Curves For The Lone Alpha (A Big Girl Meets Bad Wolf Romance)

by Molly Prince

  Travis was dead where he stood before I landed on the ground next to him.

  Perhaps he had been expecting something more. Some kind of ritual or challenge. An epic battle for the hearts and minds of this pathetic excuse for a pack. But in the end he got what he deserved… an execution.

  I took no joy in his death. I took no joy in the fact that for a packmaster to die in human form shamed both him and his pack. For a moment I stood on all fours, my back to the rest of them, panting and sweating.

  I allowed myself to enjoy the taste of his blood. Sweet, thick and fresh. The animal in me wanted more. One taste was never enough. We always wanted more. I fought against the animal. I embraced the man. I stood on two legs and turned to face the camp.

  It was worse than I had ever thought possible. In the past this had been a noble pack. One of the biggest and most prosperous on the continent. I hadn’t realized quite how fast they’d fallen or how far.

  Snot nose kids with jutting ribs and distended stomachs played in piles of garbage. Women with filthy, tangled hair in threadbare dresses wailed as they hid behind their men, if they could even be called that. There wasn’t an alpha amongst them. They knew it too. It was as if Joseph’s death had pulled back the curtain to reveal their true nature. This wasn’t a pack. I didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a pack.

  “What the fuck do we do now traitor?”

  Someone had the balls to speak up, even though their voice shook with fear. He stepped forward, just a skinny teenager in a faded football jersey and filthy jeans. He smelled familiar. Joseph’s son, grandson perhaps.

  “That’s not my problem.” I said. I tried to remain above it all. It wasn’t my problem. We all chose our own paths. We all had to deal with our own problems and my path didn’t need any more. But I couldn’t help cast a sideways glance at the half-naked, malnourished kids playing in the garbage. Had they been given a choice of paths?

  Enough.

  It wasn’t my problem.

  I growled and pulled myself to my full height, “I just came for my fucking bike.”

  - X -

  Chapter 8: Carrie

  When I awoke I was alone. James had gone, but his warmth lingered, suggesting a recent departure. It wasn’t just his warmth that stayed with me. I could still feel his presence, or at least the memory of his presence, as if an echo of the man had chosen to stay with me.

  Fortunately my head felt a little clearer. The effects of both the champagne and the blow I had received had mostly passed, although I could still feel a mighty big lump on my brow. Gone too was the emotional intensity I felt around James. Whatever it was about him that drew me like a horny little moth to a really sexy flame. Don’t get me wrong, every time I thought of him I still got a little squeeze of pleasure deep inside my tummy. It just wasn’t the same as the need I felt when we were in the same room.

  Armed with this newfound clarity, I wrapped my naked body in a blanket and left the bedroom in search of snacks. I always think better when I have something to nibble. James had gone and as far as I knew he wasn’t coming back. Things would probably be a lot simpler if he didn’t return. But for now I just couldn’t accept that as a possibility. I was operating on the assumption that any minute now he would come back for me.

  Armed with some cheese and crackers, I flopped down on the couch and allowed the mass of thoughts that were swirling around in my head to slow a little so I could attempt to digest them.

  First and foremost, I’d seen a wolf change into a man. I’d seen it happen right in front of me. I’d seen other things too. I’d seen a few wolves, unnaturally large wolves that acted with human-like intelligence. I’d seen a man who looked like he was on the brink-of-death return to full health in a matter of hours. Then there was those crazy wolf dreams. Those I guess I could write off, but I couldn’t just dismiss everything else I’d seen and felt. The old guy, Joseph, was just the cherry on top of this big crazy werewolf shaped cake.

  There. Werewolf. I’d said it. Werewolf wasn’t the right word though. Werewolves were, or so I had been led to believe by fairy tales, men who transformed into monsters at the whim of the moon. These wolves appeared to be in full control of their own actions and able to change at will. If not werewolves then what?

  By habit I went for my phone, to do some research on the matter, but of course there was no signal out here. Instead it was just me and my thoughts. I really thought that the rational, logical me would put up more of a fight. That I’d go back and forth a bit or even opt for full-blown denial. But no, I accepted it all. Not just because I’d seen it with my own eyes. But because I’d felt it. I felt it whenever I was near James. Whatever he was, wasn’t quite human, but he was still very real.

  I wrapped up the whole werewolf issue and filed it away in my head for future research. I wasn’t done yet, but I was surprised at how easy it was to get that one out the way.

  Next on the list of things that were bothering me was my own behavior. Less than twenty four hours ago I’d been engaged. And while I had been the one to get dumped, it didn’t seem right to be jumping into bed, or in this case the shower, with a hunky stranger so soon after I’d been happily promised to another.

  That was it though, had I been happy? It was difficult to acknowledge, but in all honesty Mitch and I had been drifting for a while. There was an extent to which this had been what had prompted me to plan this trip in the first place. Something adventurous. Something romantic. Something to prove we were actually meant for each other.

