The Alpha’s Heart (Stolen Mates #3)

3. Bishop

CHAPTER 3

BISHOP

I ’m going to Louisiana—but I’m not going alone.

I’d argue if I could. Kendall shuts that down directly after I tell him my decision. Until the moment I’m safely on Sylvan Pack land, I’m his responsibility. He refuses to let me put myself into danger. As he reminds me, I’ve never even been out of River Run before. To get to Louisiana, I have to fly, then travel by car to the outskirts of Hickory, the shifter settlement where Bishop Dupuis lives.

Only one problem: I don’t know how to drive.

There was no reason for me to learn. I can run much faster in my fur, and the terrain around River Run is so hilly and wet, it’s pointless to use a vehicle that could get caught in the mud or between trees. I’m a schoolteacher. I don’t head out of the safety of the pack circle for the non-supe world. As intelligent as I am, I’m clueless when it comes to navigating amongst the humans.

All of that is true. You know what else is also true? That Kendall was going to stick me with a bodyguard or two because of some unspoken agreement between Alphas. My Alpha is sending me to my Alpha intended. In their own code, by passing Bishop’s proposal onto me, then telling the other Alpha I’ve accepted, Kendall will ensure I make it to Bishop without a single fur out of place.

He couldn’t bring me. Obviously. The only time an Alpha leaves pack territory is during the annual Alpha meet where every pack leader gets together to discuss issues in our community. That happened in July. Kendall’s not going anywhere for a while.

I thought he might assign me Seton as my chaperone. Our Beta does the duties that Kendall can’t so it would make sense. If only I was that lucky. Seton won’t leave River Run since his mate just announced she’s carrying their first pup.

Luckily, there aren’t that many packmates who are familiar with the humans and their vehicles. When Declan told me over the farewell dinner I made as an apology for blowing him off the night before that Kendall ordered him to go, I was relieved.

Of course, then he sheepishly admitted that—because Declan is a delta—Kendall insisted on a second male going along on the journey. I knew even before he added that one particular wolf volunteered who it would be.

And that’s how I ended up on a three-hour flight, sandwiched between Guy Holsom’s anise scent and Declan Slate’s comforting lemon.

Talk about feeling like a chew toy. I had to sit between them because, if I didn’t, the two males sniped at each other. First, on the ride to the airport, then through the tedious human security. By the time we were being seated—and after Guy berated the poor human flight attendant for not giving me the best spot on the plane just because he thought I deserved it—Declan was goading Guy as much as Guy was doing everything he could to convince me to get off the plane with him.

I didn’t, obviously. I’m the type of she-wolf that, once she gives her word, that’s it. I said I would become Bishop Dupuis’s mate since we’re fated, and that’s what I’m going to do. And when he didn’t drop it, he irritated my mild-mannered wolf to the point that she appeared in my eyes even though I had to stay in my skin.

I snapped my fangs. Guy swallowed back a howl. Declan smirked at him.

We spent the rest of the plane ride in tension-filled silence.

Now Declan and Guy flank me as we finally approach Sylvan Pack territory on foot. Frustrated and a little more anxious than I thought I’d be, I tried to shake them at the airport, then again after Declan rented a car to drive us out toward the hidden shifter land. I watched him drive to the airport back home. I figured I could do it.

They wouldn’t let me, and deltas or not, when the two males decided to work together and turn on me, I couldn’t beat their wolves’ dominance.

The car is tucked on a small road buried deep in the trees. Once we got to the point that Declan couldn’t drive any further, each male took one of my large luggage cases out of the trunk, then the three of us went against our instincts and headed toward another pack’s territory.

River Run is cut off from the unsuspecting human population by our river. Hickory is protected by a thick wooded area that is, predictably, made up of towering hickory trees.

Ah, wolf shifters. We are nothing if not literal, except maybe overprotective.

The two males simply refused to let me go on my own. I tried to get Guy to wait with the car, but that didn’t happen, either. Maybe this is the closure he needs. When I cross the invisible border that separates the Sylvan Pack from the rest of the woods, he’ll have to accept that I’m not going to mate him and, hopefully, move on.

We sense that border before we see it. There’s a reason why shifters live in secluded areas out in nature, far from any other packs. Our wolves can handle being close, and like our non-supe beasts out in the wild, we’ll instinctively avoid each other’s territory almost subconsciously.

The slight zap makes it easy. So do the tell-tale markings that warn the land is claimed by a powerful Alpha for his pack. Only knowing that I have an express invitation to cross that border, to join my new mate, allows my wolf to pad forward despite the fact that I’m still in my skin.

