Bad Boy Alphas

by Alexis Davie

  “All right, I’m calling it!” he yelled over the racket. “Lyle takes this one!”

  There was a combination of cheers and groans as the bears shifted back into their human forms, breaking apart from their match.

  “I would have had him!” Darius groaned. “You should have let me—”

  “He had you,” Blaze interrupted firmly, flopping back onto his spot on the sofa. The others knew better than to start an argument with him, turning toward the bar for another drink.

  “You look bored.”

  Blaze glanced at Carmen, the groom-to-be who had joined him.

  “Bored?” he echoed. “Not at all. This is a good bachelor party.”

  He knew his tone was not oozing with conviction, but he didn’t want to inflict his personal discomfort on the host. After all, it was only a few hours of his life. He would survive it, despite the almost palpable levels of testosterone coursing through the room.

  Blaze would be blind not to notice the overt gazes of the others as they sized him up, their thoughts clear as the party progressed and the alcohol flowed.

  They all think they would do a better job than me, he thought, swallowing an amused smirk. But being second-guessed was commonplace for a man in his position.

  He was the sleuth leader, a title with both its benefits and detriments: being invited to every bachelor party in Scarlet Oak, forcing him to pretend he enjoyed himself, was one of the latter.

  Carmen leaned forward, his voice lowering.

  “When we head out, I have a surprise for you,” the man whispered.

  Blaze eyed him with slightly more interest.

  “What kind of surprise?” he asked. Carmen only shook his head.

  “You’ll see,” he promised. Before Blaze could question him further, Carmen rose and clapped his huge hands together for attention. “Okay, horny bastards. Time to go!” he bellowed, and the men whooped.

  “Titties! Titties! Titties!” Marc chanted, clapping Carmen on the back. The other men howled with appreciation, and Blaze could no longer stifle his eye roll.

  “It’s like these assholes have never been laid before,” he commented, shaking his jet-black hair in mild disgust. “It’s a strip joint, not the Playboy Mansion.”

  Carmen chuckled, waving for him to follow. They made their way to the front hallway, where a limousine waited for them.

  “Not for you,” he murmured.

  Blaze gazed him curiously. “What does that mean?”

  Carmen paused and winked at him. “It means you, me, and Marc are going somewhere else.”

  “Where?” he demanded, unsure of how he felt about the change of plans. Carmen shook his head and pressed his fingers to his lips.

  “You’ll see.”

  Blaze was skeptical. “Carmen, I don’t—”

  “Trust me,” the groom-to-be interjected. “This is right up your alley.”

  * * *

  Sage slid through the crowd, her stilettos barely making a sound as her svelte frame seemed to fall in time to the low, pulsating music. While she had seen the place much more crowded, there was a decent amount of people milling about, all in various stages of play.

  Her riding crop tinkered against the gilded cages as she passed, peering inside where both men and women played indiscriminately, a heated mass of grinding appendages.

  The smell of sex hung in the air, a combination of pheromones and lust, but as she wandered through Picante, there was no one obviously engaging in penetration.

  It wasn’t allowed, after all, and not just from a legal standpoint. Her club was designed to tease and drive the patrons to the brink of madness. It was the only one of its kind in Scarlet Oak, and it was why only the wealthiest and most elite paid for an exclusive membership.

  After she made her full round, her eyes turned to the entranceway, where three men entered the club. Through the flash of the strobe lights, Sage recognized Carmen Del Rio among them.

  I wonder if he’s ever going to give this place up, she thought sourly, remembering that he was getting married soon. Sage had yet to see his fiancée in the walls of Picante. She doubted she ever would. That would take all the fun out of it for him.

  Still, it was the Carmen Del Rios of the world who kept her sexy club afloat. She could not afford to express her disgust toward him or his companions. They were her bread and butter. And who was she to judge, really?

  Sage ducked back behind the bar to watch the trio, silently calculating which man would end up with which partner that night. It was not hard to guess that Carmen would find Valentina—he always seemed drawn to her.

  But it was the other two men who captured her attention with far more interest: a short yet stocky blond with an almost maniacal leer on his face, and a tall, stoic man with intense slate eyes, who surveyed the scene with a sardonic smirk on his lips.

  I know that man, Sage thought suddenly, a tingle fluttering through her body as she tried to place him. Of course, in a town the size of Scarlet Oak, it was nearly impossible not to know the locals. Still, Sage could not help but feel she knew him on a more intimate level. Had he been here before? She would surely remember him if he had; not only because of his dashing good looks, but because he possessed a powerful air around him.

  As if the stranger felt her brown eyes on him, his head lifted, and he met her gaze as though there was no distance between them. Again, Sage was consumed with a shiver of pleasure.

  I know who he is going to end up with, she thought. Me.

  As a rule, Sage avoided personal interactions with the customers, knowing that mixing business with pleasure was bound to backfire. In this case, however, she knew she would never forgive herself if she did not make an exception.

  Before she could reconsider what she was about to do, she sashayed toward the trio, her vinyl pants clinging to her perfectly rounded rump. She barely noticed the looks of desire as she headed to the entranceway, her eyes locked on the newcomer.

