Filthy Alpha

by Liza Street

  Markowicz rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. You don’t have a say. The condition of you being voted in as alpha is that anyone who wants to be second can fight for it.”

  “Huh.” Jase looked to Blythe, who still held his hand.

  Her green eyes were steadfast on his. “Do shifters solve everything with fights?” she asked.

  “The Junkyard shifters do,” Markowicz said.

  Jase nodded. So far, that was the truth. Didn’t have to be, though, and maybe, as their alpha, he could help change that. “Well, when does this fight start?”

  A loud roar echoed in the distance.

  Markowicz winced. “About now, I guess.”

  Sighing, Jase said, “I’ll be right there.”

  “Are you coming, Blythe?” Markowicz asked. “I’m not fighting, so I can keep you company.”

  “I’m not fighting,” Jase said, “so I can keep her company.”

  An amused smile graced Blythe’s lips. “I don’t think I need to see all the violence, but thanks, anyway. You don’t have to fight, do you, Jase?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Just need to witness and make sure nobody gets out of control.”

  “Okay, I’m going to hang back this time,” she said.

  He planted a swift kiss on her forehead and whispered, “You don’t need to wait up for me.”

  “How about you wake me up when you get back?” she said in a soft voice.

  He felt a smile slowly spread across his face. “I’ll do that.”

  He and Markowicz left, and Jase slugged Markowicz on the shoulder as soon as they were out of sight of the cabin.

  “Ow,” Markowicz said, rubbing the spot. “What the fuck is that for?”

  “Nothing,” Jase said. “Except maybe the way you stare at my mate all the time. And you came at a very bad moment.”

  “Sorry. You know, it’s funny because I had a theory that you and Blythe were making up the whole mate story. I’m not usually wrong about those kinds of things. I can read people really well.”

  He paused, but Jase didn’t say anything. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. Markowicz was being stubborn, though, waiting for a response.

  Irritated, Jase said, “Interesting theory.”

  “Yeah. But something changed in the last couple of days. I must’ve been wrong before, because every time I see one of you—either you or Blythe, together or separate—my inner sense is that the two of you belong together.”

  “Sounds about right,” Jase said.

  “And that’s why I’m looking at Blythe sometimes,” Markowicz finished. “I’m trying to figure that shit out. I wanna know what changed.”

  “Well, back off,” Jase said. “There’s nothing to puzzle over, and you staring at her like a creep is only gonna make her uncomfortable. Got it?”

  Markowicz shrugged. “Yeah, boss, whatever.”

  They reached the dump. When the guys assembled noticed Jase, cheers of “Alpha!” arose. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, feeling like some kind of poser, because he’d done a whole lot of nothing to gain the title of alpha.

  Some of the guys seemed more relaxed than others. Stetson looked unflappable as always. Assembled on the outside of the ring were several others who’d already removed their shirts and looked tense and ready to fight—Ephraimson, Barnum, Mollin, Araujo, and a couple others.

  Buenevista and Vezirov were already facing off.

  “Fists or claws?” Buenevista asked, his mouth hidden by a big, unkempt beard. His sandy brown hair was in desperate need of a cut. The work they’d gone to in cleaning up for Blythe’s birthday party was a faint memory.

  Vezirov’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Fists.”

  Jase wasn’t sure who he wanted to win. He didn’t like Buenevista, but he at least respected him a smidge. Vezirov was a total unknown and kept mostly to himself. As Jase watched the two of them proceed to beat the shit out of each other, he said to Markowicz, “What if the winner is someone I don’t even like?”

  Markowicz shrugged. “Alpha’s burden, I guess.”

  Even though Jase was invested in who won the dominance battle, he also was having a hard time paying attention.

  Blythe was at the cabin. Probably she was blissfully wrapped up in her writing. The other night, she’d had a new idea for a scene she was working on, and she’d rushed over to the little table, found a fresh piece of paper in her notebook, and begun scribbling down line after line of words. Jase had leaned back on the bed, surprised at the ferocity in her gaze.

