Alpha’s Desire: 6 (Bad Boy Alphas)

Angelina

Jared isn’t at my place when I get home. Nor does he show up before I go to bed. My stomach is in knots.

I’m pretty sure I offended him.

I was trying to keep him from my parents for his own sake—because they can be rude, arrogant, judgemental assholes. I don’t want them to judge him.

And I know they would.

They’d take one look at the beefy arms covered with tattoos and write him off as a Hell’s Angel or something stupid like that.

They would never look beneath the surface to see the amazing man he is. The caring, considerate, thoughtful, charming guy who only seems to want to support me. And fuck my brains out.

And I would hate—absolutely die—if they were rude to him.

So it was for his protection that I didn’t want to invite him over to meet them.

But I keep remembering what he said after we visited my grandma.

You thought she’d hate me.

He already believes this about my family. And in my parents’ case, it would be true. But God, I don’t want him to feel like I think he’s less than. Just because my parents are stuck up foothills assholes doesn’t mean they’re better.

I stand at my window looking out. As if he’s going to pull up on that sexy motorcycle any minute.

Even though I know he’s not.

How do I explain this to him without making it worse? Yes, I thought my parents would hate you, but I’m not hiding you from them, I’m hiding them from you.

Not sure he’d believe that.

And dammit—I shouldn’t have lied when he asked where I was going. It only made it seem so much worse. I should’ve tried to be super upfront, right from the beginning. Hey, my parents are jerks and I’d be embarrassed for you to meet them, so do you mind if I don’t introduce you?

Damn. I don’t know. Should I try to text him? Try to explain? Or will I just make this rift deeper?

Wow, we really are Romeo and Juliet. My parents and his pack are keeping us apart.

I rub my eyes, nauseated.

Of course, to make matters even darker, dinner was the absolute worst ever. Or maybe I’m just noticing more now that I’ve had Jared fluffing me up for a week. It seemed like all I heard from my parents was what and who they wanted me to be.

My mom went on about my weight and how I’m looking a little doughy. My dad wouldn’t stop about the cocktail party next Sunday and how he needs me to be there to meet the bigwig Jackson King.

It’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. Who needs their daughter to stand around and look pretty to close a business deal? In what reality did he cook up this role for me?

And yet I feel the chains of bondage from them as if I am the maiden locked up in the castle, ready to be sold by her father to increase his land shares. Maybe in other lifetimes I was. Maybe we’ll keep repeating this interaction until I finally stand up to them and tell them I’m not their puppet.

But the thought literally throws me into quicksand. They’re my parents. I’m their only child. They’ve supported me—financially, maybe not emotionally—for my entire life. They still pay my tuition and room and board. I teach classes for my spending money. Is it fair or right for me to dig my feet in?

What’s the big deal about one stupid charity cocktail party anyway?

Except the thought of putting on a dress and attending their party next week feels akin to cheating on Jared. Seeing my parents again without mentioning Jared feels like a betrayal.

Even though he and I aren’t even supposed to be a couple, I’m locked in tight with him. And I don’t want him believing he’s anything less than a freaking hero to me.

I square my shoulders and turn away from the window.

I’m going to introduce him to my parents. I don’t give a shit what they think. I’ll warn him that they’re assholes and that I’m embarrassed of how they might treat him, but I’ll stick by his side. Jared is too amazing to be bothered by them. It’s my behavior that bothered him, and I can fix that.

I pick up my phone and text him. I miss you. I wish I’d brought you to my parents’. Are you coming over?

He texts back immediately. It’s all for the best, baby. Get some rest. I’ll see you soon.

Well, shit. There’s a note of distance in his text that sets alarm bells clanging in my head.

But maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Texts can be weird that way.

I sure as hell hope that’s all it is.

Jared

Is it totally backwards that even as I contemplate letting Angelina go, I’m trying to make myself worthy of her?

I sit across the desk from our pack attorney—who is also Garrett’s mate—with my knee bouncing up and down. It’s been over twenty-four hours since I’ve seen Angelina and the hole in my heart is getting larger.

I have to take some action, do something to try to make my life respectable.

“Listen, I was thinking about those kids—all the foster kids you help. Maybe the older ones?”

“Yes?” Amber wears polite pleasant expectation on her face. She’s classy, this one, even though she’s a product of the foster system herself.

“Well, do you think they’d like a boxing gym? A place to work out their aggression—if they have any? I was thinking maybe I could, ah, coach them or something. Teach them how to box.”

I’m unprepared for the way Amber’s face lights up. “Jared, that’s an amazing idea! You’d be perfect for coaching troubled teens. Would you really do that?”

I’ve cast the die, there’s no backing out now. Not when Amber has that full-force ahead look on her. I clear my throat. “Well, maybe we could try it out? See how it works? I rented this warehouse for, uh—” I stop, not wanting to involve Amber in anything illegal.

“I know about your fight club,” she breezes, like it doesn’t bother her a bit. “And yes, this would be the perfect way to make a legit business organization around fighting. I think it’s the most brilliant idea I’ve ever heard.”

I grin. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Yes, truly. Have you talked to Garrett?”

I shake my head. “I wanted to ask you first. I know Garrett’s gonna be in on anything you green light.” I wink.

She laughs. “Clever wolf. Okay, I will make some calls. Maybe you could start with a one-time workshop to gauge interest—both on your part and theirs. You know, just see how it goes. And if everyone likes it, we can set up something more permanent. But you’ll have to get everything legal and above-board—liability insurance, fingerprinting, CPR training.”

“I’ll work on that this week. Anything else?”

