Alpha's Desire Page 6

  Angelina has big aspirations and a bright future. There’s no way I could take all that from her. It’s not right.

  But I also made her a promise. I said I wouldn’t let them wipe her.

  So where does that leave me?

  “What are you fucking telling me, Jared?”

  I go for total honesty, because Garrett would see through anything else. “Listen, I don’t know. This girl means something to me. I wish it weren’t the case, but it is.”

  Garrett goes silent again. When he speaks, his voice is tense. “I’m gonna give you two weeks. Figure it out. Either mark her and claim her as your own, or wipe her. In the meantime, you stick to her like glue. Make sure she doesn’t talk. Understand?”

  I shouldn’t feel relieved. Two weeks isn’t going to solve this fucking mountain of a problem, but I am. It’s two weeks I get to spend with Angelina. Two weeks before… fuck.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Good. And don’t think I’m not going to fuck you up when I see you next.”

  I smile, because, well—I love Garrett. And I don’t care if he pounds me into the ground, because I deserve it. “Yeah, I know. Thanks. I still have Fox to deal with. He gave me twenty-four hours.”

  “She knows about him, too?”

  My limbs go heavy. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll talk to him—tell him we have it handled.”

  “Thanks, bud.”

  “Jared.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Good luck, my friend.”

  I give a harsh bark of laughter. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  “Yeah, you will.”

  I’m not even sure what he means, but I remember how crazy he went before he marked his human mate. Trey and I had to hold him back to keep him from attacking her during the full moon.

  Does he think I want to mark Angelina?

  I haven’t had the urge, but then I haven’t had sex with her yet. And the fates know she brings up all kinds of terrible desires in me.

  Fuck.

  My wolf probably does want to claim her. But it’s not going to happen. Because

  I’m a shifter.

  I’m a fuck up.

  She’s way outta my league. Even if we could get past the mating mark thing, girls like her don’t belong with guys like me.

  I walk back inside and find Angelina walking out of the bathroom brushing her teeth.

  It’s such a normal act of domesticity, but it goes straight to my dick, like everything she does. The idea of seeing her like this, as if we’re living together, rocks me.

  “You want the good news, or the bad news?” I ask.

  She bites the toothbrush to speak. “Good news.”

  I grin like an idiot because she looks so damn cute. “Good news is you’ve been given a stay of execution.” I hold up my hand when her eyes go wide. “It’s a figure of speech, that’s all. I have time to figure this out.”

  “Whabs the bab news?” she asks, toothbrush still clenched between her teeth.

  “You’ve got a new shadow. I have to stick with you for a little while. Just until we’re sure you won’t talk.”

  I expect her to tell me no fucking way. Maybe slap me again, which shouldn’t turn me on so much, but it does. Instead, she blushes right up to the roots of her beautiful red hair. “S-stick with me how? Stay here?”

  I nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch. I’m not here to force myself on you. Just to…” I stop. Just to what? Decide if she’s my mate? Reconcile myself to wiping her? Find out how fucking hard it is to spend the night under the same roof as her without pounding between her legs for every minute of it?

  She raises her eyebrows.

  “—just to make sure. Like I said.”

  She backs up toward the bathroom, pinning me with a thoughtful look.

  What’s going on in that beautiful head of hers?

  “Fine,” she says before rounding the corner and spitting into the sink. I hear the water running, but I can’t stop myself from following her.

  I lean against the doorframe. “You know, every time you tell me fine with that pouty voice, I want to spank your cute little ass until you squeal?”

  Her lips part and she stops drying her hands on the towel, as if I shocked her into stillness. I try to keep myself from looking, but the stiff points of her nipples poke through her thin t-shirt, and I smell the scent of her arousal.

  I’d give anything to fuck her now.

  It wouldn’t be hard to win her over, either. She’s already halfway there, just from my crude threat.

  But I’m not going to do it.

  Garrett didn’t assign me to stay here to get in her shorts, no matter how much they fucking turn me on.

  And she deserves better than me.

  So much better.

  “I’ll let you off the hook this time,” I drawl, giving her what I consider my most charming smirk. “But consider yourself warned.” I saunter away, because if I stay a minute longer, she’s going to find out first hand just how badly I want to get those shorts off her, but I hear her breathless reply as I walk down the hall.

  “I will.”

  5

  Angelina

  I don’t know how I managed to sleep at all. I dreamed all night about a beefy werewolf coming in my room and pinning me down. Forcing my legs wide and pleasuring me with his mouth and fingers until I scream myself hoarse.

  Living with Jared in the house is going to be next to impossible. I hear him rummaging in the kitchen, so I pull a pair of shorts on under my sleep shirt and pad out to the kitchen. I find him looking through my cabinets, appearing disgruntled.

  He’s even bigger and more impressive in the morning. His muscles stretch his fitted t-shirt and jeans like a work of art. The dancer in me wants to climb all over him like a living jungle gym.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask.

  He closes a cabinet door and frowns. “Coffee. I was going to make you coffee to start your day. Or don’t you drink it?”

