The Human Alpha

Chapter 6 – Not again.

Chapter 6 – Not again.

The last week I have been waiting for the knock at the door, about Old Stinker. To be fair to him, he said that he was sorry, and we had a conversation about not snacking on pets. Again. But the dude is his own boss, and from the information I have received, I am lucky he even listens to me.

However, after he got his food, and snuck in a quick shower, he was off again, and so far, nobody has reported a missing dog, and I think that it would have happened by now if it was going to.

“Alpha, I have King Asher on the phone for you,” Anna shouts through from my office. Well, it is technically my office, but to be honest she spends more time in there than I do. I am more of a hands-on type of Alpha, with paperwork and stuff like that. Thankfully my beta excels at that stuff.

“Asher, how are you?” I say as I take the phone from my beta.

“I am good Del, I just wanted to touch base with you, as I haven’t heard from you for a while. How’s everything going?” Asher asks.

“Yeah, good. Old Stinker paid me a visit last week, and admitted to having a ‘snack’ again. However, we have not had any humans around here demanding answers, so I think it must have been a stray. I had a conversation with him about it again, but I don’t know if he will listen or not,” I tell the king of the UK and Ireland’s werewolves.

“Well, he seems to listen to you more than anyone else, you are doing a great job with him,” Asher tells me.

“I appreciate that,” I smile.

“Only stating facts. Anyway, we have a state visit happening in six weeks. Scott from Australia is coming, he is always a good laugh, obviously, my lot will be there. However, I am waiting for news on the USA ambassador coming, and I am hoping you would do me a solid and come so I can say he can meet you,” Asher asks.

It must be important because he never really asks for much.

“Sure, I will come. Who is the ambassador now?” I ask. It reminds me I must reach out to my parents, I haven’t spoken with them for too long.

“A guy named Tim White, he is new,” Asher sighs.

“Oh, yeah, that guy,” I sigh.

“That good then?” Asher laughs hearing the sarcasm in my tone.

“Probably worse. He walks around with his chest puffs, glad hands everyone one and wears sunglasses even when it is raining,” I inform Asher.

“So he is a wanker then. Good to know. Please help, because you know I struggle with not taking the piss, and you Americans can be, but not always, very serious,” Asher begs.

I have to laugh because I know what he is like. He may be King, but like his mother before him, he has a huge mischievous streak, that almost always comes out to play, especially when he is bored, and from my memories of what Tim White is like, I just know he takes himself too seriously, and Asher will not be able to resist doing something that will probably offend him.

“Okay, well yeah, I will come. But you owe me one, Your Majesty,” I laugh, knowing he hates all the pomp and ceremony attached to his crown.

“Cool, well if you need anything, just let me know,” Asher tells me, and I know he is being genuine.

“Appreciate you, man, I will see you in a month,” I tell him as we say our goodbyes and hang up the call.

I walk out of my office so that Anna can have it back, and smile over at her.

“Hey, Asher wants me to go to a state banquet next month and keep the ambassador for the USA. I would appreciate it if you could watch the pack for a couple of days,” I tell her.

“Yeah, no problem. Rather you than me, the last time we went to the official castle it was bloody freezing,” Anna shivers then heads back into her, well, my office, and continues working on the pack accounts.

My beta is correct, the old castle they use for the state visits and entertaining is a huge stone-built renovated ruin, which is cold. However, the welcome from the King, Queen, former King and Queen and all the family is always warm and welcoming. If you ignore the odd prank that either the King, the King's Mother, or one of the many pups around the place can and will play on you. It is always interesting at the Royal Crescent Moon pack. Not that I have been much, one or twice I think since I fought in the Great Awakening, and had to be healed after Old Stinker jumped in and saved my pack. Hence why I am more than happy to put up with this dog eating BS.

Austin my delta, who has been in this pack since around the time my mom was born, walks into the kitchen area, grabbing a handful of custard cream cookies, or biscuits as they are called here. I have to admit, I am a fan, although I have to admit I would love a plate of Miss Beccy’s biscuits and gravy for breakfast, but when I mention them to Gemma, my omega who does the housekeeping and cooking, she tells me that she is not serving scones with a sausage flavoured custard, that I am in a civilized society now. I am not a big fan of using my Alpha tone on my pack. I like to run things more democratically than that, but if my craving isn’t abated soon, I think I may break my own rule and compel her to do them. I look at my delta wolf, his red hair peeking out of his flat cap.

“Delta, I have told you a million times, keep your muddy boots out of my clean kitchen,” Gemma shouts at Austin, making me chuckle. This pack house is always immaculately clean and tidy thanks to my omega and her husband Dave. She takes such pride in her work, and Austin well, he is a farmer werewolf, who always forgets to take his boots off, which is a constant bone of contention.

“Did you wash your hands before putting them in the biscuit barrel? Seriously you had your hand up a pig’s arse earlier!” Gemma continues with her rant.

She isn’t wrong, one of the pigs got a piglet stuck while giving birth and Austin had to intervene. He trained as a vet, back in the day, however, it was over a hundred years ago, and things have changed, but Austin insists the old ways are the best. What do I know, I only ever fed the chickens when I came here as a pup with Mom and Pops.

“I had gloves on!” Austin rolls his eyes, and the withering look Gemma gives him makes even me shrink back. I would not want to be him right now, because my feisty Omega is going to blow up.

She is mid rant, when over the back field I see Old Stinker approaching, looking rather sheepish.

I head outside to meet him, letting my omega finish her rant at my delta. I don’t want Stinker to feel as though we are worried about his dirty feet at all, because we really don’t care. Even Gemma has a soft spot for him. He is, as always bare footed, I did once try to give him a pair of sneakers. Or trainers as they are called here, but he refused. I think he hasn’t worn footwear for more than a generation and his feet hurt more in a pair of shoes than without them.

“Sorry,” he says, his dirty face down turned.

“Okay, what happened?” I ask him.

He looks at the floor, when I see the farmer from the other side of the village stomping behind him.

“Sheepdog,” he tells me.

Shit, not again!

Only this time I know that he has caused a major issue, because this particular farmer hates the pack with a passion, and he is marching towards us with his shotgun in hand. Let's just hope it is not loaded with silver cartridges.