  Now, though, in the cold light of day, I was beginning to realize I had been in denial. There was something about our relationship that had been bothering me for a while, but I hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself because it hurt so much.

  Mitch was ashamed of me.

  He loved me. For all his flaws I knew he loved me. And despite the fact that he was not what anyone would call sexually adventurous, he loved my body too. But once we were out in public and especially when we were with his small circle of friends and colleagues he was ashamed of being seen with me.

  He’d always put too much stock in what others thought of him and the fact that he was dating, and eventually engaged to, a big, curvy girl somehow made him feel like less of a man in the eyes of others. Of course he never said anything along those lines, but it had been there the whole time. Missed dates, invitations turned down because he thought we should stay in instead, even his body language when we walked side-by-side.

  Now I was admitting it to myself it didn’t really hurt the way I thought it would. Instead I actually found myself feeling sorry for my former fiance and whoever he ended up with. I didn’t hate Mitch for being ashamed of me. I pitied him for not having the strength of character to follow through on his desires.

  It was unfair to compare the two, but I couldn’t see James giving a damn about what other’s thought of his choice of partner... or mate.

  James. With issue number two resolved to my satisfaction, that left the big bad wolf himself. From what I had heard of James’ confrontation with Joseph he was here on a mission to kill someone. Given his words to me earlier, that may have been exactly what he was doing right now.

  The man he had come to kill may have been a bad person. Maybe he was mixed up in the fire which was obviously a big part of the animosity between James and Joseph, but James had given me no indication that he was acting in any kind of official capacity. Even if he was, there was no authority that I knew of that would send him to kill someone.

  If James killed this Travis, no matter what Travis had done, he would be a murderer. The thing that really scared me was I had somehow got the impression that Travis was not the first. That this is what James did. He was a killer.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I was surprised to find I didn’t feel outraged. My father had fought and killed for his country. It wasn’t something he relished, it wasn’t even something he was proud of, even if others were proud of him for serving. It was just some
thing he did because the situation demanded it. Could the same be said for James? Was I in a position to pass judgement when I wasn’t fully aware of his situation?

  To think that way felt an awful lot like I was trying to rationalize something I really should have more of an issue with. But the truth was… I didn’t. There was something between James and me and I wanted to explore it. I wanted to explore him. All of him, even his deep dark secrets.

  I was still worried and fretting about this when I heard the deep roar of his motorbike heading towards the cabin, seconds later I felt his presence and before I had fully come to terms with the fact that he was alive, that he was alive and had returned to me, I heard his footsteps on the deck.

  - X -

  Chapter 9: Carrie

  James nudged the splintered door open with his foot and stood for a moment on the threshold of the cabin. He was wearing a worn, stained t-shirt, a denim jacket that was way too big and a pair of jeans that were way too tight. I don’t know where or how he’d acquired his new wardrobe and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  Beyond his attire, there was something different about him. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. His face was a mask or restrained emotion, but his body language spoke volumes. The bond was still there, that inexplicable closeness we had both experienced, but I couldn’t see beyond that. I inhaled, trying to read his scent. But outside of a half-remembered dream my human senses just weren’t up to the job. It made me feel inadequate.

  Looking at his posture I would have sworn a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And yet it didn’t look like this had offered him any relief. If anything he looked more concerned, more serious, than he had done earlier.

  “Is it done?”

  It may as well have been a rhetorical question. If the answer was “no” he wouldn’t be standing here in front of me. It was done. He had killed a man.

  I didn’t know what this act had done to him, nor what it would take for him to be whole again. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to help him come to terms with his actions and heal. Whatever it took.

  I stood to face him and let the blanket that covered me slide to the floor. I was naked before him, offering myself unconditionally. I felt, for the first time in as long as I could remember, no shame as a man’s eyes darted back and forth over my bare flesh. I felt, again for the first time in as long as I could remember, no fear of rejection. I may not have shared his heightened senses, but I knew one thing for certain. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

  In two strides he was on me. His hands cupped my ass and pulled me closer, forcing me onto my toes so my lips could meet his. I gasped, both at how cold his hands were from the ride and the shocking ferocity with which he kissed me. He was beyond hungry. He was starving. He kissed me as if I were the only thing that could sustain him. Perhaps I was.

  I groaned into his mouth as I surrendered completely. My naked body soft and pliant against the coarse fabric of his found clothes. He sensed it. He sensed my surrender in a way I never could. He smelled it on me and he took advantage of it.

  When he came up for air he shifted position and slid a leg between mine, pushing the rough denim firm against my bare crotch as he released my ass with one hand and brought it to my breast. His broad hand cupped and lifted as he lowered his head, bringing his lips to my sensitive nipple. My groan became a whimper as the twin sensations drove me to something beyond desire. A level of pure lust that I had never experienced before.

  “Fuck me.”

  I wanted to assert myself and make it a command, but it didn’t come out like that. It sounded like a plea. A needy and desperate plea. I reached out to feel for his manhood, hard and hot, jutting lewdly against the denim at his crotch.

  “Please… fuck me.”

