The Alpha's Mate

Part 3

You'd think that werewolves would lead lives of action and adventure, using their superior strength and senses to their advantage.

You would be wrong.

In reality, wolves like to overeat (mostly chicken wings) and gossip. They especially love a good rumor, the more scandalous, the more salacious, the better. I knew firsthand how insular packs could be as I'd been the subject of wagging tongues my whole life. Being the only null in four generations could do that to you.

Except there was one rumor no one had ever heard and it was true: I'd never actually been a null. I'd just been delayed. A true null never would've shifted. The real mystery was what had kept my wolf at bay for so long. I suspected it was related to my parents' deaths. If that didn't set a wolf back, I didn't know what would.

Now that I'd finally changed and mated with Jackson, the scrutiny approached the intensity of a super nova. Everyone talked about me. All the time. They'd spent my whole life ignoring me, pushing me to the fringes of the pack and now they couldn't stop noticing me. I was the biggest news to break in the small Appalachian town of Hunstville in decades.

The next alpha female of the Huntsville pack would be me, the 'null' who couldn't change until her mate brought her wolf. The gossip ranged from claiming I was deformed to mentally unstable. To escape speculation, I'd taken to hiding in the house I now shared with Jackson.

Being the center of attention made me anxious. I had few friends and still didn't quite trust my instincts as a wolf. Because I'd been shunned by the pack so long, I barely knew how a pack was even supposed to work. It was safer to keep to myself. I lived in fear of letting anyone see me struggle with my transition to a full werewolf. It would look like weakness instead of inexperience and there were wolves who would be more than happy to see me fail.

Today, however, I couldn't stay out of the public eye. There was a package waiting for me at the post office and I wanted to pick it up before I ran down to Nashville. Jackson was gone when I woke up, already over at Cal's house on pack business. Something about renegotiating mineral rights with the mining company that leased some of the pack's land.

Being a generally thoughtful guy, he made enough coffee for both of us before he left. I sipped it as I drove toward town, enjoying the hazelnut flavor.

I parked my Toyota pick-up—so ancient the cherry red had long ago faded to pink—as near to the post office as I could and checked my cell phone for the time. My truck's clock stopped working sometime in the 1990s, back when my Dad was still alive.

It was Saturday, the busiest day of the week for our small town square. I'd hoped to avoid notice by being there when the post office opened at seven. The original idea had been to get in and get out before anyone saw me. Unfortunately, my cell phone showed the time as five after eleven. Jackson had kept me up so late, I'd sank back into sleep instead of getting up when the alarm went off. Naturally, that meant post office was packed. So much for my plan to stay on the down low.

Squaring my shoulders, I stepped out of my truck, and after a brief moment of hesitation, opened the squeaky door to the post office. Bells clinked against the glass door announcing my arrival to everyone inside. I tried not to cringe at the sound. Blinking against the dim light, I took my place in line, acting like it was no big deal when, in reality, I hadn't been around so many people in weeks.

One or two folks nodded at me in polite acknowledgement and I nodded back, noting the ones who turned up their noses, pretending I was invisible. As usual, it was the younger wolves who seemed to be the most offended by my existence. The older ones were more accepting of my sudden transformation and elevation in the pack's hierarchy.