Wolf Queen Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Alexis Pierce

  This edition published 2020

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Cover Design by Kate Hall

  Interior Design by Kate Hall

  Interior Design by Kate Hall

  Dedication

  Quote

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To the lady who asked what I do for a living, and when I told her, smiled condescendingly, and said “That’s nice.”

  Fuck you.

  Quote

  “Desperation is like stealing from the Mafia: you stand a good chance of attracting the wrong attention.”

  Douglas Horton

  Chapter One

  Eve

  The sky has been exploding for days, but that’s not unusual for July in St. Louis. The unusual thing is the number of fireworks going off. Some people on social media are claiming that it’s the cops doing it because of all the protests, and I wouldn’t put it past them. Not in this city, at the very least.

  I’m on edge every time another firework goes off, which is every few seconds. The booms can be heard for miles, and half the pack is having an impossible time falling asleep. Gloria, while babysitting, has been doing her best to keep Poppy calm, but it seems to be the worst on the changed pups.

  Across from me in my third meeting for the night is a young woman, the older sister of a twelve-year-old boy who Kenneth kidnapped. Her parents refused to come when they found out what happened, and my heart hurts for this girl, no more than nineteen, who’s on her own.

  “Sarah, right?” I say, keeping my voice as kind as possible. Anderson keeps telling me that I could be a bit friendlier with people, but I don’t see the problem with being brusque and to-the-point, myself. Seeing this trembling human girl in front of me, though, I sort of get what he’s talking about.

  She nods. Her hands are clenching a manilla envelope tightly, crumpling the sides. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, and fear emanates off her in waves. “Yes, ma’am,” she says, her thick southern drawl evident. Her brother had been taken from a truck stop on the east side of town, but they’re originally from Louisiana.

  I plaster the kindest smile I can manage on my face. I’ve been practicing, as per Freya’s sarcastic suggestion. Don’t look threatening, I repeat to myself over and over. “I’m glad you were able to meet with me. What was it you wanted to discuss?”

  Anderson has been acting as my assistant since I took over the pack in May, setting appointments and doing most of the communication with the pack as a whole. I don’t do those morning meetings that Kenneth used to do to establish his authority, so I don’t actually get much time with anyone in the pack other than my three mates.

  Sarah clears her throat, then sets the envelope on the table. “I was looking at getting Dalton registered for school, but with everything going on, I’m not really sure. I just got the custody papers in, so I guess he’s technically mine now?” Her voice still shakes, and the scent of tears hit me before they actually fall from her face.

  Despite the hard exterior that I put on for the world, my heart aches for this girl. She shouldn’t have to deal with all this on her own. “Of course,” I say. “We do offer homeschooling directly through the pack, which we find to be the best option for the pups—sorry, kids—who are still unstable.”

  Sarah swallows, and her eyes flick down to the official-looking documents that she’s pulled out of the envelope to show me. “Do you think that’s okay for him? I mean, kids need friends and stuff, right?”

  I nod. “I completely understand your concern. There are many others his age, and Gloria has been teaching since before I was born.” I lean forward, resting my head on my hands to appear non-threatening. “I am glad you decided to remain with the pack, despite what your parents have put the two of you through. You have to understand that we want the best for everyone here. I am nothing like my predecessor, and I assure you that I have your brother’s best interests at heart.”

  She nods but still seems unsure. It makes sense, of course. Who would willingly put someone they love through this kind of life?

  I shake my head and lean back. “Look, Sarah. There isn’t any sort of cure for lycanthropy, otherwise I would offer it. Many of Gloria’s students go on to attend college, and before my father’s death, it was all paid for by the pack. Dalton will be fine, but I also need you to trust that I know what I’m talking about.”

  After a moment of staring at me, her demeanor shifts to something more relaxed, and she gives the slightest nod.

  “He’s going to be okay,” I promise.

  When she stands up, another boom makes the building shudder. Fucking fireworks. “You can tell the next person to come in.”

  “Thank you,” she says, taking her paperwork and giving me a weak smile. I nod and wave her away.

  I think that went sort of well.

  Thompson opens the door and watches me warily as the young woman leaves, tears still gathered in her eyes. “You have to stop making people cry,” he says, exasperated. The sight of him is a relief to my entire system. The last time I saw him, he and Freya were leaving to attend some party that the dragon queen invited us to. I couldn’t take the time off, but I also knew it would be rude for none of the St. Louis werewolves to show up at all.

  I throw my hands in the air. “It’s not my fault,” I say. “She’s having a rough couple months.”

  He rolls his eyes, and it’s that moment that I realize he’s just fucking with me. I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Are you my next meeting?” I ask, pricking an eyebrow in his direction. My heart stutters. I sure hope he is. He was only gone a couple of days, but the absence of two of my mates made my bones ache with worry.