There are too many new scents for me to process all of them; the piss overlaying everything, warning away other predators, is so strong, it’s all I’m choking on. I’ll get used to it. Once I’m officially a member of the Sylvan Pack, I’ll come to appreciate it. For now, I breathe shallowly through my nose as we break through a copse of trees, finding two shifter males waiting on the other side.

Declan stops, parking my oversized rolling suitcase. Guy tightens his grip on the handle he’s holding. The plastic groans, nearly cracking. But he stops, too.

I’m the only one who keeps moving forward.

They’re both beta wolves. I can tell their ranking immediately. Sometimes it’s hard to gauge one delta wolf’s power level from another, but just like how alphas are in a class of their own, so are betas.

One of them is a striking male who appears to be in his late fifties; for shifters, that could mean he’s that age or, thanks to our regenerative properties and slow again, pushing seventy-five. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back, his gold shifter eyes both watchful and welcoming.

The other beta wolf is much younger. Sixteen, maybe, or seventeen. Not a pup, but older than a juvenile. He’s a little lanky, his brown hair cut short, and his eyes… they’re not as welcoming as the other male’s, but that could be because they’re the strangest grey shade.

What kind of wolf has grey eyes?

The younger beta sniffs. A hint of a frown tugs on his lips before he glances over at the older male.

He nods, a single jerk of his head. “You must be Sofia Russo. We’ve been waiting for you. I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip. Weston? Get the Alpha’s intended’s bags, please.”

The younger beta walks easily over the invisible border. I know what’s happening here. It’s a shifter power play. The teenaged beta has more power than two River Run deltas combined. He can come and go out of Hickory while Declan and Guy have to remain outside of their pack territory.

After all, the invitation to cross into Sylvan Pack land was only extended to the Alpha’s intended.

To me .

He’s a lean male, barely growing into his maturity. That doesn’t mean anything. This Weston is still a shifter, and he lifts both of my heavy bags easily, moving them back across the border.

The older beta smiles. “Welcome to Hickory, Sofia. Now, if you’d like to say your goodbyes… Bishop is waiting for you.”

I plan to just wave at my former packmates. This is goodbye. Once I step over that line—and unless Bishop decides to reject our bond and send me back to River Run—I’m a member of the Sylvan Pack. I’ll still keep in touch with my former pack. Declan, definitely, and my best friend actually stopped and bought me a cheap, prepaid phone for me to bring with me into Hickory so that I had a way to contact him in case my future mate proves too possessive to let me call him on one of his lines.

I should’ve known better.

Guy bounds forward, throwing his arms around me. His breath is hot on my ear as he whispers, “If you change your mind… if you’d rather settle down with a delta who won’t terrify your wolf… come back home, Sofia. I’ll still make you mine.”

Luna, Guy. He might’ve been careful enough to pitch his voice so that only I can hear him, but what if the pair of betas did ? That’s a complication I don’t need.

I wiggle out of his hug after patting him on the back once. I don’t promise him anything because, well, if he hasn’t taken the hint yet, he never will.

Guy steps back. Declan immediately replaces him.

In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that jazz. This time, I’m the one who wraps her arms around the male, squeezing him tight.

Declan understands why I had to leave River Run. He’s sorry to see me go—he considers me his best friend as much as I do him—but he gets it. If his human mate understood the concept of fated partners like us shifters do, he’d be wrapping up the mating dance and making her his. Instead, he rubs my back, reminding me about the phone in my back pocket, before wishing me good luck as he breaks the hug.

I’ll miss him. I might even miss Guy, too. I’ll miss River Run…

…but as I move across the border, the Sylvan Pack welcoming me with a spark, I get the feeling that this is where I’m meant to be.

The older beta is the actual pack Beta. A male named Harris, he was the one who served under the previous pack Alpha, Xavier. Weston is the presumed Beta-heir. Even though he is sixteen, according to Harris, when the Beta decides to hand over the reins, everyone in Hickory expects Bishop to name Weston as the next Beta.

This is a young pack. Kendall told me that Bishop himself is only twenty-one, two years younger than I am. He became the Alpha when it became clear to Xavier that the young alpha was the most dominant male in the pack. That left him with two choices: run Bishop out and keep his position or wait until Bishop realized that he could easily challenge Xavier to be the leader and lose it.

That’s how Kendall got to be in charge of River Run. Most shifter packs work like that. Seems that the Sylvan Pack is a bit of an anomaly. Xavier came up with a third option: he could peacefully transfer power to Bishop, then retire on the edge of pack territory as a former Alpha with his mate and his family.

He won’t interfere with any pack politics now. Hickory belongs to Bishop Dupuis—and as Harris and West guide me toward the Alpha cabin where Bishop is expecting to meet me, a new scent makes its way through the noise, straight to my nose.

