Alpha Lion: BBW Lion Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Zoe Chant

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Lynn said. “No guarantees, though.”

  “I understand.” Dale hesitated, and then went on quickly, “I also wanted to let you know that you’ll have an extra new student on Thursday night.”

  “We’re full," Lynn objected, frowning. “Did you already sign her up? Can’t she wait until next month’s class?”

  “No,” he said. “She’s working security without any training, she’s out all night on the street. She needs to get some basic instruction as fast as possible.”

  Lynn’s eyebrows went up nearly to her hairline. “How’d you meet this woman?”

  “It’s not—” What? Important? Relevant? It was both important and relevant. “I’d rather not discuss it," he said, which was at least true. He didn’t know if Sam would want everyone to know how they’d met, and it would definitely get people’s attention if the story was going around the studio.

  Most people wouldn’t have thought it, but lions could be terrible gossips.

  “So you want us to give special treatment to a mysterious woman who works private security." Lynn’s mouth was twitching. “You’d tell us if you took a part-time job as a spy, right?”

  “Be quiet," he said without heat. “She’s not mysterious.”

  “What’s her name, then?” Lynn leaned forward on her desk, looking more like a lioness every second.

  “Samantha. Sam.” Dale steeled himself for what was coming next, and said, “There’s one more thing. Don’t charge her.”

  “Don’t charge her?” Lynn asked, incredulous. “I know we’re doing a lot better since you took over from your father, but if we start letting people take classes for free, that’s going to change.”

  “Just do it." Dale put a hint of alpha command into his voice.

  Lynn held up her hands. “Okay. But you understand that even your alpha orders aren’t going to stop me from seeing what Sam has to say about this whole situation.”

  “Just—don’t interrogate her," Dale said.

  “Oh, don’t worry," said Lynn. “I’ll treat her like gold, I promise. And I’ll teach her to fight like she means it.”

  “That’s all I’m asking," Dale said, and escaped out the door.

  In the hall, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Somehow, he felt like Sam’s existence, and speculations about how Dale knew her, would be all over the studio by lunchtime.

  But Lynn would take care of her, and that was all that mattered.

  * * *

  Sam was early to the studio on Thursday night, in case she had to do any paperwork or anything before the class. It meant she’d had to get up extra-early on her night off, although since it was November, it was still already dark when she rolled out of bed at five-thirty PM.

  But she was at the studio—Fight With Pride, it was called, and she laughed a little at the pun—by six-thirty. There was a young woman staffing the desk, and Sam smiled as confidently as she could as she approached.

  The girl gave her a sweet, friendly smile back. “Hi,” she said. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Hi, I’m supposed to start a class this evening,” Sam said. “My name is Samantha Holt. I set it up with Dale Addison a few days ago…” Which was technically true.

  The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re Samantha! Sure, of course. You’re taking Lynn’s evening class, so you’ve got plenty of time to fill out your membership form.”

  “Membership?” Sam asked, suddenly unsure. Membership sounded like something that had unavoidable fees. “Maybe I should talk to Dale—”

  “He’s busy right now, but he took care of everything,” said the girl. “You’re all paid up, you just need to fill out the registration information and you’ll be all set.”

  “Oh,” said Sam. All paid up. Well, but Dale had said he was part-owner, so hopefully he hadn’t had to pay any actual money on her behalf. She thought about insisting on seeing him anyway and making sure, but…

  She’d been afraid all night last night, tense and waiting for the guys to come back. Nothing had happened, but she’d been exhausted by halfway through her shift…and then too anxious to fall asleep when she got home.

  She couldn’t keep this up. She at least needed something to help her feel like she could deal with another attack, so that she could keep living her life.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s see the forms.”

  “Great!” The girl produced a few sheets of paper and handed them to her. “I’m Dawn, by the way. It’s wonderful to meet you—Dale said some nice things about you.”

  Sam blushed hard. She wondered if this young, thin girl was a part of the pride. Did they hire non-shifters at the studio?

  Not that that was any of her business. She distracted herself by filling out the forms. Name, address…emergency contact. She hesitated for a second, and then just put her mom. She’d want to know if anything happened, at least.

  Dawn excused herself for a second while she finished the forms, and when she got back, she had an older woman in a workout outfit with her.

  “Lynn Callahan,” the woman said, holding out a hand. “I hear you’re my new student.”

  “That’s right,” said Samantha, liking her no-nonsense attitude. “I apologize for it being so last-minute.”

  “No trouble,” said Lynn. “Any friend of Dale’s is a friend of ours.”

  “You have to tell us how you made friends with him, though,” Dawn put in, leaning forward. “He’s such a workaholic, he never makes friends.”

  “Dawn,” said Lynn—not sharply, but with authority.

  “Sorry.” Dawn flushed pink.

  Why, Sam wondered, wouldn’t Dale have any friends? Did the pride not count? “Dale helped me out of a tight spot,” she said, not wanting to get into the whole story. “He suggested that self-defense classes would be a good idea, to keep anything like that from happening again in the future.”

  Dawn opened her mouth, glanced at Lynn, and closed her mouth.

  Lynn just said, “Self-defense classes are good idea for anyone. Do you have any experience?”