  His face flushes pink, and he gives me a sheepish smile. “Do you mind?” He shuts the door behind him, and I stand to stride over to him. He’s the tallest of my mates, and I have to look up to stare him in the eyes. His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, and I do the same. His scent is laced with something else, or, more accurately, someone else.

  “I hope you and Anderson had a fun reunion,” I mumble, tracing my hands up the fabric of his button-up shirt. His muscles are lean and taut. It’s at that moment that I realize it’s been far too long since I’ve spent quality time with any of my mates. I’ve just been so damn busy with running the pack that they’ve sort of taken a backseat.

  He nods, his eyes dark as he watches my hands move over him. “Your meeting was running long,” he breathes. I’m itching to kiss him, but I would have to stand on my tiptoes to do it. If I wait him out long enough, perhaps he’ll lean over to kiss me.

  “You need a break,” he says, his voice growing dark and husky as his hands move to m
y bare waist. Maybe a crop top and high-waist booty shorts don’t make the most professional outfit, but we still need to have the ground-level air conditioning looked at, and the summer has been hotter than hell. I can deal with heat, though, if it’s between my comfort and the pack’s needs. I spent over a decade in Texas, after all. There’s something about the Missouri humidity, though, that makes it worse.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” I mumble, wrapping my hand around his tie and yanking, dragging his face down to mine. His lips meet mine in a blaze of heat, and something clicks inside me. Yes, I absolutely needed this. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip, and I groan.

  He pulls away too soon, though, and I don’t dare cry out. I am an independent woman, after all, and I won’t show him just how weak he makes me.

  “We’ll continue this later,” he mumbles, giving me a small peck on the nose. As soon as he leaves me, the door latching shut behind him, I stumble to my desk and sit at the leather chair that once belonged to my father.

  He’s right, of course. There’s a lot of work to do, and I’m the only one who can do it. I pull my dad’s planner out of the hidden desk drawer. Kenneth really fucked up the pack’s finances, and a small part of me wonders if it might be my own fault. I took all my dad’s connections when I ran away, so there wasn’t really a way for the pack to make any reasonable amount of money in the years I was gone.

  I will fix it, though. We will get back on track. I haven’t just been spending the past couple months fucking around, after all. I’ve been preparing.

  The St. Louis pack was never just a pack. Once, long ago, we were the most revered mafia in the city.

  Chapter Two

  Freya

  I hated going to Draecus Island without Poppy and Eve. Thompson wasn’t the worst person to spend the end of the week with, but I didn’t want to leave Poppy in Gloria’s care.

  As the night begins to pale into morning, I pace my room. I’m not supposed to pick up Poppy from Gloria until eight, and I haven’t yet seen Eve. She’s always so busy, and I understand, but it’s hard. Sometimes I find myself wondering if I made the wrong decision in keeping my own apartment instead of moving in with Eve and the others. Perhaps if they weren’t in a cramped two-bedroom, but I know that there’s not enough space for Poppy, and I’m not willing to give her up.

  I pace the floor until my feet are sore, so I take a shower that doesn’t seem to last long enough. Finally, I decide that fuck it, I’ll go visit Eve. I know Thompson went to see her as soon as we arrived, and there’s no way he’s still there. Right?

  I trudge down the stairs. The elevator in this part of the building stopped working months ago, and there’s no way the pack can afford to fix it. Eve has been working herself to exhaustion just trying to stay on top of keeping everyone alive without taking from their income like Kenneth used to do.

  When I approach Eve’s office, Anderson is gone. Good. I don’t really have the energy to be around him right now. I knock gently on the door. I almost think Eve has already left, but her scent is still strong. She opens the door, and my manic mind finally calms.

  “Freya,” she breathes. Her hair is a mess, and the top button of her shorts is undone, like she got sick of her stomach pressing against the denim edge. I’m half tempted to trace my finger along that little red seam mark on her skin, but I don’t dare make the first move.

  “Eve,” I reply. My hair is still drying along my shoulders, and she takes a step and puts one hand on a strand, our skin still not touching.

  “How was your trip?” Eve asks, not looking me in the eyes. Instead, she combs her hands through my hair.

  “Could’ve been better,” I say, trying to sound casual, but the with you part hangs in the air between us despite the fact that I didn’t actually say it out loud.

  Since I’m barefoot instead of wearing my signature high heels, Eve is currently taller than me, my lips at the perfect position to brush along the hollow where her throat meets the corner of her jaw. I don’t do it, though.

  “It sucked here, too,” she admits, her hand tightening to pull my hair just enough that I let out a little gasp.

  It’s been a long time since Eve and I have been together. That’s what happens when she lives with her two other mates, though. They get more time with her. They get to touch her more.

  “Eve,” I warn, but I’m not sure what I’m trying to communicate. Her touch is bliss, and I want nothing more than for her to keep doing it.

  She growls and presses her lips to mine, and I stumble in to close the door. If someone were to interrupt us, I might just tear them apart at this point. Thompson’s scent is on her, but only barely. Did he not do what I thought he would when he arrived?

