by Zoe Chant
“Are there any problems right now?” Sam had leaned forward, looking serious. She might not think so, but Dale could tell she was ready for the responsibilities of being an alpha.
Of course, this particular responsibility…Dale hesitated. “It’s hard to say.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Hard how?”
“One of the pride is…he’s difficult to pin down. His name is Alan Chapman, and he’s not actually officially involved with the studio—he works in some high-powered business job downtown, and he’d rather spend his time there. He normally harasses us by email at least a few times a week, though, trying to get his fingers on our assets.”
“Can he do that?” Sam asked. “Does he have any legal right as a member of the pride?”
Dale shook his head. “My grandfather set everything up in his own name, and my father wasn’t about to cede control to anybody else. I didn’t want to continue that tradition, but I’ve been concerned about Chapman for a while, so the only other person who has the authority to make decisions about the pride’s assets is Lynn.”
Sam nodded, satisfied.
“But he wants control. I’ve never understood why, because he doesn’t like the studio and he doesn’t seem to like most of the members of the pride, either.” Dale shook his head.
“Some people are just like that,” Sam said softly. “All they want is control.”
Dale knew that all too well. “I used to hope that I could win Chapman over,” Dale said. “But he wanted to take over the pride after my father died, and he’s never been happy about me being in charge. He’d take over by force if he could, but the only way is through a challenge.”
“A fight?” Sam asked.
“It’s one of the traditional pride customs that we do still observe,” Dale said. “And really, it’s not that great of a sign as to whether someone will be a good alpha. But it makes the pride feel like the alpha’s authority isn’t absolute, that it’s not a total dictatorship, because if they don’t like what I’m doing, they can challenge me.”
Sam frowned. “Could they win?”
Dale shook his head, smiling, and Sam sat back, looking comforted. Then she frowned again. “How did you become alpha?”
Sam was obviously wondering if he’d had to fight someone else. Dale didn’t know if the reality was better or worse.
“My father was our last alpha,” he said, trying to keep his voice completely even. “He passed the position to me when he died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Sam said. She reached out a hand, and hesitated.
Dale took it, and enfolded her fingers with his. “The point is that no one is going to challenge me. Not even Chapman, because I’m a much better fighter than he is.”
“Does the martial arts make much of a difference when you’re in lion form?” Sam asked, curious.
“Not as much as when you’re a human,” Dale said. “It helps you be more aware of your body and what it can do, more aware of the world around you and what it’s doing. It helps your reaction times and your agility, no matter what body you’re in.”
“Huh,” she said. “I guess that makes sense. Are you better martial artists in human form, just because you’re shifters?”
Dale nodded. “That’s why I’ve never wanted to do tournaments. It wouldn’t be fair. And when we’re teaching, it’s very important for us to remember that we’re stronger and faster than an ordinary human is. I only let shifters start teaching after they’ve had a lot of experience sparring with non-shifters and I’m confident that they can teach them effectively.”
“Responsible,” she said fondly. “So Chapman doesn’t do martial arts at all.”
Dale nodded. “There’s no way he could defeat me in a fair fight.”
“What about an unfair fight?” Sam asked suspiciously.
“It’s hard to cheat,” Dale said. “The whole pride comes and watches. Both parties have to be uninjured and to have consented to the fight with witnesses. So he couldn’t spring a fight on me when I was hurt, or anything like that.”
“Hm,” Sam said slowly. “Okay.”
“Just stay away from him for now,” Dale said. “If he ever shows up and talks to you, come find me right away.”
The thought of Alan getting his hands on Sam was horrifying. Not that he’d ever seen Alan hurt anyone, but…Dale knew he could, and would if he felt it was necessary.
Sam nodded. “He doesn’t sound like someone I want to hang out with, anyway. Anybody else that’s a problem?”
“Alan has a friend, Freddie, a young guy. A little nervous-looking. Freddie pretty much does whatever Alan says. Same goes for him—if he talks to you, come find me.”
Sam nodded again, looking a little unsure. “Does he ever come to the studio?”
“More so lately,” Dale said. “It’s making me a little suspicious, honestly. Lynn and I are going to see if we can find out if he’s up to something.”
“I’m sure if anyone can find out, it’s you two,” Sam said.
“I hope so,” said Dale.
* * *
Sam kept wanting to pinch herself. It wasn’t just that Dale was interested in her after all—no, he also had to be amazing in bed and a great cook.
The stuff about the pride was a little sobering, though. She was still thinking it through when they finished eating, and Dale started to clear the dishes.
“No way,” he said when she tried to help. “You’re a guest.”
“I thought I was your mate?” she asked, unable to resist teasing a little.
He gave her his warm almost-smile. “Are you trying to argue yourself into doing the dishes?”
“You’re right,” she said. “Forget I mentioned it.” But she stood up and came to stand next to the sink. Watching a gorgeous man do her dishes—now this was something she could get used to.
She couldn’t leave the pride politics alone in her head, though; she kept worrying over it, wondering if she was going to have to try and keep full-grown lions in line.