“Are you going to buy mats and make it look like a real gym?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” A gym/dance studio/performance space. With cage fighting in the back. There’s something about having a full row of warehouses to work with that makes it seem like anything and everything is possible.

Even winning Angelina.

I head over to Home Depot to pick up the plywood and foam core necessary to spring the floor in the dance studio, warehouse, and the gym. I’m going to trick out the space in every way possible, because my future is tied up in this. I don’t know what it will look like, but I have to take steps to get there.

Angelina

Three days. That’s how long I go without seeing Jared. He sent texts—friendly ones. Asked how my day was. Wanted to know if I’d moved forward on planning my big show. Told me to give my professors hell and kept promising to see me soon.

But it’s been three days and anxiety builds in me like I’m going to blow. I hate this unsettled feeling—not knowing what’s happening with us. Not that I ever knew, but at least he was at my place, in my space, crowding all my doubts with his large presence.

I change out of my leggings and tank top and pull on a sundress before I step outside of the dance building. And then my heart skips a beat.

There he is. On his motorcycle at the curb.

My heart double-pounds and a smile stretches across my face. It’s all I can do not to run straight over.

He dismounts and pulls me into him, his mouth on mine like nothing happened.

I should shove him away and demand we talk. Hash through our relationship and what’s going to happen. But that sounds terrible. And his lips over mine are so much better than terrible. They’re divine.

Like coming home.

So yeah, talking can wait. I just want to be with Jared for now.

“I missed you,” I say honestly when we break apart.

“Baby, I fucked my hand so hard I got blisters missing you.” A shocked laugh spills from my lips and Jared shrugs. “You oughta know.”

“Then why’d you stay away?” Damn. I really don’t want to have this conversation because I’m terrified of his answer.

His face clouds and he presses his lips together. “I’m trying to figure my shit out.” His voice is gruff.

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze hard, as if I can somehow make him stay in my life forever.

He tips up my chin. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I sound breathless. Now that you’re here. I look at the bike. “Are you going to take me for a ride?”

He smiles and picks up the helmet. “A short one. Because you’re not dressed appropriately.” His eyes trail to my bare legs, lips kicking up like he loves what he sees. “I’ll take you to your car.”

I’m dying to ask, “And then?” To beg him to come back to my house, but I don’t want to come off as crazy needy here. I climb on the back of the bike and wrap my arms around his solid waist. He eases us into motion and I lean my face against his back, breathe in his scent.

The trip to the car is short—far too short. I climb off and fiddle with my dance bag. “Now what?”

Jared shoves a hand through his short hair. “Now…”

“You should probably come to my place so I can take care of that, er, problem of yours,” I say, eyeing his bulging cock.

He lets out a strained laugh. “Fuck, baby.” He looks around, like the answer is written on one of the trees.

I moisten my lips with my tongue, making sure he sees the motion.

He groans and gives his cock a squeeze through his jeans. “I never could resist you. I swear to the fates—even if I’d had you wiped, I’d be right back here again making new memories.”

Something flutters in my chest. New memories. Yes. Please.

He captures the back of my head and melds his mouth over mine again. The kiss is possessive, dominating. “You go home and take your shower, little girl. I’ll pick up some food and meet you there. What sounds good?”

“You.”

His eyes change to yellow, right there in the street and he lets out an inhuman growl. He shoves me up against the car, his movements rough. He pushes his knee between my thighs, spreading my legs. “You keep talking like that, you’re going to get yourself fucked up against this car in broad daylight.”

I’m helpless with need. I love dominant but gentlemanly Jared, but this side of him? This out of control growly thing? I’m lost. I grind down on his leg, rub my breasts against his chest.

“Seriously,” he splutters, one hand wrapping in my hair and pulling it taut. His other hand strokes down my hip. “If I touch your skin, it’s all over.”

Somehow, some sense of appropriateness takes over and I catch his hand before it reaches my bare thigh. “I’ll be ready for you,” I promise, my voice not sounding remotely familiar, it’s so husky.

He pulls my hair harder and drags his open mouth down the column of my neck. “You’d better be.”

Fireworks go off in my lower belly, and in my head. I crave this aggressive side of Jared more than ever. He bites my neck—hard enough to leave a mark, but I don’t whimper.

Dancers don’t register pain the same as most people because it’s always mixed with pleasure. Dancing in toe shoes until your feet are bloody comes with the satisfaction of accomplishment.

Maybe that’s why I love it so much when Jared spanks me. Maybe the aggression he warned me about won’t be an issue.

Somehow I extricate myself from his grip, slither down into the driver’s seat of my car. He leans against the vehicle, peering in the window like he’s not sure he’s going to let me drive away. And considering the way he picked up his huge motorcycle like it weighed nothing after the car accident—he probably could stop it with one hand. Instead he thumps the ceiling, still peering in at me as I slowly pull away.

I wriggle in my seat, my pussy hot and damp, already more than desperate for him.

The little voice of reason in my head screams, what are you doing? Every time I have sex with Jared, it makes our impending separation worse.

But I can’t make myself care. I went three days without seeing him and my body is now desperate for the satisfaction only he can deliver. I’m desperate to give him satisfaction.

And I guess if I’m totally honest, I’d admit there’s some chirpy optimist in me who still hopes maybe we can make this work.

I’m out of the car as soon as I pull up, dashing for the door. I take the world’s fastest shower, but then I can’t figure out what to do with myself. Put my clothes back on? Stay in the towel?

Turns out I don’t have to wait to find out, because Jared barges in my house a moment later, his boots sounding in long, heavy strides down the tiled hallway.

