All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

He’d probably be pissed if he knew the girls and I have dedicated the locked backroom of the old greenhouse to growing mandrake, hemlock, and henbane. The more I learned about Killian’s defensive efforts—the patrols, the contingency plans, the bunker under the commissary—the more I realized the threat from Last Pack and Moon Lake isn’t as far-fetched as I thought. If they are ever dumb enough to come for us, we’ll have more than fangs and claws to greet them.Banning me from the gym was our first major fight, though. It ended with Killian buying me a Subaru and building me a raised garden in our backyard. I don’t remember exactly how it unfolded. I was shifting to my wolf a lot, and we were not using our words.On the porch, Tye sighs, sinks to the sofa, and takes out his phone. “We’ve got a reconciliation match in a half hour,” he calls over his shoulder.Those were my idea. You can’t leave ten males in the proverbial doghouse forever. You need to provide a path back to the pack’s go

We’re grown now.We know that life in Moon Lake Pack is a game, and it’s rigged, and while we mean our promises, we don’t often get to keep them in the long run.The gold in Nia’s eyes dims. I’m bringing us down. No call for that. Morning is an hour away, and reality’s gonna take a crap on our day soon enough.“Okay, I’ve got one.” I clear my throat. “If you had to get stuck half-shifted for the rest of your life, top half wolf or bottom half?”“Easy. Top half. I’m not giving up human sex or wolf eatin’.”“Is it really that good?”“Which?”“Either.”“Yeah.” She smirks. “It’s good. Oh! I got one.”Her eyes are back to shining.“Cadoc Collins or Brody Hughes?”My heart goes thump, and without warning, warmth spreads through my chest like spilt tea on a tablecloth. My chilly toes in my boots, the icy tips of my ears—they’re on fire.Thank goodness I’m sitting in the shadows. I know I’m bright red. I’m the world’s worst blusher. Best blusher? Whichever, it has to be some kind of medical o

“Seriously?” Nia mutters.Pritchard’s what we call ‘all dog.’ Most shifters have some tell when they’re in their wolf form—an air of otherworldliness, an intelligence in the eye, whatever. Then, there’s folks like Pritchard. He’ll lick his butthole right in front of you.While he’s doing that, Bevan trots over to piss on a tree. When he comes back to the bonfire, he’s in human form, limp dick swinging.He holds his hands out to the fire. “We done?”“Yeah, we are.” Nia rolls her eyes. “Thanks for all your help.”“You’re welcome.” Bevan grins and scratches his hairy ass.I maneuver the Dutch oven off the tripod while Nia grabs the guys’ clothes from the branch where they hung them. She tosses Bevan his jeans and Baja hoodie and balls up Pritchard’s stuff and pitches it at him. She misses, and they land in the dirt. Pritchard noses and paws at his flannel.Using silicone oven mitts, I carry the dragon’s tongue into the Airstream and stow it on an old Weber grill I set up in the shower.W

At least the view is nice.Cadoc passes effortlessly to a teammate and then scores on the rebound. He’s taller, his moves are smoother, and his instincts are quicker than anyone else on the court. No one can block him.Next to me on the bleachers, Nia sighs. “I’m with you, Rosie-cakes. I’d present for Cadoc Collins any day of the week.”My face blazes, and I kind of want to smack her.“What?” She slides me a smirking glance. “You’re the one who said it.”I didn’t. Not in those words.“You have a mate,” I remind her. We’re not rehashing that conversation. Not in broad daylight when Cadoc is right there and still smelling woodsy in the best possible way.“Pritchard? He wouldn’t mind.” Nia scans the gym until she finds him squatting at the sidelines, scratching his midsection, half-watching the game and half-watching her with hooded eyes.He catches her looking, and he curls his top lip, revealing a long, sharp canine. Nia rolls her eyes.“I think he’d mind.” Pritchard gives Nia her spac

When I started at the upper school, nobs were still putting their gear in lockers, but at some point, they realized that scavengers can pick any lock and stuff is actually safer out in plain sight of everyone. This was their solution.But no one’s here now. Mr. Arnold is at his desk on his computer with his back to the door.The shouting outside is still going strong. I guess Bevan caught a second wind.It’s just me and the pretties.I sidle closer, and very slowly, I dust my fingertips across a phone. It lights up, and a thrill scrambles down my spine. On the lock screen, there’s a picture of three pretty blonde girls posing for the camera. It’s Brynn Owen and her best friends Teagan and Lowry. Not sure whose phone it is. Could be any of them or a mid-rank wannabe trying to claim friendship to gain status.I take a quiet, small step forward and let my fingers graze another screen. Nothing happens. I don’t want to click the button. That feels too close to wrong.I have a messed-up sen