by Lola Gabriel
Alpha’s Enemy
Bears of the Wild
Lola Gabriel
Alpha’s Enemy
Text Copyright © 2019 by Lola Gabriel
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2019
Publisher
Secret Woods Books
[email protected]
www.SecretWoodsBooks.com
Contents
Secret Woods Books
1. Axel
2. Keira
3. Axel
4. Keira
5. Axel
6. Keira
7. Axel
8. Keira
9. Keira
10. Axel
11. Keira
12. Axel
13. Keira
14. Chance
15. Axel
16. Chance
17. Axel
18. Chance
19. Axel
20. Chance
21. Axel
22. Chance
23. Olliver
24. Graeme
25. Irna
26. Axel
27. Chance
28. Axel
29. Keira
30. Axel
31. Keira
Other Books You Will Love
Thank You
About the Author
Secret Woods Books
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1
Axel
Axel drained his beer and brought the bottle down onto the bar top hard enough for the tall, brown-haired bartender to turn around at the sound. He raised his eyebrows, put down the glass he was polishing, and bent down to open one of the fridges.
“These helping?” he asked, putting a fresh beer in front of his only customer.
“Not really,” Axel said. He was leaning on the bar, shredding a coaster. His blue eyes were already slightly unfocused. “Get me a chaser? And drink with me?”
The bartender sighed. “Axel, it’s the afternoon.”
“Come on, Byron, I’m heartbroken over here.” Axel took a swig of his beer, and the bartender, Byron, placed one shot glass and then another on the bar.
“She wasn’t right for you, and you knew that from the beginning. We were in here fifteen years ago, and you were um-ing and ahh-ing about whether or not you two should get serious. I don’t want to pull the older and wiser card, Axel, but I told you; when you know, you know. And you do, you know.”
“Yeah? I think you just pulled it.” The two men threw back their whiskeys almost simultaneously, and Axel gave his lips an exaggerated smack. “Another one, my wise old friend?” he asked. Then, he continued his thought, “Okay, sure, but we were together for a while… and she slept with that—”
“No more liquor.” Byron cleared the glasses away. “I’m at work, and you’re a mess. Beer only. And do we have to keep digging through the details of what she did? You know she’s paying for it. She won’t be able to show her face here for decades, if ever. What’s she going to do? Marry him?”
Axel cracked a smile for a second, and his face became boyish and charming. But it really was only for a second. Then he hung his head and went back to his half-destroyed coaster. Byron shook his head and returned to polishing glasses.
“If I didn’t know how hurt you are by all this, I’d say you’re milking it, Axel. You know you look good as the brooding antihero. You’re aware that there’s no one but me here to see it, right?”
Axel sighed. He was painfully aware of the empty bar, of the fact that there was still light out, at a time of year when the sun set at two.
“Maybe I’m practicing,” he said, “for when I feel ready to get back on the horse. My tale of woe will have women clamoring for me.” He straightened up a little and ran a hand through his mess of dark hair, sweeping it away from his face. He knew, realistically, that no one wanted to see him looking this down. It wasn’t vanity; more like a need to keep up appearances. There were certain things that were expected of him.
“Sure,” Byron said, “because you need the help.” Again, Axel flashed his dental-commercial smile for half a second.
“Okay, okay. But it’s not just— I’m not just angry. I miss her, or who I thought she was… I don’t like being at the house because it’s half empty, and what is there reminds me of her. Why do we even start relationships, they always end up like this. With pain.”
Now Byron smiled. “Nice dramatic monologue,” he said and got out another beer. He walked around the bar as he twisted the top off the bottle and pulled a stool up next to Axel’s. “Today, we drink away your pain. Tomorrow, back to real life. Okay?”
Axel held up his beer. “To drinking things away!” he said.
Byron lifted his bottle, but he held it back from Axel’s instead of clinking it. He barely looked older than Axel. There was some gray creeping into his brown hair, but only enough to add a slight air of distinction. Even though he was perhaps holding slightly more weight than was optimal, he was still a strong young man. A little tired, perhaps, though that could be because he had a family and ran a bar and… Well, he was Axel’s go-to, which Axel supposed hadn’t been easy lately.
Finally, Byron came up with a toast. “To the next one being your mate, and for there being no pain!” Clink.
After his long sip, Axel raised his eyebrows. “Right, sure, but there’s always pain. Either you break up or one of you dies.”
Byron rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Axel. We’re drinking pain away, not trying to stimulate it. Let’s play darts. And don’t stab yourself with them.”
At that exact moment, the bell announcing a new customer let out a trill. Both men’s eyes moved to the door and the woman pushing it open.