I peek out of the bedroom, wet hair dripping, towel cinched up under my armpits.

Jared growls. Yes, a real growl. Like wolf-sounding growl. His eyes glow yellow.

My pussy clenches, belly flutters.

Maybe because I’m a little nervous about his dominance, I take charge. I square off to face him when he comes in my bedroom. “Show me your cock.”

His surprised grin changes his eyes back to green for a moment, but the moment he takes his cock out and fists it, they glow yellow.

I lift my arms and let my towel drop.

He reaches for me, but I dance out of the way.

“Nuh uh. I’m going to take care of you first.” I drop to my knees on the towel and slide his jeans and boxers down his legs. He kicks off his boots and steps out of the tangle of clothing. I close my hand around where he still grips the base of his cock, and guide the head to my mouth.

“Angelina,” he chokes. “I can’t—I don’t—”

I ignore him and take the tip between my lips, licking a bead of pre-cum from his slit.

He catches the back of my head and wraps his fist in my hair again, shoving me forward on his cock. I’m pretty sure he was going to tell me that he couldn’t hold back, because there’s no gentleness to his touch. He holds me immobile and thrusts deep in my throat, then backs out and shoves again. My eyes water but I’m beyond excited as his desperation for me.

I massage his ball sac, try to wrench his grip on his cock free so I can fist him instead. He seems to gather himself and stops thrusting, removing his hand and standing there, panting.

I look up at him, watching his reaction as I slowly take him deep.

Another snarl.

“What are you doing to me, baby?” His teeth are clenched together, fist still tight in my hair. “I can’t take much more of this.”

I suck harder, bob my head over him faster. “I’m gonna come down your throat, baby.” He starts to thrust again, taking over, imprisoning my head for his jerky movements. “You don’t want that, do you?”

I make a sound and nod my head and he roars, coming. His hot salty seed spurts into the back of my throat and I swallow and swallow until it’s all down.

Jared doesn’t lose any of his intensity, though. He pulls out of my mouth and picks me up, tossing me on my back on the bed. He dives between my thighs, licking into me with hot, strokes. He bites and sucks and flicks, devouring me with a hunger I didn’t know was possible. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he rumbles, shoving his fingers inside me. He pumps them up to the knuckles.

I arch up off the bed.

He finds my g-spot and that quickly, I’m orgasming. He hardly waits for me to finish.

“I can’t stop now. I’m going to fuck you all night, baby. You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

I don’t offer any protest. Yeah, I’m a little daunted by that promise, but my desire, my excitement greatly outweighs any fear.

“Fuck me,” I challenge.

He lifts his head and stares me down with those beautiful golden eyes. “I won’t be gentle.” It’s a warning I didn’t need. He’s already half animal—his voice deep and rough, the fervor behind his touch seeming more instinctive than meditated.

“Fuck me,” I repeat.

He flips me over onto my belly and grips my hair again, tugging my head up and causing me to arch backward. “I’m gonna fuck you from behind because I love this ass of yours.”

Sadly, he doesn’t stop to slap it. But then I forget that fleeting disappointment because he puts on a condom and shoves into me. I don’t know how his cock is already hard again, but it is. The simultaneous sting of my scalp and deep pleasure of being filled by him bring me to a heightened sensitivity. I moan for more.

Jared rides me, using my hair for leverage until he grows tired of the position and releases my wet locks. He twists my hips to the side, lifting one knee to fuck deeper, harder, holding me by my nape and thigh to thrust deeper.

It’s all a blur of sensation, of pleasure. I have no control of the situation, so I surrender, allow him to use my body however he chooses. And he definitely keeps choosing. He pushes me to my back and falls on my breasts like a starved man while he continues to pound me with his cock. Then I’m on my hands and knees, his fingers digging into my hips as he slaps his balls against my clit. He reaches around and rubs that magic place and I come again, bucking against him. He pulls my torso up against his chest and squeezes my breasts roughly, biting my neck.

Then we’re off the bed. He bends my torso down on the mattress. “Spread your legs wide.”

Wide is easy for a dancer. I take the widest second position in relevé—which is the fancy French way of saying on the balls of my feet—and arch my ass back at him.

He snarls his appreciation, spanking me in a swift flurry of slaps. He spanks my ass, the backs of my thighs, my pussy. Even the inner thighs receive his delicious brand of torture.

“If you weren’t so goddamn wet, I could hold back,” he growls. “But how can I when you love taking it as much as I love giving?”

“More,” is all I can choke.

“I can’t restrain myself enough to take your ass gently. But you want that, don’t you?”

I guess I do. It’s intense—so intense—but the pleasure is out of this world.

He slaps between my legs. “I’ll have to spank this pussy until you come. Do you think you can come again just from having your pussy slapped?” He shoves a digit in my channel then pulls it out and circles my anus with it.

“I-I don’t know,” I gasp.

“I think you can, baby. You’re going to do it for me.” He spanks me faster, only between the legs, still massaging around my anus. He spanks much lighter there than when he slaps my ass, but now he applies a little more force.

“Ow,” I whimper.

He doesn’t stop, just keeps on with the steady, firm smacks. “You’re going to come and then I’m going to fuck your sore little pussy until I come again. And that will teach you to tempt a wolf this close to the full moon.”

His words make me come. Just hearing about his wolf thrills me beyond belief. My pussy clenches and squeezes on nothing, and I don’t care how sore he’s made my core, I definitely want him in me again.

