Page 4 of Owned by Four Alphas (Silverthorn Alphas #2)

“This place reeks of dragons,” muttered one of the young alphas trailing reluctantly through the airy corridors of the palace, following Ronan to the quarters assigned to them. They were dripping wet, having been caught in the beginnings of a gathering storm, and were trailing water over the pristine floors.

“Peace, Vallin,” retorted Thyrius, his second-in-command. “The dragons are allies, and we expect you to act as such.”

“Just last year we were brawling with them at the borders, now we have to play nice? It’s complete bullshit—”

“Silence,” growled Ronan, a headache developing from the constant griping of his young charges.

They had arrived as a surly group, all alphas, all young and champing at the bit to prove themselves. There were no omegas, or even betas, amongst the group to calm the alphas’ more violent inclinations. Thyrius had told him that the betas and omegas hadn’t wanted to leave their territory out of fear of the human threat.

Ronan knew well enough how his people felt about the humans. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to reassure the other alphas that his pack had everything under control. It seemed more and more like a losing battle.

He did wonder why some of the older, more battle-hardened alphas hadn’t joined them in the Marble Halls. Instead, he was stuck babysitting this rowdy lot.

“At least the dragons know how to drink,” chimed in another wolf, elbowing Vallin in the side. “The fucking Fae just mince about with their weak-as-piss wine worrying about their hair.”

As the boys roared with laughter, Ronan fought back a growl. It would not do to underestimate the Fae, especially not in their own territory.

“Oi, Ronan,” Vallin said, apparently feeling braver than he should. “You’re mated to a Fae, is it true they like it up the—”

“ Silence ,” roared Ronan again, this time spinning on his heel to square up to the alphas, imbuing his voice with every ounce of his considerable dominance. The wiser ones shrank back in the face of an older and stronger alpha, but Vallin seemed ready to accept the challenge. “ Lord Elian is my pack brother, not my mate, and more important than that, he is your host. By the grace of his goodwill, you have been invited here, and if you continue with this foolish bravado, I shall have absolutely no issues offering you up to him myself. Are we clear?”

Vallin’s eyes darkened. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Follow,” Ronan growled, stalking through the halls. For a while, the boys remained quiet, but of course it couldn’t last.

“What’s that sound?” Vallin said, cocking his head. In the distance, the clang of metal against metal echoed through the stone, alongside the grunts and snarls of males fighting. Against the sound of the storm building strength outside, the sound was faint, but nevertheless unmistakable.

The young alphas raced forward, ignoring Ronan’s warning growl, giving chase to the sounds of battle.

“Should we follow them?” asked Thyrius, his eyebrows knitting together.

Ronan pinched the bridge of this nose between his finger and his thumb. “They’ve not even been here an hour and they’re already pissing me off.”

“You’ve been gone a while,” suggested Thyrius, his tone measured, but Ronan caught the hint of worry. “Perhaps they need reminding precisely why you’re alpha of the clan.”

“If I resort to violence every time a young alpha gets testy with me, I wouldn’t deserve to be the dominant alpha. I trained most of those boys from pups. While they’re here, I’ll spend some time running through the old drills with them. Remind them that some bonds run deeper than a bit of distance.”

Thyrius nodded, even if he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Ronan ignored him in favor of following after his young charges.

The ringing of metal had stopped by the time Ronan and Thyrius turned the corner into a courtyard near what Ronan could only assume was the soldiers’ barracks. There, shirtless and sweating, soaked from the rain, was a group of young dragon alphas twirling their swords about and squaring up to the growling wolves.

“I recognize you,” Vallin snarled at the biggest dragon, an alpha with shoulder-length dark hair and wicked amber eyes. “You’re the son of a bitch who keeps crossing the border.”

“At your service,” the dragon grinned, bowing at the waist. “You must be the pesky gray mutt that always seems to run off with its tail between its legs.”

Vallin bellowed in outrage, closing the space between them in two angry strides. As a wolf, Vallin was taller and broader, but the young dragon didn’t even blink. If anything, his lazy smirk grew wider.

“Nothing to say for yourself, mongrel? I should have expected as much. You wolves never were very eloquent.”

“Shut your mouth,” Vallin snarled, and the other alphas, both wolf and dragon, drew in closer, sizing each other up. Thyrius made to move forward, but Ronan stopped him with a hand around the bicep. The young dragon’s eyes flicked upwards.

“Not going to control your pups, Ronan?” he said, raising his voice.

Ronan’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t answer. As much as he may want to, it was the way of things to let such brawls play themselves out. If he got involved, his wolves would resent him, and the dragons would read it as weakness. So instead, he just crossed his arms over his chest, letting his scent and posture speak for him.

“Phane.” One of the young dragon’s friends stepped towards him. “Kaelen won’t be happy if we get into it with them.”

“Kaelen’s not here,” replied Phane, his gaze flicking back to Vallin, “and someone should teach these dogs some manners. Barging in like that while we’re only trying to train—it’s uncouth.”

“Unlike you, we don’t need any poncy swords to fight,” snarled Vallin, “just our fists.”

“Like I said,” Phane threw the sword to the side, where it skittered over the stone, “uncouth.”

“Phane, really, we shouldn’t,” the other dragon said again, throwing a disgusted look at Vallin. “As tempting as it might be.”

