Alpha’s Bane: A Shifter Fight Club Romance

by Rose, Renee

  I pull a condom out of my pocket and rip it open while Sheridan checks the box and signs her name.

  I pop her on the ass again twice, once on each cheek. “Put it in the envelope.”

  She giggles and does as she’s told. I fucking love that she trusts me enough to let me dominate her this way, that she’s as turned on by it as I am.

  I spring my erection and roll the condom on. “Now for your fucking,” I say, like it’s a punishment, too.

  She hollows her back, lifts her blushing ass to me. Hell to the yeah. I push in, slow at first, but she’s plenty wet, totally ready.

  Okay, then.

  She’s going to get it hard.

  “Keeping secrets from me has consequences,” I say, pushing her torso down further, until she’s flat against the desk. I press my hand to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

  “Oh yeah? What are they?” Her husky voice nearly makes me jizz in the condom right there.

  “You’re about to find out, sweetheart.” I grip her nape and use my hold to leverage myself back and into her again, slamming hard.

  She grunts, then moans.

  “You’re going to take it hard today, little wolf. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

  She lets out a sweet little whimper and I continue to ram into her, slapping my loins against her hot ass, shoving her feet wider.

  “Are you going to keep things from me again, baby?”

  “Ugn, no,” she moans.

  I piston faster. “That’s right. You’re not. Because now you know what happens.”

  I’m feeling like a porn star, the kind who uses and degrades his partner in the worst kind of the way, but I can’t find it in me to feel bad, because Sheridan is loving the hell out of it. In fact, it’s hard to tell who’s getting off more—we’re both about to blow so hard the roof flies off the house.

  Her sounds grow more urgent, cries more needy and stars dance behind my eyelids.

  My thighs shake, balls draw up right. “Fuck, Sheridan, fuck!” I can’t stop the urge to fuck her harder, drill deeper, so deep she’ll remember me every time she moves.

  “Please, Trey,” she moans.

  “I’m going to come,” I warn, because there’s no holding it back now.

  “Yes, come!”

  I slam into her and shoot my load, and she shrieks, body convulsing beneath mine. I pull her torso up until her back meets my chest and pinch both her nipples while we both still come and come straight into tomorrow.

  Like always before I shift, my vision domes, canines lengthen. If I don’t mark her soon, I’ll go fucking moon mad. But I hold strong for her. She’s too young. Her dad would kill me. I’ll wait until the time is right and we both agree. I grit my teeth and hold my wolf at bay, my muscles shaking with the effort.

  When I have control, I squeeze her firm breasts and stroke my cock in and out. “That’s it, sweetheart. There’s no getting away from me. You could go to college across the Earth and I’d still wait for you. Or I’d come find you when you were done. You’re mine.”

  “Mark me,” she whispers.

  Fuck! My teeth descend further.

  “Not yet,” I grit and pull out, not trusting myself to keep touching her when she’s tempting me so fucking hard.

  “Why not?” She turns to challenge me.

  I step back. “You need to be sure. Once I claim you, there’s no backing out.”

  She pulls the collar of her t-shirt down to offer her shoulder for my bite.

  “Baby,” I croak. I’m fucking dying here. My cock’s gone rock hard again, serum coats my teeth, ready to be embedded into her skin, to claim her as mine forever.

  But this is just like the college thing. I’m not going to let her screw her future out of some eighteen-year-old’s impulse to mate the first guy she fucks.

  “We’ll talk about it later.” I turn away from her, as if removing the sight of her beautiful face will somehow tamp down the wolf’s raging desire.

  “I love you, Trey,” she says softly to my back.

  I almost drop to my knees.

  How this girl can simultaneously make me into a man and humble me is beyond me.

  I whirl and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bed. I have to claim her again. I’m not giving her my bite, but I sure as hell can’t keep my cock away from her.

  * * *

  Present

  Sheridan

  The vampires’ club is tucked in El Mercado district, near the trolley stop, at the edge of their territory. A nondescript stucco building with nice landscaping and a pretty stone walkway. I’m there right at dusk, and sit in my car with the top up, watching the sun melt below the horizon in a storm of color.

