Hard to Handle

by Fel Fern

Grant reached for the door handle. A muffled scream pushed Grant into practically ripping the door from its hinges. He used his shoulder and forced the door open only to find a big, muscular shifter cornering his human against the wall. The shifter had one big clumsy hand over Max’s mouth.

  Max looked exactly like the photos Daniel had showed him. Max had wavy jet-black hair and green eyes so dark they almost appeared black. The Alpha had even joked that Max inherited all his human mother’s looks, but underneath that smile, Grant could feel the Alpha’s old sorrow.

  Grant no longer found himself in a dirty alleyway. His mind transported him back to the hot, sandy battlefield. Grant went to that cold, silent place where his consciousness didn’t touch him, where he became one with the beast that shared his skin.

  He wasn’t aware of moving. In a fraction of a second, he gripped the back of the shifter’s shirt and shoved him backwards until the shifter landed on the ground. Strange. Grant thought the enemy would anticipate that blow. He didn’t miss the bouncer jacket the guy wore.

  The club had a few of these intimidating bouncers both inside and outside the club, but in the end? They were for show, merely hired for maintaining order.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the guy spat.

  Ignoring him, Grant studied Max up and down. It was criminal, seeing the bruises blossoming on the right side of Max’s face. Max’s clothes looked rumpled, but Grant didn’t scent or see any blood. Hopefully, no internal injuries.

  In the first place, he’d been hired to make sure no one and nothing harmed a single hair on Max’s hair. The human glowered at him, just like a shifter even though he was a hundred percent human, as Daniel had assured him.

  “Damn you!”

  Grant felt movement behind him, but he didn’t bother turning. He thrust out his hand, easily found the shifter’s throat. The bouncer choked, tried to pry Grant’s fingers apart, but he held firm.

  The suspicion on Max’s face disappeared, replaced by fear. It came off the human in droves, and he didn’t like that. Grant knew a healthy dose of fear might be necessary in handling a particularly hard case like Max, but his wolf disapproved of their human being scared of them.

  Their human? What was Grant thinking? One look, one real whiff, and all Grant could think about was spiriting Max far away from this place. He wouldn’t return Max to Daniel. Instead, Grant would keep him. Claim him.

  Dangerous thoughts.

  “Bruiser, what’s wrong?” a new voice yelled out. Another shifter wearing a bouncer jacket came running at them.

  “Stop,” Grant said with a growl in his voice. This one looked smarter than the first, because he obeyed, gaze moving from Bruiser and back to him.

  “Who are you?” whispered the shifter.

  “His bodyguard,” he said, nodding to Max. Kill them both, his wolf whispered. Leave no witnesses behind. Grant pulled himself out of the hole he’d dug himself in. For a frightening moment there, he had almost lost control. Unacceptable. He was no longer licensed to kill.

  That didn’t stop him from continuing to crush Bruiser’s windpipe. He continued, “I noticed there’s a camera right above the door. If we replayed the security tapes, we’ll see your friend here assaulting my human. What will the police, the courts think of that?”

  “Bruiser went too far. I told him we’d only rough him up bit because he disrespected Bruiser earlier.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter 3

  Who the hell was this guy? Max wondered. An hour later, they all found themselves in the office of the club manager, Bill Stevens. Bruiser had been put in cuffs and taken to the hospital. After that, the shifter would be heading straight to jail.

  While the dangerous shifter who claimed he was Max’s new bodyguard worked out a deal with Stevens, his mind wandered. Max had really thought he was done for back in that alleyway. Ruined.

  Daniel always donated to charities, to ones dedicated to the victims of shifter attacks in particular. One time, Daniel had dragged him to one of those shelters, and Max remembered their faces. Blank-eyed. Empty. Max would’ve been just like them if Grant hadn’t intervened.

  Oh, his father had assigned him all kinds of bodyguards. Former boxers, fighters, those with military and police background, but none of them frightened Max as much as Grant did. Max might not have a shred of shifter DNA in his body, but he sure felt the aggressive waves of energy rolling off Grant back in the alleyway.