He lifts me onto my knees on the bed, pushing my torso flat against the mattress. He spanks me again, but I’m not registering anything as pain anymore—it’s all pleasure. It’s all hot, tingly fabulous contact. He peppers the back of my legs and my ass with sharp slaps, punishes my inner thighs again. Then he pins my hands behind my back and pushes into me.

I love the feeling of being his captive. He pulls my elbows to ram in deeper, punishes me with his thick cock. He drives in harder, faster, his loins making a slapping sound against my stinging ass.

I start babbling, pleading. I need to come, but more importantly, I need him to come. I want him to reach his satisfaction with me.

“Fuck yes. I love it when you beg, baby,” he growls. “Who paints your ass red and makes you needy for his cock?”

“You do. Jared! Jared, please.”

“I can’t get enough.” He fucks me so hard it rattles my teeth.

“Please!”

An unearthly growl rips through the room and Jared comes. I clench around him in the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life.

He continues to fuck me in hard thrusts, roaring the whole time.

And then we’re somehow down on our bellies, his body draped over mine, his breath hot in my ear. He nips and licks and bites my neck, still rocking his cock into me, but gentle now.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs.

I can’t answer for a moment, I’m too out of breath, too replete. In a flash, he pulls out and flips me onto my back. His eyes are back to green and his gaze is worried.

“I’m okay,” I manage. “I’m great.”

His brows slam down and he backs off me, rolling my hips to one side and another. “I bruised you.”

I smile. “I don’t care.”

But anguish washes over his face and he shoves his hand through his hair. “I care.”

I reach up and grab his t-shirt, pull him down for a kiss. “Stop being stupid. I loved your aggression.”

His brows lift and he sucks in breath. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls up one of my knees and angles his cock back to my entrance. I wince when he sinks in because—yeah. I’ve already taken a lot.

He sees the wince and immediately pulls out. “Shit, baby. I have to get out of here.” He starts shoving his legs in his boxers.

I sit up, pulling the covers over me as if they’ll shield me from his abandonment.

“I meant it when I said I’d fuck you all night. I mean I really can’t stop. And I’m afraid something bad will happen next time. Worse than bruises.” He yanks on his jeans and zips them. “Believe me, I want to stay. But there’s no way I can. I care about you too much to risk your life this way.”

He stops to kiss me. I expect a quick peck—I think that’s what he went in for, but suddenly he’s claiming my mouth with the same aggression he claimed my body, tongue plunging between my lips, hand rough on the back of my head.

He curses when he pulls away. “I gotta go.” There’s an urgency in his tone, like he’s a ticking time bomb about to explode. “Really.”

“Okay.” I can’t hide my disappointment. My sadness.

He sees it and regret swims in his expression, but then he’s gone, leaving without another glance, his motorcycle roaring to life outside.

I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.

Of course he’s gone. I knew that’s how this would end all along.

Jared

“Dammit!” I pull the drill out of the plywood and pluck out the broken bit. It’s the fourth one I’ve broken from leaning on the drill too hard. I worked all night and straight through the day today working on Angelina’s warehouse. I set up a studio in the back, complete with a sprung hardwood floor, mirrors, and barres. She can teach dance there if she wants to do classes, or use it as her rehearsal space. The main section of this warehouse is her performance space. That’s where Trey and I are working now. I’m finishing up the stage.

Anything to keep myself from rushing back to Angelina’s place and marking her. Trey was right—the full moon brought on the urge.

She’s definitely my mate.

Which makes this warehouse transformation all the more important. The warehouse and my own transformation.

I try to see myself through her parents’ eyes. Would they view me any different if I was coaching disadvantaged youth? Or would they still just see a guy covered in tattoos who uses his fists for a living?

One who lets their daughter ride on the back of his motorcycle in a sundress?

Fates, I’m an asshole. I put her in danger on my bike and last night she was in danger with me. But I’m going to prove to her, and her parents, that I’m worthy.

And then maybe I can keep her without marking her. I could just disappear during the full moon. Keep my distance for her safety.

The moon is full is in two days. Parker scheduled the first fight for tomorrow night, which gives the wolf participants—my pack—an advantage. If we’re fighting other kinds of shifters, that is.

“Hey Jared, like this?” Trey’s up on a ladder hanging the rigging for the aerial dance Angelina envisions.

“Yeah, looks good. Hang three of them like that.”

Next I’m going to build wooden flats—like room dividers on locking wheels, so she can move them around to create the space any way she wants it. I ordered a ton of black stage curtains, too, which can also be setup on movable tracks.

I don’t know anything about art, but as I shape what Angelina sketched, I grow more and more excited. She really has an incredible vision here.

“So you just going to keep working in here until you collapse?” Trey asks when he comes down from the ladder. “Have you even eaten anything since yesterday?”

“Nah. I’m not hungry.”

“You’re trying to stay busy to keep from marking her. Is that what this is about?”

I wipe the sawdust off my hands. “Yeah.”

“If you figured out she’s your mate, why aren’t you over there figuring out how to claim her without too much damage?”

I pick up another board and put it in place. Trey holds it for me while I drill a screw through. “I can’t just claim her. Not without her permission. Not until I’ve proven—” I wipe the sweat dripping into my eyes and hang my head, feeling the weariness for the first time. “That’s why I’m here. To set things up so I have something to offer her.”

“Ah.”

I can’t stand the sympathy I hear in that single syllable.

“Do you really think that’s necessary? I mean, I think she likes you for you already.”

I shake my head and drill another screw in. “You don’t get it. Her parents have plans for her. She needs someone respectable. Someone she can introduce without cringing.”

“If you’re just doing this boxing thing with the kids for her, then—”

“I’m not,” I cut in. “I want to do it. It’s the one thing I know how to do, right? So wouldn’t it be good if I used it to help people instead of hurt them?”

