Alpha Triplets (Triplet Harems Book 4)

  © Copyright 2020 by J.L. Wilder- All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

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  Alpha Triplets

  Triplet Harems

  By: J.L. Wilder

  Click to Receive a Free Copy of Brother’s Wolf (Full length)

  Table of Contents

  Alpha Triplets

  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

  More Books by J.L. Wilder

  About The Author

  Alpha Triplets

  CHAPTER 1

  MASON

  Mason Thorne could smell the danger.

  He stood on the edge of his property, the abandoned cabin where he and his triplet brothers had lived for the last two months. It was dusk, the sun setting among the thick forests of the Yukon. It was cold, but he didn’t mind—wolves could handle the weather, even in their human forms.

  “What the hell are you looking at, brother?”

  Mason didn’t need to turn to see who had spoken.

  “The woods.”

  “No shit, the woods,” Smith said. “I mean, are you looking at anything specific, or are you just staring out into nothing like always?”

  Mason had explained over and over that he didn’t stare out into “nothing.” As an alpha, it was his job—his duty—to survey the pack’s territory.

  “I’m maintaining a perimeter,” he said, his eyes still on the woods. “Never know what the fuck is out there.”

  Smith laughed, stepping to Mason’s side and putting his big hand on his brother’s broad shoulder.

  “I mean, I get it—alphas maintain the territory. But in case you haven’t noticed, the pack’s down to me and you and Poe.”

  He was referring to their other brother, the third of the triplets.

  Smith went on. “You could turn around and see all the territory we’ve got. I know it’s instinct, but you don’t need to waste your time.”

  Mason turned his head slightly, enough to take in the sight of his brother.

  Smith, as one of three identical triplets, had the same face and features as his brothers. He was tall and built, with auburn hair, emerald green eyes, and a wide jaw. But unlike Mason and Poe, Smith looked rough—his beard was thick and a few inches long, his hair had grown enough to tie into a ponytail, and tattoos covered his arms all the way down to his hands. He was dressed in denim jeans and boots like his brothers, but up top, he wore a leather, patch-covered vest with nothing on underneath.

  He crossed his arms over his inked chest and stared off into the distance with his brother.

  “It’s not a waste of time,” he said. “You’re a fucking alpha, too.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because, numbnuts, alphas don’t just watch the border of their territory because they’re in charge, but because their senses are elevated.”

  Smith cocked his head to the side.

  “What, you see something?”

  “I smell something. You telling me you don’t?”

  Smith tilted his head up into the air, taking a long, slow sniff.

  “Don’t smell shit,” he said.

  Mason knew this was a bad sign. They’d been separated from their pack—the Moon Claws—and their territory for too long. While they were still powerful alphas, some of the strongest shifters in the entire territory, their abilities were only a shadow of what they once were.

  Before too long, he knew, they might risk becoming no more powerful than any beta. And that meant they’d be easy pickings for anyone who might want to take them out.

  “Take another sniff, man,” said Mason. “And focus this time.”

  “What, you don’t think I was focusing before?”

  “You were fucking around. Do it again.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Just do it.”

  Smith grumbled under his breath before shaking his head, closing his eyes, and taking another sniff of the air. At first, he seemed ready to tell Mason to screw off again, tell him that he was imagining things. But right in the middle of a second sniff, he stopped, his eyes going wide.

  “There,” said Mason. “You got it now?”

  “Smells like...rotting meat...dingy fur...and...desperation.”

  “There you go,” said Mason. “Now, put it all together.”

  Smith let out a snort and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it’d taken him so long.

  “Ferals,” he said.

  “Right,” said Mason. “And they’re getting closer.”

  “They’re coming for us,” said Smith. “If they’re close enough to smell, they’re close enough to smell us.”

  “Where’s Poe?”

  “Inside making dinner.”

  “Go get him. There’s about to be a fight.”

  With another nod, Smith broke from Mason’s side and hurried back to the cabin, leaving Mason alone.

  “Fucking ferals,” said Mason.

  Ferals were the bane of any shifter’s existence. They were wolves, bears, whatever other shifter species that had been cut off from their pack for whatever reason. Sometimes because they’d betrayed the pack, other times because, for whatever reason, they just couldn’t play nice with others. They were often led by former betas who’d tried to take on alphas for a top position, the power of the alpha barely enough to keep the small tribes of ferals together.

  And like Mason and his brothers, being separated from their pack and territory for too long meant their powers were much less than they were before. And being away from the civilization of their packs often reduced them to a state more animal than human. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be a threat in numbers.

  The smell grew stronger by the second, Mason glancing over his shoulder at the cabin and hoping his brothers would hurry their asses up.

  But the moment he turned back, he saw the branches of the trees shake, leaves falling to the forest floor.

  It was too late.

