The Alpha's Retribution

Chapter 2: Dennehotso

JAXOM'S POV

Six hours earlier…

Beep, beep, beep, beep…

“Shut up already,” I croaked, fumbling blindly for the alarm clock resting on my nightstand. Pulling it as close as the cord would allow, I opened one blurry eye. 8:57 AM flashed across its digital face in bold red lettering.

“s**t!” I threw back the sheets, jumping up so suddenly the sleeping girl beside me startled awake.

In all of the previous night’s revelry, I’d completely forgotten that I had a teleconference at nine- and not just any teleconference, my yearly performance evaluation with the Dustmaw tribunal council. The one I’d had to reschedule because I’d, well, slept through the last one.

“Is everything okay?” the girl in my bed stammered, holding up a sheet to cover her nakedness. I shot her a sideways glance as I tugged on a pair of discarded jeans and fastened the buckle of my belt.

What was her name? Natalie? Nadia? Something like that. It wasn’t worth the effort of finding out. I’d forget again as soon as she said it. She had nice t**s, though.

I leaned across the bed and took a n****e between my thumb and forefinger, giving it a light pinch through the layer of Egyptian cotton.

“Yeah, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” I winked. “Now, open up the drawer on that nightstand and go buy yourself something pretty, alright?”

She lifted her face for a kiss but I pulled away before her lips could reach mine, rising from the bed and crossing the room to my walk-in closet. From the corner of my eye, I saw her open the bedside drawer, eager to collect for last night’s performance.

“I can take all of it?” she questioned timidly, an obvious hunger reflecting in her large blue eyes.

“Every last dollar.”

Snatching a linen shirt off the rack, I shrugged it over my tattooed shoulders, leaving the top two buttons open to give my neck some breathing room. It was mid-July and temperatures were soaring well over 105°F. My blood ran hot as it was, and I hated the restrictive feeling of wearing a suit. When I could get by with it, I opted for business casual all the way.

As I tugged on a pair of leather boots, I turned to find the girl still staring at me wide-eyed. I was beginning to think she was a few cards short of a full deck.

“Was there something else?” I brushed past her to snatch my wristwatch off the top of my dresser.

“Well, I- I thought that you might ask for my number, in case you wanted this to be a regular thing,” she offered innocently.

My eyes narrowed on the wad of cash she clutched to her breast. I’d been generous, but I had my limits. I wasn’t going to play anyone’s sugar daddy, especially not to some human cocktail waitress.

The only woman with a shot in hell at putting King Alpha Jaxom Hill on a leash was my destined mate. Until that day, I was free to indulge my s****l appetites.

“I think you’ve shown me everything you have to offer, don’t you? You’re working in my house, and you’ve been compensated for your services. If I need a job done, I’ll look you up. Now, collect your things. I have work to do.”

Without waiting for a response, I stalked out onto the terrace, whipping out my phone as I closed the door behind me.

“Eisen,” I grit my teeth into a smile as my brother’s face appeared on the screen.

“Jaxom,” he nodded in turn, his expression even more dour than usual. “I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans. The council’s evaluation will have to wait. How soon can you leave for Flagstaff? The pack needs its Alpha. There’s been an attack.”

***

Staring out at the occasional trailer and ramshackle dwelling, it was hard to believe that I’d been in the lap of luxury only a few short hours ago.

Since my father’s passing, it was rare that I ventured outside of Las Vegas city limits. I’d grown accustomed to the many comforts my royal title afforded me. It was a life without limitations, and I was a man that had never taken well to moderation, no matter what skin I wore. It was easy to forget how the other half lived, and the unwelcome reminder made me squirm uncomfortably in my seat.

“How many people live out here?” I asked, breaking through an hour of shared silence.

“In Dennehotso? Under 1,000, to be sure,” my brother answered distractedly, his eyes scanning over a printed set of directions. We’d lost cell service early on into the trip, and were supposedly nearing the Ahtone’s property within the next fifteen minutes. “Remember, don’t expect a warm welcome. The Navajo think of us as skinwalkers, evil spirits with the ability to disguise themselves as animals. This recent attack will only have confirmed their suspicions.”

