Winning the Alpha

by Carina Wilder

  “I’m so sorry, both of you” I said, looking at the ground for fear of allowing my eyes betray my desire. “I heard something. But if I’d known it was you two I would never have come down. I’ll go back to bed.”

  I turned on my heels and walked quickly inside and toward the staircase. A moment later a hand was on my arm and I was turned around with an insistent but gentle hand.

  “Nikki.”

  Tristan was standing directly in front of me, looking down into my face. I thought for a second that he might kiss me. His hand let my arm go but moved up to my cheek, and he stroked it a few times before letting his arm fall to his side. He made no effort to cover himself; instead he stood displayed in all his glory only a few inches from me, his breath heating my skin with its delicate caress.

  “Yes, you’d better go to bed,” he said.

  “I will…I’d like to know what you were fighting about, but I’ll leave that for another day.” I turned away, but not before noticing that his cock had grown, thickening and lengthening into the most delicious and impressive member that I’d ever beheld, and pointing directly at me. To say that I would have liked to get on my knees in front of him would be the greatest understatement in history. It took all my willpower to move away from him, and I only did so because I knew I’d be kicked off the show if I didn’t, which meant that I would probably never see him or his magnificent body again. At least if I controlled myself now, there was a chance that things could go back to normal.

  As I walked up the stairs, a huge smile spread across my features and the wetness between my legs increased. Oh. My. God.

  Eight:

  Baring my Soul

  The following morning was my first private interview on camera. A few girls were called into the mysterious soundproof room before me and while I waited, I had the requisite makeup plastered to my face and was given clothing to wear for the day. My onscreen persona was apparently supposed to be a stylish big girl; I supposed that Julia was right and they were in fact going for the plus-sized model look. When I saw myself in the mirror I felt better than I had the day before; I seemed to be getting accustomed to the fully made up face that looked back at me. My eyes were smoky and my lips red, and my hair looked naturally spectacular, as if I’d rolled out of bed and it had fallen into a sexy, wavy veil of perfection. They’d even managed to accentuate my cheekbones and I actually felt genuinely beautiful.

  When I’d eaten breakfast I cleaned the remnants of the bacon and eggs out of my teeth, which meant having Jay, the growling, very gay makeup artist reapply my lipstick. I was getting to like him a lot, which was a good thing since I fully expected to spend a lot more time with him. He was another shifter, a member of the pack, and he was a feisty thing. He was too small to be an alpha but I didn’t doubt that he put up a good fight when called upon to do so.

  “Honey, you’d better not fuck this up,” he said. “You look perfect. Don’t go sobbing to the camera about the other women or some other girly shit.”

  “But Jay, if I screw up my makeup it only means you and I get to spend more time together. Surely you’d be delighted.”

  “Hardly. Now get your curvy ass out of my chair. I have some nasty pieces of work to paint this morning.”

  “Well, don’t be too nice to them. I wouldn’t want to think you play favourites.”

  “You know you’re my favourite. I can’t stand skinny silicone-filled women who think they’re entitled to the world’s riches and handsome men. You’re one of the only real ones around, and I wish they were all soft and strong like you.”

  Jay, of course, had a hard body, but I could tell that he meant it. A gay shifter who liked voluptuous, smartass women. I was beginning to think I’d died and gone to heaven.

  I went into what was imaginatively called the “Meeting Room,” though it was really only a chair and a cameraman as I quickly discovered. After I’d walked in I heard the door close behind me. I turned to see Tristan standing before me, fully clothed this time. I supposed that I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him; after all someone would have to interview me and he was the man in charge.

  Before the camera was turned on he told me to take a seat.

  “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said. He was infinitely more charming than his alpha, this one. And the alpha wasn’t the one who made my nipples stand at attention.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now,” he added, looking straight into my face. I was having trouble making eye contact after the previous night’s glimpse at his delectable man parts, but I realized quickly that he was incapable of feeling shame, at least about his body. And no wonder; if I were a man who looked like that I’d never put clothes on.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions. I want you to answer honestly, but think about how the audience would want you to feel as well. Don’t act indifferent or unexcited; the whole point is to make them think you’re desperate to stay in the house.”

  Well, that would be easy. I was indeed desperate; the thought of leaving this man behind was too much. I decided that my strategy would be to talk about Craig but to think of Tristan instead, so that any question about developing feelings could be answered honestly. I was no actress but it would be easy to lie if I could manipulate the system in my own way.

