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  Thrane's Fated

  The Last Alphas of Thracos Book 3

  Marina Maddix

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Also by Marina Maddix

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Sometimes fate has other plans.

  The two warring tribes of Thracos have finally reunited, bringing Hill and Valley Wargs together for the first time in generations. As alpha, it’s my job to ensure every tribe member is ready to fight the Terrans who are determined to eradicate us — even if that includes private training sessions with the worst of the bunch.

  Peace-loving Arlynn hates violence almost as much as she hates me, but no matter how much I touch her during our lessons, I can’t seem to get her out of my system. All it would take is one mind-blowing encounter to quench my thirst for her luscious curves — not to mention rock her world — but she’s as stubborn as she is beautiful.

  Her loss. I’ve got more important things to think about, such as the fact our species is on the brink of extinction.

  So why can’t I stop thinking about her?

  Thrane’s Fated is Book 3 in The Last Alphas of Thracos trilogy.

  THE LAST ALPHAS OF THRACOS

  Solan’s Mate - http://marinamaddix.com/Mate

  Markon’s Claim - http://marinamaddix.com/Claim

  Thrane’s Fated - http://marinamaddix.com/Fated

  1

  THRANE

  The Great Elders of the Warg would have howled in dismay if they were alive to witness the ridiculous scene I couldn’t escape. Standing on a platform in front of the entirety of our newly-united tribe, I couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh as Solan — once my blood enemy, now my co-alpha — yammered on and on, like a true orator. He recounted the history of the tribe and our historic guardianship of Thracos. He insisted we were a powerful force the alien interlopers — otherwise known as Terrans — couldn’t withstand. He explained how the discovery of the reet and helixgrass combination solved our reproductive issues. He rambled on about how the merger would ensure our survival as a species. So much inane blather, it made my head hurt.

  “Blah, blah, blah,” I muttered irritably under my breath, bored out of my skull.

  Markon, my brother and fellow co-alpha, jabbed an elbow into my ribs, never letting his frozen grin falter in front of the huge crowd of Wargs standing before their three — three! — alphas. I rolled my eyes, but held my tongue.

  After the two tribes had united, Solan’s mate, Sienna, had lobbied heavily for a claiming, insisting the traditional mating event would tighten the bond between the tribes. And it made sense. The tribes had been enemies for so long we’d never intermingled — at least when we weren’t trying to kill each other. The more cross-tribe matings we had, the stronger we would become. And with the threat of the Terrans looming, we needed all the strength we could get. Of course, not everyone believed the alien interlopers would attack us again, but I felt it coming in my bones, like the way the air thickens and prickles in the stillness before a storm.

  The sea of happy and hopeful faces gazing up at us reaffirmed my decision to play along with the silly festivities of a traditional claiming — games, dances, feasts and so on. If I learned anything from my co-alphas, it was that our people needed to have a little fun every once in a while. It gave them a sense of well-being — as false as I believed it to be — and hope. The happier they were in this moment, the harder they would fight together in the future when we’d need them to be fully united.

  “And just as two Wargs come together at a claiming,” Solan shouted, fully engrossed in his own admittedly admirable speech-making abilities, “so do the Valley and Hill tribes, as they finally become one united tribe today!”

  The crowd lapped it up like whelps at a bowl of milk. Perhaps if I’d been as talented at puking out inspirational drivel, my own tribe wouldn’t have rejected me as their sole alpha.

  No, this was no time for self-pity. No time was right for that, in my book. This was my life now, and it was my job to ensure our warriors became a well-oiled machine.

  “If this is your first claiming,” Solan continued, “remember…thunderstruck unions are rare. You are much more likely to find your fated mate through the trials and games we have planned. Everyone has a mate; you just need to find them!”

  I ground my teeth in an effort to stifle another eye roll. Not everyone was owed a mate. There were far too man males for all of them to find mates. On top of that, some of us had far more important things to think about, such as the survival of our species, than to wonder who would bear our whelps.

  Besides, I’d already been through most of the eligible females in the Hill tribe — and I’d at least met most of the ones in the Valley tribe — and there hadn’t been a single hint any of them were my fated. Naturally, they all wished they were, but I gave up on finding my own mate long ago. My fate, it seemed, was to be the best damn alpha possible, not live happily ever after…which we all knew was a lie anyway.

  As Solan explained the events planned for the three-day claiming, I scanned the crowd. A small number from each tribe stood mixed together, but for the most part, the audience remained in segregated groups — Hill Wargs on one side, Valley on the other — and were all mostly male. Even if few matches were made — there were only a limited number of females to go around, after all — their hope was the games and interactions would bring them together as tribemates.

  “Before we start,” Solan shouted, “Markon and Thrane would like to address you.”

  He turned to face Markon, but before my little brother could so much as open his mouth, I stepped forward toward the crowd. “Who’s sick of all this damn talking and just wants to get on with it already?”

