Alpha’s Bane: A Shifter Fight Club Romance

by Rose, Renee

  Trey shouts, pounding harder into me and then thrusting deep and staying. His muscular ass squeezes as he comes. Without fully understanding what’s happening, my body knows the exact response. An orgasm explodes, my internal muscles clenching around his cock, milking more of his cum from him.

  For a few moments, I’m nowhere. Just floating, spinning, enjoying the reverberations of pleasure as my breath gradually slows, my heart stops thundering.

  Trey strokes the hair back from my face, caresses my cheek. I blink my eyes open and I’m shocked to find his irises still gleaming silver, his canine’s spiked as if he wanted to mark me. I realize his body is shaking above me, muscles corded up as if the effort of holding back from marking me is killing him.

  And yet he continues to show me only gentleness. He has the control not to take the step that would bind us together for the rest of our lives.

  Make me his forever.

  My heart beats fast at the knowledge that his wolf picked me for its mate. Does my wolf concur? How would I know? Female wolves don’t mark their mates. There isn’t a special serum to embed in our mates’ skin.

  Regardless of what my wolf thinks, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that the idea of Trey marking me is nothing but exciting. In fact, I’m soaring, as if he’d just declared his undying love. Pledged his life and soul to me.

  I touch his clenched jaw. “I think your wolf likes me.” I say it lightly, acknowledging it to prevent any awkwardness.

  He pulls out and rolls off me, standing up to remove the condom and zip his pants. “So fucking much.” He slides my panties up, then my jeans, then pulls me to sitting. He stands between my thighs and holds me, his palms stroking my back, my hair. He kisses my head. “Thank you, Sheridan.”

  My heart stutters in my chest. Every kid or adult in Wolf Ridge who thinks Trey is just some hardened asshole because of his fights, or who his dad was or his lack of achievement ought to know this side of him. Tender, grateful. Sweet.

  I lift my lips for him to kiss, and think if we were cat shifters, I’d definitely be purring right now.

  * * *

  Present

  Sheridan

  I show up at Fight Club in a short red corduroy mini skirt and a silky black blouse that leaves one shoulder bare.

  Jared’s at the front door and he moves to bodily block my entrance. “Oh no. No way I’m letting you in there tonight.”

  Just as I thought—something’s going on.

  “Why not?” I try to skirt around him, but he shifts to block me again. I put my hands on my hips.

  “Nope. Trey does not need you distracting him. Sorry, Sheridan. Come back another night.”

  I lift my chin. “I’m going in there. Trey’s a big boy, he doesn’t need you to protect him from me.”

  Jared fights a smile. “Yeah, I think he does. And I have money riding on Trey tonight, so I’m really protecting my own interests here.”

  I go still. “Trey’s fighting?”

  Jared closes his eyes, turns and smacks his head against the door frame. “I’m sure you weren’t supposed to know that. Now turn around and drive back home, Sheridan.”

  “Why wouldn’t he want me to know?” My heart’s beating faster, but I’m not sure why.

  Jared rubs his jaw. “You’d have to ask Trey that—but not tonight,” he adds quickly. “You can ask him tomorrow. After he wins this fight.”

  Grizz comes out and glances at both of us. “Five minutes,” he mutters to Jared.

  Five minutes until fight time? I need in there. The thought of Trey in the cage both terrifies and turns me on. And there’s no way I’m not going to see it.

  I make another attempt to slip by Jared while he’s distracted with Grizz, but he’s way too fast.

  “Jared!” I growl.

  He shrugs with a smug smile. “No one to run and tattle to down here, is there? Maybe you should go back home.”

  I ignore the jab. Yes, I clearly need to make amends with the Tucson pack, but that’s not going to happen tonight. Tonight, I’m getting into Fight Club to see Trey in the ring.

  “What makes you think Trey wouldn’t win if I’m in there?” I demand. I can’t decide whether to be pissed off or flattered.