Trey stares at me for a long moment. “Yeah. But only if that’s what you want. Not if you’re doing it to impress a girl.”

“I’m not.” I’m actually certain of this. Angelina inspired me, and yes, I am trying to prove something to her parents, but the idea is my own. And it’s one that excites me.

“‘Kay. I’m gonna take a break and get something to eat.” He waits a beat to see if I’ll offer to quit, too, but I don’t. “See you later.”

“Yep. Later.”

I’m relieved when he’s gone, even though I appreciated his help. For some reason, this journey feels personal—something I have to do on my own.

I pull out my phone and text Angelina. I texted her last night once my head was clear to apologize for running out on her. Her only answer was thank you, which pretty much ripped my chest open.

That means I hurt her when I left. And she hasn’t forgiven me.

I texted again this morning to say I still needed to stay away, but I hoped she had a great day.

She just sent back a heart emoji. That’s it.

So I hope this text will show her I’m really thinking about her.

I want to show you my warehouse space. It might give you ideas for your show. I’m working on it today, but can you come by tomorrow afternoon? 874 S. Ryndall.

She responds immediately. I have rehearsal but I’ll come afterward.

I smile like a fool at my phone. Great. Can’t wait.

Me neither.

And just like that, I’m transformed from haunted to happy.

This plan is good. It’s going to work.

Angelina

Oh for fuck’s sake.

It figures that the first time Jared wants to see me this week is the evening my parents decide to drop by and take me to dinner.

I’m sitting at the downtown restaurant, eating my salad without dressing, my stomach in a knot.

Everything about this feels wrong.

I should be over at the warehouse with Jared. I texted him but haven’t received a response. When I tried to call, it went straight to voicemail, like his phone was off or the battery dead or something.

Halfway through the meal, the cause of my anxiety finally clicks. What can I say? I’m most blind when it comes to family dynamics. I’m betraying Jared again. Choosing my parents over him. Showing him that he’s less important than they are.

Me shutting him out for dinner was the first rift between us. The full moon is a far more minor one, and one I can understand. One that’s actually quite flattering when I think about it.

I set down my fork and clear my throat. “So, I’m dating someone.”

Okay, that doesn’t ease the tension in my midriff, it only makes it tighter, but I’m not going to stop now. I’m tired of hiding who I really am from the people who raised me. Who ought to know me best.

My dad shows no expression at all. My mom raises her eyebrows. Somehow, I sense judgement from them even though I haven’t even told them who I’m dating. Or maybe I’m just imagining it all. Projecting my fears onto the situation. That must be it.

“His name is Jared. He works at the club where I dance.”

There. The scorn I expected is on both their faces.

“Doing what?” My dad asks.

“He’s a bouncer.” I fight the urge to explain more. Why does Jared’s job require justification. It’s a perfectly decent, legitimate job. No, it doesn’t require a college degree, but who cares?

My dad rolls his eyes.

“Well, everyone needs a little fling,” my mom trills.

I lift my chin. “No, I really like him, and…” My mouth goes dry. “I’d like you to meet him.” Oh God, did I really say it? Yes, I did. And there’s no going back.

“Well, I don’t think that’s necessary.” My mom’s already decided he’s not worth meeting.

Fuck her.

“Yes. I want you to meet him. After dinner. We’ll drop by his warehouse.”

This catches my dad’s attention. Real estate is something he’s always interested in. “He has a warehouse?”

I shrug. “I guess so. You know, the owner of Eclipse owns half the real estate downtown. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jared’s invested as well. He always seems to have plenty of money.”

My dad exchanges a skeptical look with my mom.

I shove my half-finished salad away from me and signal to the waiter. “We’re ready for our check.”

It’s funny how such a tiny act of independence feels like rebellion. We all have roles. Mine is to be the dutiful daughter. I don’t call for the check, because I never pay. That’s my dad’s role.

Well, I have my payout from Saturday night dancing. I pull out the bills and toss them on the table. “Dinner’s on me.”

My parents gape at me.

Yep. Things are changing. Get used to it.

I get in my parent’s car and plug the address Jared gave me into my phone. My dad acts impatient and put out the whole time, but he drives there anyway.

The parking lot of the row of warehouses is packed with cars and motorcycles. I double-check the address, but it’s the right one. At least, the address he gave me is one side of the warehouse. It’s the other side that’s drawing the crowd. A garage door stands open and bodies throng around the open entrance.

I knock on the door of the address he gave me, but no one answers. People are staring at us like we’re wearing neon you don’t belong signs. And I guess we don’t. Because the crowd appears tough. Very tough.

Are all these guys shifters?

I’m not familiar enough with his motorcycle to know if one of these is his, so I decide to just peek in.

Two burley men move to block me.

“I-I’m just here to see Jared. Do you know if he’s around?”

One of the guys leans forward and takes a deep whiff of me.

“Angelina,” my dad says sharply.

The guy who sniffed me throws an arm out between me and my parents. “You can go in. They stay out here. Your boy’s inside, but he’s busy at the moment.”

Shouts and cheers erupt from inside, like there’s some kind of show going on. I push through the crowd.

There’s a large cage set up in the middle of the warehouse and the rough crowd gathers all around, hanging on the chain links, shouting jeers and taunts at the people in the cage.

I can’t figure out what’s going on, but something makes me push forward. I’ve come this far, I need to see Jared. They said he was here.

I hear the sound of thuds and my stomach knots up even tighter. What’s going on in that cage? I push my way through the crowd.

