The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Garrett

As Amber’s little hatchback peels outta my parking lot, I touch my tongue to one of my canines to make sure they’re still human sized. Little Miss Prim and Proper nearly fainted in my arms-again-then stared at my teeth, the whites of her eyes reflecting the moon.

Werewolves don’t exist.

“Fuck,” I mutter. My teeth haven’t changed. My vision is the same-not domed with the oncoming change. I was on the patio to get some air and space for my wolf, but it wasn’t like I was howling. Werewolf, she said. How did she guess?

“You okay, boss?” Tank strides across the lot to me.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I straighten, stuffing down my wolf. “Heading home. You okay to lock up?”

“Sure thing. Who was that?” He jerks a chin at the way Amber’s car went. “You know her?”

“She’s a lawyer. Uptight as fuck. She’s also my neighbor.”

“Human?”

“You know she is,” I say sharply. Tank was one of the few older wolves who followed me from my father’s pack. His wolf is huge and dominant, though not more dominant than mine. I suspect he was sent by my father to keep an eye on me, though it’s just as likely that, as a consummate bachelor, he prefers my pack to one made up mostly of mated pairs. Quiet, strong, loyal, he makes a great enforcer. One of these days, I’m going to make him my official Second. As soon as I know for sure he’s not spying on me for my dad.

“Trey and Jared mentioned a little blonde neighbor. They think you have a thing for her. Said they scented her on you later.” He says it like it’s casual gossip, but I hear the note of censure, and it pisses me off.

“Worried I’m banging a non-shifter?” Shifters don’t usually mate with humans, but that doesn’t mean a wolf can’t sow his wild oats. There are no laws against it, although more traditional packs-like my dad’s-frown on it. I don’t. Which is probably why so many bachelor wolves followed me when I left to start my own pack.

“They said you claimed her.” Yep. The censorship in Tank’s voice is real.

I face him and crack my knuckles. “I told them to stay away, that doesn’t mean I mated her. You have a problem here?”

“Dating a human is tricky business. Fucking them is fine, but a real relationship? Quickly becomes a problem. They can’t know about us. The rule is-”

“I know the old laws. Have you forgotten who my father is?” I hate invoking my father’s authority, but Tank is old school. Some think I wouldn’t control my own pack if I didn’t have my father backing my rule. It’s not true. I’ve never asked him to back me up on anything, but I guess the threat is there, nonetheless.

“No.” Tank drops his gaze. “I don’t mean disrespect. I protect the pack.”

Authority acknowledged, my wolf backs down. I clap him on the back. The difference between me and my dad is I know when to be a hardass and when to be a friend.

“You and me both. I’ll never risk the safety of my wolves over a human. This one is under my protection, but that’s all. My wolf took a shine to her.” Shit, that sounds even more suspicious. My wolf has no business sniffing around a human. Shifters mate shifters. End of story.

I crack my knuckles again, rubbing my tattoos. Full moon makes me antsy. I’m not a newbie who has to shift, but the desire is there.

“I’m heading out. Tell Trey and Jared no after-work party, or they’ll be on dish duty for a month.”

“Right, boss.” Tank tilts his head, showing his neck a little in deference. He doesn’t argue, or point out that my explanation of who Amber is and what she means to me falls short. Wolf packs aren’t democracies. My word is law. All the more reason not to be an asshole like my father.

But Tank was right to give his warning. We all know the rules. Outsiders can’t know about us. In the old days, there was only one way to deal with a human who’d learned the shifter secret.

If Amber knows what I think she knows, she might have to die.

A long, winding ride does nothing to calm my wolf. All too soon, I find myself striding down the hall of my apartment building straight to Amber’s door.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out. There’s a text from my sister with lots of happy face and palm tree emojis. Arrived in San Carlos. XXOO.

I shake my head, fight a grin as I refocus on the matter at hand.

An outsider knows our secret. My wolf doesn’t think of her as an outsider, though. He wants to protect her as much as I want to protect my sister.

Leaning close to the door, my skin tingles as I pick up Amber’s sultry scent. Inside, a TV is on low, and I hear her moving around. Amber must have dropped off her friend and come back here. There’s no other scent.

