Alpha’s Bane: A Shifter Fight Club Romance

by Rose, Renee

  I arrive in the living room and pull out three folded towels, four hand towels and four washcloths. Out of my peripheral vision, I watch the broad shoulders and back of another finely dressed man.

  He glances over then does a double-take. His dark eyes rake over me, lingering on my legs and traveling up to my breasts, then face. “Who the fuck are you?”

  I should’ve expected that response, but it startles me anyway. He sounds scary. Seriously scary, and he walks toward me like he means business. He’s beautiful, with dark wavy hair, a stubbled square jaw and thick-lashed eyes that bore a hole right through me.

  “Huh? Who. The fuck. Are you?”

  I panic. Instead of answering him, I turn and walk swiftly to the bathroom, as if putting fresh towels in his bathroom will fix everything.

  He stalks after me and follows me in. “What are you doing in here?” He knocks the towels out of my hands.

  Stunned, I stare down at them scattered on the floor. “I’m...housekeeping,” I offer lamely. Damn my idiotic fascination with the mafia. This is not the freaking Sopranos. This is a real-life, dangerous man wearing a gun in a holster under his armpit. I know, because I see it when he reaches for me.

  He grips my upper arms. “Bullshit. No one who looks like”—his eyes travel up and down the length of my body again—“you—works in housekeeping.”

  I blink, not sure what that means. I’m pretty, I know that, but there’s nothing special about me. I’m your girl-next-door blue-eyed blonde type, on the short and curvy side. Not like my cousin Corey, who is tall, slender, red-haired and drop-dead gorgeous, with the confidence to match.

  There’s something lewd in the way he looks at me that makes it sound like I’m standing there in nipple tassels and a G-string instead of my short, fitted maid’s dress. I play dumb. “I’m new. I’ve only been here a couple weeks.”

  He sports dark circles under his eyes, and I remember what he told the other man. He suffers from insomnia. Hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours.

  “Are you bugging the place?” he demands.

  “Wha—” I can’t even answer. I just stare like an idiot.

  He starts frisking me for a weapon. “Is this a con? What do they think—I’m going to fuck you? Who sent you?”

  I attempt to answer, but his warm hands sliding all over me make me forget what I was going to say. Why is he talking about fucking me?

  He stands up and gives me a tiny shake. “Who. Sent. You?” His dark eyes mesmerize. He smells of the casino—of whiskey and cash, and beneath it, his own simmering essence.

  “No one...I mean, Marissa!” I exclaim her name like a secret password, but it only seems to irritate him further.

  He reaches out and runs his fingers swiftly along the collar of my housekeeping dress, as if checking for some hidden wiretap. I’m pretty sure the guy’s half out of his mind, maybe delirious with sleep deprivation. Maybe just nuts. I freeze, not wanting to set him off.

  To my shock, he yanks down the zipper on the front of my dress, all the way to my waist.

  If I were my cousin Corey, daughter of a mean FBI agent, I’d knee him in the balls, gun or not. But I was raised not to make waves. To be a nice girl and do what authority tells me to do.

  So, like a freaking idiot, I just stand there. A tiny mewl leaves my lips, but I don’t dare move, don’t protest. He yanks the form-fitting dress to my waist and jerks it down over my hips.

  I wrest my arms free from the fabric to wrap them around myself.

  Nico Tacone shoves me aside to get the dress out from under my feet. He picks it up and runs his hands all over it, still searching for the mythical wiretap while I shiver in my bra and panties.

  I fold my arms across my breasts. “Look, I’m not wearing a wire or bugging the place,” I breathe. “I was helping Marissa and then she got a call—”

  “Save it,” he barks. “You’re too fucking perfect. What’s the con? What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  I’m confounded. Should I keep arguing the truth when it only pisses him off? I swallow. None of the words in my head seem like the right ones to say.

  He reaches for my bra.

  I bat at his hands, heart pumping like I just did two back-to-back spin classes. He ignores my feeble resistance. The bra is a front hook and he obviously excels at removing women’s lingerie because it’s off faster than the dress. My breasts spring out with a bounce, and he glares at them, as if I bared them just to tempt him. He examines the bra, then tosses it on the floor and stares at me. His eyes dip once more to my breasts and his expression grows even more furious. “Real tits,” he mutters as if that’s a punishable offense.

  I try to step back but I bump into the toilet. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m just a maid. I got hired two weeks ago. You can call Samuel.”

  He steps closer. Tragically, the hardened menace on his handsome face only increases his attractiveness to me. I really am wired wrong. My body thrills at the nearness of him, pussy dampening. Or maybe it’s the fact that he just stripped me practically naked while he stands there fully clothed. I think this is a fetish to some people. Apparently, I’m one of them. If I wasn’t so scared, it would be uber hot.

  He palms my backside, warm fingers sliding over the satiny fabric of my panties, but he’s not groping me, he’s still working efficiently, checking for bugs. He slides a thumb under the gusset, running the fabric through his fingers. My belly flutters.

