Alpha’s Desire: 6 (Bad Boy Alphas)

Angelina

The casting list for the faculty show is posted outside the auditorium. All the dance students are gathered there when I arrive, my six foot five shadow ambling behind me.

He took me out to dinner and slept in my bed last night. He’s acting like my boyfriend, and it feels too good to tell him to quit.

Even though I know it’s going to end.

He knows it, too. He’s been quiet—not exactly brooding, but thoughtful. The line between his brows hasn’t gone away since dinner last night. I’m a coward, because I haven’t had the will to broach the subject of us.

Somehow, I know that tonight he’ll be back to sleeping on the couch. And that thought causes an ache right behind my breastbone. Even worse is the thought that at the end of two weeks, he’ll leave.

Even now he hangs back, giving me space. Gone are the teasing smirks of yesterday.

I try to push the dilemma from my mind and check the cast list. One ballet dance. One modern. Rehearsals start tomorrow.

I should be grateful. Some dancers nearby are trying not to cry. I note Talya got in the modern dance piece with me. Remy didn’t get into anything. She comes up behind me to check and I squeeze her hand.

“Did I get dissed again?”

“I’m sorry.”

Remy shrugs, but I know it bothers her. It’s one of the reasons I asked her to do the Eclipse thing. No—that’s not true. I asked her because I like her and I knew she’d be great. But I also feel like she could shine so much brighter than she does in school. If they would see past the fifteen pounds they told her to lose. Yep, she got the dreaded “fat letter.” The one I’m always on pins and needles about getting. It comes with a recommended visit to a campus nutritionist and certain number they want to see by a deadline. Or you’re out of the program.

I’m not kidding.

So yeah. I haven’t received one yet, but it’s always on my mind. This threat looming over me. It’s part of why I don’t think I fit here. Not that I haven’t achieved everything I’m supposed to want to achieve. But it’s like this is a life I don’t want to live anymore. It’s the one my mom wanted. The one my dad thought was practical.

It was never my dream.

I turn around and find Jared still hanging back, but watching me intently, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to decode. I sling my dance bag over my shoulder and walk up to him. Strains of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet drift out of a nearby classroom and I have the sudden giddy urge to dance up to him. But no. As much as I’m already loving having him beside me twenty-four hours a day, I should cut this short. Because seriously—if I get used to this, it will kill me when it’s over. I’ll probably be begging to have my memories wiped.

I lay a hand on his chest, loving the way his belly dips at the contact. “I have classes again all day, big guy. You really don’t have to stay.”

His throat works as he swallows, his eyes on my lips. “I do.” His voice is rough.

“Jared.”

His gaze lifts to my eyes.

“You can trust me with your secret.”

He draws in a sharp breath. “I know.” The words fly from his mouth, as if he hadn’t thought before speaking. “I know,” he repeats. His face closes. “I have orders…”

“I’ll still be here at three when you pick me up. Nothing’s going to happen in the meantime.” I lift my pinkie. “Promise.”

When the corners of his mouth lift in that familiar grin, my heart picks up speed. He hooks his pinkie in mine, then pulls it to his lips and kisses my fingers. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

I nod, satisfied. Not because I mind him here, but because I know I need to cut him loose. This is too intense for both of us.

Jared

Iheave a long section of chain link into place and wait as Trey secures it to the poles we already bolted to the cement floor. After I left Angelina at school, I wasted no time getting ready for the first fight. The fates know I’ve had enough down time hanging around with Angelina to make my plan.

“Does Garrett know you’re not with her right now?” Trey asks, even though he knows the fucking answer.

“Fuck off.”

“Thought he told you to stick to her like glue.”

“Yeah, he did. And I have. But I trust her. She’s not gonna tell. Besides, I have shit to do, or else we won’t be ready for this fight. Which is supposed to happen during the two weeks I’ve been shackled to her. You think Garrett wants me to bring her here for it?” My voice is laced with scorn and Trey tosses me a lopsided grin.

“That would be a mistake.”

“We both know it’s not about me babysitting her.”

“Right,” Trey agrees. “It’s about you figuring out if she’s your mate or not.”

Hearing it out loud does all kinds of scratchy things to my esophagus. Trey stops moving and looks over at me, trying to read my expression.

“And?” he prompts when I don’t spill.

“I don’t fucking know!” I shout.

Trey shakes the chain link to make sure it’s secure, then hooks both hands thru the links and hangs on it. “I’m thinking you do.”

I hurl the pair of wire cutters in my hand at his face, knowing he’ll dodge in time. The two of us have been best friends since childhood. We know each other inside and out. I glare at him, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“I’m not gonna fucking wipe her.”