She had a feeling they wouldn’t want to take orders from some random non-shifter woman who was dating their leader.
She’d be very careful, she decided. She’d absolutely defer to Lynn—maybe she’d look at herself as Lynn’s apprentice. She could tell people that, and maybe she’d seem less…presumptuous.
She wondered if there was any official ceremony to put her in place as Dale’s mate, other than a regular marriage. Possibilities immediately sprang into her mind, some of them fun, some of them…not. “So are there any traditional customs your pride does still do?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t want to get surprised by anything.
“Well…” Dale hesitated, “the induction ceremony for becoming alpha is…we have a hunt, in lion form. It’s very traditional.”
“Am I going to have to do something like that?” Sam could already feel her heart start to speed up. She wasn’t a lion!
“No, no,” Dale said. “It’s just for the male alpha. You don’t need any kind of ceremony, just my word that you’re my mate.”
“Oh.” Sam relaxed. Then she frowned. “Where do you hunt?”
“We have some land outside the city,” Dale said. “Not good for farming, not close to anything, not worth developing. We use it for hunting and for pride gatherings, sometimes just for fun. Anyone can go there and shift anytime they want to.”
“That’s nice.” Sam hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d been wondering how all of these lion shifters handled living in the city where they could never shift; it was good to know they had an outlet.
“My father bought it,” Dale said. He took a breath, looking straight down at his hands doing the dishes, and said, “It was one of the few good things he did for the pride.”
Sam had to decide quickly what to say; it was obviously hard for Dale to talk about this. She settled on a simple encouraging, “Oh?” Please keep going, she thought. She had a feeling this was something Dale didn’t talk about much.
“He
wasn’t a very good alpha.” Dale set down a plate in the sink and turned to face Sam. “He liked to fight, and he was very good at it, which kept him alpha for his entire adult life, but he wasn't a good leader. He didn’t understand business very well, but he refused to admit weakness and get help with running the studio. He didn’t like most people and most people didn’t like him, so he couldn’t handle the interpersonal relationships in the pride. And he bought into the traditional values very hard, so he was pretty sexist.”
“He sounds like a hard man to grow up with,” Sam said softly.
Dale nodded. “My mother left him. I think if I’d been a girl she’d have taken me with her, but he would have fought her tooth and nail for me, and she believed in some of the traditional things, too. He needed an heir to take over the pack.”
Sam felt a little sick. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Eight.” Dale’s face was still as stone.
Sam took a long breath. If Dale could do it…“I was six when my father left,” she said, and Dale’s eyes immediately focused on her, instead of on the past. He leaned forward, his lips parting.
“My mother couldn’t handle it,” Sam continued, before she could chicken out and stop there. “She wasn’t a very good parent, either. I think I reminded her of him.”
Her mother had had a way of looking over Sam’s right shoulder, as though it was too much to actually see her face. As far as Sam could remember, they’d had most of their conversations without meeting each other’s eyes.
“She had a hard time holding a job,” Sam kept going, determined to finish. “She did drugs sometimes. She had some useless boyfriends. I was sure I didn’t want to end up like that, so I worked all through high school and I went to community college for a business degree. I got a good job, and I really felt like I was leaving it all behind…until I got laid off.”
“You have left it behind,” Dale said, leaning forward. He took her hand. “You’re not doing drugs, you’re not neglecting a child. You have a job, and you’re sticking with it, even though it’s dangerous. You’re taking self-defense, for God’s sake.”
Sam smiled. “The self-defense was because of you. But thanks. I really do know that. And I wasn’t fired. I didn’t screw up at all. I know I’ll get another good job, I just have to keep applying. It can just be hard to remember sometimes.”
Like at three in the morning on a cold November night.
“Now you have me to remind you,” Dale said firmly.
“Thanks,” Sam said. “I mean it. Thank you for rescuing me, and thank you for getting me into that class. I’ve said all that before, but mostly…thank you for being you.”
“I can’t help it,” Dale said, starting to blush a little. Now that they were together, Sam finally allowed herself to notice how adorable it was.
“You can help it,” Sam said. “This is what I mean. You left it behind, too. You’re not a tyrant like your father, and you didn’t leave like your mother.”
Dale smiled, his real, full-on smile, and he brought her hands up to his lips. “Then congratulations to both of us. For transcending our upbringings. And for finding each other.”
“Congratulations,” Sam repeated fervently.
* * *
Dale couldn’t believe—almost literally could not believe—how lucky he was.
It had taken him a while to accept that Sam was his mate. Now that he’d acknowledged it, he realized that he’d known it from the very start, that he’d felt it so strongly while walking her home at dawn the other day that he’d had to try and rationalize it away.
But when they’d been in bed together, when he’d looked down at her beautiful face and known she was his—when he’d been overwhelmed by how she felt climaxing around him, and she’d wrapped her arms around him and pulled him as close as he could get—he hadn’t been able to rationalize anymore.
Samantha Holt was it. His mate.
