Southern Alpha Book One (Southern Alpha Serial 1)

by Carina Wilder

  “Thank you, Madame Lola,” I said, rising to my feet. My voice insisted on shaking like a nervous leaf in spite of my refusal to believe that the fortune teller’s predictions could possibly be true. “I think I’ve heard enough for one night.”

  I reached for my purse to extract a tip from my wallet, but she held up a hand. “Don’t,” she said in her deep, throaty voice. “Tonight’s readings are free. Even if they weren’t, I don’t like to take money in return for bad news.”

  Giving her a quick nod, I spun around and tore out of the small chamber, rubbing my arms to calm the chill that had seeped into my bones. I wanted nothing more than to get away from the old woman, to forget every foreboding thing she’d said.

  As crazy as her predictions had been, there was no denying that she’d managed to freak me right out. I was beginning to seriously second-guess my whole “Go to New Orleans and expose yourself to weirdos” life plan.

  Maybe the old woman was right, and Trick really was dangerous. He definitely gave off the vibe of a man who could pulverize a woman’s heart with little effort, and I wasn’t entirely sure that particular organ was in need of tenderizing at the moment.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to tell myself that I should pack up and leave town.

  Someone else could write the damned book.

  There was only one problem.

  I didn’t want to walk away from New Orleans, or from the captivating man I’d met earlier. Despite all my reservations about him, despite his coldness, his strange, mercurial nature, I wanted nothing more than to find my way to his side again. Some desperate need compelled me to understand what it was about Trick that drew me to him and made me ache with a desire unlike anything I’d ever known.

  If I walked away now, I’d spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.

  I made my way back through the crowd, twisting this way and that, trying to see over the ocean of bodies that blocked my view.

  When I’d scanned the entire room, the reality began to sink in that Trick was gone.

  It’s for the best, I told myself, my jaw grinding with resolve despite the deep disappointment that was sinking into my chest. He would have crushed me like an eggshell.

  Well, his departure was a sure sign that it was time to get out of this strange, underground crypt and find my way home.

  “You leaving?” Louis called out as I stepped past the bar and headed towards the stairs.

  “Yeah,” I practically shouted over the music as I turned his way to offer him a weak smile. “I think I’ve got everything I can out of tonight’s festivities. Thanks again for the beer, by the way.”

  He put both elbows on the bar and leaned towards me. “You’re welcome. I’d tell you to come again, but this only happens once a year, and I don’t suppose you’ll be around next time.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m sure you’re right about that.”

  “Hey…” he said as I turned to walk away again. “You should have this.”

  When I spun around, I saw that he was sliding a business card across the bar in my direction. Stepping towards him, I reached for it against my better judgment.

  Trick’s Boat Tours, it read. 53 Harper’s Road, Credence Parish.

  “This is his business?” I asked, staring at the white card embossed with the image of a small green alligator. “It’s where you both work?”

  Louis nodded. “I have a strong suspicion that the big guy might like seeing you again,” he said. “I know he can be a bit of a choad, but he’s got a heart of gold. You might find it’s worth getting to know him.”

  I tucked the card into my purse, taking care not to bend it. “Thanks,” I said. “But he’s disappeared on me twice now in one night. I’m pretty sure he wants nothing to do with me.”

  Louis shook his head and smirked. “You might be surprised.”

  “I doubt it. But thanks again.” After throwing Louis another awkward smile I made my way to the stairwell, my hands slipping along the walls to steady myself as I climbed. I didn’t know if it was the booze, the unevenness of the marble stairs, or the thought of seeing Trick again that was making me dizzy. One thing was for sure, though. The guy had a talent for screwing with a woman’s mind.

  When I reached the top of the staircase, I slipped past Karl, the grumpy bouncer who was now fast asleep and tipped back in his wooden chair, snoring like an out-of-control chainsaw. I inhaled deep, relieved to be free of the Undercroft’s otherworldly atmosphere.