  The only thing to fear is fear itself. I tap my dashboard with my finger, readying myself to walk into the vampires’ stronghold. The fact that Lucius the leech king gave the invitation doesn’t reassure me at all. Vampires love their invitations—and they don’t need permission to get inside a victim’s head. Lucius wouldn’t have extended one if he wasn’t sure he held the upper hand. He’s up to something. Maybe it has to do with the mysterious black car I keep glimpsing on my block.

  Someone knocks on my window and I jolt in my seat with a squawk until I meet Trey’s baby blues, my alarm reflected in their depths.

  Trey gives me a concerned look as I roll down my window. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just, you know, nervous.” I don’t mention the mysterious black car sitting outside my house a couple times this week. After the story of my stalker, he might not take it well.

  Trey opens my door and I hop out. He’s dressed in his usual biker guy outfit: another leather jacket, white shirt and black jeans with his wallet on a chain. His hair is spiked with fresh gel, and his boots slightly less dusty and scuffed than usual.

  He’s scowling at me.

  “What?” I look down at my chest. “ Do I have something on my shirt?”

  “That’s not a shirt.”

  “You’re right.” I fiddle with the zipper between my girls, tugging it down another millimeter before twirling on my Louboutins to give him the entire view. “I think technically it’s called a catsuit.” I smooth my hands down the sharp angle from my waist to my flaring hips, and strike a pose. “Meow.”

  “Fuck,” Trey mutters. “Where do you get these outfits, anyway?”

  “BDSM-R-Us.” I lean into him, inhaling his scent, a masculine mix of aftershave and motor oil. His arms go around me automatically. I can’t stop myself from wriggling closer. “Is that a lead pipe in your jeans or are you happy to see me?”

  “Fuck me.” He holds me close, burying his face in my hair, and I’d wager he’s enjoying the mingle of our scents. I know I am.

  “I got you something to wear,” I murmur.

  “Oh yeah?” His breath wafts over my ear as he nuzzles my neck.

  I step back and he lets me go, following me with a hungry gaze.

  Then he sees what I pull out of the store bag. “Fuck no!” He jumps back as if I’ve Tazed him.

  I hold up the leash and silver-studded collar. “No? It’ll go with your outfit,” I singsong, strutting on my heels as he backs away. “Actually, no. You need to be naked.” His groan deepens as I wave the bag at him, enjoying the results of my gag gift. “You don’t want to be my little doggie?”

  “Really fucking funny.”

  “That’s No, mistress,” I instruct with a smug smile.

  With a growl, Trey advances. I back up, wide-eyed, as all six feet of him comes at me, horn-gry and looking like an avenging biker god. He snatches the leash and collar from my hand. “I’ll take this.”

  “You’re gonna wear it?” My mouth drops open a little. I only got it as a joke.

  He shoots me a look of pure menacing promise. “One of us is gonna wear it tonight. But it’s not going to be me.” He pretends to inspect the leather goods. The wickedness in his eyes sends zings straight to inner thighs. My knees wobble.
<
br />   I may have pushed the wolf too far.

  Trapping my gaze in ice, he pulls the store bag from my hand. “What else you got?”

  “A-a, um, gag gift,” I stutter. “Literally.”

  He holds up the red ball gag. “Nice.” He turns it over before pocketing it, along with the leash and collar. “Should come in handy.”

  He catches my elbow right before my legs give out. “Let’s go.”

  The last of the sun’s rays dive behind the mountains as we walk up to the club. A pale human greets us at the door, a black strip of ribbon tied around his neck. He’s thin and anemic, but good-looking in a boy band sort of way.

  “Welcome to Club Toxic.”

  I take my last breath of fresh air, the hair on the back of my neck prickling at the vampires’ scent as I step into their lair.

  The doorman offers to take our jackets and I give him a toothy grin. “I don’t have one.”

  Trey folds his arms over his chest, his glower a clear refusal. The human doesn’t balk—doesn’t show any expression really. I check his neck for bite marks but can’t see anything under the satin choker that seems to be a makeshift collar. Probably why he’s wearing it.