  Oh God. The back of his thumb brushes my dewy slit. I cringe in embarrassment. His head jerks up and he stares at me in surprise, nostrils flaring.

  Then his brows slammed down as if it pisses him off I’m turned on, as if it’s a trick.

  That’s when things really go to shit.

  He pulls out his gun and points it at my head—actually pushes the cold hard muzzle against my brow. “What. The fuck. Are you doing here?”

  Vegas Underground, Book One

  by Renee Rose

  I WARNED YOU.

  I told you not to set foot in my casino again. I told you to stay away. Because if I see those hips swinging around my suite, I’ll pin you against the wall and take you hard. And once I make you mine, I’m not gonna set you free.

  Because I’m king of the Vegas underground and I take what I want.

  So run. Stay the hell away from my casino.

  Or I’ll tie you to my bed. Put you on your knees.

  Break you.

  Or else come to me, beautiful…

  READ NOW

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  Also by Renee Rose

  PARANORMAL

  Bad Boy Alphas Series

  Alpha’s Danger

  Alpha’s Temptation

  Alpha’s Prize

  Alpha’s Challenge

  Alpha’s Obsession

  Alpha’s Desire

  Alpha’s War

  Alpha’s Mission

  Love in the Elevator (Bonus story to Alpha’s Temptation

  Alpha Doms Series

  The Alpha’s Hunger

  The Alpha’s Promise

  The Alpha’s Punishment

  Paranormals set in the world of Bad Boy Alphas

  His Captive Mortal

  Deathless Love

  Deathless Discipline

  The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle

  SCI-FI

  Zandian Masters Series

  His Human Slave

  His Human Prisoner

  Training His Human

  His Human Rebel

  His Human Vessel

  His Mate and Master

  Zandian Pet

  Night of the Zandians

  Bo
ught by the Zandians

  The Hand of Vengeance

  Her Alien Masters

  DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

  King of Diamonds

  The Russian, The Don’s Daughter, Mob Mistress, The Bossman

  CONTEMPORARY

  Her Royal Master (Royally Mine)

  The Russian

  Black Light: Valentine Roulette

  Theirs to Protect

  Scoring with Santa

  Owned by the Marine

  Theirs to Punish

  Punishing Portia

  The Professor’s Girl

  Safe in his Arms

  Saved

  The Elusive “O”

  REGENCY

  The Westerfield Trilogy

  Humbled

  Pleasing the Colonel

  WESTERN

  His Little Lapis

  The Devil of Whiskey Row

  The Outlaw’s Bride

  MEDIEVAL

  Mercenary

  Medieval Discipline

  Lords and Ladies

  The Knight’s Prisoner

  Betrothed

  Held for Ransom

  The Knight’s Seduction

  The Conquered Brides (5 book box set)

  RENAISSANCE

  Renaissance Discipline

  AGEPLAY

  Stepbrother’s Rules

  Her Hollywood Daddy

  His Little Lapis

  Black Light: Valentine’s Roulette (Broken)

  BDSM under the name Darling Adams

  Yes, Doctor

  Punishing Portia

  About Lee Savino

  Lee Savino is a USA today bestselling author, mom and choco-holic.

  Warning: Do not read her Berserker series, or you will be addicted to the huge, dominant warriors who will stop at nothing to claim their mates.

  I repeat: Do. Not. Read. The Berserker Saga. Particularly not the thrilling excerpt below.

  Download a free book from www.leesavino.com (don’t read that, either. Too much hot sexy lovin’).

  Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers

  A ménage shifter romance

  By Lee Savino

  The day my stepfather sold me to the Berserkers, I woke at dawn with him leering over me. “Get up.” He made to kick me and I scrambled out of my sleep stupor to my feet.

  “I need your help with a delivery.”

  I nodded and glanced at my sleeping mother and siblings. I didn’t trust my stepfather around my three younger sisters, but if I was gone with him all day, they’d be safe. I’d taken to carrying a dirk myself. I did not dare kill him; we needed him for food and shelter, but if he attacked me again, I would fight.

  My mother’s second husband hated me, ever since the last time he’d tried to take me and I had fought back. My mother was gone to market, and when he tried to grab me, something in me snapped. I would not let him touch me again. I fought, kicking and scratching, and finally grabbing an iron pot and scalding him with heated water.

  He bellowed and looked as if he wanted to hurt me, but kept his distance. When my mother returned he pretended like nothing was wrong, but his eyes followed me with hatred and cunning.

  Out loud he called me ugly and mocking the scar that marred my neck since a wild dog attacked me when I was young. I ignored this and kept my distance. I’d heard the taunts about my hideous face since the wounds had healed into scars, a mass of silver tissue at my neck.

  That morning, I wrapped a scarf over my hair and scarred neck and followed my stepfather, carrying his wares down the old road. At first I thought we were headed to the great market, but when we reached the fork in the road and he went an unfamiliar way, I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.

  “This way, cur.” He’d taken to calling me “dog”. He’d taunted me, saying the only sounds I could make were grunts like a beast, so I might as well be one. He was right. The attack had taken my voice by damaging my throat.

