Filthy Alpha

by Liza Street

  “Yeah.” The delivery guy shook his head. “Their asshole alpha never gave a reason for not sending in your supplies.”

  Beau nodded and didn’t say anything else, but Blythe watched him carefully as he moved coolers, lining them up for everyone. Something was on his mind.

  Once all the food was unloaded, and the empty coolers in the truck, the delivery guys took off.

  “Beau,” Blythe said, “what are you thinking about?”

  Jase followed her gaze to the auburn-haired man. “Something wrong, Mollin?”

  “Not wrong. Just weird,” Beau said, hoisting up his last cooler.

  Blythe was ready to strangle him for being cryptic, but Jase patiently waited for Beau to explain himself.

  “The guy who killed Alleman, that you killed after?” Beau said. “He’s from the Jagged Forest Clan, too. I recognized his scent when we buried the body and I got a better whiff. Just a funny coincidence, is all.”

  Jase nodded. “It is a funny coincidence.”

  There were a couple of extra coolers and the few guys around kept sending interested glances toward them.

  Jase pointed to one of the coolers and said, “This one’s for Blythe. Unless anyone has a problem with that?”

  A few scattered grunts and averted glances said nobody had a problem with it, although they probably weren’t thrilled at having to divvy up just one of the spare’s contents between them all. She didn’t blame them. Hoping to ease their grumbles, she went up to the ice chest Jase had indicated and looked inside. A six-pack of beer was nestled on top.

  “This one’s mine?” she said to Jase.

  He nodded.

  She took out the beer. “Hey, Mollin, catch.”

  He looked up just in time to grab the can of beer she sent sailing through the air.

  “Stetson,” she called.

  He caught his can and grinned widely at her from beneath his hat.

  She tossed four more beers, feeling like six throws had never made her friends so fast. She’d had their de facto respect, being the “mate” of the alpha and all, but she hadn’t had their friendship. She hoped to change that.

  And Jase’s happy expression when he met her gaze was even better.

  16

  Once they made it back to the cabin, Jase set the coolers inside and handed Blythe one of his beers. She winked at him, cracked it open, and took a swig.

  “That was really cool what you did, sharing with the guys,” he said.

  “I’ve been giving a little thought to your idea about me fitting in here.” She leaned back against her writing table and took another sip from her can. “I figured free beer could help make me some friends.”

  “You figured right,” he said, swiping the can from her and taking a sip before handing it back.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never been around you when you’re a mountain lion. I mean, I’ve seen you a couple of times, but…”

  His chest warmed. “You want me to shift now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess. I mean, yes, I do, but not if it’s weird to ask?” She took another quick sip of the beer, maybe trying to hide her blush.

  Damn, she was adorable. He took her hand and led her outside. A punching bag dangled from one of the tree limbs—left over from when Carter had lived here. A few yards away was a bench formed from what was probably half an old door resting on several half-broken cinder blocks.

  “Take a seat, babe,” he said.

  “I don’t want you to feel like a sideshow,” Blythe murmured.

  “Are you kidding? This is my beast’s time to shine. My mate”—he waggled his eyebrows—“wants to see what I have to offer. The lion inside of me is preening like a vain bastard right now.”

  She laughed. “Well in that case, carry on.”

  “I have to get naked first,” he said.

  “In that case, hurry up,” she said with another laugh.

  Sunlight shone against her red hair and she pulled up her legs and crossed them on the door-bench, can of beer in her hand.

  As Jase took off his shirt, she said, “I feel like I should be throwing money at you. Maybe you could do a little spin?”

  He couldn’t help chuckling as he twirled, then faced her and began unbuttoning his jeans.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, but her emerald eyes were locked on his body.

  She was hilarious and insatiable. He’d get naked for her any time she asked. But he didn’t want to draw this out any longer. His inner mountain lion was ready to show off for his mate, so he shoved down his pants and knelt on the ground.

  The change only took a few seconds. He closed his eyes as the white, shimmering light surrounded him. His muscles shifted and stretched, like he’d enjoyed a taxing workout. His bones broke and reformed, but at this point, the pain was a mild annoyance. His skin itched for a moment as fur sprouted. And then, he stood before Blythe in his cougar form.

  “You’re gorgeous,” she said, staring.

  He padded over to her on silent cat-feet and sat close, his head level with her chest. She reached out a tentative hand and rubbed her fingers against his head, scratching lightly behind his ear like he’d pet a housecat. It felt damn good, but then again, it always felt damn good to have her hands on him.

  Resting his head on her knee, he gazed into her eyes. He could live like this forever, spending time with Blythe, laughing, talking, making love…and simply existing.

  Despite the small, beautiful moments throughout the day, Jase knew that not all was right in the Junkyard. At night, Jase couldn’t let his mind settle on anything except the Jagged Forest Clan. He had some experience with coincidences. Like the coincidence of a human man falling on the ground in the exact spot where a sharp piece of metal was lying, and that metal ripping through the guy’s femoral artery. That was a coincidence. Nobody could’ve seen it coming, and it was a damn tragedy.