  I should have headed straight for the cemetery’s exit, but for some reason I turned between two rows of tombs and made my way slowly along, unsure of where to go, what to do. I wasn’t quite ready to let go of this strange place—and even stranger night—just yet.

  The air was still oppressively humid, and the late hour had done little to cool things off. Apparently, night-time in the south was as brutal as the daytime.

  I looked around, my eyes re-adjusting to the darkness, trying to orient myself and make out the shapes before me.

  What am I still doing here? I muttered.

  But I knew perfectly well why I hadn’t left; the simple truth was that I’d hoped to find Trick up here, wandering the cemetery alone. I liked the idea of us meeting in the dark, the mist of midnight swirling around our legs as we approached each other, then embraced in a fierce, passionate kiss the likes of which no woman had ever experienced.

  But no. That was just a fantasy. I needed to keep myself grounded in the real world or I’d lose my mind.

  If I could find a way to talk to him, maybe I could ask him why he’d been so cold to me downstairs…

  No.

  Shitty idea, Sierra. Like, seriously terrible. There’s not much that a man likes less than being asked by a woman he barely knows why he isn’t madly in love with her yet.

  Reminding myself that I was wasting my time, I made my way towards the gate where I’d first entered the graveyard, which was turning out to be larger than I’d remembered. I’ll call a cab, I thought, once I make it to the nearest intersection. I’ll get out of here and forget this night ever happened.

  But as I finally drew near the path leading up to the cemetery gates, all of a sudden I heard voices—a man’s and a woman’s. Part curious and part afraid of stumbling onto some dangerous criminal transaction, I turned right and slipped between two monuments. Crouching down with my shoulder pressed against the cold stone, I strained to make out what they were saying.

  “So you really think they can do it?” the woman’s voice was asking. “It would mean everything to him. It shouldn’t take too long—a week or two, tops. We’ll send some helpers down, too, if you need them.”

  I raised my head just enough to peek over the silver-grey tomb that rose up on my left side. The full moon that looked down on the world like an appraising eye was bright enough to reveal a tall woman who reminded me of some of the Undercroft’s denizens, only with nicer clothes. Her hair looked dark in the dim light—red, or maybe brown. It was impossible to tell; everything at night seemed to turn shades of blue and gray, which made it impossible to distinguish actual colors.

  Standing a few feet away from her was Trick’s unmistakable, massive silhouette. My heart danced an excited little jig in my chest at the sight of him.

  The woman was stunningly beautiful, but as I focused on her, I could see that the expression on her face was oddly stern, cold as ice. Her eyes were eerily bright. She spoke enthusiastically, but there was nothing bubbly about her. If anything, I would have said she had the appearance of someone brought down by deep sorrow.

  I slipped back down into a crouch, concealing myself from view. The ground was wet under my thin-soled sandals, and I tried not to think about the dead bodies lying in the above-ground tomb next to me.

  “Much as I get nervous about his visits, Tristan’s a good guy,” Trick was saying now. “I’m glad to help. And to be honest, I’ll be glad to see him again. I mean, as long as he doesn’t bring that douche-nozzle brother of his alon
g with him. I’ve got enough shit to deal with these days.”

  “He and his brother have been estranged for a very long time,” the woman answered in a lilting, feminine voice. “They don’t exactly travel together.”

  “That may be so, but things change. People change. For the record, I don’t want that psycho bastard Krane anywhere near me or my pack.”

  “All I can do is promise you Tristan’s compliance on that front.” The woman went quiet for a moment before asking, “Tell me—have you spotted the man they call the Marquis recently?”

  “Yeah. He’s around. Word has it that he’s vying for Alpha. If that’s the case, things are about to get real ugly around here real fast.”

  The woman froze, her body going stiff. “Alpha? But I thought…” she breathed. “You…you can’t let that happen, Patrick.”

  Patrick, I thought. Of course that’s his actual name. But who the hell is this Marquis everyone keeps talking about?