  He’d known enough not to interrupt her. She’d worked feverishly for forty minutes or so, with only the sound of the pen scratching across the pages. Jase hadn’t been able to look away, but she’d seemed unbothered by his attention, so he drank in her every curve, every expression. She scowled while she wrote, with a little pinch showing up between her eyebrows. When she looked to be concentrating especially hard, she’d pull her lip between her teeth.

  It had surprised him just how much he needed to see her like this, a master of her own domain, empress of the world she created with her words.

  Once she’d set down her pen, he asked, “You gonna read me what you wrote?”

  Her eyes had grown wide in alarm. “Um, no. Not this time.”

  “Another time, then,” he’d said, and patted the bed next to him. “C’mere, lover.”

  And she’d turned off the lantern and climbed into bed next to him and he’d thought to himself, She belongs here. With me. Just like this.

  But he wasn’t good at words, so he had shown her with his kisses and touches instead.

  A male voice at his side startled him out of his reverie. “You look like a man in love.”

  Startled, Jase turned to find Stetson next to him. “How’s it going, Stetson?”

  “All right.” Stetson peered at him from underneath his cowboy hat. “You?”

  “I’ve never been better.”

  “Congrats, alpha. And mated, too.”

  “Yep.” It no longer felt like the lie it used to be. Or, rather, the carefully constructed not-quite-lie.

  Buenevista swung with an uppercut, and Vezirov went down. Jase sighed. He wasn’t sure Buenevista had the right demeanor for being an alpha’s second. But then Vezirov surprised him—and Buenevista—by swiping out with his leg and knocking Buenevista to the ground. Vezirov jumped on Buenevista and hit him twice in the face, then leaned back, waiting.

  Buenevista didn’t move.

  Ephraimson cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Konrad Vezirov wins this round!”

  Jase sighed.

  “You don’t need to be here, you know,” Stetson said.

  “I’m supposed to help keep order or whatever,” Jase said.

  Stetson shook his head. “I can do that—Ephraimson and Markowicz, too. Go home to your mate, alpha.”

  Jase nodded and clapped Stetson on the back. “Thanks, man.”

  Stetson tipped his hat and Jase turned away.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Markowicz called after him.

  “The man’s got his mate waiting back in a cabin in the middle of the woods,” Ephraimson said loudly.

  “Yeah, so?” Markowicz said.

  “Do I really need to spell it out?” Ephraimson asked.

  “Um, maybe…” Markowicz said.

  “He’d have to be a dumbass to stand here and watch all these assholes fight when he could be home making love to his sweet mate.”

  Ribald laughter filled the air, and Jase shook his head as he walked. They could say whatever the fuck they wanted. He had Blythe, and that was all that mattered.

  15

  Blythe had never enjoyed more consecutive days with orgasms from a man. Three nights of them so far, plus this morning. Her body was quickly becoming addicted to him, not just in its response of drenching her panties whenever he cocked his eyebrow and looked at her in a certain way, but also how her heart did a little somersault in her chest whenever she heard h
im approaching the cabin.

  As she recovered her breath from the morning quickie they’d just enjoyed, each of them on their sides, her back to his front, she realized that it wasn’t only sex she liked with him. Last night, she’d been just as eager to ask him about his day as she’d been to get her grabby hands on his muscular body. She’d wanted to share the more interesting pieces of her day with him, as well. And while they’d munched on the last of the week’s food supplies, they’d talked. He’d had all kinds of questions about her writing—not just her book, but how she’d gotten into penning fiction.

  It was almost as if…he cared.

  And in the post-sex haze pulsing through her system, she was having a hard time talking herself out of liking the closeness with him.

  Fake mate, she told herself firmly. But her inner hussy smiled coyly and responded, Real dick.

  She was unable to stop the giggle that erupted from her throat.

