Bad Boy Alphas

by Alexis Davie

  “We’ve been married for twelve years, Isabella. I thought I could trust her.”

  Isabella groaned. “Oh, Dad…”

  “Just come home,” Brandon sighed. “We’ll figure it out together.”

  Slowly, Isabella replaced the receiver on the cradle and flopped back against her office chair, her mind whirling.

  I knew that woman would show her true colors one day, she thought grimly, the image of her stepmother filling her with ire. How could Dad be so stupid?

  It seemed unlikely that he would make such poor decisions in love when he was such a shrewd businessman, but Isabella had seen the way the manipulative blonde had spun a web around her father since the day they had met.

  It was only a matter of time, she thought angrily, punching the intercom line.

  “Yes, Ms. Sawyer?” her secretary squeaked timidly.

  “Joshua, get me a flight to Hartsfield-Jackson tomorrow morning,” she instructed. “I don’t care what time. In fact, the earlier, the better.”

  “For how long?”

  Isabella paused for a second. “I don’t know, Joshua. Just book it one way and I’ll figure it out from there.”

  “Ma’am?” he interjected.

  “What?”

  There was a long silence.

  “The partners want to meet with you on Friday,” Joshua reminded her. “This probably isn’t the best time for a vacation.”

  Shit! Isabella cursed to herself. Shit, I had forgotten about that. Dammit, Dad, could your timing be any worse?

  “Just book the damned flight,” she snapped at Joshua, regaining her self-control. She disconnected the call and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She had three days to straighten out whatever mess her father had made in Scarlet Oak and come back to get her promotion. She was going to be the youngest partner her financial firm had ever seen, and nothing would stand in her way.

  * * *

  The estate was fraught with tension, but there was not too much Adam could do about that. After all, it wasn’t his fault his mother had decided to jump ship without so much as a word to her husband.

  Their entire relationship has done nothing but make my head spin, he thought, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the tension through them as he walked from the west wing toward the kitchen. It’s about damned time she left his unfaithful ass.

  When he entered the kitchen, he came across Mira, who was scrubbing a pot.

  “Oh, good morning, Mr. Hayes,” she greeted him. “Can I fix you some breakfast?”

  Adam grinned disarmingly at her and shook his head, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

  “I told you, Mira, I will only eat if you eat with me.”

  Mira giggled and blushed, lowering her head in embarrassment. Her salt and pepper hair was tied in a bun. “Mr. Hayes, you are such a devil,” she chuckled. “Coffee?”

  He nodded, perching on the island and reaching for the Scarlet Oak Gazette laying on the countertop. He ran a hand through his black hair and tiredly snatched up the newspaper.

  Nothing but war, famine, and horrific politics, he thought with a sigh. He suddenly reconsidered reading the headlines. Casting aside the print, he decided he didn’t want to start his morning off with such misery. It was a beautiful day: the sun was glinting prettily through the trees without even a cumulus cloud in the sky.

  Mira placed a cup of lightly creamed coffee in front of him before turning back to her work, leaving Adam to stare blankly out the window and into the peach grove beyond.

  He didn’t hear his stepfather approach so much as he sensed the change in the air’s temperature—the pleasant Georgian morning turned cold in the blink of an eye.

  “Jesus Christ,” Brandon growled. “In a house this size, how do I perpetually cross paths with you?”

  “I was here first,” Adam replied lightly without turning, his gaze still on the plush orchard.

  “And this is my damned house!” the older man spat.

  “I’m surprised you’re home,” Adam continued, as if he hadn’t heard the venom in Brandon’s voice. “What happened? Your latest squeeze stood you up last night?” He finally turned to gauge Brandon’s reaction, and he smiled when he saw the man’s face contort in frustration.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Brandon snapped. “Whatever lies your mother fed you—”

  “I’m not blind, Brandon,” he interrupted. “And I’m not fifteen years old anymore, either. Spare me your sanctimonious horseshit.”