  “Trust me, I have no intention of letting him win the trials,” Trick said. “But I don’t have to tell you that he’s one seriously twisted dude. He doesn’t play by the rules.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t, either. You need to win at all costs.” Now the woman’s voice was beginning to take on color. Her tone grew desperate, pleading. “At all costs,” she repeated.

  “I’ll do everything I can. You have my word.”

  I pressed my back against the tombstone, trying to work out what they could possibly be talking about. Alpha? That was the kind of language men used when they were talking about dudes who huffed cigars and held ironic belching competitions to prove which of them was the most sexually viable candidate for hot women.

  But something told me that wasn’t what Trick and the strange woman were referring to.

  “Listen,” she said, “I have to go. I need to get back to New York. But watch your back. We need you more than you know.”

  “Will do,” Trick said.

  After a few seconds of silence, I dared to raise my head and peek over again only to see that Trick was still standing in the same place, silhouetted in the dim light, his eyes fixed on the night sky. My eyes traced the outline of his profile, the moonlight tumbling over his head of thick golden-brown hair.

  He looked good enough to eat, and all I could think about was tasting his lips with my tongue. A primal need assaulted me, just as it had done the first second I’d laid eyes on him. A desire to walk right up to him, to kiss him, to demand that he claim my body with his own.

  I’d never wanted a man like I wanted him, and it frightened me. It wasn’t like me to crave a taste I’d never sampled—not like this.

  “I know you’re there,” he called out, and I ducked down again, all but smashing my head on the corner of the above-ground tomb.

  “Shit,” I hissed, my back pressed to the stone.

  “Just come out, Sierra. It’ll be less embarrassing.”

  I pushed myself up to my feet and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…again,” I said. “I was just getting some air.”

  Trick started walking towards me, navigating his way through the maze of stone shrines and monuments that stood between us. “So was I,” he said. “I came up here because it was stifling down there for some reason. Something drew me up to ground level.” He craned his head to the side as if he was trying to figure something out. “I didn’t understand what lured me here until this minute, when I realized you were close by.”

  The words made my skin heat up, my heart’s beats accelerating in my chest even as my breathing grew shallow.

  Maybe he was right—maybe we’d both been drawn here for a reason.

  He advanced until he was so close that I could all but taste him. I had to pull my head back just to look into his face, my hands grasping the edge of the cold stone slab behind me. His eyes were glowing with an intoxicating brightness, their impossible blue sending my mind reeling all over again.

  I opened my mouth to say something—anything. To comment on how insanely attractive I found him, or to ask him to take me home for a night of sinful pleasure.

  But before I had a chance to speak, he parted his lips and said the words I’d wanted so badly to hear.

  “You’re really beautiful, Sierra,” he murmured. Then, as if he’d been reading my fantasies, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of my blond hair behind my right ear. His gaze slipped down my body, a look of feral hunger passing over his features like a shadow. “Damn it, blondie,” he said, “Why’d you have to walk into my life tonight?”

  “Is tonight bad?” I asked stupidly, like I was inquiring about an appointment we could reschedule for next Wednesday at two o’clock.

  The left side of his mouth twitched up into the beginnings of a smile. “Every night’s bad,” he said. “At least for you and me.”

  I should have recoiled at yet another rejection. I should have thrown my hands up in exasperation and walked away then and there.

  But instead, my stupid, hyperactive heart grew excited at the mere thought that he’d uttered the words you and me. I’d wanted so badly to think there could be such a thing, even just for one night, and now he’d confirmed it.

  Sort of.

  “I don’t know about bad,” I replied. Like a woman possessed, I reached out and grabbed his shirt playfully. It was an insanely forward move, considering that the man had just told me we’d never be an item. “We haven’t even tried,” I said. “Don’t you think we should at least…don’t you think maybe we could…?”

  This was it. The do or die moment. Even if I hadn’t finished the question, I’d made it clear what I wanted. Trick had a choice to make now; he could push me away and tell me to go to hell, or he could take me up on my slightly cryptic offer.