  He couldn’t shake off the image of Grant’s steel-gray eyes becoming flat, emotionless when he used one hand to hold Bruiser’s neck in place. Grant could’ve ended Bruiser with ease, but in the end, Grant left him alive until Stevens and two of his bouncers arrived.

  Despite all that, Max also knew without a doubt Grant would never hurt him. This stranger would protect him even if it cost Grant his life. Never before in his entire life had Max felt protected. Safe. His psychic told him that he’d meet the man of dreams soon. Max thought it had been Eric, but maybe he was wrong.

  Wait a damn moment. Where were these fuzzy, unarmed emotions coming from? Had Grant woven some kind of spell on him? No. Couldn’t be. Shifters didn’t possess or were able to wield any kind of magic.

  “You’ll be contacted soon,” Grant told Stevens, tone professional and curt.

  Max finally took one good and long look at his new bodyguard. He was used to being around big men. Max had been raised amongst werewolves after all, but still, Grant must be like what? Six foot five or something?

  Grant wasn’t someone Max would call traditionally handsome. Grant’s black hair was cropped close to his skull, highlighting the harsh features of his face. Nothing about this man, Max realized, screamed soft or easy. He was all roughness and hard angles. Not someone Max would be able to push, but then again, Max was always up for a challenge.

  Max clutched at the big, warm leather jacket Grant had thrown over his shoulders earlier. A reminder that he owed this man, this lethal shifter, his life. That incident had shaken him, woke him up so to speak. Max felt like he’d been living in a haze his entire life, always protected by the pack and his father, but right now, his eyes were wide open.

  Max blinked, realizing Grant had stood up from his seat and now stood in front of him.

  “Let’s go,” Grant told him.

  Max shakily rose to his feet. What was he doing? Max wasn’t just anyone. He was Max Shepard for crying out loud. He’d survived an attack. So what? Plenty of other people did. Where was Grant earlier anyway?

  He crossed his arms and glared at the shifter. “No one tells me what to do. Let’s get one thing straight here. I appreciate you saving me, but I’m the employer here. You’re my employee.”

  “No,” Grant said with a smile that somehow made his stomach flutter. “I work for your father. He’s my employer. Not you. You’re just a brat I need to look after.”

  “A brat?” he demanded, feeling indignant.

  Grant took a few steps towards him. Max knew he was being difficult on purpose, but he had a tendency to become defensive when cornered, when a new element was introduced to his life. He didn’t know how he felt about Grant or why his heart started beating a little faster when Grant eliminated the distance between them.

  “I see you’re going to make this hard,” Grant said.

  “I’m not leaving with you. I’m waiting for Jeeves,” he said, putting his foot down. Grant seemed to have the impression he was the boss here. Max had to rectify that soon.

  “James you mean? I told him to head home to his wife. I’ll bring you back.”

  “You’ll have to carry me out then. I’m calling someone else.”

  Grant chuckled. Max regretted his words immediately, because the next thing he knew, Grant put his hands on his waist. Then the werewolf easily tossed him over one muscled shoulder, like he was a sack of flour.

  “What the hell? Put me down!” He pounded at Grant’s broad back, but it seemed to have no effect. His cheeks burned with humiliation as Grant carr
ied him out of Steven’s office, down the stairs, and back to the main club area. One growl and people got out of the way of his new bodyguard. Max hid his face using Grant’s jacket.

  Max shut his eyes tight, hoping this would all be over soon. He heard the door close behind them. The night air kissed his clothes, but he noticed Grant’s body temperature still burned hot as a furnace. Shifter, he reminded himself.

  What felt like an eternity later, Grant set him back on his feet. It took Max a few seconds to realize they were maybe a block from the club. He could see the building in the distance. They were in a quieter neighborhood. The streets were empty.

  “What kind of rusted bucket are you going to make me sit in?” he demanded, recovering his voice.

  He blinked when Grant took out two helmets from the backseat of a Harley.

