Master Alpha

Chapter 1

Lincoln

Lincoln stretched his arms across his bare chest. His muscles swelled under his tan skin as he tensed in front of the punching bag in the gym. He ran a hand through his short, black hair, his electric blue eyes hard. He relished his morning workout to relieve his nightmares, his six-foot frame engulfing the punching bag before him. He stretched and dropped his stance as he spread his legs, black basketball shorts offering him the freedom to move without constraint. He closed his eyes and inhaled softly. A nightmare of pain and torment tore through his mind again. He opened his eyes and began to punch the bag.

Lincoln Devereaux Normand was the first of his kind, a pureblood hybrid. His mother was Victoria Devereaux, the Luna of the Decant werewolves, and his father was Jonathon Normand, the Master of the Nanta vampires. Lincoln was one hundred and fifty years old, but the first fifty years of his life were hell. He had been born into conflict, which had resulted in being the target of others’ rage. The Decants and Nantas had been divided about his parents’ unity, and his birth elicited fear and hatred among both races. He was powerful with two different beasts living inside of him, which further fueled the division among their people about his existence. His parents feared for his safety before he was born.

After Lincoln’s birth, his parents’ guards also became guards over him. He was taught to fight as soon as he could walk. Shortly after his birth, the guards appointed to him had children of their own, who were then trained to be his guards. Training how to fight was engrained daily, perfected to unleash fury when the situation arose, but that did not stop others from trying to conquer him. For the first ten years of his life, he lost any fight that someone started. His parents would intervene, but their involvement made the fights worse. Children would taunt him that he needed his parents to save him, which drove him to train even harder. He started to win the fights but withdrew from his parents to avoid their involvement. He loved and respected his parents, but he needed to handle the fights on his own.

Peace did not fully solidify amongst the controversy of his parents until he was fifty. He spent the first fifty years of his life fighting to survive. He was in at least one fight a day, despite him being undefeated. He was seen as an abomination, and rivals craved the thrill of trying to prove they were better than him. His guards trained with him, but he refused to allow them to defend him when fights started. While they would just be doing their jobs to protect him, he refused to rely on his guards each time there was a fight.

Lincoln’s massive arms kept their swell as he rotated between his fists to attack the punching bag. His abdominal muscles were outlined as he twisted his core with each punch in rotation. While there was no longer a need for him to train his body so vigorously, he refused to quit. He found release in training, a calming that would wash over him. The nightmares that racked his brain nightly were the memories of the torture he endured for his first fifty years. He loathed himself for the fights that he lost, and the nightmares that haunted him, and he used that rage to push himself harder. He never wanted to be that weak again.

Lincoln learned how to sharpen his Decant senses and react before his opponent could, and he learned how to fight with his Nanta speed. When he combined both methods of fighting, he began to win fights effortlessly. A wolf that moved so fast that he was almost invisible was unstoppable. He kept his wolf in check during fights and suppressed both sets of canines and his fangs during fights, while relying on his speed as a last resort. Only his eyes would reflect the beasts within him, a fiery orange the perfect combination of his mother’s and father’s beasts.

Lincoln’s electric blue eyes were consumed by fiery orange as rage continued to fuel him. Nightmares swirled before his eyes, and his fists hit the bag harder. The chains that suspended the bag from the roof began to creak. Lincoln stood up and added kicks into his routine. He loathed that those fights from so long ago still affected him, but he allowed that loathing to strengthen him. He built a wall around his heart and only truly trusted a select few people; those who had proven their loyalty to him and his family. Women that bed him harbored no attachment, they were just a means for a different type of release. Those women only bed him for his power, both physical power and the power of his title. He made peace with that knowledge after the first three women proved that true.

Lincoln grabbed the bag to cease its movement as his mother’s scent flooded the room. His mother smelled of lavender and vanilla, and it made him smile. Such a calming scent. He turned around and found her leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Mother’s long, blonde hair flowed freely down her back. She wore a white tank top with a pair of jeans. The concern in her electric blue eyes quickly extinguished the orange fire in his own eyes. He sighed as his matching blue eyes returned. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed the white towel beside him.