  I shake my head, trying to tamp down the pleasure at hearing he wants the coffee for me, not himself. “Not unless I buy it from Starbucks. I usually make a smoothie in the morning. You want one?”

  He appears surprised. “Um, yeah. That’d be nice.”

  I walk past him to the refrigerator and start talking out ingredients. “What do you usually have for breakfast?” I’m picturing him as a steak and eggs kinda guy, considering he’s a wolf.

  Speaking of wolf, I thought of a million questions to ask him, but I don’t know if he’s receptive to answering, considering I’m not supposed to know anything.

  “Oh, I’m a can of Red Bull and anything else in sight kinda guy.” There’s a self-deprecation in his tone that I hate, although I can’t put my finger on why it bothers me so much. It’s kinda like he’s assuming I’m going to judge.

  I bustle past him and start throwing stuff into the blender: frozen wild blueberries, organic raspberries, a dash of pure cherry juice, a banana, a couple handfuls of spinach, gelatin for my protein, spirulina, water, and a squeeze of lemon. I blend it up and pour it into two tumblers with lids and straws.

  When I hand Jared his, he wears this heavy-lidded gaze, like smoothie making is some kind of erotic artform.

  “Thanks.” His deep voice sends butterflies fluttering in my belly. He chugs it down in three gulps and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Delicious. Thank you, beautiful.”

  “I-I’m going to jump in the shower.”

  “Don’t let me slow you down.” He lays that charming grin on me, the one that causes girls at the club flash their boobs and make utter fools of themselves.

  I spin around and head for the bathroom, quick, before I join that club.

  Of course, the entire time I’m in the shower I’m thinking of him. Imagining what would happen if he decided to barge in. Did I purposely leave the door unlocked?

  I fear I did.

  But he doesn’t come in. Which is a good thing, consid
ering I have classes all day. Still, I’m unbelievably self-conscious as I run from the bathroom to my bedroom in nothing but a towel. Why didn’t I bring my clothes into the bathroom with me?

  I’m pretty sure I hear Jared chuckle as I shut my door, which makes it all the worse. I shouldn’t let him get me flustered in my own home. I throw on my dance clothes and pull a pair of shorts and t-shirt over my tights and leotard. My hair goes up into two buns on the top of my head—antennae style, not the Princess Leia style.

  When I come out, Jared’s holding up a wall in the front room, looking at his phone. He drags in a long, slow breath when he sees me, eyes devouring me like I’m sex on a stick, not a dorky bunhead who has to dress out for ballet first thing in the morning.

  Well, I guess he is the big bad wolf.

  And that thought shouldn’t get me so wet.

  “Okay, so I have classes all day—I won’t be home until six or so.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

  He takes my keys from my hand and locks the door after us. “Great. I’ll drive.”

  I stop walking. “Wait… what?”

  “Did you think I’d just meet you back here at six? No, baby, I’m your shadow. I go where you go.” He walks toward my car.

  “You-you can’t go to classes with me!” I splutter.

  He stops at the driver’s side and leans on the roof of the car. His grin is wicked. “I can, yes.”

  I arch a brow. “Oh really? You’re going to take ballet?”

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  “So how do you know I won’t tell someone during class? This is stupid, Jared. You can’t be with me every minute of the day. You don’t need to come to school with me.”

  “I have my orders. I’m to stick to you like glue.” He gives my body and up and down sweep. “And that suits me just fine.”

  The flutters in my belly make it hard to maintain a hard line. I have to admit, there’s something appealing about having Jared as an attachment. But it’s also utterly ridiculous. I cock a hip. “You can’t. You won’t fit in. What will I tell people?”

  His smile falters and I have the brief impression I’ve hurt him, although I can’t fathom why. “Tell them I’m your bodyguard. Come on, get in. You’re going to be late for class.”

  “You don’t even know when my class is!” I protest, but he’s right.

  “I do, actually. I checked your phone and shared your calendar.”

  I fish out my phone and stare at it. “And what? Did you bug it, too?”

  When he doesn’t answer, my jaw drops. “Are you serious?” I’m suddenly scared again. I’m in way over my head with an organization—a species?—I don’t even understand. I thought I could trust Jared, but now I’m not sure.

  “Hey, hey.” As usual, he picks up my vibe. “Calm down. What did I promise you?”

  I clutch my bag so tight my knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” I mutter-snap.

  “You’re safe with me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “As long as I don’t tell.” I say it as a statement, not a question.

  He nods. “As long as you don’t tell.”

  “And if I do?”

  Jared’s face clouds, the line of his jaw becomes more defined. “You can’t.” His tone brooks no opposition. There’s no wheedling or calming. He’s telling me like it is.

  I blow out a shaky breath.

  “Are you thinking about telling someone?” There’s an edge of danger in his tone, something I haven’t heard before. The guy is huge and I’ve already seen what he’s capable of in his short tussle with the vampire. But in this moment, it becomes infinitely clear that he’s deadly.

  My heart pounds against my ribs.

  “Are you?” His tone is sharper than a knife.

  “No!” I’m both offended and angry. And still scared shitless.