  “You are two peas in a pod,” Brandon told him, reaching for the mug Mira silently handed him. She was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “That’s why you’re still here, right? Waiting for an opportunity to rob me blind before joining your mother wherever she’s taken my money.”

  Adam scoffed. “Are you going senile? I don’t need your damned money,” he retorted, feeling the muscles in his back grow hard as he willed himself not to shift in his anger. “I do just fine.”

  And it was true. He was a research analyst for a well-known (though also hush-hush) corporation in the south. His work paid well and afforded him a lax schedule. He most certainly did not need any of his stepfather’s money.

  But he also knew being there annoyed Brandon, and up until his mother had gone AWOL, Adam believed he had stayed at Halo Orchards to protect his mother.

  Of course, he never thought of the real reason he stayed. That was far too complicated.

  “Well, maybe you can do just fine somewhere else,” his stepfather retorted. “What kind of man stays home with his mama well into his twenties?”

  “A man who knows his mother is married to a narcissistic asshole,” Adam answered sharply. “And I will stay here as long as I damn well please. In case you’ve forgotten, my mother owns this property, too.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that your mother weaseled her way into my finances. How could I? Why don’t you do us both a favor and tell me where she went so I can—” He cut his sentence short, and Adam felt his eyebrows raise.

  “So you can what?” he demanded. “Serve her with divorce papers?”

  Shockingly, Brandon looked away, and Adam realized he had struck a nerve.

  Divorce was a profane word in the Sawyer-Hayes household. Even Mira cringed at the blasphemy.

  “Well?” Adam drawled, licking the tops of his gums, the telltale lumps formulating over his canines.

  “You know what?” Brandon threw his hands in the air. “I’m not dealing with you anymore. If you insist on milking me for free rent, so be it. I wash my hands of you.” He spun to leave, and Adam snorted, turning on the stool toward his coffee.

  “That is music to my ears,” he called after his stepfather. “I have no interest in dealing with you, either!”

  “Don’t worry, big brother,” a voice purred from the back door. “You can deal with me instead.”

  Blood drained out of Adam’s face and goosebumps exploded over his arms. He did not have a chance to address his stepsister before she sashayed around the island, her blue eyes blazing at him with contempt.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he questioned.

  “I will come here anytime I damn well please,” Isabella answered him. “In case you’ve forgotten, my father owns this property, too.” She was mimicking him, her full lips pulled into a sneer.

  Adam stifled a groan and sat back to study her porcelain face.

  How can I want to kill her and kiss her simultaneously? he wondered, forcing himself to maintain a stoic expression on his face, even though a surge of heat had raced to his crotch, enlarging his member beneath the blue, terrycloth robe he wore.

  “Isn’t New York keeping you busy enough? Or did they finally fire you for being incompetent?”

  Isabella instantly lost the taunting expression on her face, and Adam beamed with pride. It was almost like taking candy from a baby. She forgot how well he knew her—how well they knew each other.

  Adam swa
llowed, forcing the memories out of his mind.

  “Hello, Miss Sawyer!” Mira called, most likely hoping to diffuse any further escalation between the stepsiblings.

  “Hello, Mira,” Isabella said, gracefully spinning to embrace their long-time housekeeper. “Forgive me; Adam always needs to suck all the air out of the room.”

  “Funny,” he remarked. “I thought Vampyra was your nickname.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes, stepping out of Mira’s hug. “I’m not twelve years old anymore, Adam. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  He shrugged indifferently. “I am not looking to fight, sis,” he told her mockingly. “After all, I wouldn’t want to kick someone when she’s down, having been fired and all.” Isabella scoffed.

  “I am about to be made partner, you pompous, spoiled ass. Youngest one the firm has ever had.”

  Adam glanced at her through his peripheral vision, taking a sip of his coffee. He could not deny the spark of attraction he felt when he stared at her, but that magnetism was suddenly coupled with pride.

