Page 20 of Forged Alliances

Chapter Ten

Well, Dax had wanted distraction, but he didn’t think meeting the infamous Tribe with a raging hard-on could be considered putting his best foot forward. No matter how he tried to focus, the bloom of Sierra’s arousal in the air wasn’t helping tamp his intense lust. He sucked in a deep breath and focused on nasty-ass things like wrinkled, paper-thin skin, the moldy can of tomatoes he had in the fridge, and the bottle of Midori he’d killed as a teen, turning his puke neon green for an entire day. By the time she opened the bar door, he was ready to face the big beaters who waited inside.

Dax stepped in, the foreign scent hitting him full force. Sure, the stench of wet dog clung to this place like plaster, but the presence of the Tribe brought the sort of power that made his nose tingle. These were the strongest of their kind, imbued with one of the animal spirits that shifters were descended from. Shamans had created his kind as warriors back when the magic users existed en masse. Now the few remaining only poked their heads out of their remote hovels and communes to anoint new Tribe members.

Dax walked forward, shoulders back and head high. Against the brawn these folks touted, he had to have machismo firing on all cylinders if he hoped to compete. With his position as alpha as shaky as a drunk on Christmas, he was already knee-capped.

“I assume you’re the alpha of the Red Rock pack?” a woman’s voice called from the opposite side of the tavern. Sierra nodded, taking the lead as they wound their way over to the round table where five vicious-looking bastards sat. Even though Sierra’s expression had turned to granite, he could feel the tension buzzing off her the same way it emanated from him.

Their footsteps echoed through the quiet bar as they approached the Tribe members who’d arrived. Finn manned the taps, pouring pints for the visitors with a frown on his face as he watched them warily. The woman who spoke stood, though the others remained seated—not like that diminished the sheer power rolling off them. Even though she couldn’t be taller than five feet, her short stature did little to diminish her lethality. Every inch of cocoa skin her tank top and shorts revealed was corded muscle.

Two big guys promised to compete with him and Finn for brawniest, the sort of men who would tower once they stood to full height. Another of the women had a lean, lanky frame, far from willowy since every spare inch of her packed swimmer’s muscle. A shorter, stockier guy had a scowl like a bulldog and a pockmarked mug to boot.

What would make anyone blink twice were the intricate tribal tattoos coiling across their arms and trailing down their legs. The shamans used them to bind the great spirits of the shifters to these individuals, which created the source of their abilities. Shifters had an advantage over humans with the way they could transform, but those chosen by the spirits were blessed with enhanced speed, strength, and elemental abilities to set them apart from the rest. Only fair that by accepting the spirit, they were bound to the service of shifterkind, small forces throughout the continents who maintained peace and resolved conflicts with honor, morality, and justice.

“And you’re the one petitioning for alpha of the Silver Springs pack?” The short chick fixed her gaze on him, her eyes glowing silver. The air crackled and popped between them, the challenge clear in her statement.

Dax fixed her with a level look. “I am the rightful alpha of Silver Springs. I’m petitioning for my pack’s land to be returned from the hands of a traitor who tore us apart and slaughtered defenseless members of Silver Springs. Who threatened our young.” He delivered his words with tempered rage, cooled and hardened from last night into something concrete. Something defining.

One of the brawny guys smirked, causing some of the seriousness to deflate from the room. “Just trying to assess the situation.”

Sierra pulled over chairs with a squeak, and they joined the Tribe members at the table. Within minutes, Finn swung by with pints of the amber lager they had on tap, making a couple of rounds until he filled the table. He grabbed a seat himself, flipping the chair backward and leaning over to listen. Dax palmed the cold glass, which pressed against his hand like a sedative.

The sheer presence of the Tribe had his lion pacing and growling within, a kick to the chest that sped up by the minute.

The short chick took a sip of beer before placing the glass on the table with a loud clink. “Name’s Navi. Let’s stop dicking around and get to the brass tacks of why you dragged us into your family mess.”

Dax lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t know—seems to me with how quick you lot arrived, all your busy Tribe work must be on the slow side.”

The slender woman placed a hand on the shoulder of the muscular guy beside her, who’d begun growling. “Knock it off, Akio.” She thwacked the guy. “You can thank Sierra for filling me in on the situation. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I respect her enough that if she says this is an issue, I believe her. Besides, we happened to be in the area. We had other business in the region.”