  Max narrowed his eyes at the white fabric bunched up in the back of Grant’s back pocket. “Is that my favorite Craig Evans shirt?”

  “Used it to track your scent.”

  Of course Grant would do something like that. The big rough shifter probably didn’t know how much that shirt cost or that it was a limited edition from his favorite designer.

  “What kind of bodyguard are you anyway?” he had to ask.

  “Someone who specializes in managing loud-mouthed brats who think they’re bad boys.”

  He could feel his entire face and neck turning red. God. In social functions and events, Max had never once looked fazed. He always made sure he was cool, collected, but this infuriating shifter could easily make him feel embarrassed.

  “Why, you going to put me over your knee and give me a spanking?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  Two can play at this game. The image sprang up in his head. Grant and him alone in his bedroom and Grant bending him over one knee and pulling his pants and boxers down. He could almost imagine the whistling sound Grant’s hand would make, how it would come in contact with the smooth, soft skin of his ass.

  “I would, but from the looks of things, you won’t view it as punishment.”

  The bastard looked right at his pants, at the erection he sported. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t be up and flirting with his bodyguard after what he’d been through tonight.

  “Just take me home,” he grumbled.

  This had never happened to Max before. He ran out of ammunition, witty remarks. He always left the other bodyguards tongue-tied, frustrated. Max liked to find ways to drive them mad, and eventually, they’d end up begging his father to let them go.

  He had a feeling with Grant, Max would need to work harder at driving him away, but did Max truly want that?

  Unlike his other bodyguards, Grant had a way of making him feel honest. Exposed. Bared.

  To his surprise, Grant approached him, put the helmet over his head, and even buckled the strap tight under his chin.

  “Ever rode a motorcycle before?”

  He shook his head.

  Grant instructed him on how to sit, but he only caught the words “need to hold on to me tight.”

  Well, Max didn’t need a second invitation. Grant looked impressive, mounting that bike. A few tries and Max somehow managed to get behind the shifter. He wound his hands tentatively around Grant’s waist. With him wearing Grant’s jacket, Grant only wore a thin, white tee underneath. Max could feel Grant’s tight stomach. Gosh. The man had six, no, eight-pack abs.

  “Make sure you won’t fall,” Grant said, revving up the bike.

  That was such a sexy sound, Max thought, letting out a yelp when Grant zoomed away from the parking lot. Getting over his initial reaction, Max watched, amazed, as they passed familiar city sights. It felt so different, riding on a bike than in a car. Freeing. No windows and steel to box him in. No wonder Grant chose this over a car.

  They easily slipped past other cars. Max’s heart sunk. He had almost forgotten one important thing. He was in deep water with his father. Daniel would be so mad, especially once he heard Max was almost assaulted. Worse, it was his fault for not heeding his dad’s advice and refusing to wait for his new bodyguard.

  Max studied his surroundings. This wasn’t the way back to the pack house, but he recognized the route back to his apartment. Hope surged in his chest. Grant was taking him back home?

  Chapter 4

  Grant reached his building faster than Max anticipated. The ride was over. Max sighed as he handed his helmet back to Grant.

  “Why the sour face?” Grant asked him, then handed him back his favorite shirt.

  Max was too tired to inspect the damage the big oaf had done to his shirt.

  “For a moment there, while I sat in the back of your bike, I forgot all my problems.” Max knew he brought this on himself, had no one else to blame but him. He looked at Grant as they walked into his building. He wasn’t surprised Grant already knew the security guard by name.

  “Hey, Bryan,” Grant greeted.

  “Grant.” The security guard nodded. “I see you found what you were looking for.”

  Max rolled his eyes as they got on the elevator. “Hey, I got to ask. Why did you bring me here instead of my father’s place?”

  “The Alpha did order me to bring you right to him,” Grant said. “But I’ll take you to him tomorrow. I’ll call him, tell him you need your rest. You’ve been through enough for one night.”

  He bit on his lower lip. “You’d do that for me? My dad won’t be happy.”

  “When I agreed to work for him, I told him we’d do things my way.”

