Alpha vs Alpha

by Channing Sheffield

  Upset? Gripped with an unusual paranoia, I stood statue-still and followed the liger’s movements with eyes only. Tige hip-butt my hip—in warning?—nearly throwing the joint out of socket as he lumbered away.

  What the devil does he look like in human skin? Do I want to know?

  “C’mon on, bebê,” Saba the Latina cooed. “Let’s go play in the snow. Maybe later we’ll get a snack.”

  Yeah, probably me as snack du jour. Whatever. Me and felines weren’t exactly good buddies, I thought while she shifted back to fur, darted down the hallway, and rounded the corner via the far wall, her bebê dead on her heels. I had no desire to be in Saba’s position if Tige was upset. No way, no how.

  I slammed both doors shut and turned back to face the man who had somehow invaded my dreams and body without my permission.

  Liberties I would irrefutably forbid anyone.

  5

  All right, Sandman. Sit down. Either you talk or we fight to the death. Or both. Make your choice.” A fresh surge of ire launched through my system. “Alpha.” No doubt, he was the leader dominating this mysterious, flea-ridden variety show. My skin itched relentlessly again, my internal temperature rising as I stared Blade down. Fleas were probably the nuisance factor of my irritating symptoms.

  Anyway, until now, I had no clue shifters other than rogue wolves lived on the property. Or even females living on the premises. Where did they come from? Why settle here? Or were they Blade’s hostages? Indentured servants? Were there witches living here too, casting spells to keep the shifters tamed?

  We’d get to that topic. Eventually. Right now, I had a beef to settle with the werewolf who neither flinched nor squirmed under my menacing gaze.

  “I did not drug—”

  Bullshit. “Then you had your damn chef spike my food.”

  “Really, Hamm. You ate the same foods as everyone, off the same serving plates. Wouldn’t it seem fitting that we were all drugged?” he asked, frowning. “And dreamed we were fucked in the ass?”

  Disappointed anger simmered around his words. For a brief moment, bright orange flashed in his eyes. Big fucking deal. My ears sprouted points in response then receded.

  “People don’t share the same dreams, goddammit!”

  “You’re right. They don’t,” Blade admitted, holding his hands palm up, balancing the kitten in one large enough to flatten the tiny creature into the world’s thinnest pancake if his anger surged. “Dream sequences are usually spurred by images one envisions before slipping into REM. Especially erotic thoughts.”

  Like hell…okay, maybe there was some truth about what he’d said. I’d once dated, whom I called, a dreamologist. She referred to herself as a wannabe oneirologist. She’d mentioned something similar to Blade’s description. Wannabe was the operative word.

  “Yeah, but I’ve never—”

  “Canines are notorious visionaries,” he added. He set the kitten down on the desk and came around it to my side then slipped behind my back. “Twitching, running, barking, even humping in their sleep.”

  “Fine! Maybe it was all a dream, but it seemed—”

  “Vivid? Sensuous?” he whispered against my ear, as if he knew.

  A teasing shiver raced through my body. The same kind of hell happened when Mom used to catch me in a fib. Lie and one day it would come back to bite me in the ass.

  How could I forget the sensuality Blade and I shared in my dreams? Reciprocating trust, our bodies aware of our individuality, our minds forgetting we were leaders. We were alone, demanding yet, at times, subservient, giving and receiving passionately, lovers in the same cave where we first met.

  It was a dream, wasn’t it? Couldn’t be wishful thinking on my part. Bittersweet memories?

  I shook my head, freeing the disconcerting thoughts, when sweltering heat prickled my scalp down to my toes. I swore fleas nipped every inch of skin, inside and out. Even my wolf felt it. He howled like an idiot.

  I scratched at stubble along my neck and under my chin then worked my nails into the nest of chest hairs. The mansion must be infested with the peewee vampires. Or maybe it was this frigging werewolf who carried the parasites! Every time we came near each other… “Jesus. I need a backscratcher. You wouldn’t happen to have a long-handled brush with steel prongs, do you? Shit’s about to drive me—”

  Claws raked up and down my spine’s torment and all over the itchiness. “Yes,” I hissed. I bent forward, hands braced against my knees, back arching and bowing despite the sweet torture.