“Thanks again, Jess.” Sierra lifted her pint in appreciation, and a slow smile curled her lips. The Red Rock alpha was full of surprises. “Last night his brother and the other section of the pack attacked Dax’s people, and the bastards used pipe bombs. Do you mind looking into that?”

Jess’s brows furrowed as she exchanged a glance with Akio before resting her gaze on Dax. “Pipe bombs? And you can place your brother at the scene of the crime with a witness?” Even though Navi’s mouth twisted with a dark scowl, she didn’t offer more information. The whole lot of them remained tight-lipped.

Dax let out a frustrated sigh, tugging the brim of his cap. While he might be able to pin other folks in the pack, he hadn’t caught sight or scent of his brother last night.

Navi pounded her fist on the table to get attention, the thump drawing every eye. They all snapped to alert. The Tribe member might be brimming with power, but patience wasn’t a strong suit. “That matter will be dealt with at once. After we finish assessing the scene of yesterday’s crime, we’ll gauge whether or not Drew can contest for alpha of your pack and territory. Hearsay doesn’t count as testimony, and you have to admit, your personal reasons for blaming the attack on him hold bias.”

Dax gritted his teeth, forcing back a growl at his disapproval. Sierra shot him daggers, her gaze burning into him. He sucked in a deep breath, regaining his composure before speaking. “Then level with me. What do I need to do to claim official leadership of my pack?”

Navi let out a hissed breath through her clenched teeth. “Your pack’s already made a mess of that. Most folks manage to govern on their own, obeying the rules of a fair fight for dominance to decide who’s next to lead. Yours, however, drove you out.”

Dax’s stomach sank at the way they regarded him—he recognized the look, since he’d garnered it a lot growing up. Pity. Pity for the boy who was never in his father’s good graces, even though he’d never had a clue why until now. Familiar irritation swelled like the tide, the anger that folks refused to look at him for what he could do, only who had spurned him.

Jess sighed, running a hand through her copper curls. “Since your pack can’t be trusted to govern fairly, we step in. Your pack and territory becomes contested—open to challenge for any shifter group in the region who wants to claim them. Not only will you have to fight and defeat your brother if he’s not tied to last night, but anyone else who has their eye on the area. If you or your brother win, the Silver Springs pack will remain as is. However, if one of the other local shifter packs takes over, they’ll receive your land, and the Silver Springs pack will be dissolved, the members sent to the closest mountain lion packs.”

Dax held back his sigh, not betraying an inch of the disappointment that raged through him. After the injuries his pack had suffered last night, he wanted to end their agony. He owed them a place to live in peace and as a united pack, since it had all gotten splintered in the wake of his father’s death. Dax had hoped to avoid their lands becoming contested, but if that was what it took to reunite his pack and have a fair fight for alpha, then he’d take the chance.

“They can remain on my land while you’re going through these trials,” Sierra offered. He glanced over at her and saw understanding in her sable gaze. The look soothed him like a balm to his nerves, and their deep, powerful connection flushed him with gratitude.

The other big Latino guy spoke, his voice a deep, motor’s rumble. “Don’t listen to Jareth’s dramatics. You won’t be fighting for the next century. Due process is putting out the notice, and the contestation will last a week. You and your brother will battle the challengers independently. If one of the challengers wins against either of you, they’ll fight whoever is left, and at the end of the rounds, if you and your brother defeat all combatants, you’ll still face off against one another.”

Dax remained calm, stone-faced despite the heaviness weighting his chest. This situation had stretched on far too long for his people, and now they’d be subjected to another week of turbulence where they wouldn’t know if either brother of the Silver Springs pack would lead. At least if Drew was distracted in fighting other folks, he wouldn’t be dropping any more surprise attacks on their doorstep. What choice did Dax have?

“I accept,” Dax said, his voice echoing through the hush of the bar. If the Tribe required this, he would fight until his last breath to bring the Silver Springs pack together under one leader again. He reached out, and Big and Brawny clapped a hand over his as they shook.

“Well met, Dax Williams,” he said with the smirk from before curling his lips. “I’m Lucas Diaz. You’ve got the composure of an alpha. Let’s see if you’ve got the endurance.”

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