  If I followed him into the forest and he tried to kill me, I wouldn’t even be able to cry out.

  “There’s a rich man who asked for his wares delivered to his door.” He marched on without a backward glance and I followed.

  I had lived all my life in the kingdom of Alba, but when my father died and my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s village in the highlands, at the foot of the great, forbidding mountains. There were stories of evil that lived in the dark crevices of the heights, but I’d never believed them.

  I knew enough monsters living in plain sight.

  The longer we walked, the lower the sun sank in the sky, the more I knew my stepfather was trying to trick me, that there was no rich man waiting for these wares.

  When the path curved, and my stepfather stepped out from behind a boulder to surprise me, I was half ready, but before I could reach for my dirk he struck me so hard I fell.

  I woke tied to a tree.

  The light was lower, heralding dusk. I struggled silently, frantic gasps escaping from my scarred throat. My stepfather stepped into view and I felt a second of relief at a familiar face, before remembering the evil this man had wrought on my body. Whatever he was planning, it would bode ill for me, and my younger sisters. If I didn’t survive, they would eventually share the same fate as mine.

  “You’re awake,” he said. “Just in time for the sale.”

  I strained but my bonds held fast. As my stepfather approached, I realized that the scarf that I wrapped around my neck to hide my scars had fallen, exposing them. Out of habit, I twitched my head to the side, tucking my bad side towards my shoulder.

  My stepfather smirked.

  “So ugly,” he sneered. “I could never find a husband for you, but I found someone to take you. A group of warriors passing through who saw you, and want to slake their lust on your body. Who knows, if you please them, they may let you live. But I doubt you’ll survive these men. They’re foreigners, mercenaries, come to fight for the king. Berserkers. If you’re lucky your death will be swift when they tear you apart.”

  I’d heard the tales of berserker warriors, fearsome warriors of old. Ageless, timeless, they’d sailed over the seas to the land, plundering, killing, taking slaves, they fought for our kings, and their own. Nothing could stand in their path when they went into a killing rage.

  I fought to keep my fear off my face. Berserker's were a myth, so my stepfather had probably sold me to a band of passing soldiers who would take their pleasure from my flesh before leaving me for dead, or selling me on.

  “I could’ve sold you long ago, if I stripped you bare and put a bag over you head to hide those scars.”

  His hands pawed at me, and I shied away from his disgusting breath. He slapped me, then tore at my braid, letting my hair spill over my face and shoulders.

  Bound as I was, I still could glare at him. I could do nothing to stop the sale, but I hoped my fierce expression told him I’d fight to the death if he tried to force himself on me.

  His hand started to wander down towards my breast when a shadow moved on the edge of the clearing. It caught my eye and I startled. My stepfather stepped back as the warriors poured from the trees.

  My first thought was that they were not men, but beasts. They prowled forward, dark shapes almost one with the shadows. A few wore animal pelts and held back, lurking on the edge of the woods. Two came forward, wearing the garb of warriors, bristling with weapons. One had dark hair, and the other long, dirty blond with a beard to match.

  Their eyes glowed with a terrifying light.

  As they approached, the smell of raw meat and blood wafted over us, and my stomach twisted. I was glad my stepfather hadn’t fed me all day, or I would’ve emptied my guts on the ground.

  My stepfather’s face and tone took on the wheedling expression I’d seen when he was selling in the market.

  “Good evening, sirs,” he cringed before the largest, the blond with hair streaming down his chest.

  They were perfectly silent, but the blond approached, fixing me with strange
golden eyes.

  Their faces were fair enough, but their hulking forms and the quick, light way they moved made me catch my breath. I had never seen such massive men. Beside them, my stepfather looked like an ugly dwarf.

  “This is the one you wanted,” my stepfather continued. “She’s healthy and strong. She will be a good slave for you.”

  My body would’ve shaken with terror, if I were not bound so tightly.

  A dark haired warrior stepped up beside the blond and the two exchanged a look.

  “You asked for the one with scars.” My stepfather took my hair and jerked my head back, exposing the horrible, silvery mass. I shut my eyes, tears squeezing out at the sudden pain and humiliation.

  The next thing I knew, my stepfather’s grip loosened. A grunt, and I opened my eyes to see the dark haired warrior standing at my side. My stepfather sprawled on the ground as if he’d been pushed.

  The blond leader prodded a boot into my stepfather’s side.

  “Get up,” the blond said, in a voice that was more a growl than a human sound. It curdled my blood. My stepfather scrambled to his feet.

  The black haired man cut away the last of my bonds, and I sagged forward. I would’ve fallen but he caught me easily and set me on my feet, keeping his arms around me. I was not the smallest woman, but he was a giant. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, but he held me carefully. I stared at him, taking in his raven dark hair and strange gold eyes.

  He tucked me closer to his muscled body.

  Meanwhile, my stepfather whined. “I just wanted to show you the scars—”

  Again that frightening growl from the blond. “You don’t touch what is ours.”