Wanted by the Alphas (An Extremely Sensual Paranormal Shifter Romance)

by Dawn Steele

  Her tears are streaming down her cheeks fast and furiously as she drives to the country club. She knows he will be there this evening. Client meeting, he said. So much of her wants him to tell her that everything is all right – that he has no intention of marrying Flora Janssen. That he had been coerced into getting engaged to a witch he hardly knew at the age of sixteen.

  Shannon drives up to the gates of the only country club in Dolphin’s Bay. They are wrought iron and ornate. The members of this club are moneyed, and to get in, you’d have to have three recommendations from existing members and a fat bank account. So it is not only what you have but who you know.

  The sentry guard at the gates stops her.

  “Are you a member, Miss?”

  Lucien has never taken her to the club before for obvious reasons. His father is a committee member there and this is where his family conducts most of their business. He never wanted her to comingle with his family members.

  “No, but my boyfriend is in there and I have something important to tell him.” She wants to do this face to face, not over the cellphone.

  “May I know his name, Miss?”

  “Lucien Walker.”

  “I can call the reception and he can meet you in the lobby. But he will have to confirm he knows you first.”

  “Oh, he knows who I am all right,” she says grimly.

  But still, the gates remain closed as the guard makes his call. After about a few minutes, he returns to the Toyota, which still has its driver window wound down.

  “Mr. Walker will meet with you in the lobby, Miss.”

  He smiles and presses a button in the sentry box console. The forbidding gates open.

  The country clubhouse is a sprawling place with several wings and a mixture of sloping and pointed green roofs. The gardens are resplendent, as always. Shannon would not be surprised if someone were to tell her that the Walkers had bought this place, refurbished it and sold it to a conglomerate to fashion a country club.

  She parks the Toyota in an empty parking lot next to a hyacinth plant. She gets out. Her legs are wobbly. Before she can go to the entrance, Lucien is already at the door.

  “Shannon? What’s wrong? Why didn’t you call me on my cellphone?”

  How is she going to do this? She has no plan, really, other than to confront him.

  “You didn’t tell me you were engaged to be married.”

  He stops short. His face turns pale. That is when she knows, with her heart sinking, that everything Margarete told her was the truth.

  “Shannon – ”

  “You didn’t deny it.”

  An elderly couple carting golf clubs comes out of the double doors. They regard Lucien and Shannon with curiosity.

  Lucien takes Shannon’s arm and walks her to a more secluded spot behind a cluster of bushes.

  “I was going to tell you,” he says.

  “Really? When?”

  “I don’t know,” he confesses. “It never seemed like a good time.”

  “Now would be a good time.”

  “I had no choice in the matter,” he says in a low voice. “It’s a family tradition.”

  “To match witches of different lineages together? I thought you said you weren’t a practicing witch!”

  “Ssssh.” He tries to take her arm again but she wrenches it off. “Please, Shannon. Let’s go to your car. We can talk there more privately.”

  She fumes as she follows him back to her Toyota. They both get into their respective sides – she in the driver’s seat and he in the front passenger one.

  “I am not a practicing witch,” he says, “but my family believes in maintaining tradition. Witches intermarry between clans, and Flora Janssen is from a very old witch family that hails from Salem. Every one of us is betrothed in our teens. Our genealogies are mapped for us by matchmakers to determine which lineages would make the best matches.”

  Yes, she suspected that much.

  “And you’re going to go through with it?” Her voice is breaking, as is everything else inside her.

  God, I never knew he would affect me this much.

  “It was not a love match, Shannon.”

  “You’re not answering the question. Are you going to go through with it?” Tears are in her eyes again. “What did I mean to you, Lucien? Were you leading me on? Not so much in words, but in actions.” A sob chokes her throat. “Was I just a convenient fuck doll to you . . . to while away the time until your arranged marriage took place?”

  “You’re not a fuck doll.” He appears genuinely distressed. “You mean so much more to me than I ever thought possible. At first, I was attracted to your looks, yes. I wanted to have you . . . possess you. But I found myself thinking about you all the time when you weren’t with me. I found myself wanting to see you again and again. That is the truth, Shannon.”

  “But you’re still engaged to be married. It doesn’t change anything.” She turns away from him. It is too painful to gaze at him. “Your sister told me everything.”

  “My sister!” He is suddenly enraged. “What the hell did she tell you?”

  “She told me the truth, nothing more. A truth I expected from you. She told me . . . that if you didn’t go through with this marriage, you’d be cut off.”

  He takes all this in. He doesn’t deny it.

  “Is this true?” she demands.

  After a long while, he nods.

  “Then it’s clear what you’re going to do,” she says. “You’re going to go through with your planned wedding and your planned marriage and your planned consummation to produce a family of super-witches.”

  “I’d much rather be with you.” This comes out uncertainly.

  “Really, Lucien? It’s a lot of money to give up, and I think you have already decided that I am not worth it. Better to do what your father wants of you than to be destitute on account of me.”

