn’t have let matters go with a simple reprimand.

  And damn it, he hadn’t been there to protect Jon. Damn it.

  “Punished how?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady and failing. Great Lupus above, if Jon was hurt—if he was dead—

  His father glared down at him, as if irritated by his unseemly emotional display, and spoke in an icy voice.

  “He has been exiled,” he said.

  ✽✽✽

  Jon stumbled along through the forest. He didn’t usually stumble when he ran on four feet, but he didn’t usually hurt this much, either. Cae’s father had given him one hell of a beating.

  Which, he reminded himself, he’d totally deserved.

  But whether he’d deserved it or not was beside the point. Even if he’d been completely innocent of all offense, no one in the Pack would have bared a tooth to protect him. The Alpha’s authority was absolute, which was part of the reason that Cae’s worsening mental state had been such an issue. Jon knew the Alpha still hoped that his son would lead the Pack someday, but an angry, violent, irrational wolf couldn’t be an Alpha. The Pack could never survive it.