  I looked up into his eyes, my breath paralyzed in my chest as I waited to see which it would be.

  But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he slipped his hand under my hair, his fingers skimming down my neck and up again before cupping my cheek. The eroticism of his touch made my core tense with anticipation. Was this happening? Was it really possible that this man, this infuriatingly closed-off god, was about to let me in? More importantly, was I about to let him in?

  Come closer, I wanted to tell him. Just a little bit closer. Show me.

  He licked his lips, his wild eyes all but glowing a startling turquoise in spite of the fact that a cloud had passed over the moon, rendering the world around us as dark as black velvet. “I want to know,” he finally said, “what the hell is it about you that’s making me want you so badly? Fuck, I want to kiss you. I need to know what you taste like.”

  A quiet madness overtook me. “So kiss me, then. See for yourself.”

  He narrowed his eyes and eased closer, closer, until his lips were on mine, his tongue hunting for my own.

  Instantly, the world began to spin out of control, my head swirling with a pleasure that was almost too much to contain. Trick’s powerful hands reached around me, pulling my body to his until I could feel his thick length pressing into my belly through his black jeans. A reminder that I wasn’t alone in feeling desperate, that he too was starved for intimacy, aching for my body.

  He needed me as badly as I needed him.

  When he’d pulled back enough to look into my eyes again, I drew my chin up towards the moon, which was re-emerging from behind its cloud cover. Trick read the cue, kissing his way down my neck, his giant shoulders slipping downward until he was on his knees before me. His hands gripped my waist now, his lips teasing my cleavage, tongue streaking over my salty skin. He peppered kisses over my breasts through my dress, hardening my nipples to stiff peaks with little more than a hot breath.

  One thing was certain. The man knew how to work a woman’s body like no one I’d ever encountered.

  “Fuck, Trick,” I murmured, shutting my eyes to embrace the sensual explosion that was searing my insides.

  “Mmm…that sounds like a very good idea,” he muttere
d in response as his hands slipped down to the bottom of my dress then tucked themselves underneath the hem, sliding their way up my bare legs.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said. “Just say the word.”

  “I don’t want you to stop,” I replied in a breathless whisper, pulling my feet apart to show him exactly what I wanted. “I never want this to stop.”

  “Good.”

  His hands eased slowly around my thighs until they were slipping up between them, seeking out the sweet spot that he craved. The tips of his fingers lingered for a moment on the outside of my drenched panties, stroking their way along my folds through the thin fabric.

  When I let out a quiet, approving moan, he peeled the lace aside and looked up at me again. I pulled my chin down, staring into his eyes, my lips parting as he pushed two fingers inside me, his thumb finding my clit and pressing into me in delicate, perfect circles.

  “I wanted to do this the second I laid eyes on you,” he told me. “This, and so much more.”

  “Me too,” I breathed, my chest tight. “So much more.”

  He took me slowly with his fingers, my slick channel welcoming him, pulsing gently with each slow thrust of his hand. He pushed my dress up to my waist and lashed the tip of his tongue over my clit once, twice, and I felt myself tighten, my body trembling with anticipation, readying itself for the mind-bending orgasm that was to come.

  But instead of finishing what he’d started, Trick pulled back, freeing himself from under the thin cotton of my dress. He looked up at me again, licking his lips as if to show me what he’d just been up to in secret. “Sierra,” he said, “maybe we should go to my…”

  I waited, my legs still parted, knowing that I’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked me to.

  “To your…?” I asked, my voice tight.

  But instead of finishing his question he dropped his hands, yanking them away. I wasn’t sure if I’d only imagined his eyes flashing as bright as the sun for a second before settling into the stark, iridescent blue shade that I’d grown to adore.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Oh God. Was he rejecting me again? Did he hate my perfume? My deodorant? Did he despise poly-cotton blends? Did I smell like crawfish? What the hell was the matter? “Trick…?” I shot out, starting to get annoyed. He might be a living god, but I had some modicum of pride, damn it.