  Jared leans a hand against the doorframe and blows out an exasperated breath. “Sheridan, if you’re in there, Trey’s gonna be worried about your safety—who’s talking to you, who’s touching you, whose throat he needs to rip out. He’s not gonna be focused on his opponent and winning the fight.”

  “I won’t let him see me,” I wheedle. “I’ll stay in a back corner until after the fight. Just let me in, Jared.”

  The crunch of a heavy boot sounds behind me and I turn to see my cousin Garrett coming up the walk. “What’s going on?”

  I swallow. This is going from bad to worse.

  Jared tips his head at me. “She wants in. I said no.”

  I grind my teeth.

  Garrett’s lips twitch. “Sucks when you’re not the one in charge for a change, doesn’t it?”

  My brain lights on an idea. I hook my hand around Garrett’s huge arm. “I’ll stick with Garrett,” I promise. “I won’t let Trey see me, but if he does, he’ll know I’m totally safe with your alpha.”

  Jared glances at Garrett, who shrugs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But if Trey loses this fight because you’re here, I will be collecting my losses from you.”

  “Fine.” I hurry in behind Garrett, sticking close to his side, as promised.

  Trey’s already in the cage, Grizz announcing the contestants.

  Garrett elbows his way to a high-top table in the back corner. “I’d ask if you want a drink, but then I’d have to leave you unattended, and it sounds like I’m your babysitter tonight.”

  I roll my eyes. “Go get a drink. I can take care of myself.”

  The crowd shouts as Grizz blows a whistle and the first punches are thrown, and I forget the tension between me and my cousin, or Jared, or the rest of the pack. All my attention is on the beautiful fighter pivoting and punching in the cage. Trey’s a big guy, but not thick, like Jared, or Garrett or Grizz. He’s lean and sinewy. Pure grace. Pure focused energy. He moves quickly, his long arms delivering punches that flatten his opponent, a short, stocky cat shifter, if I’m not mistaken.

  Cage fighting is wild and rough. When the cat shifter leaps up, he appears close to shifting—eyes glinting green and his hair standing up on his nape. He throws himself at Trey, tackling him with a wrestling move.

  Trey flips him over, cuts off his air flow with an arm against his throat, waits until the guy smacks the floor to let him up.

  I hold my breath, but I’m not afraid.

  I’m in awe.

  They both get up and Trey bounces on his feet, his eyes lit with total focus. It’s his lips that catch my attention, though. They’re curling up at the edges.

  Trey’s enjoying himself.

  Of course he is.

  How could I have forgotten what fighting means to him? It’s how he lets off steam.

  I smile, too, my body tingling with awareness of his male virility, his unbridled power.

  The fight’s over too soon. I could’ve watched Trey fight all night, but his opponent went down and wouldn’t get up.

  Grizz takes Trey’s bare fist—no boxing gloves for this rowdy bunch—and holds it in the air.

  The crowd cheers and I clap, jumping to see over their heads. Garrett grabs my waist and lifts me high in the air. As my head pops over the crowd, Trey sees me. Our eyes lock, and I watch his face split into a grin right before Garrett drops me to the ground again.

  I take off, pushing through the crowd. Garrett curses, staying at my back until the crowd parts for Trey—shirtless, bloodied, magnificent.

  * * *

  Trey

  Never in a million years would I have guessed Sheridan would enjoy watching me fight. She must, though, because she launches herself right at me. I pick her up, wrap those muscular legs around my back and
carry her to my office like a conquering Viking.

  She laughs in my ear, low and husky. Her scent’s up in my nostrils—vanilla, orange and the feminine musk of her arousal.

  Shit.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she breathes against my neck as I kick the door shut.

  I push her back against the wall and grind into the notch of her legs. “Tell you what?”

  “You were fighting. Why didn’t you want me to know?”

  I slide my hands up under her shirt, groan when I find she’s braless. I squeeze her ample breasts, rub my thumbs over her nipples. “I didn’t know you’d like it.” My voice sounds rough to my own ears. I scrape my teeth along her neck, suck her earlobe into my mouth.

  Her hips jerk and she grinds over my throbbing dick.

  “Thought you’d hate it, actually.”