“Where in the fuck do you think you’re going, red?” A giant, chip-toothed man hauls me up off my feet.

I shriek and smack his arm at the same time I hear a roar. From my higher vantage point, I can now see into the cage.

Jared’s in it, shirt off, sweat glistening over his muscled, inked chest. He’s fighting someone, his bare knuckles smashing into the guy’s face with a bone-crunching sound.

I gasp, sickness lurching in my belly.

At the same moment, Jared turns and zeroes his gaze on me, as if he’s sensed my presence. His opponent takes that opportunity to throw a punch at his face, breaking his nose. Blood splatters onto the concrete floor.

The guy holding me starts to carry me away from the fight, and I struggle to get free.

Jared roars—a full-on, werewolf sound—and chaos erupts all around me.

Jared

Blood streams in my eyes as I blunder toward the cage door. A hand lands on me and I snap around, driving my fist into my opponent’s face. He drops. The crowd hollers louder, faces pressing against the chain links. Beyond them, a flash of red hair—Angelina. She’s in a shifter’s arms, her small hands pushing at the tattooed brute. He laughs and lifts her easily, ignoring her angry cry.

A roar surges from my body.

My opponent staggers up and weaves toward me and I kick him so hard in the gut, his body flies to hit the opposite wall of the cage. I hit my side of the cage, razor claws shooting from my fingers. I don’t think. I grab the links and pull, parting the metal. A few more tugs and I’m free. “Angelina!”

Shocked faces rise around me and fall away as I tear across the space, hard on the shifter’s heels. They’re halfway to the door before I catch up.

I slam into the thug, tearing at his flesh. He drops Angelina and I dart in front of her, roaring in challenge.

“What the fuck?” the wolf shouts, blood dripping from his torn shirt. A wolf I know—club name Bruiser. From Garrett’s dad’s pack. “Fuck, man, I was getting her out of there for you! She’s not safe here.”

I don’t give a fuck. He laid his hands on my girl. He’s gonna bleed.

“Mine,” my wolf roars.

“Jared, wait, stop.” Trey pushes through the crowd.

“Jared?” A soft cry from the floor. Angelina’s eyes flash wide, horror reflecting off the blue. Oh fuck—she’s looking at me like I’m a monster.

Sirens fill the air.

“Cops are here! It’s a raid!” someone screams, and shifters stampede for the exits.

“Fuck,” Trey explodes.

“Angelina—I’m sorry—” I grab her. Gotta get her out. Gotta get her safe. I propel her to the door. We burst outside—the fresh air pelting me. I blink stupidly, disgusting beast, covered in blood.

“Oh my God, you’re hurt,” Angelina’s hands flutter over my flesh. Her nails are so shapely and perfect, her blue eyes wide with fear. She’s so beautiful, and I’m such a beast.

I grab my shirt and wipe my eyes, not that it does much good. Angelina’s pale face looks so fragile. She’s streaked with blood. My blood. The blood of a beast.

“Government agent. Everybody freeze!” a guy yells behind us.

My blood turns cold.

How in the fuck did a government agent get inside the warehouse? No human should’ve gotten in.

“Jared?” Angelina chokes out. She’s looking at me like I’m a criminal. Can this get any fucking worse?

How much did she see? Did she see the fight? How I lost control? I don’t want her to witness this. Not any of it.

“Get out of here, baby. It will be okay.” I start to touch her and stop. I’ll just cover her with more gore. My stink spreads all over her. She shouldn’t be here. What the fuck is she doing here?

Why the fuck did I ever think she could be with a guy like me?

Mine, my wolf howls. He ripped through a steel cage to get at her. Proof that he’s laid claim to her. Proof that I’m too much of a monster to ever deserve her.

The government agent has his eyes on me, pushing through the crowd, but I’m not waiting around. I duck outside, after Angelina. I have to make sure she’s safe.

Lights flash all around. The sirens blare, cops shouting on megaphones.

“Everyone cooperate,” Trey shouts. “This is a misunderstanding.” He has enough Alpha dominance in his voice that the spectators obey. Thank God. This could turn into a massacre.

I look around at my worst nightmare. Armed officers charging at shifters, guns out. Some tattooed thugs fall to their knees, hands on their heads. The cops swiftly surround and question them. A few lucky shifters make it to their motorcycles and roar away.

“Angelina,” a woman screams. She comes flying over.

“Oh my God,” a guy in a golf shirt follows, revulsion scrawled across his face. “What is going on? Angelina, get away from him!”

“Get out of here, angel,” I say. “Just go.”

“No,” her bottom lip puffs out. “You’re hurt. Again. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

“The cops are here. Angelina, don’t be a fool—” the man lays his hands on her and I grab the front of his collared shirt.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” My wolf is off his leash. My eyes must be glowing like Kryptonite right now.

Golf shirt guy’s face goes white.

“Jared, stop,” Angelina stops. “Let him go. Dad—it’s okay—just—”

“Dad?” I reel, taking in the older couple. Sure enough, the woman is petite and lovely like her daughter, and there are glints of red in Golf Shirt Guy’s hair.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My girl brought her parents to meet me—right in the middle of a police raid on my cage fight.

I remove my hands from the guy so fast he staggers. His wife catches him. She’s crying, mascara running down her face.

“Angelina—” I start when an officer runs up shouting.

“That’s the one!” the government agent yells.

“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” The cop waves his gun. I see red again—if he’s not careful, he’ll shoot Angelina.

“All right,” I shout, stepping between her and the crazy cop, hands on my head for good measure. “Calm down, we’re cooperating.”