  “Mmm, your breasts jiggle when you laugh,” Jase murmured, cupping one of them in his hand and kissing the back of her neck. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing much,” she said, pulling away and climbing out of bed to find her clothes. “I think I’m turning into a sex robot, though.”

  “A sex robot,” he said with a grin. “Now why didn’t I think to make one of those in my workshop?”

  She tossed a sock at him. “Don’t be gross.”

  “You like me dirty,” he said, standing up and revealing all six-plus feet of his naked form. His cock was half-hard, and Blythe considered throwing her clothes back on the floor and jumping on him for another round. His eyes darkened and narrowed in on her, as if he could sense where her mind was going. His voice was low when he said her name. “Blythe.”

  There was sexual power in the way her name rolled over his tongue and off his lips. She dropped her clothes and stepped toward him, barely conscious of what she was doing.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his chin. He lowered his head so she could reach his lips, but she didn’t spend much time on his mouth before kissing her way down his chest, over his rippling abs. He sucked in a breath when she flicked out her tongue to taste his skin. And when she dropped to her knees and looked up into his face, his mismatched eyes gazed down at her with a fiery lust.

  “Blythe,” he said again, and the tone was half pleading, half warning.

  She breathed against his cock, which was now completely hard and jutting out, begging for more attention. Gripping the base of it in her hand, she flicked out her tongue again, this time to lick away the drop of pre-come on the head.

  “Fuck,” he gasped, and his hands went to her hair, smoothing her locks behind her ears. His eyes were on hers, green and gold and desperate.

  She took him in her mouth. Then she paused, feeling the weight of him against her tongue. Inhaling, she pulled in the scent that was his—sandalwood and male musk, and hers—sweetly feminine.

  “Feels so fucking good,” Jase said.

  Blythe smiled to herself. She loved this sensation of him in her mouth, the way his abs tensed, the way he seemed on the brink of losing control. He was long and thick and not easy to pull all the way in, but she relaxed her jaw and took him as far as she could.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, his voice a growl. “I want to watch you get off.”

  She blinked up at him in surprise. She liked the sweet version of Jase that had slowly stroked her to orgasm an hour ago, but she also liked this kinky, commanding version of him. He’d held her arms in place while they fucked last night, but he hadn’t restrained her this morning. It was refreshing to see he liked sex in all different flavors.

  “Touch your pussy,” he said. “Put a finger inside. Rub your clit.”

  She did as he asked, holding onto the base of his cock with one hand and using the other to pleasure herself. She was slippery with arousal, and an aching need spread through her core. Jase was firm in her mouth and he began to pump his hips. From the look of concentration on his face, she guessed he was holding back.

  She didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted him to give her everything. So she swirled her tongue around his tip and made a low humming sound.

  “You’re killing me, babe,” he said.

  Feeling wickedly powerful, she continued sucking and licking him while touching herself.

  “Yeah,” he said, eyes intent as they roved over her body and focused on the apex between her legs. “Fuck yes. Like that.”

  He began to pump harder, thrusting into her mouth. He couldn’t help himself. She moved her hand from his cock to his ass, gripping the muscular cheek, digging her nails in just enough to encourage his rough movements. He cradled her head in his hands and moved faster.

  “Tell me if this gets to be too much,” he gasped. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

  She sucked him harder and he swore under his breath. Her own orgasm was imminent. She began rubbing her finger against her clit harder, chasing that white-hot feeling of pleasure. Jase’s control broke and he fucked her mouth. He held her tightly and the moment his come touched her tongue, she came, too, moaning over his cock while she drank him down and cupped her own pussy.

  When his dick stopped jerking in her mouth, she looked up at him. His face was kind and filled with wonder as he gripped her hand and pulled her to stand in front of him.

  “It’s never been better than it is with you,” he whispered, kissing her, not seeming at all to care about the taste of him on her mouth.

