Longing for Shelter, page 1
Table of Contents
Longing for Shelter
Copyright
All Rights Reserved
Thanks
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Thank You For Reading
About the Author
The Alphas’ Homestead Series - Book Four
The Alphas’ Homestead Series - Book Five
Also by the Author
Longing for Shelter
by Alex Jane
Longing for Shelter — The Alphas’ Homestead Book Three
Copyright © 2017 Alex Jane
First Edition –– 2017
Cover Design by Alex Jane
Editing by Alyson at Between The Lines
All Rights Reserved
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.
All characters and events and places in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
This is a fantasy world that only bears a passing resemblance to reality.
Thanks
The first lot of thanks is going out to the readers of this series who have had to wait an inordinately long time for this story. You guys have been so patient…actually you haven’t but the nagging has kept me plugging away and got me to finish this monstrous thing. Also, huge thanks to Milly for talking me through this, to Birgit, Ron, Evelise, Bev and especially, Lillian for taking the time to read it through and point me in the right direction, and to Alyson for making it readable and beautiful. Ponies for everybody.
For K
and the one person who gave you peace at last.
Prologue
If there was a knock at his door, Seth didn’t hear it through his drunken haze. The first thing he was aware of was Ezra Fletcher sweeping into his room, insistently calling his name.
“Seth. Seth, get up.” His tone was even more impatient than usual.
Seth groaned and tried to prize his eyes open as he raised his hand weakly. “This is a violation of the house rules. No coming in—”
Ezra angrily swiped Seth’s legs towards the edge of the bed, sending Seth sprawling. He clutched at the bedspread as he rolled, hoping he wouldn’t tumble right off. A giggle bubbled up out of him as he tried to clamber back to the center of the bed. One of the only ways he could face waking up in this god-forsaken place was making sure he’d still be drunk from the night before. And last night was no exception.
“Look at you. What a mess.” Ezra was practically growling.
Seth peered up at the Alpha, unable to stop himself grinning like a loon. One of the few pleasures he had left in life was antagonizing the man whose household he’d been dumped into when nobody else would take him. Although this morning there was something in his cousin’s demeanor that was different. The facade of cool detachment the Alpha unwaveringly presented was slipping. Ezra seemed anxious, running his hand through his gray hair as he looked down at Seth’s disheveled form.
“At least you’re dressed, I suppose.”
Seth frowned and looked down at himself. He was indeed still dressed from the night before. Sans shoes and jacket but it seemed he had simply flopped face first onto his bed after taking them off and fallen right to sleep. Not that Seth could recall much of that or any of the night’s other activities with much clarity. He recalled sneaking out to meet his friends, against Ezra’s instructions, naturally. There had definitely been drinking at two of the city bars he liked to frequent…
Seth strained to remember as he pushed his aching body upright. He held his swimming head in his hands and took a deep breath to quell the rising nausea. There was some vague remembrance of the Sutter brothers dragging him to keep watch while they got up to some nonsense or other—he’d stopped asking what they got up to after the second burglary he’d unwittingly taken part in. Then someone had yelled at him to run and there were police whistles…
“Have the constabulary come for me again?” Seth’s mouth could barely function. He wiped sloppily at the slime in the corners of his dry lips. “‘Cause I didn’t do anything. Can’t you just pay them and send them away as usual?” The exertion of talking was too much to deal with at such an early hour so Seth started to lie back down. Except, Ezra’s large hand grabbed him painfully by the shoulder.
“It’s not the police. You need to get up and pull yourself together.” Ezra’s tone was authoritative and exasperated as always but there was concern there.
Seth ignored it and tried unsuccessfully to wrestle out of the Alpha’s grasp. “I don’t have to do anything—“
“It’s the Council, Seth. Just—just try to stand.”
An ice cold bullet of fear penetrated Seth’s chest and he felt very sober, very quickly. Slowly, he looked up at his cousin. “I’m sorry. I thought for a moment you said the Council is here.”
Ezra looked pursed his lips. “Well, at least your hearing is functioning. They want to see you and I really don’t think you should keep them waiting.”
Seth thought he might die right there. Instead, he jumped up, shaking his head to try to clear his vision. He ran his trembling hands over his rumpled clothes, trying to smooth down his rolled up sleeves, and tuck in his shirt as best he could. Ezra appeared at his side with a clean jacket and started to guide Seth’s arms into it.
Seth sought out Ezra’s eyes but his cousin was avoiding his gaze. Seth cleared his throat. “Whatever they think I’ve done, I didn’t, I swear—“
“It’s not one thing, Seth,” Ezra said, sadly. When he finally met Seth’s eyes, Ezra’s expression was total resignation. “I told you this would happen if you didn’t stop. I warned you.”