  “Why?”

  I thrust mindlessly into the notch of her legs like I’m going to dry fuck her right to orgasm. Her shirt ends up at her armpits, exposing the most beautiful pair of tits. They’re a little bigger than they were in high school, and fuck if that doesn’t send another rocket of lust barreling through me.

  I ease her feet to the floor so I can get my fingers between her legs. Oh sweet honey—she’s so wet for me. I shove her panties to the side and stroke her plump folds.

  “Condom?” Sheridan pants.

  Condom. Fuck!

  I growl and screw one finger into her tight channel. So I’ll just have to get her off. “I don’t have one,” I admit.

  She whimpers.

  “It’s okay, baby.” I pump my index finger in and out of her, then curl it toward her front wall, trying to find her G-spot. “I can still take care of your needs.”

  She clutches my shoulders, digs her nails into my bare skin.

  A growl rockets from my throat, my vision domes. Somehow I manage to drag in a breath and focus. I slide a second finger in her and mold my hand over her mons, grinding my palm down on her clit. Her muscles clench as I thrust my fingers in and out. I try for the G-spot again, and this time I find it, the place where the tissue stiffens up.

  I swallow her cry with my mouth, kissing her like my life depends on it. Like the taste of her will heal me. Give me new life.

  Maybe it will.

  Maybe it will be the death of me. Hard to say. All I know is right now, watching Sheridan come is the only drug I crave. I twist my lips over hers, claiming her mouth with a bruising intensity, all the while working my fingers, the heel of my hand. When I find her nipple and pinch—hard—she throws her head back and screams.

  I continue stroking my fingers in and out of her, pressing on her clit until her muscles stop squeezing, She falls forward against me, panting.

  “Trey.”

  I thread my fingers up the back of her hair and breathe in Sheridan. My fingers are still curled inside her like they belong there permanently. I slowly ease out and bring them to my mouth, sucking her essence off my fingers one by one, all the while holding her gaze.

  “You don’t have a condom?” Her voice is scratchy from screaming and there’s a dazed quality to her gaze that makes my wolf preen.

  I did that to her.

  But apparently it wasn’t enough. “No, baby. Want me to go beg one off Jared?”

  She flushes and shakes her head. “Fates, no.” She shoots a thoughtful gaze at me—seeing far too much. “Why don’t you have one, Trey?”

  I go still. I want to tell her, but my wounds are still too raw. My intentions for her, too deep.

  “Aren’t you the big player?”

  I stumble back like she punched me. Regret instantly seeps over her expression.

  I just shake my head.

  She steps forward. “No?”

  “Let’s not do this, Sheridan.”

  Pain flits over her face. “Right. Let’s not.” She pulls her blouse back down over her breasts, straightens her skirt.

  “Well… thanks. It was nice to see you fight. And, um, this”—she flushes and makes a flitting gesture to the room— “was, ah...”

  I press my lips back over hers. “Don’t.”

  She looks up at me, eyes wide, expectant. Like I’m supposed to lead wherever the hell we’re going.

  And I have no fucking clue.

  I kiss her again. It’s not the same claiming kiss of before. More of a firm seal. Like putting a finish on something. We did this.

  Now it’s over.

  We probably shouldn’t do it again.

  “Thanks for coming to see me.” I love you. “I’ll walk you out to your car.” I’m letting you go.

  Chapter Nine

  Twelve Years Ago

  Trey

  Sheridan’s house isn’t a mansion, but to a kid who grew up in a double wide on the wrong side of the tracks, it might as well be. My scuffed boots tread the gleaming tile lightly even though there’s no one around but us. Her dad’s at work and her mom took her sister to Tucson for some all-day gymnastics tournament. I sort of hate being here, because I know her dad would kick my ass if he found me , but I think that’s part of the thrill for Sheridan. She likes the naughtiness of fucking under her parents’ roof, and I’m not gonna deny her a single fantasy.

  I walk around her bedroom, examining the childhood treasures and young adult books. I see a paper tucked under her desk calendar, like it’s something secret, and I slide it out.