  She always was the smartest one of us, he thought with begrudging admiration.

  “Whatever you say,” he replied, nonchalantly rolling his eyes as he rose. “Unlike you, I have a job to get to this morning. I would love to know what you do that allows you to be out of state and hanging out on a Tuesday morning.”

  Isabella smiled again, but there was no mirth in her eyes as she dropped onto her elbows, peering at his face.

  “Currently, I am working on a financial matter, which includes getting your ass out of my father’s house,” she replied smoothly.

  Adam gaped at her. “What?”

  “I think you heard me,” she said easily, examining her perfectly manicured nails. “I have come home to track down your treacherous mother and send you packing.”

  Isabella did not give him any time to come up with a scathing reply. She slid down the back hall, presumably in search of her father.

  Mira cast Adam a worried look, and he pasted a forceful grin on his face.

  “So much for no misery this morning,” he chirped. In his head, though, he was seething, his claws digging defiantly into his closed palms.

  I’m not going anywhere, he thought furiously. I would like to see her try and move me.

  * * *

  Isabella gritted her teeth nervously, the cell phone chiming in her hands. It was Charles Christopher again, and she knew he wanted to know when she could be expected back in New York. The problem was, she didn’t have an answer for him.

  It was already Thursday, and she had fully intended on booking a flight out of Georgia that night to ensure she was back for her meeting on Friday afternoon, but she was no closer to locating Sabrina than she had been when she had arrived.

  To make matters worse, her father seemed to be unraveling more with each minute, something she could not understand.

  What the hell is wrong with him? she kept thinking. He and Sabrina were at each other’s throats constantly, but he’s acting like his dog died. I don’t have time to nurse him through this pointless heartbreak. I must get back to New York as soon as possible.

  Although she tried to deny it to herself, she knew exactly what was wrong with her father: he was still in love with the evil, money-hungry shrew he had married. They were both widowed, and neither believed in divorce, though it seemed like her dad didn’t believe in his marriage vows, either. Then again, his indiscretions were not Isabella’s immediate concern.

  If she wanted to make it back to her meeting on time, there was only one thing she could do, and she wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest.

  I must wrench it out of Adam, she admitted. He’s my last hope.

  Stalking through the main floor, Isabella pushed her way into the den, where Adam was sprawled on the leather sofa, his legs spread while he played Grand Theft Auto V. Isabella stood directly in front of the screen, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Where is your wretched mother?” she demanded.

  “Get out of the way!” Adam yelled. Behind her, she heard a car squealing out of control, a self-satisfied smirk forming on her lips as she watched his face contort into a scowl. “How many times do I have to tell you and your chauvinistic father that I don’t know where she is? Screw off, Isabella. I’m busy!”

  “Yes,” she laughed. “I can see that. Working that big brain of yours again, are you?”

  Adam jumped to his feet, stalking toward her. When he physically pushed her aside, Isabella stared at him in shock.

  “Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “Don’t you dare put your hands on me, you spoiled brat!”

  “Or what?” Adam jeered. “You gonna tell Daddy on me?”

  Impulsively, Isabella reached out to slap at him, but he seemed to anticipate her action, grabbing her wrist in mid-air. He chortled.

  “Oh! Look at Miss City Girl, slumming it back in Georgia. You know what they say; you can take the girl out of the trailer park—”

  The blow with her opposite hand landed directly on its target, wiping the arrogant leer off Adam’s face.

  “You bitch!” he snarled, yanking her toward him, his dark eyes flashing with malice. Then she saw his face begin to change, only slightly, and Isabella exhaled, a rush of heat flowing through her body.

  She had only been fourteen when she had first seen Adam shift. It had terrified her, and she never let him know she knew about his secret—about his supernatural abilities. But hundreds of times afterward, Isabella had thought about the beast lurking behind Adam’s happy-go-lucky persona. And it had caused her to moan in pleasure.