I knock on the door. The apartment falls quiet.

“Amber.”

More silence.

“I know you’re in there. It’s Garrett. I need to talk to you.”

Her scent grows stronger. There’s a slight rustle just behind the door. I realize I’m gripping the doorknob and pull my hand away. I don’t need to crush another thing this month.

“Open up.” I lower my voice. She’s right there, on the other side.

She doesn’t answer.

I throw some authority into my voice. “Amber, open the door.”

“I’m busy.”

“Open it. Now.”

“Go away. Or I’ll call the cops.”

“No.” I splay my hand on the door, as if I can feel her through the wood. “Calling the cops would seriously piss me off, and believe me, little girl, you don’t want to see me mad.” True story: I don’t want her to see me mad. “Now, open the door.”

“Go to hell. I’m not afraid of you.”

The corners of my lips tug upward, despite the seriousness of the situation. I love her bravado. She’s so fucking cute. “Right. So, if you’re not afraid, open the door.” When she doesn’t answer, I ball my hand into a fist. “Open it, or I’ll bust it in, Amber.”

“I’m calling the cops.”

“No cops. Door. Now.” I’m not used to being disobeyed-by my wolves or by humans. Usually, when I show my authority, people jump.

She moves away. Is she calling the cops?

Fuck. I’m so used to people following my orders, I didn’t think she’d actually go through with her threat. I angle my ear to the door but don’t hear her speaking. Instead… dammit. That’s the sound of her balcony door snicking open. Where is she going?

The image of her attempting the crazy and dangerous gymnastic feat of leaping to the neighboring balcony to escape throws me into full shifter protection mode. My fangs punch out to defend her from the invisible enemy of gravity. I race back to my apartment and run out to the balcony.

Fuckity fuck fuck!

The crazy little human has climbed over the edge of her balcony and is inching her way to the fire escape ladder.

I swallow the shout that chokes my throat, not wanting to scare her. She’s obviously already terrified if she thinks climbing off her balcony is a better option than facing me. But, yeah, I guess finding out your neighbor is a werewolf would scare the shit out of most humans.

I dash to the stairwell and take each landing in one leap, skipping the stairs altogether. On the first floor, I bang the door open and jog around to the back of the building. Adrenaline pulses through me, bringing on a partial shift. My skin ripples before I take a deep breath and settle. My night vision sharpens.

There. Amber, still in her little skirt and blouse from the club, her hair in her usual bun. She’s climbing down the metal rungs of the fire escape, barefoot. Her foot slips a little, and she yelps, clinging to the railing. She’s going too fast.

I race over just as she loses her footing again and slips. With a little scream, she falls the rest of the way-about a story and a half-right into my arms. I catch her easily but soften my body to cushion her landing, letting her knock me to the ground. A grunt escapes as I hit the cement. For a second, I just lie there, cock growing hard at the feel of her in my arms.

She’s breathing, heart racing. Her scent, sweet citrus and spice, makes me dizzy. I rest a hand on her back, encouraging her to lie still, her breasts pressed against my chest. Maybe she’ll take the hint and relax into me.

No such luck. She pushes up, straddling me as she stares down.

Oh, honey. Not a good idea.

My cock thinks it’s a fabulous idea. It strains against my jeans, wanting more contact. “That was a stupid-ass move.”

She scrambles up, but I catch her, coming to my feet to swing her over my shoulder. I’m halfway to the stairwell when she starts to struggle.

“Put me down, Garrett! I will scream.”

Interesting she hasn’t already screamed. Just like she didn’t call the cops. Maybe she obeys better than I thought.

Either way, I have the upper hand, and I intend to keep it.

I hoist her higher on my shoulder, cutting off her protests. I give her bottom a slap, which is a big mistake. It’s got to be the cutest ass I’ve ever seen, and now that I’ve smacked it once, I’m dying for more contact. I want to squeeze it, stroke it, smack it again.

She sucks in a breath. I scent feminine arousal.

Oh, honey, it’s on.