  His gaze did not falter, and the realization made Sage smile. He would bow to her in no time.

  “Hello, Carmen,” she murmured, kissing him on his flushed cheek. “How nice to see you again.” Her eyes remained fixated on his dark-haired friend.

  “Sage!” Carmen called gleefully. “I was hoping you would be here tonight.” Staring at her, he licked his lips. “I’m getting married tomorrow,” he informed her in a low voice. “Maybe you have a present in mind for me?”

  “Is that right?” Sage purred, casting him a coldly patient look. “Congratulations. I look forward to meeting her. What was her name again?” She relished the look of humiliation that crossed over his ruddy face.

  “Uh… Emilie …but, uh, I don’t think she’ll be joining.”

  “Oh?” Sage asked innocently. “Why not?”

  Carmen cleared his throat, and Sage grinned to herself. She knew the mention of the wedding was his way of asking to hook up with her. Bringing up his fiancée was her way of shooting him down.

  She heard a guffaw, and she glanced back toward the other men.

  “Not really Emilie’s thing,” Carmen muttered, turning away. Even in the dim light, Sage could see his face had flushed a candy apple red.

  “Who are your companions?” she asked, smoothly changing the subject. She extended her hand to the raven-haired man, ignoring the shorter one altogether. “I’m Sage St. Clair, owner of Picante. Welcome.”

  He took her hand, his eyes boring into hers, and Sage immediately felt the surge of energy between them.

  “Blaze Connor,” he replied quietly, and that was enough to make Sage realize exactly who he was.

  Her smile faltered slightly, but she fought to keep an impassive expression on her face as Blaze squeezed her hand. She casually glanced back at the third man of the trio, despite not being interested in him in the slightest.

  “And you are?” She loathed that her voice had lost its bravado, but there was little she could do about that.

  “Marc,” he answered simply, licking hi
s lips lecherously as his eyes raked over her body, the desire in his expression clear.

  “Well, I hope you have an enjoyable experience,” Sage said quickly, turning to leave the group, her mind changed about indulging the heat in her loins. She hurried away, her skin exploding in gooseflesh as she walked.

  Sage had lived in Scarlet Oak for ten years, trading in the crowded Atlanta streets for the quiet living of a small town. When she had first arrived, the sixteen-year-old runaway had not caused anyone to bat an eye, but attitudes quickly changed when she set up her burlesque house at eighteen and then the dungeon by age twenty. Only then did people begin to begrudgingly notice and admire her.

  By then, Sage was already a force to be reckoned with, determined to build her empire and never again live in poverty or abuse.

  She had laid down enough, and as her fortune grew, so did her confidence. She was no one’s possession, and she never would be again.

  Then why does Blaze Connor make me feel so nervous?

  The answer was simple, of course. Anyone inside the Scarlet Oak town limits knew about the werebears.

  Some dismissed the rumors as silly ghost stories, while others had firsthand tales of encountering them. Sage, though, was one of the few outsiders who knew for certain that the bears existed and that they were among the most dangerous beasts on the planet.

  Only if provoked, she reminded herself.

  She had seen the transformations many times inside Picante. After all, it was difficult to hide one’s true colors under such heated circumstances. She had long grown accustomed to the shifts, the bears themselves no longer as terrifying as they had once been.

  Except that Blaze Connor was not the average shifter. He was the leader and the most perilous of them all. His powers were supposed to be unparalleled. There were legends of the deaths he had inflicted when his leadership had been challenged, the revenge he had exacted when he had been wronged.

  Sage had no reason to doubt any of the stories, and while she had always listened to them with mild concern, Blaze Connor had never directly affected her life.

  Until then.

  Sage locked herself inside her office, her back against the door as she willed her heart to return to its normal pace, even though the idea that the most dangerous bear in Scarlet Oak was so close made it impossible.

  But she couldn’t help wondering why the pulsating between her legs had not subsided with the realization. In fact, it seemed to have increased.

  * * *

  Blaze wandered through the dimly lit rooms, the scent of musk and salacity filling his nostrils.

  Where did she go? he wondered, his senses alert as he poured through the lust-filled environment.

  With each step, he found himself growing more aroused, the thrill of the hunt increasing. The owner of the club had caught his attention from the moment he, Marc, and Carmen had walked in, a pleasant surprise to what he had been expecting.

  When Carmen had told him where they were going, Blaze had sighed in exasperation. “A sex club? Come on, Carm. That’s no better than the strip joint.”

  “You’ll like it, I promise!” the groom had cried, and Blaze had bitten his tongue from arguing any further.

  There was very little that happened in Scarlet Oak without Blaze knowing or finding out about it. Whether they knew it or not, the town bowed to him in most respects. He, of course, had known about Picante as soon as it had opened, but Blaze had had no interest in exploring the club. Sex was not something he had a problem finding, after all. He didn’t need a club to help him along.

  That, however, had been before he had laid his eyes on the sultry blonde wrapped in gleaming vinyl.

  How has she slipped under my radar for so long? Blaze thought, his smoky eyes searching the club for where she had gone. Sure, he had heard her name over the years, but he’d always had more important matters to busy himself with than a glorified madam in town.