  I grab her hips roughly, my pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of her black shorts. She groans against me, and I tug the shorts gently, more of a question than anything.

  Her lips tear away from mine, and she drags my hair back to tilt my head up. Her lips brush against my ear as she says, “I want you on your knees.” There’s the slightest hint of trepidation in her tone, like she isn’t so sure she should be demanding such a thing, but my entire body flushes with heat and desire.

  Her hand releases my hair, and I lean forward to kiss that spot below her jaw. Then, I move down her throat, nibbling at her exposed collarbone. My hands move to pull up the hem of her shirt, and she tears it over her head, revealing her breasts. How did I not notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra? I take one nipple into my mouth, rolling it between my teeth and flicking it with my tongue until it hardens. I pinch the other one hard, and she snarls at me. Despite the display of aggression, I can smell her arousal as she grinds her hips against me. I release her breasts, moving slowly to my knees as my lips trace down over her stomach, the muscles tense and chiseled.

  “Put your hands in my hair,” I mumble against her hipbone, which I then bite gently. She does as I say, and my heart thrills at the little victory as her fingers tangle through the curls against my scalp. I tuck my fingers back below the waist of her shorts, pulling them down slowly. She steps out of them, and I kiss each of her inner thighs in turn.

  “Freya, you don’t have to—“ she says, but her words are cut off when I bite the tender flesh of her inner thigh right where it meets her pelvis. She lets out a little whine, and my own panties grow wet at the scent of her desire.

  “I want to,” I growl, flicking my tongue over the spot where I just bit her. Instead of removing her panties, I run my tongue along the edge, then tuck it just underneath where I can tease her slit.

  With a cry, she bucks against me, and I have to tighten my hands on her hips. Her enthusiasm is delightful, but I want this to last for her. If she keeps up how she is, I’ll end up taking her fast and hard.

  I move one hand down, pressing against her pelvis to keep her from bucking against me again and using my thumb to move the crotch of her panties out of the way. My tongue starts at the very bottom of her slit, moving up as slowly as I can manage without parting her. She whines again, but she doesn’t thrust this time.

  Carefully, I use my thumb to tease her open, her hole slick with wetness. Then, I move my other hand town to open her up even further, her pussy red and swollen with need. I press the flat of my tongue against her, and she muffles a cry, one of her hands tightening in my hair to the point where it’s painful.

  I can’t help but moan against her, my thumbs holding her open while I drag my tongue up to her clit. I push my thumbs inside her, tracing circles around her most sensitive spot before sucking on it.

  Eve

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. I bite my bottom lip and lean my head back, but my legs are trembling with weakness as Freya slowly and painfully uses her mouth to pleasure me. It would be easier if I were leaning against the door or my desk or something, but at this rate, I might just fall from all the pleasure crashing through my system like waves against a cliffside. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire, but every time I come anywhere close to fi
nishing, Freya stops and kisses my sensitive skin.

  I want to tell her to stop, but I also can’t bear the thought of losing this feeling. I brush my fingers through her hair while she runs her soft, full lips against my skin.

  “This is torture,” I breathe while she waits for me to calm down, and she chuckles. Does she know how difficult it is for me to remain standing right now?

  “Well, I’ve heard that torture is supposed to last a while,” she replies, her hot breath tickling me. Are my hardened muscles a turn-off for her? My coiled muscles are a stark contrast against her soft curves, but I can’t help but lift weights when I’m stressed, which is basically all the time now.

  Her fingers dig into my skin like claws as she latches back onto my clit, massaging my opening with her fingers once again. I suck in a breath through my teeth, and I can’t stop myself from coming this time.

  Her hands tighten even harder on my hips, her nails breaking the skin while I fall apart. Blood drips down onto the old carpet, and I have to lean forward and catch myself on the door with my forearms, trembling while she finishes me off.

  “I missed you,” she mumbles, kissing my thigh when I’m finally finished. She traces her tongue over the trail of blood, although the wounds have already closed.

  I missed her, too, although I hate to admit any sort of weakness, even to my mates. “I’m glad you came by,” I say instead. She stands up and works her way between my arms, pressing her lips to that sensitive place beneath my jaw that I love so much.

  She hums in agreement, wrapping one of her hands around my wrist so she can lead me down her body. I happily comply, running my fingers down her body and into the waist of her leggings. I trace a finger over her slit, which is already soaked with need. She leans her head back against the wooden door, a blissful smile falling on her face as she rolls her hips against my hand.

  I go slow, parting her before putting one finger in, testing until I find the sensitive spot inside her. She gasps, her amber eyes flying open as I pleasure her. There’s something about our eyes meeting that makes me feel raw, exposed. I smash my lips against hers, slamming my eyes shut as I go harder, pressing her against the door while she moans and cries against me.