  “Oh!” Sheridan catches sight of it at the same time I realize what it is.

  An acceptance letter for college. From Stanford.

  “Holy shit, Sheridan—why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  We never talk about next year—about what’s going to happen when she goes to college and I stay here, peddling pot and working on motorcycles with Garrett and Jared. I’ve tried to bring it up a couple times, but she always clams up and changes the subject.

  “Why haven’t you accepted this yet?” I see the blank form underneath the letter, the one she’s supposed to send back to confirm her place.

  She snatches the paper away from me. “I’m not going.” Her brows are down. “I have a scholarship to ASU.”

  “Yeah, but this is an Ivy league school, baby. You should be jumping on this.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Why would I want to leave Arizona?”

  My breath whooshes out of me, because—yeah—I don’t want her to leave the state, either. But I also don’t want her giving up her life for me. Or maybe it’s not for me. I guess I need to find out.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I challenge.

  She’s breathing fast, her breastbone rising and falling, tempting my eyes toward her cleavage, but I don’t give in. “You.”

  Fuck. She said it. I can’t stop the explosion of warmth in my chest, nor can I help the goofy grin that spreads across my face.

  “Give me that.” I snatch the letter out of her hand and slap it down on the desk. Then I tug her arm to position her in front of it. She’s not expecting what happens next. Maybe I’m crazy to do it, but I push her torso down and smack her ass.

  There’s a shocked gasp—maybe from both of us—and I don’t move. I guess I’m waiting to see if she turns around and punches me in the face. When she stays still, I smack her again, and again.

  “That’s for not telling me you got into fucking Stanford,” I lecture her as I spank her, picking up the intensity as I gain confidence.

  “And that’s for trying to deflect an incredible opportunity.” I kick her feet apart and slap between her legs. My cock is rock hard now and I’m fucking loving dishing out the discipline like this. “I will always be here, Sheridan. I’ll be here Christmas and spring break. And every holiday weekend. Or, hell—I’ll go there. I’ve always wanted to see California. The point is, I’m gonna wait for you. You already know there’s no one else for me. My wolf would never accept another mate. He picked you. You’re it.” The whole time I bare my soul to her, I’m spanking away.

  I’m not worried about hurting her, because shifters heal ins
tantly, so my only worry is pissing her off, and she doesn’t seem pissed.

  I stop spanking and squeeze her ass.

  “More,” she moans.

  Fuck me.

  As you wish, sweetheart.

  I unbutton her shorts and yank them off, along with her panties, dropping to a crouch to help her untangle them from her legs. After I stand, I pepper her ass with slaps, varying my target so she never knows where the next one will fall—one time on the back of her thigh, the next on her other cheek, then her pussy. I slap until her ass turns rosy red and her pussy grows slick and swollen.

  Then I pick up a pen and shove it between her fingers. “Fill out the acceptance letter.”

  “No. I’m not ready to make that decision.”

  I shove back the heaviness that threatens to descend. Believe me, I get it. Living apart from Sheridan would be the worst kind of suckage ever. But we’re talking Stanford.

  “Fill it out. Send it in. You can always change your mind later.” Not that I’ll let you.

  She gives an exaggerated sigh, still refusing to hold the pen I was pressing her fingers around.

  I glance around the desk and snatch up a ruler from her pen jar.

  “Fill it out, baby, or you’re going to get paddled.”

  She laughs in my face. “Please. That won’t do much.”

  She’s right. It was a thin little piece of wood. If I used it hard enough, it would probably break. Still, I take her words as a challenge and apply the ruler thoroughly, first to one cheek, then the other.

  She squeals and shifts on her feet—I think it works. The ruler leaves cute red stripes. Too bad they’ll heal so fast—I rather like the idea of leaving marks on her. Something to remember me by.

  “Fill it out.”

  She laughs. “Okay, okay. I’m filling it out.”

  I rub her reddened ass, squeezing roughly. My dick is so hard it’s going to break off and I already know this scene is going to be in my spank bank for years to come.