  Until then.

  The magnetic draw he had felt toward her, even from across the room, had been physical, almost taking his breath from him. And the look in her dark eyes had told him the feeling was more than mutual.

  The minute she heard my name, he recalled, her entire demeanor changed. She knows who I am, and it alarmed her to find me here.

  Blaze ran his tongue over his lower lip, the anticipation of finding her mounting. It was a delicious realization that filled him with power and heat.

  He could sense her nearby, his feral instincts feeling her presence in the corridor that led to a door reading “Private.” He reached toward the knob, wanting to savor the look of surprise on her face when he finally caught her.

  Before he could twist the handle, he heard a flurry of commotion through the main room.

  His head whipped toward the noise, his eyes narrowing as he honed his ears to listen, but all he could make out was a muffle of confusion. Blaze bolted back in the direction he had come, the door to the office opening at his back when he moved—he didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder.

  Upon entering the main lounge, the mayhem was obvious: smoke from a tear gas grenade wafted into Blaze’s eyes as he tried to see who was attacking the building.

  Suddenly, he heard a voice through the foghorn.

  “This is the Scarlet Oak Police Department. Remain where you are and lay flat on the ground with your hands where we can see them. Do not try to run.”

  Blaze turned to see if Sage was behind him, but it was nearly impossible to see through the thickness of the quickly overwhelming smoke. Tears began to run down his cheeks, the gas stinging his eyes, and Blaze gritted his teeth, spinning to leave through the emergency exit.

  Someone had made a very big mistake.

  * * *

  “In eight years of doing business in this town, I have never had a breath of trouble!” Sage cried, pounding her fists on the table of the interrogation room. “What the hell was the meaning of this raid?”

  Detective Henry Sandz peered at her, an almost bored expression on his scruffy face.

  “We had a tip about an underage girl on the property,” he answered evenly. “And we had to check it out.”

  “Check it out, yes!” Sage screamed, her face crimson with indignation. “Bursting in there like we were making bombs is something else! When have I ever been anything but a tax paying, law abiding—?”

  There was a knock on the door, and Detective Sandz called out, interrupting her diatribe. A uniformed officer poked his head into the room.

  “We need to cut them all loose,” he intoned.

  Sandz’s jawline tightened, and he gaped at the younger cop. “Says who?” he demanded.

  “Says upstairs.” The officer closed the door, ending any further conversation, leaving Sage and the detective to stare at one another.

  “Looks like you got lucky this time,” he muttered, rising to his feet.

  Sage glowered, jumping up and snatching her purse from the table as she stormed out of the room, her blood boiling with fury. Like she would ever allow anyone but consenting adults in her establishment. How could they even think something like that?

  We check ID, and we do it properly! she cried to herself. We vet our members thoroughly! This is—is—is—

  “All sorted out?”

  Sage gasped, whirling to see Blaze Connor leaning against a marble pillar on the steps of the police station.

  “You got brought in, too?” she asked, her head beginning to pound. “I am so, so sorry.”

  He grinned, pushing his well-toned shoulders off the column as he shook his head.

  “No,” he replied. “I didn’t get arrested.”

  Her eyebrows knit together.

  “What are you doing here? Did Carmen and…” she trailed off, trying to remember the other man’s name. In other circumstances, perhaps she would’ve remembered it, but it just wasn’t coming to her now.

  “Marc?” Blaze offered helpfully. “Yes, they were brought in, but that’s not why I’m here.”

&
nbsp; A small bolt of excitement shuddered through Sage, and she closely studied his face.

  “No?” she murmured. “Why are you here then?”

  Blaze’s smile widened, and he leaned forward, his face inches from hers as he spoke.

  “This is my town,” he rasped, his breath a whisper across her face. “I run it, and everything that happens gets run by me.”

  Sage nodded slowly, shivers sliding up and down her spine like a serpent. She was beginning to feel as though he was playing her like an instrument, but the realization did not bother her the way it should have. Entranced by his nearness, the feel of his mouth only inches from hers, Sage was willing to be strummed and plucked any which way Blaze wanted to do it.

  “That raid should never have happened,” Blaze told her quietly. “Do you know why?”

  She gulped, trying to dampen her dry throat. Slightly cocking her head back, she stared at him with half-closed eyes.

  “Because… because you didn’t know about it?” she tried, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “That’s right,” Blaze said softly, nodding his head. “I didn’t know about it. And you know why it’s important that I know about things?” Sage waited, eager to hear him tell her. “Because I own this town… and everyone in it.”

  His meaning was unmistakable, and Sage jerked her head up, meeting his eyes with mild surprise.

  The hold he had over her was something she had never experienced before. Certainly, she’d had men try to dominate her in the past, but their hopes had been quickly dashed. Sage had always run the show.

  Perhaps she could let someone else run the show tonight.

  “My motorcycle is parked on the curb,” Blaze said. “You will go there and wait on it for me. You will not move until I come for you.”

  All Sage could do was nod, her brown eyes filled with awe. Blaze leaned closer to her, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

  “Go on, then,” he murmured, and Sage swirled to obey, pleasure slithering down her back as she made her way to the curb.