  This time I didn’t bother to even try and keep the need out of my voice. If I had to beg, then so be it. It’s not like I could have hidden it from him. My body betrayed my desire and he could smell it on me.

  “No.”

  It was actually a relief to see his grin return. An infuriatingly smug, smirk that only men with the charm and presence to back up their arrogance could pull off.

  “Not yet, there’s something we need to take care of first.”

  He lifted me effortlessly and carried me to the couch. Once he had positioned me to his satisfaction he sunk to his knees, nudging my legs aside with his shoulders as he kneeled between them. Or at least he tried to. His shoulders were impossibly broad and my body just didn’t bend that way.

  He tried again, this time ducking beneath my legs and lifting them on his shoulders, forcing them up and back until his face was inches from my wet and needy sex.

  I felt… exposed. In the shower, I had been in control and while we had been intimate, it was nothing like this. He was so close to me, nothing was hidden. Not to mention it was the middle of the day and, remote cabin or not, the door was wide open. I was not usually a big fan the sort of intimacy that placed my body under this kind of scrutiny.

  But when I looked down at James I decided that just this once, maybe I could make an exception. He descended on me with a grin that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a cheeky schoolboy, a comparison I immediately regretted as, given his intent, it seemed wildly inappropriate.

  I sighed and groaned as I gave into the urge to grind myself against his face. I have no idea if he was particularly skilled or I was just particularly turned on, but it didn’t take long. As I came I tightened my legs around him and gripped his hair between my fingers, pulling him to me as I rode out a surprisingly gentle and restrained orgasm.

  When his glistening face emerged from between my thighs the grin was still there. He had been enjoying himself.

  “You’ve done that before haven’t you?”

  “Oh, once or twice. Bedroom?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Our greedy fingers worked at his clothes, stripping him as I pushed him backwards, towards the bedroom. Whenever I fumbled clumsily, he recovered with supernatural grace and between the two of us we managed to make it to the bed without incident.

  I held my palm against his chest and entwined my fingers in the gorgeous, dark hair as I pushed him backwards onto the bed. He winced as he toppled, my hand tugging at his hair.

  His manhood was magnificent, jutting straight up from his thighs like a… well like a large erect penis I guess. Half an hour ago I might have hesitated, but now I was ready. I wanted this. I wanted to feel him stretch and fill me. I wanted…

  I gasped as I climbed on top of him and lowered myself. I had been a little concerned about his size, but it was the heat that I wasn’t prepared for. I had to pause for a moment, to gather myself. It was unexpected, but not unpleasant. In fact as I got used to it I found it to be quite nice indeed.

  I loved this position. He tried to thrust against me but I placed both hands on his chest and made it clear that for now all he had to do was lie back and enjoy the ride.

  I rolled my hips, keeping him deep inside me as I worked them in slow, lazy circles.

  “Oh… Oh yeah.”

  I smiled benevolently down at him. Proud of the fact that he was unable to tear his gaze away from the hypnotic gyrations of my swaying breasts long enough to look me in the eye. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better I added a gentle squeeze to the mix. Each time I tightened myself around his shaft, I was met with a satisfyingly throaty groan of pleasure.

  I had to admit I was feeling a little smug. This was my party trick and I’d yet to bed a man who could hold out against it for long.

  That said, his size was adding a whole new dimension to the experience for me as well. As I shifted he pushed against me in places that I didn’t even know existed. Even as I watched for signs that he was getting close, I realized I was not far off myself.

  He sensed this. A slight shift in the balance of power and… Oh God… his hips began to move, rising to meet mine, then fall
ing away as I gyrated against him. Damn. I fell forward, my breasts flattening against his chest as I surrendered to him once more.

  I felt his fingers like claws down my back.

  I felt his teeth on my neck like fangs.

  I felt his cock expand inside me like a… wait, what the hell? What the hell?

  “What the hell?”

  I slid off him and pulled away a little. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop. Far from it, my body yearned to return. I was just a little shocked and confused by whatever the hell had just happened.

  “Shit… damn. I’m sorry. I guess I forgot that you’re…”

  Human? He was going to say human. He backed away as if concerned he had offended me.

  “Sometimes the animal comes out. It can be hard to control. Some people like it. Others… not so much.”

  “You mean, you actually change into a… you know… while you’re… ”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. A little queasy to be honest. This wasn’t really my thing and I wasn’t sure it would ever be. Even knowing that he was human. It was still something I knew I’d struggle to get my head around.

  “No. No, nothing like that. The animal isn’t just a shape I take. It’s part of me. Even when I stand on two legs it’s part of me. When the animal takes over, it’s hard not to lose control. Everything becomes more… more primal. Things uh… can get a little rough. And… uh yeah, there are some other changes too, things tend to get a little bigger.”

  He blushed. He actually blushed. The big, bad alpha wolf was actually embarrassed. It was all kinds of cute. It was as if he were concerned he had lost me or scared me off. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his words were having quite the opposite effect. It was actually kind of endearing and I couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to tease him a little.