“Offer them a fat check and get the f**k out of dodge. Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Offer them a formal apology, your condolences, and respect. Then give them the check,” Eisen snapped in correction before softening his tone. “All I’m saying is tread lightly. The Ahtones are grieving, and we’re here to keep the peace, not stir up a hornet’s nest.”

“Then why don’t you do the talking? Goddess, what the hell do you need me for?” I muttered under my breath, irritated that my brother always found a way to chastise me.

“As you are so fond of reminding me, I’m not an Alpha, Jaxom. You are. As King, you owe these people your time. It’s the least you can give them.”

“You’re also not a saint, so stop acting like one. And work that chip out of your shoulder before we reach the Ahtones,” I snarled my authority.

The rebuff was met by silence, one that I was more than happy to return.

Things had been tense between us ever since our father’s heart had given out a year prior. It was an odd, small death for a man who had always seemed larger than life. Nevertheless, it had rocked us both to our cores.

For me, I’d buried a parent, an Alpha, and a mentor; but the blow had hit Eisen differently. Since his mother was a human, he’d lost a powerful tie to Dustmaw, and an ally. It was the reason I chose to keep him on as my Beta.

In my book, blood was still thicker than water, even if it ran thin. Yet, not all wolves saw things in such a generous light. Keeping Eisen on as my right hand prevented any power disputes from breaking out within the pack, and I’d hoped the act of faith would reaffirm the closeness I’d once shared with my brother.

Apparently, a little gratitude had been too much to ask for, because I’d certainly never received any. Instead, my efforts seemed only to have increased the discord between us. We were oil and water, even more so without the cementing glue of our father to bind us together.

I was stirred from my thoughts when the SUV’s jostling came to an abrupt halt. We were parked outside of a dilapidated mobile home, a dwelling much like others we had passed along the way. Open desert stretched out behind it, curtaining the home in a harsh backdrop. It was godforsaken country, and the thought that Warren Nelson might be hiding close by had a low growl rumbling up from my chest.

To the left of the trailer, a flock of sheep was corralled within a makeshift fence, two horses penned behind them. Water storage barrels were strewn haphazardly between the house and the livestock, several lying empty on their sides. Otherwise, there was nothing of note about the property, only a few Palo Verde trees to break up the endless expanse of scrubland.

When Eisen opened his door, I followed suit, taking off my sunglasses and hooking them to the collar of my shirt. Two dogs were chained to the small front porch, whining and barking as they caught the scent of our dormant beasts. A feeling of foreboding hung in the air, and I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the sudden sense of unease.

As the dogs sounded our approach, the front door swung wide, revealing a middle-aged man bearing a grim countenance. My brother shot me a warning look before striding forward to meet him.

“Yá'át'ééh,” Eisen greeted from the bottom of the stairs, his head bowed low in respect. “My name is Eisen Clark, acting Beta of the Dustmaw pack.”

I overtook him in a single long stride and extended my hand.

“Jaxom Hill, Alpha of Dustmaw, King of Nevada and Arizona.”

The man made no move to reciprocate, his dark eyes regarding me with open hostility. I balled my fingers into a fist and shoved the rejected hand into the pocket of my jeans.

“My name is Donovan Ahtone. You’re here about my daughter, Trinity,” he said unflinchingly. His face was proud, but I could see that it bore the lines of suffering.

“Yes, we’ve come to offer our support, whatever that may entail,” Eisen recovered, quick to assure him of our good intentions.

“We can talk inside. Say what you need to say, then leave the way you came. We want no trouble with your kind.”

With obvious reluctance, Donovan stepped aside to allow us entry. I mounted the porch steps behind him, ducking my head to enter the home’s cramped interior.

As soon as I set foot inside, I knew that something was terribly wrong.