  A small pack of wolves—Mason counted six in total—emerged from among the trees. They were all gray wolves, mangy and dirty and vicious. They snarled as they approached, forming a half-circle around Mason. His eyes swept from one to the other, and he spotted the alpha of the pseudo-pack right away—the largest of the group.

  Mason formed his hands into tight fists, his eyes narrowed.

  Boys, he thought. If you want to get your asses in gear, now’s the fucking time.

  The alpha of the pack stepped forward, shifting into his human form. He was tall, with long gray hair and a sneering face. His clothes were a beat-up pair of combat boots, ratty jeans, and an even rattier white T-shirt. He looked to have lost most of his alpha strength, but Mason could still sense his power.

  “Now,” he said, stepping forward. “What the fuck do we have here?” He nodded to the rest of his pack, who formed up around him and shifted into their human forms. They were worn-looking and savage, like they hadn’t had a dece
nt meal in days.

  “You have the wolf that’s about to wipe out you mangy pricks if you take another step forward onto my fucking land.”

  The alpha laughed, the rest of the wolves doing the same.

  “One of you against six of us. You think you’ve got any say in whether or not we kill you and take your miserable little strip of land?” He glanced back at the cabin in the distance. “And look at that shithole. Might not even be worth our time to tear your throat out.”

  “You’re more than welcome to try, fucker.”

  The alpha laughed again before turning his head to one of the other men.

  “Yo, Barnes!”

  “Yeah?” responded the man he’d been eyeing.

  “You wanted to move up to beta? Here’s your chance. End this dumbass’s life.”

  “Gladly.”

  Mason glanced over his shoulder again, wondering where the fuck his brothers were. But he didn’t spend too much time thinking. The man quickly shifted into his wolf form and started toward Mason.

  “Fucking hell,” growled Mason before shifting into his white wolf form.

  The gray cut the distance between them damn quick, leaping into the air and flying toward Mason. But Mason stayed where he stood, not moving an inch, watching the gray as he flew toward him, anticipating his landing spot.

  It was all over in a second. Right at the last moment, Mason stepped aside and lunged in, biting down hard on the wolf’s neck, twisting fast, the wolf’s body going limp in his jaws.

  He was dead before he even hit the ground.

  Mason shifted back, Barnes lying still at his boots. He pointed down to the dead body.

  “That’s your fucking warning,” he said. “Back the fuck off now, or the rest of you are gonna end up like this sorry shit.”

  The ferals regarded each other before turning their attention to their alpha. They were scared—Mason could smell it. And they all wanted their alpha to tell them what to do given this new development.

  “Who the fuck are you?” asked the alpha, anger in his voice. “How’d you move like that?”

  Before anyone could say anything else, Mason heard the heavy footfalls of his brothers on the dirt behind him. Seconds later, Smith was at his right, Poe at his left.

  “Took you dumbasses long enough,” said Mason with a sly grin.

  “Hey,” said Poe. “You can’t just stop breakfast right in the middle of cooking.”

  Where Smith was bearded and burly, Poe was long-haired and clean-shaven, his ropey arms free from tattoos. Smith looked like the biker he was, while Poe always appeared to Mason more like a big-city artist..

  “Holy shit,” said the alpha, his eyes flicking from brother to brother. “I know who you three are—you’re the Thorne triplets!”

  He laughed as if he’d just realized something that had been totally obvious.

  “I thought the stories about you guys were all bullshit—we all assumed you’d just been killed by your alpha, not actually sent into the fucking woods to live like a bunch of bums.”

  The three brothers regarded one another, Mason knowing they were likely thinking the same thing as him.

  When can we kill these fuckers?

  “Is it true?” asked the alpha. “You all got kicked out of your pack because your alpha didn’t like you or some shit? Totally fucking unbelievable. And now you’re out here doing what? Waiting to die?”

  “Or waiting to kill whatever dumbass ferals are stupid enough to come onto our land,” said Poe.

  The alpha laughed. “Your land. You mean the land you’re squatting on until you have to find someplace else? Man, that’s a bad scene. Even we’ve got our territory.” He looked around. “And I’m thinking it’s time to make it bigger.”

  He waved to his men.

  “Boys, put these losers out of their misery. I’m thinking we’ll be doing them a favor.”

  “Less talk, more fighting,” said Mason. “Unless you pussies are nothing but talk.”

  “You’re about to find out,” said the alpha.

  He nodded to his men, and within seconds, they’d all shifted back into their mangy wolf forms.

  Mason then shifted into his white wolf form. Though he and his brothers were triplets, their forms weren’t identical—Mason’s was white, Poe’s was black, and Smith’s was fire-red.

  The ferals formed up on the brothers, and the fight was on.

  It didn’t last long at all. The three brothers, in a frenzy of teeth and snarls, took down each of the ferals, snapping necks and tearing throats.