Trey’s brows shoot up, which gives me pause. Does that mean he thinks Angelina’s my mate? Or he thinks I think so?

I give my skull a hard shake, as if it will dislodge the looping thoughts in my head.

Trey walks over and hangs on the fence beside me. I adopt the same pose, staring at a spot on the concrete floor.

“I don’t have the urge to mark her,” I admit after a long moment of silence.

This is the fact I’ve been trying to push to the back of my mind since last night. The torment. It should make everything easier, but it doesn’t. It only makes it worse.

“I… claimed her last night. No serum on my teeth. No desire to bite.”

“Huh.” Trey sounds surprised.

I flip around to hang the other way on the fence, facing out.

“Maybe it’s different with humans.” Trey sounds doubtful.

“It’s not. Remember Garrett with Amber?”

“Yeah.” Trey flips around, too. “Well, the moon was full then. Maybe that’s why he gave you two weeks. Moon’ll be full by then.”

“Maybe.” I’m slightly relieved by Trey’s suggestion.

But that means I must want Angelina to be my mate. Which is stupid, because I still can’t have her. I mean, I won’t. I don’t want to ruin her. But still, knowing she’s my mate would explain why I’m having such a hard time walking away. Cutting her loose and just wiping her.

“You thought I was going to say she’s my mate?” I have to ask. I need to know what signs he saw, other than me being protective of her.

Trey shrugs his shoulders, which makes him do a pull-up of sorts. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You’re acting crazy. Wrecking your bike. Defying our alpha.” He’s silent for a moment, and I keep quiet, too. He’s the problem-solver between us. I’m the brute force, he directs it. “Was anything different when you fu—claimed her?”

I appreciate his word choice because I would have to beat him senseless for speaking disrespectfully about Angelina.

I hesitate. Trey’s the only male in this world I would admit this to. “Yeah. It was different. The opposite of what I thought it would be, actually. I didn’t go agro on her at all. In fact, I was…” I give an embarrassed laugh and kick the chain link with my heel. “Fucking tender. It was the first time in my life I made love instead of fucked. Never thought I’d say that, either.”

Trey’s silent but this time it kills me not interrupting his thoughts. I just hung myself out there, and it feels fucking exposed. “Maybe,” Trey says slowly, “Your wolf calms down around her. You’re more violent than most. If you got more amped up around her—a fragile human—you could kill her.”

“I know.” I start doing backward pull-ups on the fence to work out the violence growing in me, fueled by frustration. “That’s why I don’t want her to be my mate. I could never claim her.”

“You’re not listening. What if your wolf knows better? He calms your aggression when you’re around her. He’s keeping you in check, including the desire to rip her shoulder open to leave your scent.”

“Then why did I try to break Fox’s neck for wiping her? I knew I was wrong doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Duh, dumbshit. The wolf always protects his mate.”

I’m relieved at Trey’s goading me by calling me dumbshit. I’m on him in a second, getting a solid punch in before he dodges and kicks my ass. I tackle and take him to the ground, wrestling until I have his head in a chokehold.

Trey slaps the floor and I release him. Both of us stand up grinning. “Asshole,” he mutters without any rancor.

“So how do I figure out for sure?”

Trey clomps around to setup the last section of fence to make the cage. “Wait until the full moon.”

“And if I still don’t want to mark her?”

Trey slaps the fencing in place. “Dude. Don’t be an idiot.”

“What?”

“You already want to mark her. And you’ve already made some decision about why you can’t. Why don’t you just let that decision go? Just until the deadline. Things might become clear.”

“I hate you.”

It’s a mark of our friendship that Trey’s face lights up with a surprised grin and not hurt. “Why?”

“Smart fucking asshole.”

He looks far too pleased with himself as he hooks the fencing to the pole. “You gonna help me here, or do I have to put you in this ring and show you a thing or two about fighting?”

I laugh, because we both know I’ll win every fight I enter in that cage. “I’m helping, I’m helping.”

For the first time since I claimed Angelina last night, the heaviness lifts from my chest.

I have two weeks. No need to come to any conclusions until then.

Angelina

Jared’s waiting for me outside the dance building and I can’t deny the pleasure that blooms in my chest at seeing him waiting for me. I remember in high school the popular, more socially well-rounded girls—girls who didn’t have ballet five nights a week—got picked up by older boyfriends from school. It seemed so exciting and romantic. Something I’d never have.

In college I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve even had a couple hookups, but never the formal dating. I haven’t had the guy who wants to drive and take me out to dinner and pay. I didn’t even know I wanted that.

Turns out I find it pretty hot.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s Jared.

I’ve changed into my shorts and he gives me that look when I get in the car—the one that says he’d like to eat me alive.