And now that he’d admitted it, he couldn’t believe he’d ever tried to resist. Everything was better now. Any problem that he could picture having seemed easier with her there to help.
And knowing that she’d call on him if she had a problem was such a relief, compared to thinking she might be out there somewhere in trouble and he couldn’t come to help.
Speaking of which. “Where’s your phone?” he asked her. “I don’t have your number.”
“That’s right!” she said, half-laughing in surprise. “I can’t believe we’re mates and we don't have each other’s numbers. Hold on.”
They exchanged phone numbers, and he told her, “If you have any problems at work, even if you feel afraid, if you’re not sure if someone’s there, please call me. I’ll come at any time of the night.”
“You do have to sleep,” she pointed out.
“I would much, much rather help you feel safe than sleep,” Dale said with complete honesty.
“Well, I appreciate that,” said Sam, “but from what I’ve heard, you work too hard already.”
“The pride needs me,” said Dale. “I’m not going to neglect my responsibilities.”
“Of course not,” said Sam. “But the pride’s not going to fall apart if you take a break once in a while, is it?”
“No,” he admitted, smiling at her. “And there are definitely some things that are worth taking breaks for. Which is why you should call me anytime you need me.”
“...that’s not quite what I meant,” Sam said, but she was smiling too, and she let him pull her into his arms and kiss that smile until they were both breathless.
She just tasted so good, Dale thought, cupping her cheek in one hand as he kissed her deeply.
His other hand slid down her body to her hip, and then around to the generous curve of her behind. He loved how she felt under his hands.
She moaned sweetly into his mouth, and he murmured, “Up for round two?”
She pulled back and blinked up at him. “Already? Are you...up for it?” She glanced down.
“Believe me,” he said, “that’s not going to be a problem.” He was half-hard already. “And even if it were too soon, I can do a lot with my fingers and my tongue.”
“I remember,” she said, shivering. “But I don’t want to be selfish.”
“Letting me give you an orgasm or three is the opposite of selfish,” he assured her, sliding his other hand down to join the first. “Ready?”
“For what?” she asked, and then squeaked as he easily lifted her up.
“I could get used to this, wow,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom.
“I hope you will,” he said, and laid her down on the bed.
* * *
Sam went to work on Friday night with the lightest heart she’d had since she was laid off.
She’d stayed at Dale’s until nearly three in the morning—he’d drifted off after they’d made love the second time, and she’d enjoyed lying together with him in his bed while he slept, the dim light from the hall illuminating his gorgeous face and the long planes of his muscled body.
But eventually she’d had to get up and clean herself up a bit, and when she’d come back he’d been sitting up in bed, blinking sleepily. His hair had been wildly mussed, and he’d reminded her so much of a lion in that moment that she’d almost giggled.
Not that it was funny, it was just...charming.
He’d wanted to stay up with her until he had to leave for work and she had to go to bed, but she’d insisted on going home and letting him sleep. He’d gotten up anyway, to drive her, which she hoped hadn’t defeated the purpose.
She’d promised to meet him for breakfast-slash-dinner after she got off of work this morning, and she’d gone to bed with a smile on her face—after practicing all the moves Lynn and Dale had taught her about a hundred times.
And now she was at work, and it was still cold and lonely standing out here all night, but it was so, so much better than it had been a few days ago. And she had thoughts of Dale (and h
is hands, and his mouth, and his...ahem) to keep her warm.
She was still a little nervous about her shift, but it went just fine—a couple of times people passed by her station, but no one gave her more than a glance or a nod, and she clocked off at six with a sense of relief.
Dale had offered to come meet her when he was finished his run and walk her to breakfast, but she’d pointed out that he’d be all sweaty from running, and she’d be in her security guard’s uniform. She was going to go home and change, and call him when she was ready, and they’d go out on their first actual date.
She was excited to get dressed up for him. He’d only seen her in her awful uniform, and in the sweats she’d worn to the self-defense class.
And in his shirt, and in nothing at all...she blushed a little, even though there was no one there to see it.
The point was, she had clothes at home that actually flattered her, clothes that showed off her curves instead of fighting them.
She couldn’t wait to see Dale’s face when she came out to meet him in a dress. Maybe the crimson one with the plunging neckline and the skirt that flared around her hips...it was definitely too much for breakfast, but for her it was a dinner date.
Did she care if the waitress thought she was wearing the same clothes from last night? She did not.
She hurried to get home, wondering where Dale was going to take her—the last time she’d been out for breakfast, it had been Sunday at noon with the girls from work, months ago.
Summertime. They’d been sitting outside, eating waffles and sipping mimosas. It seemed like another world.
But for the first time in a long time, she was happier with what she had.
“Hi.”
Sam stopped short on the sidewalk. She was almost to her doorstep, and her way was blocked by a young, tall man. He had rumpled dirty-blond hair and a stooped posture, and he had his arms out a bit, so he took up the whole sidewalk.
“Hi,” Sam said warily, wondering if he was about to ask her for money.
“You’re Samantha,” the young man said.