The Alpha's Curse (Wolf Shifter Pregnancy Romance)

  The Alpha’s Curse

  Scarlett Grove

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Also by Scarlett Grove

  Copyright © 2016 by Scarlett Grove

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  Avery Miller parked in front of her new farm in her old pickup truck. Her dream was finally coming true. After getting a degree in agriculture and spending a year interning on an organic farm, she finally had her own land.

  Stepping out onto the gravel driveway in front of the old farmhouse, she knew that she had made the right choice. The early spring sky was gray and low overhead, with threat of rain. She could feel the damp on her cheeks as she walked toward the front porch of the house.

  When Avery told her family six years ago that she wanted to be a farmer, they all laughed at her. Who makes money in farming these days? Nobody. All farmers are fifty years old and have owned their land for generations. What made Avery think that she could somehow do something that nobody else could do anymore?

  Growing up in a wealthy suburb of Portland, Avery had always wanted to get back to nature. Not only had she studied agriculture, she had also studied herbal medicine, wild crafting, and wilderness survival. It was everything she wanted in life.

  When she finally got the loan for her property, it was like all of the work had finally been validated. Her father was a doctor and her mother was a professor of anthropology at the University of Oregon. Neither of them thought her career choice was a good one.

  She had bought the place in as-is condition. Something her father had warned her against, quite aggressively. But this was the only thing she could afford with the cash she had inherited from her grandmother. While neither of her parents thought farming was a good idea, her grannie had always encouraged her to follow her dreams.

  Losing her grannie had been hard. But when Avery found out her grandma had left her a good chunk of cash, she knew that she would finally have a chance to do what she’d always wanted. Now, at only twenty-six years old, Avery pushed the key into the lock of her very own farmhouse.

  She twisted the knob and pushed open the door, revealing the dusty darkness beyond. She knew the house was in bad shape. It needed a serious cleaning, and she was sure that was only the beginning.

  She walked through the house, inspecting the old furniture that came with the place. A lot of it was musty and dirty and old and needed to be hauled off to the dump. Some of it, however, was still usable. In the living room was an ancient sofa that looked like it had been around since Victorian times. The upholstery was peeling, but with a little TLC, it could be really nice again.

  There was a sturdy oak table with matching chairs in the kitchen. The ancient gas stove turned on when she twisted the knob. Turning around, she gripped the handle of the refrigerator and opened the door. A disgusting wave of nauseating stench hit her nose, and she slammed the door closed.

  Shaking off the stench, she went out the back door of the kitchen and looked at her land. Five acres of prime Oregon farmland, surrounded by forest and hills, only thirty miles from the ocean. Nestled in this little valley, away from the cold of the coastal air and the heat of the valley, it was a perfect location for what she wanted to do.

  Stepping out onto the creaky wooden porch, she took a deep breath of the fragrant, damp air and closed her eyes. She had never felt so alive. Opening her eyes, she stepped down the porch briskly, walking out toward the farmland. The dark, rich soil was covered in a blanket of weeds that would need to be raked out before she could turn the earth over and enrich it with compost.

  This was going to be a lot of work. There was no two ways about it. She would be fighting an uphill battle for years to come, and she loved it. To the side of the farmland was a rickety old barn that looked like it was on its last legs.

  It was one of those huge old red barns from times past that had managed to continue standing into modern times. It would be a shame to knock it down, but she had no idea how she would put it back together with the resources that she had on hand.

  Along with all of the work she would have to do on the house, repairing the barn was an expense she just couldn’t handle. She sighed, with a smile, and turned back toward the house.

  First things first, she needed to clean out her house, take stock of what furniture she could keep and what furniture she had to throw out, and unpack the truck with all her belongings.

  Avery walked around the house to the driveway and opened the passenger side door. She pulled out a bucket and the cleaning supplies she’d bought and brought them back into the house. With the broom handle in her hand, she looked around and blew a thin, stray dreadlock out of her face.

  “Well, there’s no use in standing around all day. Time to get to work.”

  There was a thick layer of dust all over everything, and Avery began to sweep the dust out the front door. When she was done sweeping, she inspected the furniture and found that the coffee table was rotted through. She picked it up and threw it out in the driveway.

  When she was done in the living room, she went to the kitchen and began cleaning, saving the refrigerator for when she had the strength to face it. She mopped the floor, scrubbed the counters, cleaned out the cabinets, sprayed the oven with oven cleaner, and cleaned out the sink. When the whole rest of the kitchen was sparkling, she put a bandanna around her face, grabbed a garbage bag, and put on a pair of rubber gloves.

  As if prepared for battle, she opened the refrigerator door. There were piles of old food in there and it all reeked like the foulest pit of hell. Avery shoveled everything into the garbage bag as quickly she possibly could. She tied up the bag and hurried it out to the pile in the driveway.