Instantly, my whole body lights up, as if my very cells are vibrating and heating just being close to him. The memory of sex last night—the best sex of my life—almost makes me blush.

“How’d it go, baby?”

I shrug. I definitely don’t want to talk about school right now. Or anything real life. I’d rather know everything there is to know about werewolves. Too bad he won’t tell me.

He rocks his large hand over the steering wheel. “I always love watching you dance, angel. From the first time you got up on those boxes at the club I was hooked on you.”

Now I do blush. Because it’s Jared. Admitting he’s had a thing for me.

“And I loved watching you yesterday in that ballet class.”

I sense a but coming, and I stiffen, as if he’s my mother getting ready to offer constructive criticism.

Like usual, he’s too damn in tune with me. He glances over, a startled wrinkle between his brow.

“Is there a but?” I ask. Might as well make it easy for him.

The way he turns his focus back to the road and rolls his grip on the steering wheel tells me I’m right.

What could it be? I’m not as skinny as the rest of the bunheads? Too uptight?

“There was no joy. When I see you dance at the club, you’re alive. Shining. What I saw yesterday? Made me want to throat punch your professor for sucking the life out of you.”

The sound that comes out of my mouth is a half-laugh, half-sob. How is it possible that in five minutes Jared saw what my mom couldn’t see in eighteen years? What I couldn’t bring myself to admit out loud for the past four? What my dad would never even understand?

He pulls up in front of my house and reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No.” I pull my buns out of my hair. “I’m upset because you’re right. And it’s the center hub my life spins around. This thing that doesn’t work for me.”

I stare at him, hopelessness rising up and drowning me.

He narrows his eye. “So I do get to go and throat punch your professors?”

I let out a watery laugh. “If only that would fix this.” I push open the car door, suddenly way too constricted inside.

He follows me out and opens my front door. “Fix what?” His voice is sharp, like he’s determined to fix my life any way he can.

I shake my hair down, walking away.

“Hey.” He catches me around the waist and pulls my body back against his. “You don’t get to turn your back on me when you’re upset. Not for a goddamn second.” His voice is a growl in my ear, the rough stubble of his face scraping my cheek.

Everything I’ve been bottling in that’s been straining to get out as my graduation approaches jostles up into my throat.

“I hate it!” I admit. “I don’t fit the mold and I can’t make myself want to fit it anymore.”

Jared drops me and spins me around. His green eyes bore into me. “So don’t.”

The laugh-sob comes up again.

“Who are you doing this for? Your teachers? Your old self? It’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to veer from the path you set for yourself.”

A tear leaks out of my eye. “See that’s the thing. I don’t even think I set this path. I think my mom did.”

Jared’s lip curls but he doesn’t say anything.

“I think she wanted to be a ballerina but her parents couldn’t afford lessons, so she’s living vicariously through me. I don’t even know if I ever liked dance, or if she just told me I did.”

Jared shakes his head slowly. “You love it on Saturday nights.”

“That’s not really dance,” I mutter.

“The hell it’s not.” He gets right up in my face, but it doesn’t scare me.

Instead, I square off against him. “What do you know about dance?”

He blinks and swallows. Backs off. Shoves his hands in his pocket.

Have I hurt his feelings? Crap.

“You’re right. I don’t know dance. But I know you. Whatever it is you do on Saturday nights, you love.”

I step into him, my need to soothe him apparently as strong as his for me. My hands hit his chest and the sizzle of contact runs through me. “That’s about… the joy of creation. It’s my baby. I dreamed it up. I staged it. I got Garrett to agree to it.”

He covers my hands with his. “Yeah?” It’s a prompt. He wants me to go on.

I draw in a breath, following the thread. “It’s the only place in my life I got to be in charge. To execute my vision. Do you know what I mean?”

He nods and pulls one hand from my chest. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“Why?” I ask, but follow his lead out the door.

“When I need to work through stuff running always helps me.” He leads me at a brisk pace. It’s beautiful out. I love spring in Tucson, when the air is warm and everything starts to bloom. The sweet smell of citrus blossoms perfume the air. Pink penstemon are making their bell-flower appearance just in time for Easter.

I have to admit, walking feels good. Like I can leave the shit pile of my situation behind. “So what other visions do you have?”

I’m unbelievably grateful for the question. It would be so easy to start complaining about my controlling parents right now. Or how every day that draws closer to graduation I feel more and more stuck.

“Well, honestly? I’d love to have my own dance company.”

There. I said it out loud. The angels of dance didn’t even strike me down.

“Mmm hmm. What would your dance company be like?”

I have to take long strides to keep up with Jared, which is freeing. “It wouldn’t be a ballet company. I guess more contemporary, but I see it as more of a hybrid. Like one part performance art, three parts dance—but any kind of dance—ballet, modern, hip hop.”