  Of course, Adam was her stepbrother, and Isabella would never entertain such a thing. However, as she watched how he struggled to control himself from transforming into the bear she knew he was, Isabella could not stop herself from leaning her face into his.

  “What’s the matter?” she taunted. “Cat got your tongue?”

  Adam’s grip ruthlessly tightened on her arm, and she shivered as he finally gave her what she had always longed for.

  When his lips met hers, Isabella bit out at him, her wrist still firmly in his grasp. She gasped as he spun her around, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of her shoulder. She yelped, a rush of pleasure sweeping through her, waves of heat coursing through her loins.

  Oh, my God, she thought, closing her eyes as Adam’s hand snaked up her stomach to squeeze at her breast, his body pushing against her cheeks.

  Isabella reached out to brace herself against the television, her body trembling as his lips attacked her fair skin. There would be lots of marks on her, but that didn’t matter to her. She simply allowed herself to be washed away in the desire she had felt since her father had married Adam’s mother.

  “You’ve thought about me, too,” she murmured. “You’ve always wanted me.”

  “I’ve always wanted to put you in your place,” Adam rasped, his tongue jutting out to taste her earlobe while his free palm tweaked her nipple over the tank top she wore. Isabella jumped at the touch, aching for more.

  Adam slipped his palm across her stomach, his kisses growing more urgent as he moved. He pulled down Isabella’s sports shorts, dipping one of his fingers into the drenched cleft between her thighs, and Isabella could no longer suppress her moans.

  “I am going to take you so hard,” he exhaled, the words only fuelling her desire. “I am going to take you until your daddy comes running down to see what’s making you cry.”

  It was the first time it had occurred to Isabella that her father was in the house, but she didn’t care. Adam prodded at her slick, throbbing clit. In her mind, he had transformed into the bear she had dreamt of so often, and when he slipped a finger inside her, his breaths growing hotter and faster, she pushed her round, plump rear against his thick hard-on, wondering if it was as big as it felt.

  Another of his fingers joined the tight crevice, and Isabella whimpered, Adam’s thrusts growing harder and more urgent with each push.
>
  “Take me,” she begged, his fingers not giving her the release she needed. She yearned to feel him pulsating inside her, his sack spanking her as she clung to the television for dear life.

  Suddenly, Adam let go of her wrist.

  Isabella turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, her lips parted as he fumbled to undo his pants. After they fell around his ankles, he reached up to hold the back of her neck and grip her waist, using his feet to spread her further apart.

  Isabella purred as his shaft replaced his fingers inside her wanting core. There was no time to steady herself, the fullness of his dense member taking her breath away. Adam’s hips were flush against hers as he began to pound into her.

  “Holy shit!” she squealed, but her words caught in her throat as Adam pushed himself fully inside her, his hand massaging her neck as he did. Each thrust seemed deeper than the last, and Isabella lost herself in the heat of the moment, her body resting on the balls of her feet while Adam drove himself to almost maniacal length.

  Spots danced before her eyes as euphoria brought her toward the climax she craved, her cries growing stronger despite the hold Adam had upon her. One more of his thrusts had Isabella reaching her orgasm, her body quivering with satisfaction as she cried out in pleasure.

  Adam did not slow his rhythm for a second, his jerking intensifying as his fingers squeezed the back of her neck and her waist. Isabella could feel his mounting climax, his balls tense against her ass. When he exploded, his seed jolted through her, as if to fill her entirely.

  Then he abruptly pulled out and released her, letting Isabella fall against the mounted flat screen.

  “Are you happy now?” Adam growled, and Isabella gawked at him, unsure of why he was so angry.

  He would be kidding himself if he denied that we have been making eyes at each other for years, she thought. What is with the attitude?

  “I feel better,” Isabella replied dryly, eyeing him warily. “I thought you did, too.” Adam’s back was to her as he pulled up his worn jeans, so she couldn’t read his expression. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You started it!”