She was petite and blonde, wrapped up against the cold of the Fairbanks fall in a long down coat. She had a couple of bags with her, and she was having trouble with the door, trying to push it open with a hip. Axel made a move to get up and help her, but she made it inside before he could. She was flushed with the chill. She looked up and smiled at the men sitting at the bar, her green eyes crinkling at the edges.
“Thanks for the help, lads. Just a cold and helpless little lady trying to make my way through the snow.” But she was happy to be in the warm, it seemed, as she put her bags down and stamped a light dusting of snow from her boots. Taking off her gloves, the woman walked toward the bar. “How do I get a drink in this place?” she asked, gesturing to the lack of obvious staff.
Byron’s stool scraped against the wooden floor as he pushed it back to stand. Rather than heading round to his post behind the bar, though, he planted his feet firmly and crossed his arms.
“You don’t,” he said. “You aren’t drinking here.”
The blonde looked taken aback. She raised her eyebrows and continued unzipping her long coat. “I’m in a bar, aren’t I? I’m not hallucinating? Where’s the owner?”
Still in his tough-man pose, laughable to Axel, who knew his oldest friend’s soft nature, Byron said, “I’m the owner. And I’m telling you, this isn’t the bar for you. In fact, we’r
e closing.”
“What kind of a watering hole closes at one in the afternoon? The sun’s not even down yet,” the woman argued, beginning to pull her zipper back up. “I think you’ve got a faulty business model.” At this, Axel laughed. He put a hand on Byron’s plaid-shirt-clad shoulder.
“Out of attack mode, big man. Can’t you tell she’s one of us?” He shot her a look. “It’s practically radiating off her.” The blonde shot him a look back. And it was skeptical.
“I can go and spend my money elsewhere,” she said, “if you boys want to fight or fuck or… whatever it is you need privacy for.”
“And she’s funny!” Axel said.
Byron shot Axel a look now, a look that said, This is not what you need right now. But the customer is always right. Especially if the customer is Axel Lingdson and the establishment is based in Fairbanks, Alaska. Finally, Byron relaxed.
“Fine,” he said, “the stranger can stay. But my eye’s on her. And,” he added, “on you.” He strolled around the bar slowly, dragging it out. Axel shook his head.
“Sorry about my friend,” he said. “He can be overprotective, but he makes a mean cocktail.”
“What if I want a beer?” The blonde went back to taking off her outdoor clothes, slipping off her coat and sitting down. She was curvier than she had looked in the coat, despite being small. Her sweater was tight, and she was wearing black jeans tucked into her boots. Axel tried not to look her up and down—obviously, knew he shouldn’t—but he was already long past tipsy.
“He’s also great at opening bottles,” he went on. The woman turned pointedly toward the bar, hiding herself somewhat. A sullen Byron grabbed a lager. He opened it with unnecessary flourish and set it in front of her. Axel thought he was holding himself back from a sarcastic curtsy.
“Put it on my tab,” Axel said.
“Right. Your tab...” Byron turned around, engrossing himself forcefully in cleaning and restocking, both of which he’d already done that morning. Axel had one hand on his beer and had turned to face the prickly blonde.
“I’m Axel,” he introduced himself, “and you—”
She turned her head, resting those sharp, green eyes on him. “I know who you are.”
Axel was taken aback by her delivery. Of course she did. Every shifter in the state knew who the pack leaders were.
“You’ve heard good things?” God, what was he doing? A twenty-year relationship really erodes your flirtation skills. And it wasn’t like it had been his longest, either. How had he done this before?
The blonde ignored him, turning back to her beer and pulling out her phone. Byron glanced at the iPhone and began scrubbing his countertop harder. Technology was a touchy subject for him; the bar owner was never quick to adapt. He’d still been jumping at the sound of a home phone ringing when cell phones came in. This would only compound his distrust of the newcomer, Axel thought, though, really, the technology thing was a Byron problem and had nothing to do with anyone else.
“So, why are you in town?” Axel tried and almost visibly cringed. Was it the lack of practice, or the alcohol? The woman turned to him again, and she pushed her long wavy hair back behind her shoulders.
“Alone time,” she answered, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. He stared right back, and he didn’t know why. He couldn’t stop looking at her heart-shaped face and those eyes. She looked away. “Get me a whiskey,” she said to Byron, “a double.” He poured her a cruelly short shot. Then he glanced at Axel and grudgingly topped it up. “Look,” the woman told Byron, “I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. Can we declare a truce?”
Axel said, “He’s stubborn, you’ll have to try harder.”
Not even turning her head, the blonde added, “I’m not here to be hit on by sleazy alphas, either. You’re the same in every damn pack.”
Behind the bar, Byron snorted with laughter. Axel shot him a look. “Oh, you’re on her side now?”