  “More?” Blade asked. He didn’t wait for an answer.

  Those claws of his slithered around to my chest, circled, and marked a heated, devastating trail down to my stomach. I couldn’t contain the groan of undiluted pleasure if I’d tried.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Excellent.”

  Instant lust had my cock awakening, expanding, leaking. I unsnapped and unzipped my jeans, towed his hand down as close to my thickening bulge as possible, used his claws to relieve the persistent itch there, yet, too far from the place where I needed his touch so badly.

  Ecstasy.

  Behind me, Blade’s hips gyrated against my backside. I wanted more. Much more. Needed to feel his soothing warmth, including those supple lips, all over my irritated flesh.

  The bastard stung my ass with a good, hard slap and walked away.

  “Hope that helped,” Blade said, striding back behind the desk. He grinned the same Cheshire shit.

  Motherfucking tease. My cock faltered immediately. Dammit, I had half a notion to hop over the mahogany and…the kitten took a flying leap off the desk, nailed Blade’s dick with needlepoint claws.

  I sucked in an unsteady breath. The kitten’s great aim had nothing to do with it. Blade’s loose-fitting jeans were tented with an impressive erection. Sweat broke out on my forehead then spread all over my body. My cock jerked under tight denim.

  “Shit, Killer!” he complained. “Dammit, let go.”

  Killer? The name should’ve been given to the ginormous feline instead. Anyhow, contact via claws had to hurt like hell. Served the werewolf right.

  Moments later, an animal’s stimulating scent of arousal filled the room, bowling over me in staggering waves. Mine was never this sharp or commanding. I looked up at Blade’s bowed head. While he concentrated on dislodging Killer, blood rushed to my brain and my cock. I stumbled backward from the lightheadedness. And I had a driving urge to fuck. To fuck Blade. Now…before another wolf…I couldn’t wait to yank his jeans down. Couldn’t wait to ram my hard cock between Blade’s perfect globes and into his waiting channel. I wanted to—I would—flood his ass with my seed, marking him as mine.

  His head came up fast. And just as suddenly, the powerful aroma dissipated. Gone. Vanished into thin air. Just. Like. That.

  Blade asked, “Something you need?”

  I blinked rapidly, reality coming back into focus. When did I walk around the desk? Or did I vault over the furniture? Was my mind so clouded by lust I’d lost touch with reality? “I caught…I wanted…did you—”

  “You mentioned you wanted to talk,” Blade interrupted. A mysterious, golden glow passed behind his eyes. It was gone quickly.

  What the fuck just happened? One second I thought to congratulate the kitten now happily attacking the artificial tree. The next, I was on the threshold of shoving Blade face down on his desk, taking what I believed belonged to me and no other wolf.

  Wait one damn minute, Hamm. You’re losing your mind. Get a grip on yourself. You’ve allowed lust to control your body and your damn brain. Think about it. Think about what happened in the last five minutes, hell, the last twelve hours! You’ll give up the advantage living through your lower brain. Alphas never lose the advantage.

  Not this Alpha anyway. I cleared my throat and went back to where I should’ve been safely standing and planted my hands on the desktop, loomed over the wood, glaring. “Wrong. What I said was,” I reiterated. “You talk.”

  �
�About? You’ve already interrupted a meeting-in-progress, Hamm, and we’ve already discussed your dream and your illusions.” Behind me, the door opened. He’d summoned his cronies.

  “No, no, no,” I said hurriedly, holding his gaze with my unwavering one. “You’re not manipulating me this time. Get out. All of you, and close the door.” I’d scented each and every one of three intruders.

  Drake’s testy growl echoed wall-to-wall. After the others filed out, he said, “You know, this room is mostly used for meetings. Then again…”

  Swinging around, claws and fangs exposed, I said, “Get the fuck out before I put your ass out.” Whether by Blade’s telepathic abilities or my caustic outburst, Drake sneered. One more antagonistic sound out of the skinny bastard and I’d rip out his throat. Smartly, he closed the doors. The wolf was trouble of the worst kind. Probably Blade’s first beta. Probably the lover holding territorial rights.