Ezra turned to walk away but Seth grabbed him by the arm. Ezra looked back at him in surprise, staring at the offending hand like he might bite it off. Seth let go, but stepped forward. “You—you won’t let them take me, will you? Please. Please don’t let them take me.”
Everyone had heard the stories: the work-camps were a fate worse than death some said. Execution sounded preferable and if the Council deemed Seth problematic enough, that’s exactly what would happen. And even Ezra, with his long political reach and quiet influence, wouldn’t be able to save him if it had come to that.
Ezra didn’t say anything. His face was as grim as Seth had ever seen it. Taking Seth roughly by the bicep, the Alpha all but dragged him out of his room, into the eerily silent house, and down the stairs without another word.
Seth’s mother had once described the Fletcher’s front parlor as ‘exquisite,’ with the fine, yet simple furniture, delicate tapestries and elegant drapery. Seth had a whole different opinion of the room when he entered it that morning.
The exact number of Alphas sitting on the Council fluctuated so no one really knew how many there were, and they rarely all congregated in one place at the same time for reasons of security. So, Seth didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted by the fact that seven of the members had turned up to announce his fate. They variously sat and stood around the bright room like ravens presiding over a corpse, each one dressed in black from head to toe. When he entered, both women and one of the men raised handkerchiefs to their noses and Seth realized he must smell like a whiskey-soaked whore—something that was confirmed when he looked down only to see a rather unfortunate stain down the front of his trousers.
Seth tried to keep his composure except he all but gasped as he stepped into the room. Ezra was such an imposing Alpha that even Seth, with all his stubbornness had a hard time resisting him but multiplying that presence by eight almost had Seth on his knees. Ezra seemed to feel Seth’s body weaken and compensated by holding him upright, even if he didn’t stop pushing Seth in front of the crowd.
One of the Alphas saw the problem and snatched up a chair, placing it in the center of the room for him. Ezra steered Seth over and, when Seth refused to sit, forcibly pushed him down by his shoulders.
Seth wanted to cry with the shame of it. He forced himself to look defiantly into the face of every person there and not think about how devastated his mother would be, knowing it had come to this.
One of the Alphas stepped forward, a large middle-aged man that Seth vaguely recognized whose bushy mustache twitched as he spoke. “Mr. Mason. I think you know why we’re here.” Seth shrugged. He felt somewhat gratified that the gesture seemed to annoy the man, who cleared his throat and continued. “Complaints have been filed against you, not only by the New York City officials but also by members of our own community which
The Alpha was all set to go on and looked startled beyond all reason to be interrupted by Ezra clearing his throat dramatically from where he stood at Seth’s shoulder. In fact, all the Council members looked in various levels of outrage at the clear breach of protocol but their expressions softened when Ezra stepped forward and asked softly, “My apologies but may I propose something?”
The Council members looked at each other in some silent communication until an elderly lady who was seated with her hand resting on her black parasol, asked, “What is it Ezra?”
Ezra smiled at her. “I know the matter of Seth leaving New York has been decided but—well, my son and his mate have a small homestead in Nebraska, as you know.” The Council members nodded, so Ezra went on. “And I wondered if you would consider commuting Seth’s sentence for a year? Under the circumstances. And on strict conditions, of course.”
A wave of understanding passed over the faces in front of Seth, almost all of them nodding and one or two smiling. The man with the bushy mustache sighed. “Well then, Seth. How do you feel about Nebraska?”
Seth felt like crying all over again.
Chapter One
Jacob sighed as he walked across from the house to the stable, his boots kicking up dust that seemed to coat everything as soon as the sun dried out the ground. It wasn't even noon yet, but already he'd sweated clean through his shirt. It was shaping up to be the hottest day of the spring so far, which boded well for the new crops they had planted; however it was still a bother that he was going to have to change clothes before he and Caleb set out to collect the impending arrivals from town. He took solace in the fact it wasn't raining, at least. That would mean delaying their trip and, quite frankly, he just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with.
The door of the stable was ajar when he got to it. It creaked some as he pulled it open and he made a mental note, not for the first or even tenth time, to remind himself to oil the hinges. Stepping out of the sun to the cool shade was more than pleasant. The wave of pleasure and comfort he got as the musty smell of hay and horses hit him never got old. There were times he felt a little envious of Peter, who got to live out here in his cramped little bunk.
When Peter had first come to work for him as a stable hand, Jacob had felt uncomfortable with the idea that Peter was consigned to the stable like an animal. But the boy, as he was then, insisted he was fine and that it was better lodgings than he'd been supplied with at his previous employment. It wasn't until Jacob had discovered by chance that Peter more often than not slept in the stalls with one or other of the horses, that he finally felt easier about their arrangement. He'd done the same himself on more than one occasion before he'd left home for good; not so much to escape the tensions between him and his father, but rather seeking the companionship and connection he felt to the horses.