“Get on the ground,” he screams again. I fall to my knees. He grabs me and I let him slam me into the pavement.

“Stop,” Angelina cries. “He’s cooperating—he’s bleeding. Can’t you see he’s hurt?”

“Angelina, get away from him,” her father shouts.

A boot hits my side. I grunt but stay down. The cop kneels on my neck to cuff me, grinding my cheek grinds into the gravel. I look up at my beautiful girl.

“Angelina,” I breathe her name through cracked lips. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Please leave.”

“But you’re hurt,” she says. Her parents reach for her and she shakes them off. “I’m not leaving.”

“Just go, baby. Go.”

Face stricken, she mouths my name at me as her parents drag her away. Peering past the cop’s boots, I watch her climb into a gleaming Mercedes. A howl tears from a chasm deep within me as the car squeals out of the lot, carrying my mate away.

Agent Dune

“So was this guy taking bets?” the local cop asks him dubiously. When the police showed up at the warehouse, he had no choice but to flash a badge and take claim to the scene. He sure as hell didn’t want them in there fucking everything up.

He still hadn’t found out who the fuck placed the 911 call they were responding to, although his money was on the redhead’s dad.

And the redhead seemed to be linked to this guy.

The one he wanted to question.

He’d purposely allowed the rest of the major players to escape. Parker and the other two bookies slipped out the back when the chaos began. They were more useful to him free. He’d learn more about their kind with surveillance.

So he’d let the cops grab this guy, the one who’d been fighting in the cage. The one making a big fuss outside the building. And now he’d insisted on questioning him. In private.

Because after seeing Jared Johnson fight, he knew he was the same as Nash. Altered. Enhanced, somehow.

He gazes through the two way mirror at the bloodied, tattooed hulk cuffed to the table

“I’m not sure we can hold him on any charges that will stick,” one of the cops says. “We’ll probably have to let him go.”

“Not before I question him.”

“Alone? You sure about this, Agent?”

“Quite sure.”

Dune shrugs out of his jacket, folding it and laying it over a chair. He’s a big man, not as big as the fighter waiting to be questioned, but powerfully built and ripped in a way that shows an obsession with strength training, beyond the basic fitness requirements.

“It’s your show,” one of the cops murmurs.

“Remember that,” he warns. Checking his gun, Agent Dune saunters in.

Jared watches him, alert. Wary. Not guilty, like a criminal. No, he behaves more like an agent would. Ready for trouble from any side. Suspicious. He’s much more than a dumb guy with big muscles. He’s a warrior.

Like Dune.

He took a seat across from Jared and fixed him with a steady gaze.

Jared stared back. He didn’t get nervous the way most guys do under questioning, and Dune had questioned a lot of guys. He knew and used torture methods taught to him by the government meant to make any guy talk.

He didn’t plan to use many of them today. Not in a local police station with cameras everywhere. But if the cops had to fuck with his investigation, he sure as hell was going to question this guy.

“I saw you fight,” Dune says at last.

Jared doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away.

“Saw you tear open a steel cage with your bare hands.”

He still doesn’t answer.

“What kind of… man… has that kind of strength?”

Jared purses his lips but still doesn’t answer.

“Someone who’s not just a man. Someone who’s been enhanced. That’s what I think.”

Jared shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know anything about two labs being blown up in southern California?”

A momentary tick before he hides it. Yes, he knows something. Dune’s instincts weren’t off.

“What do you know?”

Jared shakes his head. “Have no idea.”

Dune slams his fist down on the table. “Bullshit.”

Jared doesn’t jump. He doesn’t even stiffen, which tells Dune the guy isn’t the slightest bit threatened by him. Because he wouldn’t be if he’d been altered by Data-X, would he?

“What’d they do to you? In that lab? Did they make you into a monster?”

A slight wrinkle appears on Jared’s forehead before it smooths out. Which means something in Dune’s questioning is off. So the guy didn’t come from those labs. He must’ve come from another one.

He lunges for Jared, gripping his hair and yanking his head back. “I know you have superhuman strength.” He hopes to piss the guy off enough to see him change the way he’d seen Nash change.

He slams Jared’s head down on the desk and yanks it back up. His nose re-breaks and blood streams out, but Jared squeezes his eyes shut so he can’t tell if they changed color.

“Open your goddamn eyes,” he growls.

“Fuck off.”

He pushes his thumb into the other man’s eye and prods a lid open. The iris seems to be yellow, but the other man draws his head back for a head butt and Dune has to dodge it, so he’s not sure.

Then the man stands, pulling the chain on his handcuffs taut. “You don’t know what I am, do you?”

There’s an odd triumph in the other man’s face that makes the back of his neck prickle with warning.

“You don’t know what you are,” he says in a low voice, the corners of his mouth curving.

The door bursts open and a small blonde in a suit and heels stomps in, flanked by two cops. The cops seem oddly protective of her, even though if she’s an attorney—and he’d bet she is—she can’t be on their side.

“Step away from my client, Agent Dune.” Her voice is ice cold. “Did you break his nose?”

“He came in with a broken nose.”

The pretty attorney shakes her head. “That looks like a fresh break to me.”

So Blondie must know what he is, or she wouldn’t know how fast the guy heals. Good to know.

“You have no right to hold my client here. No charges have been filed and he hasn’t broken any laws. I demand he be released, immediately.”

Dune shrugs even though he was just getting somewhere with Jared Johnson. Making ripples with the locals would only cause more hassle. Better to cut him loose and set up surveillance.

Later, in a moment of total honesty, he’d admit to himself he was unnerved by what the man had said. How had he known?