  He held her against him, which was good because her legs were still shaky from her orgasm and she wasn’t sure she could hold her own weight.

  “You hungry?” he asked her, rubbing large circles over her back and shoulders.

  “I just ate,” she said.

  “Ha. You’re so funny.”

  Warmth bloomed in her chest. She liked joking around with this guy. It’s just the sex, she told herself. Endorphins released after an orgasm made a person feel all warm and happy, almost like being in love. She’d read about it somewhere. So all of this? This warm, content, affectionate feeling? Just the sex.

  “Anyway,” he said, “I asked whether you’re hungry, because I heard a truck drive up. It’s Sunday, our food delivery day. Ready to go see what we got?”

  “Let me get dressed.”

  “Putting clothes on that body should be a crime,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “I guess I could wander around the dump in my birthday suit…”

  “Get dressed, babe,” he said with a glower. “As long as you’re my mate, that bare ass is for my eyes only.” Then he hesitated and cocked his head, looking less certain. “Right?”

  “Right.” She kind of liked him acting like a jealous caveman, but she appreciated he’d asked. “We’re monogamous.”

  “Good.”

  She pulled her shirt on and said, “I mean, there’s one issue with that, though.”

  She didn’t look at him, but she could sense him go still and tense.

  “What?” he growled.

  “Well,” she continued, struggling not to smile, “there’s all that sexual tension between me and Barnum. He’s super hot…”

  Jase grabbed her around the waist and started tickling her until she shrieked with laughter and begged him to stop.

  She kept telling herself things between them were just about sex. But this happy feeling? It felt like more.

  Jase gathered their empty coolers, and insisted on carrying them both. As they walked to the dump for the food drop-off, Blythe said, “I forgot to ask—who won the fight to be your second?”

  He looked over at her and grinned. “No idea. I left early so I could come back to bed with you.”

  “Shirking your responsibilities already?” she asked.

  Instead of laughing, his mismatched eyes went dark with something like shame.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said quickly.

  He smiled again, but he didn’t look as carefree as he had before, and Blythe
felt a niggling emptiness forming in her chest. He must take his responsibilities seriously. She decided to be careful, in the future, not to make light of them. And maybe someday he’d talk to her more about why he was worried about letting others down.

  They reached the dump and Stetson strode forward.

  Jase nodded at him in greeting. “So who won last night?”

  Blythe hadn’t seen Stetson smile once since she’d met him, but his yellow-gold eyes danced as his lips curved upward in a grin and he said, “Me.”

  “You weren’t even fighting,” Jase said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, but I could tell you didn’t want Vezirov as your second.”

  Jase nodded. “He might’ve been fine, but I don’t know him well.”

  “Exactly,” Stetson said. “And he was about to win. So I jumped in and won instead.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Jase said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

  Stetson shrugged, but Blythe could tell he was pleased.

  She turned to watch the food drop-off with interest. Jase hauled their two empty coolers to the edge of the gravel line. Two unfamiliar guys worked on the other side of the boundary, one loading up the empty coolers, the other unloading what looked to be full ones and shoving them over the line. On the inside of the Junkyard, several guys stacked up the newly-arrived coolers.

  Jase peeked inside one of them. “Beer, again? Hell yes. Another good week.”

  “The Halfmoon Clan also felt bad about the Jagged Forest Clan shorting you last time,” one of the guys at the truck said.

  When the delivery guy turned around with another ice chest, he spotted Blythe. “Whoa, you have a woman in there?”

  “This is my mate, Blythe,” Jase said easily. “She stumbled in by mistake, but we’re taking care of her. Or rather, you’re taking care of yourself, aren’t you?” Jase said, turning to her.

  Blythe reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ve had some help.”

  One of the other Junkyard shifters, Beau, Blythe thought his name was, paused. His muscles strained as he held three full coolers at once. Face blank, he said, “The Jagged Forest Clan is the group that shorted us?”