This time of day the stalls were all empty. Peter did a good job where the animals were concerned; always attentive and methodical in his work. Often he was up before the Alphas, making a start on feeding and watering the horses while Jacob helped Caleb with the other animals on the small farm. Jacob walked down the aisle towards the far end that opened out onto the adjoining corral, glancing over at each stall, shaking his head when he saw several still needed to be attended to. He squinted a little as he reached the threshold and lowered his head, protecting his eyes from the blast of sun with the brim of his Stetson.
Peter had their newest mare tied between two posts as he held her foot between his thighs, digging around in her hoof with a curved knife. When Other, Jacob's own horse, saw Jacob arrive, she whinnied and trotted over to the fence which separated the stable area from the corral, flashing her tail around in excitement, and drawing Peter's attention. He lowered the mare's foot and nodded at Jacob.
Jacob nodded back before he acknowledged his horse, rubbing between her eyes and patting her neck, but as soon as she realized no food was forthcoming she wheeled away and went back to join the other horses.
Jacob adjusted his hat and wandered over to where Peter was waiting. "What's the problem?"
"Hard to say." Peter's accent was deeply southern. Jacob had tried a couple of times to coax out of him how he'd ended up settling in Nebraska so far north of his home, but Peter was less than forthcoming about that. "She seemed fine until last night. Then she started picking up her back right. I checked it right away, but I can't see nothin’. The hoof looks clean, no swelling and she pays no mind when I touch her leg…"
Jacob took off his hat and sat it on one of the posts, then ran his hands over the horse's back all the way down her leg, finally encouraging her to lift it up with a slight tug. It didn't take much; she was as relaxed and compliant as she'd been the first time he'd seen her. Some horses got a little skittish around werewolves they didn't know, but she didn't seem to care at all. Much like Peter.
Jacob carefully felt around the tendons in her ankle without sensing anything untoward. But when he placed his fingers into the cleft of her foot he felt a slight increase in heat. Bending, he inhaled deeply. The scent was off. He grimaced and held his hand out. "Water." Peter didn't hesitate in taking a scoop from the water trough and handing it over. The mare flinched when Jacob poured the water over her hoof and rubbed gently with his fingers. It was damn hard to spot, and a damn sight harder to pick out, but when he was done, Jacob held out the thorn and dropped it into Peter's open hand. The boy looked stricken but Jacob clapped him on the shoulder. "I could barely see it. No reason you should have been able to. Infection's just starting so get a poultice on it." Peter's expression didn't change so Jacob shook him playfully until he looked up. "You did good. Stop fretting."
Peter mumbled a "Yea'sir" and Jacob figured that was the best he was going to get. The boy took his work seriously. As Jacob settled his hat back on head, he asked, "Any reason why the stalls aren't ready yet?"
Peter didn't look up from where he was cradling the mare's head. "What d'you think?"
Jacob shook his head, then turned to go back the way he'd come. "The foal sounds fine, by the way. In case you were wondering." Peter's face lit up in a wide delighted grin which had Jacob smiling himself as he passed back into the stable, especially when he heard Peter's whispered, "Did you hear that? You're doing just fine. That's my girl."
The reason the stalls hadn't been cleaned was because the person responsible for that particular job was jogging his way across the yard to the barn, a saddle over one arm, tack dangling wildly in the other, when Jacob opened the door to the stable. Ephraim didn't exactly skid to halt but his gait stuttered some when he spotted his father, and he slowed.
Jacob leaned against the door with one hand. "And where have you been?"
Ephraim swallowed, looking far too much like the little boy who had fallen into his and Caleb's life four years before than the man that was showing more and more on his face these days. At fifteen he was still a little small for his age. For a Beta, anyway. He looked mostly like the other boys his age in town, maybe a little broader in his shoulders, but no different in height. In a sense, it was an advantage that he could blend so completely with the human population. In other respects, it was a constant reminder to Jacob of Ephraim's traumatic and neglected start in life.
Ephraim swallowed, his eyes darting to the dark safety of the stable that Jacob was denying him. "I… I just took Thunder out. He was so antsy this morning, I thought a gallop might calm him down."
Jacob nodded slowly, not buying a word of it. "Thunder was antsy or you were antsy?" Ephraim said nothing, only scuffed his feet in the dirt. "I hope you weren't expecting Peter to do your chores for you?"
Ephraim looked horrified at the thought. "Oh, no, sir. I would never—"
"Well, you know what he's like, Ephraim. He'll do his chores then yours on top if left to his own devices, and I don't pay him for that. And there's a reason you need to clear the stable in the morning."