  “That’s not true,” he says weakly.

  “It is true. I can see it in your face. You don’t think I’m worth giving up everything for. And you know what? I don’t blame you. I’m just glad I got to know the truth before it got too deep between us. Unless you never planned it to get deeper than what we have now.”

  She can see it all so clearly.

  And yet, she can’t blame him. He had never promised her anything.

  “No, Shannon,” he says, aghast. “It isn’t like that at all.” He pauses, not knowing what to say next. His hesitation tells her everything she needs to know.

  “Goodbye, Lucien,” she says simply. “Please get out of my car.”

  He blinks at her, uncomprehending.

  “It’s OK. I understand,” she says. “It isn’t as if you promised me anything more than what you gave me. It was I who led myself into false hopes and expectations, something I shouldn’t have done. I bear you no ill will, Lucien, but it is best we end it right here. I deserve better than to be the mistress of a man who must be married to his fate. So you have to get out of my car now, because I need to go home and have a good cry over you.”

  He sits there, unmoving. She waits. Part of her is still hoping he would say “I’m going to renounce my inheritance for you” or “I won’t go through with this sham marriage. I’ll tell my father that I want to be with you and to hell with what the coven says”.

  But he doesn’t.

  After a long while, he opens the car door. His limbs move with a heaviness that she has never seen before. His shoulders droop and he suddenly looks ten years older.

  Flashes of their happy times together run in succession through her mind. Meeting him for the first time in the rain. Him gazing at her throughout the arm-wrestling match with Jared. Making love to him in his bedroom at the Chatterly for the first time.

  He shuts the passenger door of the Toyota quietly.

  “Goodbye, Lucien,” she says to herself.

  FALLOUT

  Shannon cries, of course.

  She cries and cries on her bed. She is miserable and listless, and
life seems to have lost all meaning. She can’t eat, and so she sleeps interminably. Her dreams are intermingled with Lucien’s face, Lucien’s hands, Lucien’s wonderful body merging with hers.

  Jared tries to come in – to comfort her. He sits by her bed and says words that she doesn’t understand and can’t fully comprehend. Words like:

  “It’s all right.”

  “It’ll get better.”

  “Want me to stay here with you?”

  He does not say: “I told you so”.

  Because he didn’t, really. He wasn’t exactly Lucien’s rival, and he never pursued their competitiveness because Lucien simply didn’t want to be competitive against Jared.

  After a long period of her non-responsiveness, Jared says:

  “I’ve got to go in to work. Call me if you need anything, OK? Will you be all right or should I take the day off and stay?”

  She thinks she shakes her head, though she can’t be sure.

  “It’s OK,” something with her voice says, “go ahead. I’ll be all right.”

  He worriedly leans down to kiss her on the cheek. Her cheek, now dried of salt tears. And then he is gone.

  She thinks he is not bad, really. They have been through a lot together.

  She doesn’t know how long she stays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Shadows flit across the windows and the light from outside changes.

  Then she hears a knocking at the door in the lounge. The cottage isn’t that big and so sounds travel easily.

  “Shannon? Shannon?” A male voice.

  Not Lucien.

  She can’t get up. Her limbs are leaden. She has turned off her cellphone.

  The knocking persists, and she hopes that whoever it is will go away. Then after a while, it ceases. A pause. Footsteps padding closer to her window outside.

  “Shannon?”

  The window is closed, but a man is there, silhouetted by the light. She half-turns, her body like a marionette jerked by someone else’s strings.

  Her boss, Kirk Fitzpatrick, stands there, a worried crease on his handsome forehead. He taps at the glass of the window.

  “Shannon. Are you all right?”

  No, I’m not, she wants to say. Go away. Please. I’m sorry I didn’t call in sick. It must be a workday.

  “Shannon? Your brother called me to tell me you weren’t coming to work. I just came here to make sure you’re OK. Are you OK?”

  Shifter.

  Go away.

  No, don’t go away.

  I don’t know what to do. I can’t get up. All the strength has left my body. I can’t breathe properly. I can’t sleep. I can’t close my eyes. I don’t know why this feeling won’t pass.

  “Shannon, please let me in. Just open the window. I’ll climb in.”

  Something in his beautiful green eyes makes her pause. Somehow, she finds the energy to render her semi-paralyzed limbs mobile and go to the window. She is still zombie-like. Glassy eyes. Wild-haired. Her hand unclasps the latch, and he does the rest by shoving the window up and creating a gap.

  She stands back as his lithe body climbs in. His sudden presence in the room makes it seem very small.

  “Shannon?” He stands two feet away, not wanting to scare her. She can tell he is trying to tread carefully here. “I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t be alone. Are you OK?”

  When she doesn’t say anything, he comes closer. A foot. Another. Then he gently touches her shoulder.

  “Go back to bed. I’ll sit with you here.”

  He shepherds her back to her mussed-up bed and helps her lie down again. He gently draws the covers over her. And then he pulls up the wicker chair by her dresser and sits beside her.