  After less than a few minutes of fighting, only the alpha was left standing. He shifted into his human form, surveying the carnage.

  “Fucking hell,” he said. “You...you pricks killed my entire pack!”

  “You want to be next?” snarled Mason, back in his human form.

  “Fuck off,” he snapped.

  He shifted back into his wolf form and ran toward the brothers.

  Suicide, thought Mason. Ferals are all the same.

  The brothers came in on all sides, taking the alpha down with a series of bites and tears.

  Then it was done. The brothers shifted back, dead bodies all around them.

  “This is gonna be a pain to clean up,” said Poe. “And ten times harder without any coffee in me.”

  “We’ll deal with these dumbasses after breakfast,” said Mason. “Come on.”

  Mason took one last look at the mess of ferals before the three of them started back to the cabin.

  “Speaking of fucking messes,” said Smith as they approached. “This place looks on the verge of collapsing.”

  Mason knew he wasn’t wrong. Their current home, one of many abandoned cabins where they’d stayed over the last year since being exiled from their pack, was as sorry as all the others. But it was a roof over their heads, and more importantly, it was off the beaten path.

  “You want to build a new one, that’s on you, brother,” said Mason.

  “It’s not all that bad,” said Poe, opening the front door. “It’s got a generator, and a generator means a working kitchen and hot coffee.”

  Coffee sounded good as hell to Mason. And the smell of it hit him as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

  The brothers had done some work tidying up the cabin, but it was still in a bad state. The wood was rotting, windows were broken, and the roof leaked when it rained. And he knew if one pack of ferals had found them, it would only be a matter of time before another did.

  Poe poured them coffee before stepping to the stove and scooping hunks of deer meat from one of their recent kills onto a few plates, then put them all on the table.

  “Nothing like a good fight to get you hungry,” said Smith as he looked over the meat.

  “Hell yeah,” said Poe. “Let’s fucking eat.”

  The brothers started into their food, but before Mason took a bite, he stopped.

  “What the fuck’s up with you?” asked Smith. “Lost your appetite?”

  “Nah,” said Mason, setting down his meat. “Thinking about all this shit.”

  “What, the ferals?” asked Poe.

  “No,” said Mason. “All of it.” He swept his hand toward the cabin. “We’re alphas. And we’re the sons of the most powerful alpha the Moon Beasts have ever seen. And now look at us—living in some shithole in the middle of the woods, fighting off straggler ferals, not having a plan other than surviving.”

  “Yeah,” said Poe. “It sucks shit. But what the hell else you want to do?”

  “You know the answer to that,” said Mason. “The only thing to do.”

  Smith and Poe’s eyes went wide, grease from the meat on their faces.

  “Are you fucking serious?” asked Poe. “You want to track down the pack?”

  “I want more than that. I want to take our positions as rightful rulers of the pack back from that shithead Jack.

  The faces of the brothers went dark at the mention of Jack: the alpha who’d usurped the pack fr
om their father, who’d killed him, who’d taken what was rightfully theirs.

  “And I want more than that, too. We’re alphas—and alphas need omegas.”

  “Shit,” said Smith. “What the hell’s gotten into you? We’re barely eking out a living here—and now you want to take back the pack and get an omega in the process?”

  “You’ve got a better idea?” asked Mason. “What do you want, to spend the rest of our lives going from abandoned cabin to abandoned cabin until some pack of ferals sneaks up on us while we’re sleeping and ends it for good? Or until Jack finally tracks us down?”

  Poe shook his head. “Mason, I get it. I want to be back with the pack as much as you do. But...you know what the truth of this shit is—we’ve been away from our land long enough that we’re not as strong as we used to be. Even with the three of us, we might not be enough to kill Jack, let alone him and his men.”

  “Then we need an omega. Mating would give us some of our strength back.”

  Smith laughed. “Oh, easy as that, huh? Bro, I get it, but how the hell are we going to find an omega out here? And even if one did happen to, I don’t know, wander onto our land or some shit, you think she’d stick around with three exiled alphas? Hell, we’re one step above being ferals.”

  “Fuck off,” snarled Mason.

  He was pissed, but he knew his brother was right. To get an omega, they’d need a pack, and to get a pack, they’d need an omega. There was no easy answer.

  “I don’t know,” said Poe. “Maybe we can find some other exiles, start a pack of our own.”

  “You mean those ferals out there?” asked Smith, pointing to the nearest window. “Yeah, good luck. You can organize those pricks for long enough to take down some food, maybe. And most of them are so scrambled in the head, they’re hardly even shifters anymore. There’s a reason we call them ferals, you know.”

  He went on.

  “And we’re to be like that before too long,” said Smith. “Shifters aren’t meant to be without their packs.”

  “Then we do something,” said Mason. “Because I don’t know about you guys, but I’m fucking tired of running.”