Byron shrugged, keeping at his work. It was by no means the evening yet, but outside the bar’s window, Main Street was darkening. Fall in Fairbanks, and every day was shorter than the last.
Customers were beginning to trickle into Byron’s bar, filling the seats around Axel and the stranger. Axel got a few pats on the back, and a couple of people asked how he was doing. More bought him drinks. Beside him, the beautiful stranger had her elbows on the bar and her blonde hair tucked behind her ears. After a while, she pulled out a book. Axel kept stealing glances at her, even as he talked to various friends. He could feel the fuzz of real drunkenness coming upon him, lapping at him like warm water.
Things he could say to her… ask about her book. The author’s name looked Russian, and it was a hefty volume. She was deep into it, concentrating. She must have brains as well as beauty. But Axel already knew she did. She was sharp. Funny. And he couldn’t ask her about her book! Classic sleaze move, asking a girl in a bar about what she was reading. And she’d called him a sleaze. Him. He should tell her he was better than that—tell her about Leonida.
Yeah, because that was better: blather about his ex to a new woman. Vaguely, Axel wondered who she’d been referring to when she’d said all alphas were the same. Then he remembered he and Byron had never played their game of darts. He should challenge her! Darts were darts. Not sleazy and not wholesome, just… throwing sharp stuff at a board.
When Axel leaned toward her, the blonde put a finger in her book to hold her place. “Darts?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Would you like to play a game of darts?” Axel really hoped he wasn’t blushing. Or slurring.
“Are we putting money on it?” The blonde smiled. “Because right now, I like my odds.”
“Sure,” Axel said, “but I’m pretty good…”
The woman folded down the corner of the page she was on and closed her book.
2
Keira
Keira adjusted the fly on her dart and shifted her feet. Axel hadn’t been lying; he was good at this game. But so was she. Her dart landed true, double bullseye.
“Beginner’s luck,” Axel called behind her, but he was grinning. He’d switched to water after they’d made their wager. Not that it would help much at this point.
The bar was now loud enough that he and Keira had to shout to hear one another. Mostly, this had kept their competitive banter to a minimum. The occasional heckle.
As Axel stepped up to grab the darts, Keira said, “You’re not used to losing, are you?” Axel missed the board and then hit a twelve. He’d already closed twelve.
“God damn it!” he cursed.
And she’d just been beginning to like him, Keira thought. All that anger wasn’t unexpected. He reminded her of every alpha she knew. But he’d been up to joke earlier, and his smile—well, his smile was what let him get away with it, she supposed. She held out her hand flat for the darts. Axel put them in her palm, his eyes searching her face. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her hand. They both flinched a little. That had been intense.
After quickly stepping back, Axel said, “You know, I’m not some meathead, power hungry—”
“Right,” Keira cut him off. “You’re going to cry when you lose, are you?”
Axel shook his head. “You threw me off—”
Keira was already stepping away from him. She didn’t hear the rest. She threw a dud, and it was her turn to curse, though she was much bluer than Axel. Why was he getting to her? She was here for a reason. She should stick to it.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she said, walking past Axel and slamming the darts down on the table beside him.
“You trying to catch up with me?” he called. But she had reverted to her early tactic of shooting back cold glances. Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she turned to deliver one, and she almost walked into someone.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking up at the tank of a man she had almost bounced off. Her eyes finding his face, she looked quickly
down at the floorboards. “My bad,” she finished and continued quickly toward the bar. There was no way he would recognize her. Her uncles hadn’t traded with him for over a hundred years. She’d looked different then, in a bonnet and furs.
Reaching the bar, she glanced back. The large, bearded man was looking at Axel. But then, most of the bar was glancing occasionally over to Axel. Checking on his demeanor, she assumed, wondering whether or not to be worried. Axel looked tired, more than anything. Well, a little drunk, and very tired. He glanced down at the darts as if he was counting them, and then he rolled them back and forth across the table.
“Two beers,” Keira said without thinking. Byron slammed them in front of her so that they both foamed. When she got back to the table, she shoved one of the beers toward Axel. “Don’t get any ideas,” she told him. “You bought me one earlier. Now we’re even.”
Axel smiled that smile again and put the beer to his lips. Unusually full for a man’s, and not chapped by the quickly advancing cold.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Right,” Keira replied, “and that’s not how you ask someone their name. You think this is a rom-com?” She grabbed the darts. Lining up to aim, her hand was shaking a little. She glanced back at Axel. He looked a little stunned. “And that’s a win!” she announced, clearing the short expanse of sticky carpet between herself and the chalkboard and crossing, then circling the final number on her side. She turned back to Axel. “So, check or cash?”