  “We’re early,” Trey murmurs, looking around the empty dance floor. A few people sit in booths or stand at tall tables, but there’s barely anyone here.

  “On purpose. I wanted to stake out our territory before a crowd shows up.” As we walk across the room, I stay as close to him as I can without actually leaning on him. He doesn’t seem to mind. The scent of vampires clogs my nose.

  Trey takes a derisive sniff. “Smells like a dish drain.”

  I almost laugh at that—the empty, earthy scent reminds me of a drain pipe, or a root cellar. Or a tomb.

  The bartender—another human with a blank face and satin choker—pours us drinks without commenting on how early we are.

  “Can you let Frangelico know we’re here?” I ask our guide. The pasty human blinks at us but nods and disappears into the back. “Did you see any fang marks on him?” I ask Trey in a whisper.

  “No. But he could be a junkie. He smells wrong.”

  Trey picks up his drink but doesn’t taste it. His gaze sweeps the room like a guard on the the lookout. “So this is a vampire club? Kinda boring.”

  “We’re hours early.”

  “You think Frangelico will meet with us?”

  “Maybe. Or send one of his lieutenants. Julius Caesar or whatever.”

  “Oh yeah.” Trey shakes his head. A group of people enter the club, and he straightens. We both fall silent, scanning each figure. They’re all thin and beautiful and plastic-looking, but none of them are vampires.

  We stand in the corner for over an hour, pretending to nurse our drinks without actually touching them, and watch the place fill. At some point a DJ shows up and starts blasting the latest popular dance tunes. The floor swells with bodies bumping and grinding. “The leeches aren’t having any problem making this place popular,” Trey murmurs in my ear so I can hear him over the sinful beat.

  “I wonder if any of them sense they’re prey,” I muse, my eyes following one particularly beautiful redhead. She’s freckled and curvy, with a sweetness I haven’t seen in any of the jaded crowd. A dark clad form slips out from the shadows, taking her hand and bowing over it. From my vantage point, I can’t see the man’s face, but the redhead looks up at him with an expression of awe tinged with lust. The tall man tucks her hand under his arm and guides her back towards the door, only to detour and disappear behind the coat check area.

  “Trey.” I nudge him. “I think I know where the real action is.”

  He follows my eyes. “Gotcha. Lead the way. I got your back.”

  We set our drinks down and mosey across the dance floor. The crowd parts for us.

  The human at the door doesn’t seem surprised to see us. “He’s expecting you,” he says politely, stepping aside to reveal a few steps leading down to another door, painted black to match the walls. The door yawns open, revealing a long set of stairs leading to some sort of basement.

  I hide my disgust—how long was he going to let us wait before fetching us to the real Toxic, the club beneath the club?

  “Stupid leeches, always playing games,” Trey mutters exactly what I’m thinking. His large hand on my back steadies me as we descend into the shadowy depths. The dark walls shake with the deep bass of the music above us. When we reach the bottom of the steps, we pause a second to let our eyes adjust. A purple neon tube runs around the room near the ceiling, shedding an eerie light. Dark shapes and monoliths loom out of the shadows.

  Ahead, the pale skin of the redhead shines like a beacon. She’s like a wraith led by a black-clad emissary, summoning her to Hades. The suit holding her hands turns and I gasp as I recognize the vampire’s beautiful features. Nero smirks at me before guiding his human prey to a piece of heavy wooden furniture topped with shiny leather. A spanking bench.

  “Fuck me,” Trey mutters, looking around the room. “Is this what you were expecting?”

  “Yep,” I whisper. “Are you ready to use that collar?”

  “Only if you’re gonna wear it,” he tells me. I bite my lip to hide the thrill singing through me. I seem to remember Trey has more than a bit of sexual dominance in him, ready to come out. Even as a teenager, he knew just what to do. The glint in his eyes tells me he sees my suppressed excitement.

  More people come down the stairs, and we step aside to let them pass. Vampires ooze from the shadows of the dungeon, claiming their humans and leading them away. Throughout the room, tops start tying up bottoms, cuffing them or chaining them to the wall or available spanking horses and tables. The club music is broken by the sound of whips snapping, and the plaintive cries of the eager victims. None of the vampires are playing the role of submissive.

