Page 37 of Rogue Games

I move to follow my brother down the hill, and to my surprise, Dean walks close by my side, a half step behind like some hulking bodyguard. With the looks I’m getting, I’m mildly grateful but also unbelievably frustrated. This man is giving some seriously mixed signals and seems incapable of telling the truth.

The silence between us feels like a living, breathing thing. I can feel him practically bursting to get something off his chest.

Our hands brush as I step over a large rock in the path. Snatching my hand away, I hiss at him quietly. “Don’t.”

Shaking my head in exasperation, I turn back to stare out at the postcard perfect view. I’m a rogue, he’s an alpha. That’s all I need to focus on. Not his delicious smell or strong hands.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, stopping to face him, hands on hips. “Other than for me to fail.”

“I want to know why you’re here, Jamie.”

Feeling like I’m under the microscope, I squirm. “To win a pack.”

Dean shakes his head and chuckles humourlessly, his dark hair falling forward as he pins me with those smoky grey eyes. “No, you’re not. Wyatt’s here to win. I can’t work out what you want.”

Bristling at the suggestion that I’m not taking this seriously; I bite my tongue. I don’t want to get in trouble before the race even begins. “I want a pack,” I say. “Wyatt can win, sure, but I can help him by staying in as long as I can. And I’m planning on giving it my all because my wolf needs this, and she deserves it. Being alone is hard for her.”

That’s the truth, ish.

Wyatt is far bigger and stronger than me, with brains and the perfect temperament to boot. Obviously, he stands a better chance, but if either one of us comes first, we both win. We’ll finally have somewhere to call home again.

While I’m here, I’m also trying to understand why my mother abandoned her two small children to shack up with a man who killed his first mate, and never looked back. That’s a conversation for another time.

Because right now, most of all, I want to pretend that I belong. To imagine what it would be like to be back in the fold again.

“Hmm,” is all Dean says to my heartfelt admission, but continues to watch me closely, studying me. He takes one last look at my racing outfit before snarling at a male who brushes up against me as he walks by. My wolf practically rolls over at his protectiveness. When his eyes land back on mine, darkening, I know he feels this attraction. And hates it as much as I do.

“These guys are going to test you today. Are you ready for it?” He’s gone from insulting me to a pep talk so fast, my head is spinning. It seems the petty taunts of the wolves surrounding us are bothering Dean more than me.

“I’m used to being universally disliked and ready for anything.”

My flippant answer doesn’t please him, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. He wants me to heed his words, but this is just another day for me. Living as an alpha and being respected by all, or at the very least feared, he just doesn’t get it.

Lynn shouts out a two-minute warning, and the excited chatter among the crowd grows louder.

“Nobody out there is in this for anyone but themselves. Wyatt is the only person you can trust. Wyatt and your own gut. Ignore everybody else and stick together if you can.”

With that cheerful warning, Dean strides to the front of the gathering and lets out an ear-splitting whistle. With our sensitive hearing, it’s a noise we hate, and everyone shuts up immediately.

“If you don’t have it already, get your timing chip. Everyone races from here along the signposted path to the canyon. Believe me, you’ll know it when you see it. Cross the bridge, then back here. No shifting today.” He pauses, waiting for disappointed groans to stop. “Anyone over four hours on the course gets cut. No exceptions. I don’t care if you broke a leg, or your best buddy tied you to a tree. You’re competing for a pack here. Whatever happens is on you. Keep your wits about you, and your eye on the prize. Top fifty percent of whoever’s left gets through.”

A murmur ripples through the gathered crowd as the realisation that this is it sinks in.

“This is the Alpha Games, ladies and gentlemen. With the best prize there is to be won. There are no second chances, so make sure you leave it all out there.” With a dark chuckle, he looks out at the crowd, who stares back at him, fascinated by the brooding alpha who earned his pack by killing his own father.

“Good luck out there.”

The tension in the crowd ratchets up as everyone collects a timing chip and attaches it to their wrist. Adrenaline pumping through each shifter's veins, the group falls into focused silence, waving for the race to start, large sections of the participants divided into waves that will go off at different times.

There’s going to be a lot of wolves leaving today.

“These two should be the first to go,” someone spits out behind me as we move forward.

Wyatt gives my shoulder a supportive squeeze.

WYATT: Ignore them. Focus.

There are looks of disdain from some of the wolves in our group, but others are fine, concentrating on their own race rather than me and my brother.

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