  The camera began to roll and he asked his first question: “So, what was your first impression of the man you met?”

  What was my first impression of Tristan? This really would be easy.

  “He was gorgeous,” I said, smiling broadly. “I mean, I was a little shocked at how attractive I found him. He’s tall and muscular. But that’s not really the important thing. He seemed kind and intelligent. And I got the impression that we really clicked, like there’s something…some sort of chemistry…between us.” I thought of the lightning bolt that had shot through me with our first touch in the mall.

  I looked at Tristan for a second, seeking his approval. He remained stone-faced and nodded solemnly to me. I wasn’t sure if he understood that I was talking about him.

  “I just hope he decides to keep me here,” I continued. “I want more than anything to stay in this house and see where things go. I mean, it’s too early to say anything about love, but there’s no question that I could see myself having real feelings for him.”

  “And what,” asked Tristan, “do you think about the twist, finding out that he’s a shifter?”

  “Honestly, this will sound strange but when I first met him, I smelled something. It was good, don’t get me wrong; like a musky smell, like…the manliest thing I’d ever smelled. I suppose in a way that I wasn’t surprised to find out he had a wild animal in him.” I was still thinking of standing in front of the exquisitely gorgeous producer in the mall, his scent hitting me, making me immediately desire his body.

  “My mother…” I said the words without thinking.

  Tristan’s eyebrows rose in an expression of curiosity. This was new, his face said. I realized that I shouldn’t have begun the sentence as I was now about to reveal a private detail about my family on television.

  “…my mother sometimes tells me that men are wolves. When I was a little girl, my father disappeared. There was a rumour that he was a shifter, you see. Which means that I would be a sort of half-breed. But people told me there was no such thing, so I always figured that it was a legend. Somewhere, though, the story’s always lived inside me.”

  Tristan put his hand out and told the cameraman to shut it down, and when he was sure that the camera was off he walked up to me and said, “You didn’t tell me this.”

  “When would I have told you? I’ve never told anyone, not really. Like I said I didn’t think it was true.”

  “I thought…no, I knew…there was something in you. Your smell, the way you pulled me to you. It was like a magnet was drawing me in. I couldn’t have stayed away if I’d wanted to. I still can’t.”

  I felt heat surge through me, as though I’d suddenly grown feverish. Quiet excitement cou
rsed through my veins and nerves, and I felt my body tingling as though a small series of shocks were shooting through it again, beginning in my head and traveling at the speed of light to the place between my legs that seemed so intent on getting closer to Tristan. I felt myself exhale deeply, trying to control the desire to take him then and there, reminding myself that it was particularly inappropriate to do so in front of a curious cameraman.

  I stared at Tristan, not knowing what to say. I saw in his face a hint of the feral expression that I’d seen the previous night in both men. But instead of a look of rage or challenge it was one of pure, animalistic desire.

  Could it really be? I wasn’t a cocky girl, the sort who would ever in a million years assume that a man would want me, particularly when he was surrounded by a herd of gorgeous women. And this was on top of the fact that the man in question was physical perfection; there wasn’t a woman on earth who wouldn’t want him.

  “Sir,” said the cameraman, interrupting our locked stare and moment of silent contemplation. “We need to move on to the next girl.”

  It was interesting that the crew member didn’t call him by his name; there seemed to be a respect, a reverence almost. Sir. I liked it.

  Tristan responded with a low growl, which made the cameraman immediately back off. My producer was still staring at me, his hands on the arms of my chair, and I watched as his chest heaved under his breath. My eyes lowered and I saw a bulge in the front of his pants which threatened to tear them apart as easily as his wolf form might do; he wanted me in that moment as much as I wanted him and I knew it.

  As if in response to his swollen cock, my nipples were firm now under the thin fabric of today’s dress and the lace bra I’d been given to wear. I wondered if it was deliberate, if the people in charge of wardrobe strove to reveal our arousal by supplying us with nipple-revealing tops. If so, they should be pleased with their success. And if there had been a monitor between my legs it would easily have gauged the heat, the wetness and the tightness of a pussy that longed to welcome into its depths the throbbing member which was only a foot away. The cock which I’d seen the night before and so wanted to take in my mouth, to pleasure the man until he howled with ecstasy.

  Finally, Tristan broke the silence. The poor cameraman, who was cowering by now in the corner, clearly feared this powerful wolf. If Craig was the alpha, there was no question now that Tristan was the second in command.