  After having completed the most disgusting task of her entire life, she went back to the refrigerator and finished scrubbing it out. Now that she had a functioning, not repulsive refrigerator, she felt like she had accomplished a great deal.

  She peeled off the rubber gloves and walked into the bedroom, inspecting the bed and the mattress. To her surprise, the mattress was actually pretty new and didn’t stink or have any stains. She stripped the old sheets and blankets from it and threw them out in the driveway with all the rest of the garbage.

  She swept and mopped the floor in the back bedroom like she had with the rest of the house, then did the same thing with the second bedroom. It didn’t have a bed in it but did contain a little desk that still appeared serviceable and a wooden office chair that she probably could’ve sold for a few hundred bucks at an antique store.

  When she had finally finished cleaning the house to an adequate level, it was time to unpack the truck. Unfortunately, as soon as she was done with the house cleaning, the low, gray sky opened up and it began to rain.

  All that was between her worldly possessions and a solid soaking was a blue tarp that she had bungeed to the bed of her truck. Avery was already bone tired from the housecleaning, but she was a healthy young woma
n who was used to physical labor. She put her mind to the task and unpacked the truck in no time flat.

  With all her things sitting in the living room floor and the rain pelting the world outside, she felt as if she was finally home. It had been a long-ass day, and it was definitely time for a cup of tea, a biscuit, and a little bit of rest.

  She found her teakettle amongst her kitchen supplies and brought it to the sink to fill. She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the eye before going back into the living room. The old couch was comfortable enough, but it looked like it had been shredded by somebody’s cat. Avery found a large throw blanket from among her things and covered the tattered couch.

  A moment later, her teakettle whistled and she went back to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. In her box of supplies, she found a glass jar full of freshly dried chamomile that she stuffed into a tea strainer and dipped it in her mug. She poured the hot water over the tea and let it steep for a few minutes before taking it into the living room, where she finally sat down to rest.

  The big window in the living room looked out onto the rain and the hills beyond her land. The green hills were dotted with waxy Myrtle trees and evergreen Cypress. She told herself that as soon as she made some headway on the farm, she would learn every inch of the forests that surrounded her property.

  Avery loved agriculture, but she loved the wilderness just as much. The Oregon forest was full of surprises. There were berries and mushrooms and pinenuts one could find and feast on while hiking. And that was just the beginning of the treasury that the forest held. She made a mental note that she wanted to find some fiddleheads and fresh nettle tops to round out her supply of herbs.

  She sipped her tea and watched the rain, feeling proud of herself. If her parents could see her now, they would probably make some comment about how they had wasted their money on her education. But that didn’t matter to Avery. It didn’t matter what her parents or older brother said about her life goals.

  Maybe they all thought she was an irresponsible hippy. But you know what they say about other people’s opinions of you. It’s none of your business. That sentiment had become something of a mantra to Avery. Otherwise, she never would have gotten anywhere and would have let them all convince her to do something she hated that would make her miserable.

  When she was done with her tea, she went to the kitchen and found a box of macaroni to make for dinner. The sun was already setting and dusk had settled in outside the window. After she made her dinner, she found the rest of her sheets and blankets and made up the bed.

  As tired as she had been in a long time, Avery decided to turn in early. She had a long day ahead of her tomorrow and needed to get her sleep. Lying down on her pillow, she flipped off the lamp beside the bed. In no time, she drifted off to sleep.

  Deep in the paralyzing unconsciousness of her dreams, a face flitted through the ether. A man. Eyes, brilliant blue. Snapshots of beautiful features. The hard planes of a muscled body. Swooning. Fuzzy. In and out of focus. Mist. Darkness. Gray.

  When she woke in the morning, she only remembered a vague impression. She had seen the man of her dreams. Literally.

  As she swung her legs over the bed and pressed her bare feet to the cold wood floor, she had the distinct feeling that she was deeply in love. This feeling wouldn’t have been particularly extraordinary if it weren’t for the fact that Avery didn’t have a boyfriend.

  She knew that the warm buzzing in her chest and the euphoria in her stomach were how you felt when you fell in love. Standing from her bed, she chalked it up to her excitement about her new farm. She was definitely in love with her farm, and as far as she was concerned, it was better than having a man.

  Was it better than having the man of her dreams? That question, she couldn’t answer.

  2

  Avery threw the last piece of garbage into the back of her truck and closed the tailgate with a loud crack. She pulled off her work gloves and mopped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

  Now, she just had to drive everything down to the dump and get rid of it. On the way home, she would stop at the grocery store, the home improvement store, and the feed store where she would get her supplies for the farm.