Angelina

Shock careens through me as we drive away from the warehouse. Both my parents are yelling at me at once, but I have no idea what they’re saying.

What in the hell just happened?

Jared was fighting in a cage?

My dad drives straight to my parents’ house. I think there was some discussion about taking me there instead of home, but I can’t remember—I was too busy replaying the surreal scenes back at the warehouse.

Why did they take Jared away in cuffs? Did he do something wrong? He’s not a criminal. He can’t be.

Can he?

I realize I don’t know enough about Jared and how he gets his money. How does he have enough to rent that huge warehouse on a bouncer’s income? Does he have some other, less legal source of funds?

But I quickly reject the idea. No. Not Jared. He’s too honorable.

“Go and take a shower,” my mother orders as soon as we’re inside. “You’re disgusting.”

I look down at my clothes, but there’s nothing on me. Oh wait—one splatter of blood. I do as she orders, only because I can’t really think for myself at this moment and a shower might help.

Unfortunately, it’s the worst choice ever, because all I can think about is that incredible shower with Jared. The one where he worshipped my body and made me feel like a goddess. The one where he gave me something significant. Something I don’t think he’s shared with anyone else.

Or is that just my fantasy talking?

I don’t really know what’s real and what’s not anymore. Werewolves? Vampires? Fighting in a cage?

It all seems so impossible. I step out of the shower and dry off. In my childhood bedroom, I throw on an old pair of sweats and tank top and crawl into my bed.

Being here, in my old room, makes me feel so small. Was it just yesterday I felt like anything was possible?

Now I’m suffocating under my parent’s roof like a teenager again.

I don’t know how long I lie there. An hour or two. And then I hear the sound of a motorcycle.

I run for the balcony off my bedroom and throw open the door.

“Jared!”

He’s off the bike and running toward the balcony in a flash. “Angelina—are you all right? Were you hurt at all?”

My chest tightens. He just got a boot in the ribs and taken away to the police station in handcuffs, and he’s asking if I’m all right?”

I lean over the rail, trying to get a closer look at him. His shirt’s covered in blood, but he appears fine. Well, of course he does—I’ve seen first hand how fast he heals. “Are you all right? What happened with the police, Jared?”

He shakes his head. “It was just a misunderstanding. Everything’s fine—no charges filed.”

I swallow. “What was that fight?” My throat is tight and pressure builds behind my eyes.

Regret washes over Jared’s expression. “Let me come up there, baby. I need to see you up close. Talk face to face.”

I give a wobbly nod and start to head for the door to let him in, but he’s already scaling the rain spout, then spider-walking sideways along the top of a downstairs window casing to reach the balcony.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

My dad bursts outside as Jared swings on leg over the rail. He’s pointing a gun—yes, a gun. I didn’t even know he owned a gun!

“Turn around, and go right back down the way you came,” my dad growls. “I’ve already called the police. I doubt you want a second trip to the station tonight.”

“Dad, stop. This is crazy. Jared’s just trying to talk—”

“Leave. Now.”

“Listen, Mr. Baker—”

My dad takes a menacing step forward and I fly between them. “This is crazy. Dad, you need to leave.”

“Mr. Baker, I’m—”

“The hell I’m going to leave,” my dad roars. “This is my house. My property he’s trespassing on.” He leans around me to level the gun at Jared again. “Get out of here. Don’t ever contact my daughter again. If you do, I will make your life a living hell. Understand?”

“That’s enough!” I shout, turning to face my dad head on. “You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

“The hell I don’t. My daughter will not run around with a member of a motorcycle gang who gets in fights for the fun of it. You are so far beneath her, it’s laughable. Go back to the rock you crawled out from.”

Something in Jared changes. Like an icy wind blew through and froze him solid.

“Dad!” I shriek and literally put my hands on his chest and shove. “Get. Out. Actually, move out of my way. I’m leaving with Jared.”

“No.” Jared’s voice is hollow. “No, stay, Angelina. I’ll go.” He drops to hang from the balcony, then lets go and falls softly to his feet on the grass below.

“No.” I fight past my dad and dash for the stairs. I fly outside in my bare feet just as Jared’s starting up his motorcycle. “Wait!” I yell.

He turns his head in my direction but doesn’t look at me. His focus is a million miles away. He’s receded into a shell of his normal self.

“Jared, wait. I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know why my dad’s acting so crazy. It’s just been a weird night.”

“No,” he cuts me off. “Your dad is right. This isn’t going to work.” He revs the gas and shifts the motorcycle into gear.

“Wait.” I grab his forearm. If I could just get him to look at me.

To come back to me.

But he’s gone. Not physically, yet. But emotionally. The Jared I know isn’t there.

“Jared, please. Can we talk? I don’t even understand what’s happening here.”

He turns and his expression is hard. “Yes, you do. You and I weren’t meant to be, angel.” His use of the endearment without any of the usual feeling flays me. “We knew it from the start and we were fighting fate. It’s better if we cut ourselves free now, before things get even harder.”

He looks at me for one moment longer while I struggle to speak, and then he guns the motorcycle and shoots off, down the street.

“Jared!” I scream at his back, but he doesn’t turn. Doesn’t respond. Just drives away, his broad back getting small until he disappears around a bend.

I drop to my knees. “No.”

“Angelina, Angelina, come in.” My mom’s scandalized voice reaches me, but I don’t move. “What’s the matter with you? Get up, honey. This is ridiculous.” She hauls on my arm until I blink away the tears enough to stand up and get myself inside. Back to my stupid frilly bedroom, where I collapse on the bed and cry myself to sleep.