  And I’m the interloper. No territory, no rights.

  My inner wolf howled. I wish he’d shut the hell up.

  Aggravated as hell, pissed, zipping or buttoning my jeans with claws over my raging hard-on was like…whatever. Too late when the object (my open jeans) of Drake’s jab was in full view for every shifter to see.

  I inhaled and exhaled harshly, forced the agitation down and regained equilibrium before facing Blade again because the question was…after twelve hours of suffering miserably from itching, scratching, and overheating the same way females handled First Heat and… Did I want those rights or had my wolf chosen another wolf’s mate as its own? Either way, I was neck-deep in too much hell with my inner wolf calling for HeLP.

  The storm nearly over, occasional scattered snow flurries kept the sun hidden behind gray clouds. No harsh weather to impede traveling.

  I had one chance to see if my instincts, and my wolf’s, were smarter than the average bear. What I had sensed between Blade and me was more than lust. I think he knew, as well. I also knew trust and loyalty had been his ultimate security blanket forever or whatever length of time he’d lived. I wanted to know that too. I wanted to know a lot of things about the werewolf if I could encourage him to open up to me.

  I sat in the leather guest chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, trying to appear relaxed. If I showed any agitation, he’d know a problem existed and call me out or manipulate me somehow. I planned to guide the conversation.

  “I have one question, Blade. Your answer will have a major impact on the future and whether I should bother with any more inquiries.”

  He hesitated then guardedly sat behind his desk. “Shoot.”

  Jumping into the subject too fast would lack his level of sophistication. Sure, I can be unpretentious if the moment called for it, and this momentous experience had humbled me. I let the silence linger for impact and allowed Blade to believe my query contained shifter business or Council bullshit. “Do your instincts tell you to trust me?” It was a loaded question with a response I needed to hear.

  “Hamm,” he started and sighed audibly. Blade tapped the desktop with a gold pen then dropped it. Rising, he ignored me. He faced the Rocky Mountains’ unobstructed panoramic view and shoved his hands into the denim’s back pockets.

  C’mon. “A simple yes or no will do, Blade. Whichever it is, will make the decision on the amount of time I spend here,” I said to end his silence. “Or if I leave within the next five minutes.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  I gave thanks to the wolf goddess and got to my feet. I knew for sure now.

  “Stay where you are.”

  I was a leader, not a follower of orders. My steps were silent as I continued the slow approach. He spun around. “Why?” I asked. And I was right there in his face. Two Alphas. Two wolves. Two men unable—unwilling—to show their true feelings or speak from their hearts.

  He tried to return to his desk, but I grabbed his arm, held him in place. “Why do you trust me?” I asked. Only mates recognized and accepted instant trust.

  Shrugging me off, Blade stepped back and said, “This is not the time, Hamm.” And he moved farther away.

  “When is a good time?” I stalked him step for step.

  “There might never be one, so back the fuck off!” His eyes were tinted pale, werewolf orange glowing brighter every second. Did I care?

  “Not a chance,” I replied, staring as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. I liked his tongue—human and Were. “What are you afraid of? Or are you afraid of me?”

  “Never.” Thick, floor-to-ceiling glass stopped his retreat. “Don’t make me shift, damn you,” Blade said darkly.

  “You won’t.”

  Smelling his unease and growing hostility, I surrounded him, feet and legs outside his, hands against the glass beside his head. I pressed my body to his, thrusting my hips forward, making solid contact. Cock to hard cock.

  Sharp and tangy, the crescendo of heat and lusty arousal burst all around us. Blade’s arousal. My nostrils flared from his scent, mouth watering. Either Blade was too unraveled to contain the aroma or he didn’t realize how powerful and invigorating it was for me. With our cocks mashed together, throbbing and vibrating, he was likely too proud to hail his cronies, showing his weakness and disquiet. And unable to prevent the inevitable.

  “What makes you think you can stop me?” he asked angrily. Emotion stirred behind his bright eyes. He fought some kind of internal war I planned to alleviate. “I could kill you in—”

  There was nothing to stop me from bruising his lips.