“Always the voice of reason, Anor,” Phane replied. “I’m happy to let the matter drop, if our friends here apologize for interrupting our sparring.”

“D’ya hear that, boys?” Vallin crowed. “The dragon’s too scared of us.”

The wolves laughed, their scents spiking. Ronan sighed. The dragons snarled, closing ranks.

“Vallin,” he growled, and the wolves turned to him with a mix of fear and annoyance. “Drop it.”

Vallin didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His eyes were a raging pit of fury and aggression. At that moment, Ronan understood exactly why none of the older alphas had accompanied the wolves on their trip. They were seeking to test Ronan.

“Ronan! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for—oh…” Caeda, Elian’s pretty Fae sister, stepped out into the courtyard, careful to remain under shelter from the rain.

Instantly, something shifted in the air, with every one of the young alphas suddenly very interested in the omega in front of them.

“Fuck,” Ronan muttered under his breath, and Caeda looked at him with apprehension.

“Your clan members never made it to their quarters,” she said, glancing at the group of alphas, a slight blush on her cheeks. “I came to make sure they hadn’t got lost.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ronan turned, trying to shield Caeda from the view of the alphas. “We’ll be along in a minute.”

“What’s the rush?” Vallin called, his tone leery. “Why don’t you stay and watch us remind these lizards why we’re the guardians of the Forest?”

“Show some respect,” Phane snapped, despite there being absolutely nothing respectful at all about the way he looked at Caeda.

Caeda’s scent spiked with anxiety, even as she schooled her features into haughty displeasure. “If you’d perhaps like to come out of the rain, the feast is in a matter of hours,” she said, her voice prim.

Vallin laughed. “Would you like to help me get dressed, sweetheart?”

Ronan spun, a roar in his throat, but it was too late. Phane tackled Vallin to the ground, and in a split second, it was a full-on brawl. Caeda squeaked and jumped back, “I-I’m just going to—um…”

“Go find Kaelen, if you can,” Ronan sighed, not looking at her as she turned tail and fled back into the palace.

“Now are you going to stop them?” Thyrius asked as Phane landed a well-aimed punch into Vallin’s jaw, snapping his neck to the side. Several wolves battered into Phane’s side in response, snarling and growling. “At least none of them have shifted.”

Ronan ignored Thyrius, and instead stalked forward into the fray, batting away dragon and wolf alike as he plucked Vallin from the fight by the back of his neck, throwing him down to the cobblestones.

Vallin was back on his feet with an almighty roar, barreling towards Ronan. Ronan merely sidestepped, ducking low to throw a shoulder into Vallin’s middle and put him back down on the floor. The blood was roaring in his ears as Vallin thrashed and snapped his teeth, the rage of the challenge threatening to overtake him.

He drew in a breath. He was older than this. Better than this.

“Stay down,” he snarled at Vallin, his voice an earth-shattering rumble. The other wolves winced and whined, retreating from the fight, and the dragons backed off with heavy pants and bleeding limbs.

“You would stop me defending myself?” Vallin roared, jumping to his feet, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“You insulted an omega. There is no defense!” Ronan growled, his muscles tense as the other wolf paced in front of him.

“That’s right, I forgot, the great and mighty Alpha Ronan! Too cunt-struck by some omega bitch to stand by his kind! Next you’ll be telling us to get along with the fucking humans!”

The other wolves reared back from Vallin’s hissed words, their gazes frantic and fearful as they looked to Ronan.

“What did you just say to me?” Ronan said, his voice deadly calm.

Inside, his wolf howled for blood.

“I said,” Vallin squared his shoulders, “you’ve abandoned us because of an omega. You hardly ever come back to the clan lands. You have no idea what it’s like. Our people are terrified that the humans are going to come and slaughter us in the night. And you do nothing .”

“What did you say,” Ronan repeated, “about my mate ?”

For the first time, there was a flash of fear in Vallin’s eyes.

“I said what I said,” he replied, his fists balling, “Ordovic’s been visiting more than you. The Alpha of the Northern Clan. He has a claim to your title, doesn’t he? And I’m sure he isn’t too pleased about you killing his father.”

“Leave,” Ronan snarled, taking a menacing step forward, “get out of my sight before I spill your guts here and now.”

Vallin glanced at the other wolves before slinking towards the corridor, away from Ronan’s boiling rage. “It’s all just empty threats, Alpha ,” he threw over his shoulder, before disappearing with his packmates.

For a while, nobody said anything. Ronan actively drew in several breaths, desperately wrestling with the urge to hunt Vallin down and tear him limb from limb.

He’s a boy. A stupid boy. Much like you were. Let it go.

He snarled, and Thyrius muttered a curse before following after the wolves, leaving Ronan alone with Phane and the other dragons.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” remarked Phane, with a healthy note of caution in his voice. “He’s got a chip on his shoulder, all right.”

“What do you lot think you’re doing, winding them up?” growled Ronan, turning on the group of young dragons.

Phane scoffed. “Who are you to tell us what to do?”

“Your king is my pack brother, your queen is my mate, and we are trying to unite this realm for the good of all. And when we do, like it or not, those wolves will be your brothers-in-arms. You have a chance here, a real chance, to build bridges instead of burning them.”

“Perhaps you should lecture your own people,” Phane said, picking up his sword, “instead of blaming us.”

They turned, leaving Ronan alone in the rain, his anger unspent and his teeth bared.

He needed a drink.