  Wow. Max was impressed. He didn’t know anyone who could stand up to his father. They reached his apartment unit, and Grant opened the door for him. Grant fumbled for the switch by the wall and turned the lights on. The door shut behind them.

  He took a deep breath and faced Grant. Max wasn’t used to making apologies, but he owed Grant one. “I’m sorry, for acting the way I did just now. I was just—”

  Max halted. He didn’t understand what came over him. His emotions were messed up, and he was a little overwhelmed by his attraction to Grant.

  “Don’t worry about it. You had a bad night. That’s all.”

  “That’s it?” he asked, dumbfounded. The more time he spent with this man, the less Max understood him.

  “We’re going to establish one rule tonight.”

  He groaned. A lecture. He knew it was coming.

  “Wherever you go, I go. Understood?”

  Max glared at Grant. No effect. Of course. The shifter continued to look at him with those steel-gray eyes expectantly.

  “We’ll see.” Max stomped off, or tried to, but his foot got caught on the carpeting.

  He cried out, flailed his arms only for Grant to catch hold of him. So much for a dramatic exit. He looked up at the big shifter, who set him back on his feet. He stared at Grant’s mouth. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like, being kissed by Grant. This man wouldn’t know how to give gentle kisses, he bet. Grant would take charge, just like how he’d easily handled the mess at the club.

  Max faked a cough. “Excuse me.”

  Grant released his arms, said nothing else as Max practically ran to his bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, he took deep breaths. He needed a bath, to clean away the filth from that alleyway. Erase the memory of Bruiser’s slimy touch from his skin.

  Grant could be his cure. Max shook his head, not ready to go there yet. He stripped out of his clothes and entered the bathroom. He ducked his head under the shower and put the water on full blast.

  The cold water helped cool down his dick at least.

  Involving himself with Grant? What was he thinking? That shifter had thrown Max over his shoulder like some primitive caveman and hoisted him on his bike like some prize. Well, the ride Max didn’t mind so much.

  “It’s been a long night,” Max told himself.

  He’d think about his problems tomorrow. First on his list was that talk with his father, which he dreaded. How many times did Daniel have to bail him out? Dozens. Daniel sa
id the next time would be the last straw, but maybe he could ask Grant for help.

  He finished showering and toweled off. Max usually liked to sleep only in boxers, but tonight, he wore an old shirt with him to bed. He wasn’t aware of bringing Grant’s jacket with him, until he hugged the worn leather and took a whiff of it.

  It smelled like Grant, he realized. Made him feel safe, like that old stuffed wolf toy his dad gave him when he was younger. Max dozed only, only to find himself trapped in a nightmare.

  * * * *

  Max was back in that dirty alleyway, with no way out. Bruiser’s evil face appeared, leering down at him. Max struggled, screamed, but Bruiser held his wrists pinned against the wall.

  Max heard the rev of a familiar motorcycle engine in the background. Grant! Max needed his big bad bike-riding wolf to save him again. He tried to call Grant for help but found his lips had been sealed shut.

  He twisted in Bruiser’s grip, but the shifter’s hold felt like steel.

  “You got away once. I’ll finish the job this time around,” Bruiser told him. The shifter opened his mouth, unveiling a disproportionately enormous jaw lined with sharp rows of teeth, like that of a shark’s. Bruiser stuck out a long, snake-like tongue and licked at the side of his neck.

  Fear laced through Max’s entire system. No, he kept thinking.

  “Max!”

  The nightmare faded away. Max saw darkness behind his closed lids. He opened his eyes, only to see Grant sitting on the side of his bed, gripping his arm. Back in his room. Max let out a shaky laugh.

  “I had a bad dream. That’s all,” he whispered.

  “I know. You were calling out to me in your sleep.”

  “I wasn’t!” Max sat upright.

  Grant frowned. “Must be my imagination then.”

  “Yeah.” Max sounded shaky to his own ears. He had a feeling Grant only said those words to make him feel better.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water. Maybe milk to help you sleep.”

  “I’m not a child. I’ll take sleeping pills.”