  I crushed them with my own, tasting him, learning him, enjoying their smooth texture. He refused to open to me until I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, held him hostage, and squeezed while teasing and coaxing his lips to part. Blade finally relented, surrendered. I had conquered.

  I untied his hair, fisted my hand into the silkiness and gave a sharp tug, proving my domination, then gripped and manipulated his jaw to my satisfaction. The intensity of a simple kiss escalated from sedate and tame to passionate and tempestuous. His hands, with a small amount of claw, raked up and down my back, then went to my chest where he massaged and tormented tightly budded nipples.

  Moaning, I deepened the kiss, thrusting my tongue in and out in ruthless determination, mimicking the raw pleasure I’d devote to Blade’s lower body once we got naked. Our pants grew louder, harsher, and our tongues fought a benign battle for control. I swept mine over his gums, found his fangs already descending. Delicately, I licked one’s length from tip to root. His answering, sharp hiss told me he enjoyed the sensuality.

  Blade cupped my ass, drew me closer yet, kneading, grinding his erection against my mutual hardness.

  I licked the second point with slow deliberation. He vibrated, cock jerking, swelling with telltale heat. I had been told the erotic tease rattled all wolves down to their paws, but I had been neither recipient nor provocateur of the sensations until today.

  Two hearts hammered in unison—frantic rhythm. We were so damn close to slipping over the edge, finishing what I had started.

  Pulling back took great effort on my part. “Fuck.” I was a goner. I leaned in again, pressed my forehead to his, and stared into golden eyes swimming with emerald-green flecks, our hot breaths mingling between us. No way in hell could I walk away from Blade without mating with him or ever walk away. My wolf knew it too, and he was doing a damn, happy dance like a new pup his first time frolicking in snow.

  “Touch me, Hamm. I want to feel your hands on me.” The words were said from part need, mostly demand.

  Except for maintaining the hold on his jaw, guiding him and our kiss, I’d kept my free hand clenched against the glass behind Blade. If I touched any other part of his body with my hands…

  I struggled to catch my breath, to tame my libido at this pivotal moment.

  Mating and marking were essential elements of a lifetime joining or we’d both suffer painful repercussions now that we’d met face to face and accepted the calling. But complete consu
mmation would not take place here. I required privacy for our joining since I intended to shock his world off its axis. Blade was right about one item. This was not the time, not the perfect time anyway, or the place to prolong volatile passion.

  “No. Not here,” I whispered against his mouth.

  I nipped his bottom lip as a reminder of what the future held when someone knocked hard at the door. Like before, the air was suddenly fresh, the arousing tanginess strangely dissipated.

  I eyed Blade suspiciously, squinting. “We need to talk...after.”

  “Yes, we do,” he replied, staring at the door. “About everything...before.”

  The last statement sounded ominous, and a noisy alarm buzzed in my head. I deliberately raked my fangs across Blade’s jaw and chin for everyone to see my intentions, even when my scent was all over him and his all over me.

  I was bristling from the intrusion. I’d hoped to drag Blade to one of our bedrooms and permanently mark him as my mate. Instead, reluctantly, I released him and backed away, then started toward the door. If Drake caused the problem, rank gave me the damn right to neutralize the fucking obstacle. Immediately after, Blade and I were gonna melt some satin sheets.

  “Come in,” Blade called out before I made it across the room in long strides.

  Raleigh peeked around the hardwood. “Still want to continue the meeting?”

  “Yes, round up everyone,” Blade replied.

  The bottom dropped out of my gut. I thought we were on the same chapter, same damn scene. Evidently, we were not.

  “We’ve been waiting out here.”

  Perfect. They all knew what went on in this room, knew what was said. Shifters had phenomenal hearing.

  “What about him?” Raleigh asked, nodding toward me.

  “He’s—”

  “Staying,” I said.

  “Blade?”

  What the fuck? “I said I’m staying, meathead!”

  “Ecoutez, trou du cul. Blade is my—”

  “Enough!” he interrupted. “Hamm stays.”