  The crowd roared in agreement, as I grinned at my brother, who scowled for a moment, then shook his head and laughed. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Let the games begin!”

  The Village commons turned into a madhouse, as male Wargs ran every which way in order to try to find a spot in any event, game or activity which still had space for them. With the men outnumbering the women by such a huge margin, competition would be fierce. Sienna and her Terran-born sisters, Natalie and Arlynn, along with a handful of other mated females, led several games simultaneously.

  When the three Terrans had crash-landed several weeks ago on the Hill side of the river, which separated our territories, Solan had wasted no time snatching them from under my guards’ noses. Naturally, I’d sent forces to bring the women back to the Hill village where they belonged, but my men had returned with only two. This was before we’d united, of course, but the memory still tasted bitter on my tongue.

  Saliva pooled in my mouth as I recalled the moment my guards had dragged the first captured Terran into my hut to be interrogated. Arlynn had looked like no other female I’d ever seen — small, in comparison to female Wargs, but with an abundance of curves to make up for it, and her almost-black hair, which flamed red and purple in two bright swaths. Strange coloring, indeed.

  Watching her now, as she called out instruction
s to those playing her game, I spotted a dark streak at her part, proving the colors were not natural. Too bad. The sass of the colors paled in comparison to the sass of the woman though. Oh how she’d cursed me before my teeth sank into the soft flesh of her neck…

  “Hey, big brother,” Markon said, nudging me out of my reverie. “You’re not mated. Why aren’t you out there?”

  “Foolishness,” I said with a snort.

  “Which? The claiming games, or the idea your fated might be out there waiting for you?”

  Markon always did have the unnerving ability to look deeper into my soul than I preferred.

  “Both.”

  Solan sidled up on my other side and slapped my back just a little harder than necessary. “Go on, Thrane. What are you afraid of?”

  I slid a hard look over at my former enemy. “You know, better than anyone, I’m not afraid of anything.”

  Solan grinned and gave me a shove. “Then show our people you’re committed to this tribe by joining them. Give ‘em what they want, Thrane!”

  “Fine,” I grumbled, as I leapt off the platform and strode across the commons.

  Sienna was leading Catch-A-Mate, a common whelp game — only this time all the players were adults — where the female players chuck rings at sticks held by the male players. Subtle, I thought as I passed it by.

  Natalie, my brother’s new mate, doled out some reet-helix concoction she’d whipped up to ensure any matings occurring during the claiming would yield much-needed female babies. I didn’t have as much hope for our future as the rest of the tribe. In fact, I personally never imagined myself making it this far in life. As a warrior, I’d always assumed I would die on the battlefield before I could reproduce, so I didn’t really feel as if I were missing out.

  Lost in thought, I suddenly found myself standing on the edge of Arlynn’s group. I figured, if I had to endure the torture of one of these games, I might as well enjoy the view.

  “Men line up on one side; women on the other, facing the men,” she called out with that sing-song way of hers. “This game is called Look-Away. You will look into the eyes of the Warg across from you for thirty seconds. When the bell rings, the men will move down one spot, and the thirty seconds will start again. We’ll lather, rinse, and repeat until you’ve all looked into each other’s eyes.”

  I had no idea what “lather, rinse, and repeat” meant, but I got the gist. It seemed harmless enough, and would at least show my tribe I was just as committed as Solan and Markon, who conveniently had already found their mates.

  Bastards.

  As I snuck in at the end of an interminable line of males, Teema, one of the mated Hill females, pushed Arlynn into the front of the much-shorter line of females. “Don’t forget about yourself!”

  Arlynn began to object but clamped her lips shut, and instead stood frozen in line, dutifully staring into each man’s eyes. Hard as I tried, each time I moved in front of a new female, my gaze inevitably drifted toward Arlynn. I could almost feel her frustration at being forced to join her own game. Sure, she’d smile at each man standing across from her, but then a wall would slam down to cover her eyes. None of them stood a chance, mainly because she wouldn’t give them a chance. It was almost as if she knew none of them could be her mate, and something which felt suspiciously like excitement tickled my chest.

  Ridiculous! The Alpha of the Hill Warg, direct descendant of the Great Tribe of Thracos would never stoop so low as to mate with a Terran! I ignored the voice reminding me that Markon, who had proved to be a perfectly competent and devoted alpha of the Hill tribe had found his fated in Arlynn’s sister. I refused to give Solan and his Terran-born mate a second thought.

  One more step to the left found me staring down into the richest brown eyes I’d ever seen. As they widened in surprise, warmth flooded me. The quadrapede silk wrap around my hips did little to hide my interest. But instead of being complimented by my very obvious arousal — as any of the other females in the line-up would have done — Arlynn appeared practically offended.

  “You’re disgusting,” she hissed up at me.

  “You’re delicious,” I replied, licking the drool off my lips.

  Her eyes, which were supposed to have been locked on mine, focused on my mouth instead, and I could tell she’d let me take her if I wanted. And I wanted.