  He says, “I heard what happened. Jared told me about the breakup.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  No, you’re not. You were the one who warned me not to mess with Lucien in the first place. You were right. Go ahead. Say it.

  I TOLD YOU SO.

  But like Jared, he doesn’t.

  Instead, he says: “It hurts like a bitch right now. But it will get better. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But you’ll feel better on the third day. It’s different with different people. Some people come out of it quicker, others take a longer while. But it will get better.”

  What do you know? she thinks. You have never been hurt like this. But what does she know about him anyway? He might have been hurt before. He is older than she is. More experienced.

  She says listlessly, “I know what you are.”

  He pauses. Conflicting emotions flit on his handsome face.

  Then he says, “I know that you know. You’ve known it since you saw us in the woods with your brother not far from here.”

  Good, she thinks. Then we are all clear.

  “I know you know what Lucien is as well. The only thing you probably don’t know is how powerful a witch he is. He is not evil. He doesn’t use his powers to do bad things. At least . . . I don’t think so. Profitable things, maybe. A nudge here, a mental push there for a client to make him sign the deal.

  “I don’t think he had anything to do with my brother’s death, but I cannot rule out the rest of his family as a coven. Together, they are extremely powerful, and my brother as an alpha was not known for his finesse in dealing with witches. Our families always had a grudge against one another since the last century. Territorial clashes between werewolves and witches and the like.”

  He smiles ruefully.

  “Lucien and I are just inheritors of the age-old feud. But here we are, enemies nonetheless. We are the Montagues and the Capulets. Now that my brother is dead, I have to lead the clans. Just as Lucien is being groomed to take over his father’s place.”

  She has expected him to say hostile things about Lucien, and so she is surprised when he is being so earnest and pragmatic about it. A warmth spreads through her tummy – a sensation she has not experienced in so many hours that it comes as a shock to her that she can actually feel anything at all.

  The tears start again. And here, she thought she was all dehydrated and dried up. She had thought there would be nothing left to be wrung out of her anymore.

  But there is. There apparently is plenty more.

  “Shannon.” There is distress in his voice as her shoulders shake and her sobs start up again.

  Wordlessly, he goes to her. She lets him put his arms around her and hold her. His body is hard, but she is too cried out to feel anything but an indifferent comfort. He lies down next to her and holds her this way for a long, long time until the shadows are long on the walls and the sun outside turns into a rich golden red.

  THE RIDGE

  It starts insidiously, of course.

  Kirk is right. Things did get better.

  They got better the next morning when Jared made her breakfast and she took the day off on Kirk’s auspices. They got even better the next day when she went back to work.

  She throws herself mercilessly into her work. She takes on more patients than necessary and stays back long after everyone else has left. Everyone excepting Kirk, of course. He is a silent shadow watching her progress – or rather, her healing.

  He doesn’t speak of that night he held her, but she notices that he treats her differently. As if she is his friend rather than his employee.

  She is grateful for that.

  Meanwhile, the trees turn into gold and red and yellow, and they start to shed their leaves as Halloween draws closer. She is trying not to think of that date, but it is difficult as the supermarkets and stores are decorated and filled with merchandise for the occasion. The residents of Dolphin’s Bay are very much into Halloween, maybe because of their celebrated witch tradition, and the houses are all competing for the best decorated garden theme – an annual feature of the Dolphin’s Bay local newspaper.

  The residents are a creative bunch.

  They erect ghosts and ghouls and skeletons and pumpkins in their gardens, togeth
er with piped eerie music. They dangle severed heads from their rafters and smear fake blood all over their walls (which can be washed out later, of course).

  So it is difficult for Shannon to put Halloween and its significance out of her mind altogether.

  Kirk senses this.

  “Don’t think about him,” he urges. “Focus on your work.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” she shoots back. And then, contrite, she says in a more conciliatory tone, “Sorry I snapped at you but I’ve been pretty much on edge lately.”

  He nods understandingly.

  He says, “You want to go look at the Blue Ridge Pass?”

  She has heard of it but she has never gone to it because it is not accessible by road.

  She wrinkles her nose. “You mean we have to hike there?”

  He grins.

  *

  She doesn’t know why she agrees to meet Kirk at the area where she last saw him and the other werewolves in the forest. But it is not far from her cottage, and he is already waiting there when she arrives. Her breath catches in her throat. He is so beautiful with his shoulder-length dark hair curling over his broad shoulders.

  “You’re alone,” she observes.

  “Yes.”

  It is strange how comfortable she is around him now. She doesn’t think of him as a boss anymore. More like a co-worker. Or a friend she can lean on – the type of friend who knows all her secrets and still likes her for them. Maybe it’s because he has secrets of his own.

  “So we’re going to hike from here?” she says. She shows him her backpack. “I brought water for the two of us. And I wore my good shoes.”

  “We’re not going to hike,” he says. “Are you the blushing kind?”

  “I work in your clinic, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” He grins. “How quickly I forget. Turn around.”