  Jared relaxes against the seatback—the one he pushed all the way into the backseat to get in—but a furrow still clouds his brow. “I don’t like to smell fear on you, baby.” His hands tighten on the wheel, like he’s holding on to keep from reaching for me. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  My mind swirls with a million unfinished thoughts. The only coherent one that floats to the surface is he can smell my fear?

  “Sure,” he says. I guess I asked it out loud. “And your arousal.”

  I flush and shoot a glance at him. His lips twitch and I want to punch him. What this man does to me! I don’t slap or punch people. Ever.

  “I usually park all the way up on 5th street and walk. You can’t park on campus.” I inform him, to change the subject.

  But he turns, pulling right onto campus and stopping in front of the dance building. “You’re late. Go on in. I’ll park and meet you after your class.”

  I get out and lean my head in the door. “I have classes here all day. Seriously. Just come back at four.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll be there after ballet.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I say before I remember his words last night.

  His grin is borrowed straight from the devil, himself. “Now you’re in for it.”

  I slam the door and stomp up the stairs, my face burning red, butt already tingling thinking about his promised spanking.

  Jared

  There’s a special kind of torture for males who dare imagine they’re worthy of a ballerina. It’s the body-hugging garments they wear that pass for clothing. I’m standing outside the door of Angelina’s ballet class peeking through the window and dying.

  Literally. I’m dying. My cock is rock hard, especially because now I’m thinking about spanking her and I don’t know if I’ll make it through the day without letting off some steam.

  A group of girls in leotards and tights gather outside the studio, plopping on the floor and spreading their legs wide to stretch in preparation for the next class. Some of them appear appropriately scandalized to see me here—what I’d expect from the virginal masses of uptight dancers. But some eye me with the bold looks I’m used to getting at the club, gazes traveling over my muscles and tattoos. It’s that fascination with the bad boy that makes even good girls make poor decisions.

  “Are you waiting for someone?” One of them pipes up.

  “Yep.”

  “Who?”

  “Angelina. The redhead.” I nod to the window where the dancers are in poses similar to the one of the Romeo and Juliet ballet poster on the wall I’m leaning against.

  “Oh yeah. She’s great. I love Angelina,” one of them gushes, getting even flirtier, even though I just named my female.

  “She is,” I murmur, watching my girl spin in four consecutive circles on shoes that let her stand right on her toes. Her legs are a mile long and pure muscle. Her body, a work of art. This is a different Angelina than the one I’ve seen at the club. She’s serious and precise. Perfect in every move. And rather unhappy-looking. I sure as hell hope it’s not because I’m here.

  A door at the front of the studio opens and dancers spill out along with strains of fancy music. Classical or some shit.

  “Angelina!” one of the girls near me squeals. “Over here.”

  Angelina takes one look at me and her lips tighten.

  Dammit. I am definitely bringing her down.

  She marches over and I half expect her to march right past, but instead she lands right up against my body, face upturned, as if for a kiss. An angry kiss. No—possessive. She’s marking me in front of her friends.

  Hot alpha female.

  Let it never be said I wasted an opportunity. My lips are on hers before she can blink, and it’s not a peck, either. I devour her mouth like a starving man, ignoring the twitters of laughter from the gaggle of dancers around us.

  When I release Angelina, her lips are swollen, eyes glazed. I wrap my hand around her nape and lean down to murmur in her ear. “You staking your claim, baby?”

  She lifts her chin in that adorably stubborn pose I’ve come to adore. “Maybe.” And with tha
t, she sashays off, leaving me to follow after her.

  I don’t hurry, sauntering behind her, getting my fill of the swing of her ass, the flex of her muscular thighs. She stops and bends over a drinking fountain, even though she’s carrying a half-full water bottle. Giving me a show. I arrive behind her and make an approving noise in my throat.

  Because I’m fairly certain that’s what she wants.

  I happen to know her next class isn’t for forty minutes, which gives me time to get my hands on her. If I can just get her some place alone. Unfortunately, I’m still attracting stares from every human in the building.

  I bump up behind Angelina and wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her back against my body so she can feel my solid erection. “Baby, take me somewhere private and I’ll reward you properly for offering up that kiss.”

  I half expect her to shut me down, but her eyes dart around and then she grabs my hand, pulling me down an empty hallway. She tries a door and finds it locked, then tries another one. It opens.

  I follow her in and shove her against the wall beside the door. That way, no one can see us through the window, and I can stop the door from opening if anyone tries. I have the front of her leotard down in seconds, bra cups peeled off and my mouth over one of her rosy nipples. One hand squeezes her breast while the other rubs between her legs. I go right up her shorts, investigating the outline of her pussy through her leotard and tights.

  “Baby, I want to shred these tights with my teeth,” I confess.

  “No,” she pants. “Please don’t.” She pushes at my chest, and I force myself to draw back. I may be aggressive, but I sure as hell don’t force myself on women.

  But my little ballerina drops to her knees, head tipped up, gaze on my face.

  My nostrils flare and I automatically reach for the outline of my cock in my jeans.

  She undoes my button and makes a sexy show of dragging down the zipper. All the while, I’m biting my knuckles to keep from groaning.