  Ignoring propriety and ceremony, I draped Arlynn’s tiny frame over my shoulder, ignored her gasp of surprise, and strode toward the forest.

  2

  ARLYNN

  I only knew electricity. When Thrane threw me over his shoulder like a caveman from the Terran ancestral home, the world around me buzzed out of existence, leaving only my flesh rubbing against his. But the moment my feet touched the spongy purple earth of the forest, my senses snapped back into place.

  “What the hell!” I shouted, slapping at his ridiculously bulging pecs.

  As if they had a will of their own, my fingers traced the line of a wicked scar, and I couldn’t help wondering who — or, more likely, what — had caused it and how anyone could have survived such an injury. The mere thought of the pain it would have caused took my breath away. Only when Thrane’s enormous paw of a hand gently wrapped around my own did I drag my gaze from the scar to his flaming orange eyes. A lock of his beautiful black mane slipped out of place and fell across his brow.

  I swear, every nerve in my entire body spasmed.

  Then he moved my hand down to where his silk loin-covering tented out like a pyramid, but I yanked my hand away — although not before my brain registered the silky-steel thrumming under my fingers.

  “Hey!” I shouted again, after swallowing the saliva that had suddenly pooled in my mouth.

  Thrane grinned and reached for my hand once more, but I stepped back, away from his intoxicating effect.

  “Don’t even think about it, nut bag! It ain’t gonna happen!”

  Now that I’d put some space between us, my brain remembered how to work normally again. The scar, which had enthralled me a moment ago, now made me wonder how many living souls he’d hurt the same way…or worse. I abhorred the violence which seemed to be so much of an innate part of his identity. A part he was not only comfortable with, but quite proud of.

  Thrane’s bushy black eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. “Why not? You want me, I want you. Why fight it?”

  I balked. “I don’t want it! And I certainly don’t want you!”

  His eyes narrowed, then he took a step closer. I retreated, then bumped into a tree. My botany lessons with Natalie told me the smooth trunk pressed into my back meant it was a moarkwood tree.

  Who cares, dummy!

  “Every eligible female in our combined tribe would chew off her left arm to fuck me,” he growled, sending shivers of desire rippling through me.

  I tried to shake it off, to convince myself it was simply a result of my forced celibacy at the Training Center coupled with the curse Thrane himself had put upon my head when he transformed me from Terran into Warg against my will.

  “Go fuck them, then,” I sneered, seething with hate — both for the man who’d ruined any chance I had at a future, as well as for my traitorous body.

  “Oh, I will, but first…you.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of that plan, but then his lips were on mine and every nerve caught fire. My body responded to him instinctively, a strange thing since I’d never been kissed before in my life.

  I’d been too young to have any kind of real experience when my parents were forced to surrender me to the Training Center, and my options there were minimal, at best. Only once my sisters and I had been rescued by the Wargs did I realize how many options were open to me. So many males had vied for my attention, I couldn’t choose just one. I’d flirted with them all, which took very little effort since they were all smoking hot. But I’d never reached the point of kissing anyone before Thrane’s thugs had snatched me away from the Valley and dragged me, kicking and screaming, up t
he Hill.

  And that’s where Thrane had ruined me. I knew I should have been grateful he hadn’t killed me, as I’d been afraid he would do, but the knowledge I would never find a fated mate — something I yearned for with every ounce of my soul — seemed an even worse fate than death.

  Of course, Solan, Markon and both shamans had insisted Thrane’s bite had no special powers preventing me from finding my own fated, but I knew, deep down, he’d somehow spoiled me. And I hated him for it.

  So why did I like the way his body felt crushed up against mine so much? As much as my mind rebelled at rewarding his bad — so very bad — behavior, my body had other ideas. Instead of pushing him away, my hands buried themselves in his wild black hair. I still had enough clarity to clench hard enough to pull some strands free, but Thrane didn’t seem to notice. If anything, it only encouraged him.

  His hands roamed my body freely, finally settling on my round rump. A Terran man’s hand would barely have covered a quarter of one cheek, but Thrane’s overgrown palms engulfed each cheek fully. With seemingly no effort at all, he lifted me until my legs had no choice but to wrap around his waist.

  Yeah, no choice. Right.

  I couldn’t stop the moan that was tickling the back of my throat as the hard heat pressed against me, insisting on access. Luckily, my own quadrapede silk wrap protected me. For now.

  A feral part of me, a part I wouldn’t let have control, urged me to tear my wrap away and allow Thrane to do whatever he pleased. The thought was so very tempting, but fear tempered it. His girth terrified me, quite frankly. But I had to admit, the making out was pretty fun.

  Thrane broke our kiss, his teeth bared like an animal. Reaching between us, he began tugging at my wrap, trying to find an opening. With a gasp, I grabbed his hand, and although my wimpy Terran strength probably felt like a fly on his skin, he stopped immediately and gazed into my anxious face.