  But then there was another kind of coincidence—a coincidence borne of someone acting with intent. A Jagged Forest grizzly killing Alleman, shortly after the Jagged Forest Clan missed sending a scheduled shipment of food to the Junkyard.

  Jase had a hunch that this second kind of coincidence was no coincidence at all.

  He’d talked it over quite a bit with Stetson—his second. It was weird for Jase to think of himself as an alpha, someone with a second-in-command. But it was also strangely right.

  Blythe lay next to him, her breathing even and relaxed. She wore one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties, and to an outsider she might’ve looked like she was ready to fall asleep. Her eyes were open, though, and he felt her attention. She ran a soft hand over his chest, then lower to his stomach where she scratched him lightly with a fingernail, tracing the lines of his abs.

  “Something’s bothering you,” she said.

  “Yep.”

  She took a deep breath. “Is it something I did? Should I not have asked you to shift for me?”

  Her voice was quiet and held a note of insecurity. He needed to reassure her, and fast.

  “Nothing to do with you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Promise. I liked showing you my lion, and I’m flattered you asked.”

  “Okay, good.” She exhaled. “I know our fake mates arrangement is kind of nontraditional. Ha. Not kind of. It’s completely nontraditional. And we didn’t talk about an end date.”

  An end date? What the fuck kind of talk was this? His inner lion didn’t like it, and neither did Jase. End date. Fuck that. Jase sat up and pulled her into his lap, their legs tangling together and her back to his front. He kept his arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing her to him.

  “I don’t want to talk about any end dates,” he said, barely able to keep the growl from his voice.

  “I was worried. This is the first night you haven’t tried to get in my pants as soon as we walked in the door.”

  “Babe,” he said, “do I ne
ed to try to get in your pants all the time to reassure you? Because trust me, that can be arranged.”

  She laughed. “Well, if you get tired of me, let me know. The other shifters don’t seem to mind me so much anymore.”

  He’d noticed that. Even if she wasn’t his mate, he suspected they’d leave her alone. Those dickheads were finally growing up, learning to see a woman as a person and not a prize. “They’re your friends, now,” he said. “They’d protect you like I would.”

  “Exactly. So like I said. If you get tired of me—”

  “I’m not getting tired of you, Blythe,” he said, holding her tighter.

  It would be easier to say this without eye contact, he’d feel less vulnerable. But he needed to look in her eyes, watch her face as he said what was on his mind. He rearranged her on his lap so she sat sideways, then kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “Listen,” he said. “I don’t know how it all works, but I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I know this mate thing started off as a convenience for you, but for me, it’s turned into something real.”

  She blinked, and even in the darkness, her green eyes seemed to hold the light. “Real?”

  “Yeah,” he said. But shit, maybe admitting it out loud was the wrong call. Maybe this was too soon for her. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. “I don’t know how you feel—”

  “I feel the same,” she whispered.

  “Really,” he said.

  “Really.”

  Warmth bloomed in his chest. Not sharp-hot like the end of his soldering iron, but a gradual easing, like the sun’s heat seeping into the rock that jutted out over Cougar Lake.

  He took a deep breath. “You know…I’m supposed to stay here, in the Junkyard.”

  She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, signaling he should continue.

  “I killed a man. I regret it, but it happened, and like all of the other sorry assholes in this place, I’m here for a reason. But you, Blythe—if we’re mates—and I truly believe we are—you could escape.”

  She went tense in his arms. “What if I don’t want to escape?”

  “You deserve better than this,” he said, his throat feeling tight. She was sunshine and happiness and he didn’t know the details of her life before this, but he knew she hadn’t had it easy.

  Turning, she straddled his lap and looked at him, face to face. “I want to stay here. With you.”

  He couldn’t allow it, no way. She was a human. This was a territory of shifters—hardened criminals, some of them.

  But she kissed him, her soft tongue darting out to taste his lips, and all thoughts of responsibility and the “right” thing to do flew from his mind.

  17

  Blythe’s and Barnum’s fishing poles had remained completely still all morning, but she didn’t care, and Barnum didn’t seem to, either. The two had become friends, a fact that didn’t cease to surprise Blythe. But he was actually a cool guy now that she’d gotten to know him. She’d even taught him about feminism, and the inequality women had faced since…forever, basically. By talking it out with him, she realized how little she knew about it. But what she could share, he really seemed to soak in. He’d practically cried when she explained how hurtful he’d been to her before.

  Now, however, they were past the apologies and forgiveness, and into random, meandering conversation. Which was a lot more comfortable for both of them.

  “So, the thing with fishing,” he said, eyes intent on his pole, “is it’s like…it’s like travel.”

  “Really,” Blythe said. The two of them were completely stationary, not traveling at all. But she was getting used to Barnum’s random analogies.

  “Yep,” he said. “Really. With travel it isn’t just about where you end up, you know? Fishing’s the same. Sometimes it’s just sitting here and doing nothing. Just thinking and shit.”

  Blythe smiled over at him. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He was quiet for a few more minutes. “You know, sometimes I feel like I should miss Alleman. But I don’t.”