  Sam shook her head. “Complete newbie, sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” said Lynn. “That’s what the class is for, to teach people what they don’t know.”

  “Then I’m ready to learn,” Sam said.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” said Lynn, then turned as a door closed down the hall. “There you are.”

  It was Dale.

  He was just as gorgeous in the light of day—it was like he brightened the hallway just by his presence. He definitely filled it—his shoulders looked broader inside four walls than they had out in the open, and he was even taller than she remembered.

  He didn’t look too happy, though—he had a frown line between his eyebrows as he came toward them, quick and purposeful. “Lynn,” he said. “What’s going on here?”

  “We were just meeting my new student.” Lynn gave him a cheery smile.

  “Right.” Dale looked back and forth between Lynn and Sam. Sam gave him an uncertain smile.

  There was clearly something going on beneath the surface between Dale and Lynn here, and she wasn’t sure if it was about her, or what.

  But why would it be about her? Maybe Lynn was upset about the free classes. Sam hoped that wasn’t it, but if it was, she’d have to talk to Lynn out of Dale’s earshot and offer to back out. She wasn’t going to take advantage of anyone.

  “Oh, look,” Lynn was saying. “Time for class. Dale, Dawn, see you later.”

  “Wait,” Dale said. “Sam, let’s meet up after class. There’s a few techniques specific to your situation that I want to show you.”

  Sam suppressed a shiver. So he would be showing her how to fight, maybe putting his arms around her, coming up close…“Sure,” she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure,” Dale said, and gave her that subtle barely-there smile.

  “Okay,” said Lynn. “Class tim
e, let’s go.”

  “Of course,” Sam said, hurrying after her. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Lynn said again. “Dale has a tendency to get very focused on one thing and forget about everything else.”

  “He seems very invested in the studio.” Sam wondered if Lynn would be willing to tell her anything else about Dale. All she really knew about him was martial arts expert, lion, and rescuer of security guards in trouble.

  Not that she wasn’t happy to know those things. But she wouldn’t mind learning a little more.

  “He is,” Lynn said seriously. “He took it over at a pretty young age, but you wouldn’t have known it for how responsible he was. He brought the business up out of the red, got it back on its feet, and now we’re doing better than we’ve done in forty years.”

  Sam’s eyes went wide. “The studio’s been around for forty years?”

  Lynn nodded. “Dale’s grandfather started it back in the seventies. It’s a family legacy, and Dale takes excellent care of it.”

  Sam had so many more questions—why did Dale take it over so young? Where were his parents? Were all of the pride involved in the studio? Was Lynn a lioness?—but they all seemed too invasive and personal.

  She had something else to say, anyway, so she stopped Lynn at the classroom door to say, “Listen, I know Dale pulled some strings to get me into this class. I told him I couldn’t pay for it and he said he’d make it work, but I honestly don’t want to impose on you. You’re the teacher, so you should get a chance to decide if I should be here or not.” Lynn seemed no-nonsense enough to tell the truth if she didn’t want Sam around.

  Lynn studied her face for a second, and then nodded. “Thank you for offering. But Dale has every right to bring a student in like this if he wants, and if I had a problem with that, I’d be taking it up with him, not with you. And it seems like you could use some self-defense, am I right?”

  Sam nodded fervently. “Yes.”

  “Then come on in and start learning how to keep yourself safe.” Lynn opened the door and motioned Sam inside.

  * * *

  Dale was finished teaching for the day, and was just sitting in his office ostensibly working on paperwork but really checking the clock until Lynn’s class was finished, when there was a firm knock on his door.

  “Come in,” Dale said, filled with a sense of foreboding.

  Sure enough, the person who opened the door was Alan Chapman. He was wearing an expensive suit and tie, and his hair was perfectly styled; he kept it clipped short, unlike most lions, who liked a little bit of a mane.

  “Dale,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood, and I wanted to stop by and see how the studio was doing.”

  “You have no financial interest in how the studio is doing,” Dale pointed out.

  Chapman had offered to invest time and time again, but even when the studio was still teetering on the edge of a big hole of debt, Dale had refused. Chapman’s money came with too many strings.

  “Financial interest is not the only interest,” Chapman said, coming in and closing the door behind him. He took a seat in the chair across from Dale. “I also wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m fine,” Dale said flatly.

  “That’s not what the gossip mill says.” Chapman smiled, looking sleazier by the second. “I hear that you’re lovesick over some human girl.”

  Dale blinked. “I am n—where did you hear that?”

  “Around,” Alan said vaguely. “What’s her name? Samantha?”

  “What do you care what her name is?” Dale asked tightly. He wanted to insist that Sam wasn’t important, that there was no reason for Chapman to be taking an interest in her, but his lion roared in protest at the idea.

  Besides, even if he were willing to lie, it wasn’t like Chapman would believe him. The man was a practiced liar himself, and Dale definitely wasn’t.

  “I’m interested in how you’re doing, Dale,” Chapman said. “And I’m interested in how the pride is doing. If you’ve found your mate—”

  “I have not found a mate,” Dale said. “I don’t have any interest in finding a mate right now. There’s plenty of time for that in the future. Lynn does just fine as alpha lioness.”