Cloves. Missing a step, nearly stumbling as I do, I’m bombarded by the strong scent of cloves. It wraps around me, making me light-headed and dizzy, and as I right myself, I feel something snapping into place deep inside of me.

It’s a bond. One whiff of what must be the Alpha’s scent and wham . If I had any doubt that Bishop Dupuis was my fated mate, they’re gone in an instant. Because he’s the source of the cloves, erasing any sign of the former resident of the Alpha cabin in the short time he’s taken it over.

I don’t even wait for the two males to lead me toward the den. As if my wolf is answering a call from Bishop’s, I float ahead, being drawn to the door that leads to the noted addition on the side of the rustic cabin.

Behind me, I hear Harris tell West to follow me in and bring the luggage with him. I guess the Beta’s job is done now that I’m at the cabin, and he passes off the last leg of guard duty to the younger male.

I barely notice. Not when I’m about to meet my fated mate…

With West a silent shadow behind me, I remember how embarrassed I was when I knocked on Kendall’s den. This time, I don’t, and when I turn the doorknob, I’m not surprised to find that it’s open.

Taking a deep breath, knowing I’m on the precipice of forever, I shove in the door and take my first steps inside of Bishop’s den.

And there he is.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A twenty-one-year old Alpha who was willing to take me as his mate because the Luna said so… but the second I lay eyes on Bishop Dupuis for the first time, he blows any expectations I have out of the water.

A twenty-one-year-old human is a boy. A twenty-one-year-old Alpha is a male . And this male… he’s big. Huge. At least a hand-and-a-half taller than me, and twice as wide, he’s made up of muscles upon muscles. He has this deliciously golden-colored skin, thick hair as dark as the beard covering his jaw, and a pair of dark gold shifter eyes that go impossibly black as his nostrils flare.

I was right. He’s the source of the cloves scent, plus the crackle against my skin tells me that this might be the most dominant wolf shifter I’ve ever met in my life.

And he’s snarling at me.

It’s not loud. If I wasn’t so keyed into him, I might not even have noticed. But that pull toward him, the bond inside my chest stretching toward his flannel-covered one… his surprisingly long lashes flutter and I see even that.

His continued growl sends shiver up my spine.

His angry look has me seconds away from bolting.

Honestly? If it wasn’t for the beta wolf at my back, blocking me from the exit, I might have.

My wolf is panicking. I know I shouldn’t look at any alpha directly in the eye, but I can help it; he’s a magnet with a pull too strong for me to deny. He stalks around the front of his desk, eyes locked on mine, but he doesn’t say anything. The growl dies down. My pulse quickens. My human side wants the floor to open up and swallow me whole. He’s still glaring at me, and I’m beginning to think I made a huge mistake agreeing to this?—

A wave of calm rushes through me. Quieting my racing heart, I hurriedly tear my gaze away from Bishop’s glower.

That’s when I see that he’s not alone. I have West standing at my side, holding both of my suitcases in his grip, but his attention is drawn to the other shifter in the room. When it hits me that she’s the source of the calm, she has my attention, too.

Roughly West’s age or so, she’s a pretty little thing. Tall and slender, willowy with princess-style golden locks, she’s sitting cross-legged on one of the long couches on the far side of the wall.

At first glimpse, she reminds me of a cheery teenage wolf. But I look closer, my wolf venturing out to get a better look, and know instantly that she’s an omega she-wolf with the ability to soothe and, sometimes, manipulate other wolves.

She’s not just a regular omega, though. Just like how Bishop radiates power and safety, she radiates warmth and security.

I think I’m looking at the Sylvan Pack’s Omega, the one wolf responsible for the mental being of the shifters under Bishop’s rule.

The blonde she-wolf smiles. It’s meant for me, an Omega putting a new packmate at ease, but West catches the full blast of it. Poor kid. He jolts in place, then stares back at her as if he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

I swallow my own grin. Young love. These two are at the age where they’re coming into their maturity, and I can’t tell if they’ll be fated mates one day or not, but if West has it his way, he’ll make the Omega his.

Does she reciprocate? That’s harder to tell. So many females in my age group used to tease the hormone-filled males. There were those like me, who decided to wait to mate until they find their forever partner, and those who understood that, at our core, shifters are animalistic by design. Sex is a natural act. Why not have as much of it as possible?

Bishop suddenly clears his throat, snaring my attention again.

Oh my Luna. I guess I didn’t realize it, but because his level of dominance was so overpowering, I’d given my wolf a small reprieve by focusing on the two young packmates in the room.

From the frown on his ruggedly handsome face, I don’t think Bishop is a big fan of me ignoring him.

He breathes in deep. Lightning flashes in his dark gold eyes.

My inner wolf yips, and I take a subconscious step away from him.