  Blythe wasn’t sure what to say about that. She didn’t miss Alleman, either. She didn’t even feel bad that he’d died. So she watched a beetle crawl around the base of a mossy rock and waited to see where Barnum was going with his latest pronouncement.

  “It’s no surprise someone whacked him, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Blythe said.

  “There was something about him, like he somehow brought out in every ugly thought in my head. I still feel so bad, Blythe.” Barnum looked over at her, his hazel eyes sincere, his scraggly beard hiding his mouth.

  “I get it,” Blythe said quietly.

  “Yeah, I know you do. You’re all right, you know that?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

  “Good.” He stood up and dusted off the seat of his jeans. Then he reeled in his line and said, “I’m gonna head back to the dump. You ready to go yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ll spend a few more minutes…traveling.”

  He beamed at her. “Yeah, you’re all right. I’ll see you next time.”

  “See you then,” Blythe said as he walked away.

  She watched her beetle friend crawl around for a few more minutes. Her mind wandered in much the same way—seemingly without purpose. Her life had hit a low, low point after Professor Chaole had kicked her out of the writing intensive and she and Jessica had gotten lost in the woods, trapped in the Junkyard. And now, less than a month later, she couldn’t remember ever being happier.

  Blythe packed up her fishing gear, humming under her breath. Hanging out with Barnum had been fun, a nice mind-clearing exercise so she could get back to writing. Or, if Jase happened to be around, maybe she wouldn’t do any writing at all.

  Jase had been amazing. Blythe never would have thought she’d fall for one of these shifters, but she was falling hard for Jase, that was for sure. He was kind, compassionate, and a generous lover.

  But there was something else there, too. A distance. She could pinpoint it to one specific moment last Sunday, the moment when she’d said she didn’t want to escape the Junkyard. Did he think something was wrong with her, that she wanted to stay? She liked it here, now. Barnum had totally grown on her. A few of the guys hadn’t spoken to her much, but they also didn’t leer. It was sad that she had to call that “progress,” but that’s what it was. The whole group of them—the Junkyard Shifters—had come together to form a unit, a family.

  Blythe had never had a family, so of course she wanted to stay. That luck she’d been chasing her whole life? Maybe she’d finally caught it.

  Pole over her shoulder and tackle box in her hand, she moved through the woods, wondering if Jase would talk to her about his concerns voluntarily, or if she’d have to metaphorically fish for the information.

  Shadows appeared before her out of nowhere—something big blocked the sun that had been reflecting from the lake behind her.

  Blythe didn’t even have a second to turn around, because suddenly a squeezing pain fanned across her windpipe. What the hell was happening?

  She couldn’t breathe. Someone was strangling her.

  Blythe dropped her pole and tackle box and scratched at the arms that held her—muscular arms, hard like Jase’s but lighter in skin tone. Breathing was impossible. She scratched and kicked. Her lungs felt like they’d explode, and gray flashed over her vision, leeching the woods of their cheerful color.

  She was going to pass out, any second. Her lungs screamed and her arms stopped working. She tried to flail, kick, something—anything. But the pressure on her neck didn’t let up. She heard a deep inhale as her attacker took a breath, which seemed extra cruel. Everyone else could breathe, but not Blythe.

  “Human?” her attacker said from behind her in surprise. It was a deep, male voice, but unfamiliar.

  He released her, then shoved her down. She caught herself on her hands and knees and lifted her head, choking and gasping for breath.

&n
bsp; Looking around, all she could see were trees and forest, the lake sparkling in the distance.

  Her throat ached and tears sprang to her eyes. Not just at the pain, but at the realization that she wasn’t as safe here as she’d thought. A shifter had attacked her. She didn’t think it had been someone she knew—he’d sounded surprised that she was a human. Still, her imaginary bubble of safety had been popped.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees and lightly touched her throat. The skin was tender, bruised. It hurt to draw breath.

  Not knowing what else to do, she carefully stood up and began to walk back toward her and Jase’s cabin.

  She hadn’t walked for more than five minutes when she heard Jase’s voice.

  “Blythe!” he called.

  She tried to shout for him, but it hurt too much. All that came out was a raspy approximation of his name.

  In seconds, though, he stood before her. He gently took her face in his hands, examining her skin. When his thumbs brushed her neck, she flinched.

  “I’m going to kill whoever did this,” Jase said, his mismatched eyes tender on hers, but his voice belying his anger. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  She shook her head. Her hands were a little scraped from when the guy had pushed her down, but otherwise she was okay.

  “Can you talk?” he asked.

  “It’s hard,” she said in a raspy voice.

  Sympathy pinched his features. He pulled her against him and sighed. “Come on, I’ll take you to Caitlyn. She’s a nurse and can tell us how to care for your neck. I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

  Blythe nodded and he immediately swooped her into his arms. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he marched them away from the lake. After they’d really gotten moving, he jerked to a stop and spun in a circle, his arms tightening around Blythe.

  “Stetson,” he said on an exhale.

  The man in the cowboy hat strode purposefully through the trees toward them. “What happened?”

  “Walk with us and I’ll tell you.”

  Stetson fell into step beside Jase, his yellow eyes appraising Blythe with concern.