“Uh huh. Is that what you do at the club?”

“Yes, but what we do there is just the tip of the iceberg. I have this idea for a totally interactive show. Something that entertains an audience and doesn’t just cater to the old fogies who want to be high-brow and say they went to see the Nutcracker. Something anyone and everyone would like. All ages. All backgrounds.”

“Wow.”

I steal a glance at Jared to gauge his reaction. I can’t believe I’ve actually expressed the ideas out loud, but now that I have, my excitement rolls behind them like a giant bulldozer. There’s no keeping it back. I’ve been stewing on these ideas since high school, for God’s sake.

Jared smiles. “That sounds incredible, baby. What would it take to make it happen?”

And then everything goes flat. That familiar choking heaviness returns.

“Whatever you just thought about, you’d better kick it the fuck out of your head,” Jared growls, surprising a laugh out of me.

“I thought about what I’m supposed to be doing when I graduate.”

“Which is?”

“My dad’s willing to invest in my career, but only to help me open a dance studio. For kids. Which is cool and all. I like teaching okay, but…”

“That isn’t your dream.”

I have a little more room to breathe just with him saying the words. “Right.”

“So the plan is open a ballet studio, teach what you learned from your uptight professors, and be a good little ballerina?”

That laugh-sob is becoming my new go-to reaction. “Pretty much. The thing is—I don’t even consider myself a ballerina. If I were a serious ballerina, I’d be at least fifteen pounds lighter and I would’ve been apprenticed to a professional company by the time I was fourteen. My mom wanted this for me, but not badly enough to ship me off to New York or San Francisco.

“It’s probably not too late for a performing career in modern, but it still would involve me going to New York City. The ‘ents don’t like that.”

“Do you want that?”

For some reason, I have the sense Jared’s holding his breath.

I consider it. The idea excites me, but it might only be because I want anything different than what I have now. Would I create my company there? It’s doubtful. I’d probably get swallowed whole by all the desperate dancers clawing to succeed. Get caught up in waiting tables and going to auditions. Struggling to please a new master. Stuffing this inner voice of mine back down again.

“No. Not really. I still wouldn’t be doing what I want to do—choreographing. Creating.”

“Okay, so back to my question. What do you need to execute your vision?” There’s a determination in Jared’s eyes, like he’s going to make this happen for me. I shouldn’t get excited, but I can’t help it. It’s the first encouragement I’ve had, and I’m going to take it and run with it.

“I picture it in a warehouse. Some place we could transform for different shows. I’m picturing silks and trapezes or hoops rigged from the ceiling, dances in water tanks—crazy stuff! The audience would be led through the space—almost like a haunted house. There would be a new performance around every corner. They’d stop and watch and then their host would bring them to the next spot. Maybe six minutes for each piece—everything perfectly timed and coordinated.”

“I can get you a warehouse.”

I stop and stare at him. “What?”

He rolls his tongue under his lower lip, pushing it out. “I have a warehouse space you can use.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. What else do you need?”

I swallow. “Um, I’m not sure. I’d have to trick it out. I don’t really have money for that, and my dad would never invest in something that’s not a solid business venture, like a ballet studio.”

“Why isn’t this a solid business—nevermind. Forget your dad. He isn’t your only resource. Tell me what you need and we’ll figure it out.” We’ve circled around a few blocks by now and are back in front of my place. “Want to do another loop?” he asks.

I grimace at my flip flops, which weren’t the best choice for walking. “No, not now. But thanks. You were right, walking helped.” We head up the steps to my place. “So you’re a runner?”

He unlocks the door and lets me in. “Er, no. I mean yes, but four-legged,” he says with the sexy grin that makes my knees go weak.

I stop and face him, tipping my face up with my best puppy eyes. “I want to see. Show me your wolf? Please?”

His arms loop around my waist and he palms my ass, yanking my core up against his jeans, where his very impressive erection bulges. I see indecision dance over his expression. “I can’t, baby,” he says on an exhale.

I try to hide my disappointment. Try to remember why we can’t do this. We aren’t a couple. We never can be. We’re forbidden to each other.

Romeo and fucking Juliet.

I think I’ll make a dance about it when I have my show. Throw myself off a balcony in a dive that makes the audience gasp before the bungee around my ankle picks up the slack.

Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m actually thinking like I’m really going to have the performance.

“So I want a list of what you need in the warehouse. The setup—everything.”

“Jared—” I take a step back, out of the circle of his arms. We’re not even dating. Not a couple. I can hardly ask him to let me use his warehouse for my show. Not when his existence may be wiped from my mind in less than two weeks. “I appreciate your offer, but I can’t accept. I need to do this on my own.”