  “This is nuts,” Trey comments, but his voice is deeper, thicker. I nod, glad no one can see how tight my nipples are, how hot and flushed my lower belly feels.

  “Welcome, wolves,” a smooth voice behind us has us whirling, and lips curled back in a half snarl. Lucius the leech king stands in a spotlit corner, posing in front of a giant portrait of himself. He looks like freaking Dorian Gray, wearing the same sinful smile and red velvet robe as his painted image.

  “Hello,” I say before Trey can growl or bark or insult our host. “Thank you for inviting us in.”

  “You are always welcome here, my dear,” he purrs, like the lecherous villain in a bad movie. The only thing he’s missing is a pipe and Playboy twins.

  The vampire king glides forward and I have to force myself not to step back. At my side, Trey growls. Lucius moves just another inch closer to me and stops, making it clear that he’s not intimidated by Trey. “You asked me about sweetblood.”

  “Yes.” I stare at the lapel of his velvet robe.

  “It is not a drug, although we vampires find it intoxicating. Look there.”

  We follow his pointing to the wall, where a vampire in black slacks and shirt sleeves—his sleeves rolled up to present taut forearms, flogs a wilting woman. The leather strands snap and fall, followed by moans. She doesn’t sound like she’s in pain.

  “There is a certain type of person who enjoys pain, yes?” The vampire’s voice echoes right in my ear, sounding like he’s standing much closer than he is. “The body has ways of rewarding such stoicism.”

  “Endorphins,” I agree. My thoughts feel sluggish. Older vampires can control with just their voice. My hand fumbles at my side, finding Trey’s, I squeeze his fingers tight. He squeezes me back and my mind clears.

  “Yes. For such a reward, some people crave the pain. You call them masochists.” Lucius nods at the woman at the wall. Her vampire top has switched out the flogger for a longer, evil-looking whip. I can smell her arousal from here. “We call them sweetbloods.” His voice drops to a haunted whisper. “The pain makes the blood sweeter.”

  After a snap of the single tail, the woman droops in her bonds. The v
ampire glides to her side, and runs a hand down the fresh red marks on her side. The submissive shudders and the vampire steps close, murmuring softly. He unhooks the cuffs and supports her sagging body. With one arm he holds her up as the other brushes the hair back from her face and neck and draws her close. The light glints off his fangs.

  I gasp and turn towards Trey, breathing hard.

  “Sheridan,” Trey’s voice is blast of fresh air, sweet and bracing. His arms slide around me, holding me up like the vampire held his victim. “You all right?”

  I nod, tipping my head back so he can see my expression. His worried look clears. “You like it.”

  I nod, and he touches my face in wonder.

  Lucius’ laugh echoes around us. “I will leave you to explore my little club. Enjoy.”

  I don’t turn to watch him leave, but I know the moment he’s gone. The vampire/victim couple has also disappeared, maybe into one of the curtained alcoves that line the room.

  Trey still holds me close. “If this is too much, we can go.” His chest rumbles under my ear.

  “I’m all right.” I give him another squeeze. He’s so warm and strong, a living rock.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m all right,” I repeat. “I want to stay.”

  His gaze searches my face, and I flinch away. I don’t want him to see this side of me, raw and vulnerable. I push away from him, but he keeps his arms locked around me.

  “You can go if you want to,” I mutter, and his gaze turns cold.

  “I’m staying.”

  “You sure?” I mimic his question from a moment before. I’m mocking him because I don’t want him looking too closely. I don’t want him to see how much all this stuff turns me on.

  The expression on his face tells me he already knows.

  “Trey, let go of me,” I whisper.

  “You sure?” He’s not mocking me. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and I realize I’m hanging onto him, tight.

  Oops.

  When I step away from Trey, I find Nero standing close, too close to me.

  “Hello, little wolf,” he says and I stiffen. Trey’s arm slides around my waist, but I step away from him before he can pull me back into his chest. It’s time I face the vampires on my own two feet.