  She climbed into the front seat of the truck, closed the door, and turned the key in the ignition. Her old Chevy rumbled to life and she put it into gear. She bumped along the gravel road that led into town, listening to an mp3 on the stereo. Unfortunately for Avery, moving out to the country meant she wouldn’t have access to the kinds of music she really liked on the radio.

  Even though Avery wanted to be a farmer, her musical passion was electronic dance music. Few farmers in rural Oregon had the same passion. Most of what was on the radio out here was either top forty or country, neither of which scratched her musical itch. So, she bumped along on the road in her truck grooving to wicked dancehall beats.

  When she made it to the highway in town, she pulled out into the road and headed toward the dump. Unloading everything was much easier than loading it, and she was done in only a few minutes’ time. Happy to have that done, she drove back into town to stop at the feed store before she went to the hardware store and the grocery store.

  After parking her truck, she hopped out and walked up the steps and into the front door of the feed store. The sound of baby chicks chirping in an incubator caught her attention, and she walked over to inspect them. There were several different kinds of chickens in sections of the incubator, each one more adorable than the last. Avery had plans to raise chickens for her own personal use, as free-ranging insect killers, and possibly to sell the eggs and meat at the farmer’s market in Portland.

  Right now, she didn’t have anywhere to put them but felt the irresistible urge to take some home with her anyway. The feed store clerk came out from behind the counter and gave her a strange look.

  Maybe Avery was a curvy little dark-skinned hippy with a ring in her nose and dreadlocks in her dark brown hair, but she was as good a farmer as anybody else and wanted her community to know that.

  “Hi,” she said to the clerk, a rugged-looking old man with white hair and a blue flannel shirt. “I’m Avery Miller. I just moved out to the old Randolph farm. I’m in the middle of cleaning it up, but I need to hire somebody to bring out a tractor to till up my acreage. I’m also looking for somebody who has a few cubic tons of composted horse manure for sale. Do you know anybody who could help me with those things?”

  “You’re planning to farm the Randolph place by yourself?” the old man asked skeptically.

  Avery wasn’t sure if his skepticism came from the fact that she was young, black, or a woman. And she wasn’t sure which one was more insulting. But she decided to ignore it. Other peoples’ opinions.

  “I do. Just closed the loan a few days ago and moved in yesterday.”

  “Well, I’m not one to tell anybody what they can or can’t do. Last I heard, that place was in serious need of work.”

  “I’m not afraid of work. But I am concerned about the barn. I don’t think I’m going to be able to salvage it with my skills or my finances on hand.”

  “That barn’s been standing for a hundred years,” he said.

  “I know. It’s a nice old barn. But I think it may be a hazard.”

  “There is a horse farm down the road from you. I know they sell their composted manure for a good price. You should contact them. You can rent a rototiller or a tractor through the feed store if you don’t mind running it yourself. How much land you have out there at the old Randolph place?”

  “I have fifteen acres but only five acres are farmable. Honestly, I think five acres is enough for one person.”

  “More than enough, if you ask me,” he said, eyeing her up and down.

  Avery was a generally positive person, but the look on his face made her bristle. She reminded herself that not everybody in Oregon was as open-minded as the people in Portland.

  “I don’t think I can handle all five acres with a rotot
iller. But a tractor could make quick work of it. Will someone drive it out there or do I have to pick it up?”

  “I can have someone drive it out there for you this afternoon.”

  “That sounds perfect. I also need thirty pounds of red clover seed and the seed catalog.”

  “What do you plan to grow out there?”

  “First, I’ll put on a cover crop of red clover. Then I plan to grow baby lettuces for the first part of the year. I already have my organic certification. I’m going to sell the lettuce at the farmer’s market in Portland. Later in the year, I’ll have some tomatoes, squashes, several types of herbs, that kind of thing.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do too,” she said, not wanting to give this guy a rundown of her education and experience. There was no point. “How much are the chicks?”

  “The Rhode Island Reds are a dollar apiece. They’ll make good layers for you.”

  “I’ll take three. I have a little warm spot in the house where I can keep them until they’re big enough to roost outside.”

  The clerk rang up her order and put the baby chicks in a little box with holes in it. After Avery paid, she took her chicks out to the truck. She left them on the seat while she went into the hardware store and then into the grocery store. When she had everything she needed, she made her way back to the farm.

  Pulling into the driveway, she saw that the guy with the tractor had already arrived. She hurried out to greet him and the guy who had followed him in a truck. They explained how to use the tractor and the tiller attachment before getting in the truck and driving away.

  Happy that things were coming together so well, Avery unpacked the hardware supplies and groceries she’d bought and brought them all into the house. The baby chicks she put into a slightly bigger box with some feed and water and put a light over them for warmth. She watched the little guys chirping and hopping around inside the box. They were so cute and fuzzy it made her feel a little bit maternal.