  “She certainly does,” Alan said. “Well. That’s good to know. Especially since the girl’s a human. Now.” He picked up his briefcase. “I saw via email that the question of where to house the studio going forward has come up again, and I had some suggestions.”

  Dale breathed out. This, he knew how to deal with.

  * * *

  “All right, that’s it for today, everyone,” Lynn said. “Go home, come back next week.”

  Sam was panting with exertion and happier than she’d been in a while. She’d never thought of herself as a fit person—way too curvy, for one thing—and something like martial arts had always seemed totally out of her reach. But Lynn had countered that idea with the first speech she made.

  Don’t think you can’t defend yourself just because you’re too small, too thin, too fat, or too anything, Lynn had said right at the beginning. Martial arts isn’t about giving yourself a model’s body. It’s about learning how to use the body you have, and how to keep it safe.

  And sure enough, Sam had been able to do everything Lynn showed them. She’d run it all through her memory of the other night, and she’d realized that she could’ve used most of Lynn’s techniques against those four men.

  If a man is trying to attack you, Lynn had said, he’s probably bigger and stronger. Maybe he works out, maybe he exercises until his arms are huge.

  But you can’t exercise your eyelids. You can’t exercise your nose or your ears. Maybe you can exercise your junk, but it’s not going to protect it when the time comes.

  That had gotten a laugh, but Sam had taken it to heart. Even strong men had vulnerable spots. She could learn how to do this.

  She caught her breath and waited for the group of women to leave the classroom before trailing out behind them. She’d have to ask Lynn where to find Dale.

  Except it turned out she didn’t have to ask—he was waiting for her in the hallway.

  “There you are,” he said, turning from where he’d been looking at Sam’s new classmates leaving the building. “Did you enjoy the class?”

  “I really, really did,” Sam said truthfully. “Lynn’s a great teacher.”

  She was firm and a little gruff when she spoke, but when she walked around the classroom helping people with their stances, she was kind and her hands were careful. She explained everything clearly and she made them practice each move over and over.

  “I learned a lot,” Sam said, thinking over the moves Lynn had shown them. She really had.

  “Great.” Dale smiled a real, full smile. God, he was attractive. “Are you up for doing a little bit more before you go to work?”

  “Thursday’s actually my night off,” Sam said, smiling back. “So don’t worry about tiring me out.” Oops, that had sounded a little like innuendo. She hadn’t meant it to—hopefully Dale wasn’t offended.

  And hopefully she could banish the image of Dale tiring her out from her head sometime before tomorrow morning.

  Dale didn’t look offended, at least—he was still smiling. “Great. That classroom’s done for the night, so let’s just use it. I need to grab a couple of things, I’ll be right with you.”

  “Sure,” she said, and watched him walk off. His butt looked amazing, even in workout clothes.

  He returned quickly, holding two short wooden rods. “We don’t have any real nightsticks here, and next time I’ll remember to ask you to bring your own, but we can go over some basic moves with these. Since you have a weapon, you should really know how to use it.”

  “Sounds good.” She took the stick he handed her. “The other night I got in one good hit with it—” She remembered how satisfying it had been when the stick connected with the guy’s stomach—“but I was mostly afraid they were going to take it away f
rom me.”

  “That’s the trouble with having a weapon but no training,” Dale said seriously. “It just becomes your opponent’s weapon. Your weapon should be working for you.”

  “Okay,” she said. For some reason, the way he said your weapon was…really hot. She tried to ignore it, and held up her stick. “How do we make this work for me?”

  “First, if you’re not using it but you want it ready, hold it up resting against your shoulder.” He demonstrated, with the stick back on his right shoulder, and she copied him. “That way, it’s not out for your opponent to grab—unless he’s behind you, watch out for that—and you’ve got it ready to swing with enough space to get momentum.”

  “Got it.”

  “Now, in this position, when you swing, you’re already building up power. You want to swing it forward, pretty hard, and then follow through by bringing it up to your opposite shoulder.”

  He demonstrated—the stick made a high-pitched swish noise as it came down, and then up across his chest to his left shoulder.

  Sam concentrated hard on the movement of the stick…instead of how broad his chest was, how powerful his shoulders were, or how big his hand looked on the stick compared to hers.

  “Now you’re in a position to swing it again immediately, from a backhand position,” Dale continued, and demonstrated the swing in the opposite direction, bringing the stick back to his right shoulder when he was done. “See?”

  Sam nodded. “I see.”

  “Okay, give it a try.”

  Sam swung the stick down from her shoulder as hard as she could, finished the swing up at her left shoulder, and reversed it. She was surprised at how much momentum and strength she felt just from a wooden stick.

  “Nice power and speed,” Dale approved, coming over to her. “Really good. The angle of your swing needs a little adjusting, though—may I?”

  “Sure.” Sam inhaled as he came closer and caught his scent—something faintly spicy and very masculine. Then he took her hand—almost enveloping it, his hand was so much bigger.

  “Right now, you’re swinging it like a tennis racket,” he mimed it with her hand, “which is understandable, but makes it much, much easier for someone to knock it out of your hand.”