“Another nightmare?” Mother asked.

“I’m fine,” Lincoln answered and wiped the sweat off his face.

“Linc—”

“Mother, please,” he sighed. “I always have nightmares. I’m fine.” He tossed the towel onto his shoulder and walked over to her. “I’m fine, mom,” he smiled.

“Stubborn, just like me and your father,” Mother smiled softly.

“Always,” Lincoln replied. “Speaking of, where is Father?”

“On his way back. He was patrolling with James. Why don’t you go spar with Rhea? I know that she prefers the early morning workouts like you do,” Mother stated.

Lincoln grinned and shook his head. Rhea was the daughter of Father’s guard, James, and Isla, the guard of the previous Mistress of the Nantas, Bella. Rhea was five years younger than him but had been appointed his guard when she was born. More than his guard, she was one of his best friends. She was the only woman that he fully trusted, aside from Mother. Lincoln enjoyed training with her because she did not fear him, and she never held back during training. She was also the only woman who did not try to bed him, and he decided long ago that he would not try with her. He valued their relationship too much for something like sex to change it, and he appreciated her more than she would ever realize. With her, he was not a beast or the prince of two races, he was just himself. He was just Lincoln.

However, that did not stop Mother from dropping hints about him pursuing Rhea further than just a friend. Rhea was part of the family, and Mother trusted her immensely. Father often teased Mother about it and would redirect the conversation because Father knew how Lincoln felt about the situation. Lincoln could not ignore his mother’s advice today, though. His nightmare last night was the worst one that he had had in a while. Training with someone instead of an object, especially if that person was Rhea, was a good idea.

“You want to submit her to my torture so early?” Lincoln asked.

“It’s only torture if you can beat her,” Mother grinned.

“Is that doubt in your voice, Mother?”

“Not at all, love. You two make a pretty even pair.”

“That’s because I don’t allow my wolf to train with a Nanta. He gives me an unfair advantage against her,” Lincoln said.

“Really?” Mother asked as she arched her eyebrow playfully. “You’ve never used your Nanta side when training with Nate?”

“Nate’s different.”

“How so?”

“A training match between men is dominance, Tori,” Father said as he entered the room. Father’s emerald, green eyes were bright as he looked at his son. “In a match between men, you make damn sure that you give as much as you can to prove your superiority, especially between two male wolves.”

“Exactly,” Lincoln nodded. “Nate and I make a game out of kicking each other’s asses. Do you really want me to do that to Rhea?”

“Preferably not,” Mother said.

“You should go,” Father said. “Nate is already over there warming her up.”

Lincoln rolled his shoulders while he stretched his neck. Two sparring partners on a bad day rather than just one partner, and both were his best friends. Nathan was the son of Mother’s guard, Aurora. Lincoln trusted him fully and cared for him like a brother. Nathan rather enjoyed the company of women and had made remarks about trying to start an enjoyment with Rhea. Lincoln threatened him with the full extent of both of his beasts if Nathan hurt Rhea in any capacity, and that was the last of the conversation. Nathan was not ready for any real commitment, which put Lincoln on edge about Rhea being used just for fun, but she was her own person. If the two ever acted on a spark, they had not said anything to him, and he was not going to ask. Rhea and Nathan were still best friends and their dynamic had not changed, which assured Lincoln that, even if they had acted on a spark, Rhea had not been hurt. If the dynamic between Nathan and Rhea were to change to a negative one, Lincoln would intervene in a heartbeat.

“Do you need me today?” Lincoln asked.

“Not that I can think of, but I know where to find you, if necessary,” Father replied.

“Clear your head today. Your father and I will be fine,” Mother smiled.

“I will, Mother,” Lincoln nodded. He hugged both of his parents and exited the house. The nightmares attempted to return but he forced them away. He allowed images of Rhea and Nathan to take their place, and a calmness washed over him. His parents meant well, but his friends understood the nightmares better than his parents did. They knew the severity of his darkness and became his light.