  “Send the next one in,” Tristan said, the same growling quality to his voice. The young man left, looking relieved. “I’d rather ask you more questions,” the gorgeous man in front of me muttered. “This isn’t right, that I can’t get to know you better. I need to. I must.”

  “Tristan…” I said.

  “I know. You’re here for Craig, and I’m a traitor for even thinking these things, let alone saying them. But I want you, Nikki. With every inch of my body I want you. I have since the moment I saw you.”

  I wanted to reach down and rip my dress open, to shove his beautiful face into my chest, to ask him, beg him, to take my firm, sensitive nipples in his mouth. I wanted to tear his pants off and to eat him, to suck his perfect cock until I satisfied him. To push his face between my legs, doing what I knew he wanted to do to me. In that moment I would have thrown it all away; the show, the chance to stay around, for five minutes naked with this man. But I couldn’t jeopardize his future, his life. And after what I’d seen the previous night I could only imagine that Craig would try to tear his throat out if he learned that Tristan was after one of his women.

  “I have to go,” I said. They were the most difficult four words of my life so far, even though I knew I’d see him soon.

  Tristan stood and removed his hands from the arms of the chair. I looked down and saw that there were distinct indentations in the fabric from his strong grip, as though all the energy of his longing had been transferred into his grasping fingers.

  He turned away from me and said, “Go, then.” His voice was as tense as his body.

  I left the room silently, full of regret but determined to keep myself in the game.

  Nine:

  An Impromptu Swim

  That afternoon John Stone, the host, came into the house. When he arrived I got the impression that most of the women were disappointed to see him. It wasn’t surprising; the entire structure of the show seemed to have been set up to create false cravings for Craig, depriving us of his presence to make us anticipate it all the more, and each visit from John was a manipulation. I almost felt sorry for him for being the guy no one ever wanted to see.

  For my part, it wasn’t Craig that I craved. I found my eyes shooting constantly to doorways, but never to the front door. I knew at all times that Tristan was somewhere in the same building as me and all I wanted was to lay my eyes on him. It was torture, but the reward of capturing glimpses of his tall form as he loomed over others, giving commands, made up for it. There was a chemical addiction forming that could only partially be satisfied with my brief moments in his presence; each sighting was like a shot of my drug of choice but each shot made me need more.

  After summoning the “ladies” in his annoying way and gathering us around him, John made an announcement.

  “Though you’re probably eager to go on a date with Craig,” he said, “we have another, smaller twist for you, one that has only been added to the mix this very afternoon.”

  Gasps from the crowd, angry grumbles and the odd giggle. I imagined John announcing next that they’d just discovered that Craig was a vampire warlock with a foot fetish.

  “Craig’s place within the hierarchy of his pack was earned through several criteria. He is the largest, the strongest, the wiliest of the wolf pack. He would like for you ladies to understand what it is to earn your place, to be put through a series of competitions in order to gain his favour.”

  Ha! This would be good. I pictured beach fucking volleyball or some sort of “who has the firmest implants?” contest. Craig didn’t strike me as the sort who’d ask a couple of women to sit and play chess to prove their desirability.

  “The first competition will be a series of trivia questions devised by our head producer, Tristan. Whoever answer the greatest number correctly wins immunity, which means that you can’t be eliminated this week. In addition, you’ll be able to choose who has the first date.”

  “Why would we choose someone else for the date?” asked Brittany. For once she had a point.

  “You might not want to. But remember---if you win, you’re immune and don’t rely so heavily on the date. If you choose someone to go out with Craig, chances are that he’ll keep her around through the next dismissal ceremony. Think of it as a way to make an alliance which could get you further in the game.”

  I liked this twist; it meant that I could avoid a date with Craig while staying around, near Tristan. I had no doubt that he’d manipulated the rules just to give me the best chance of staying in the game.

  Well, that was it: I had to win.

  We were taken outside and each placed in a sort of makeshift booth separated from the others by thin plywood walls. Each of us had a buzzer that we were to hit when we thought we knew the right answer to the trivia questions.

  The first question that John asked was easy: “What was the name of Elizabeth’s love interest in Pride and Prejudice?”

  I smacked the hell out of my buzzer, then realized that it was unlikely that I had a lot of competition.

  “Yes, Nikki,” said John.

  “Mr. Darcy.”

  “Correct. Joanna and Melanie, you were the last to buzz in so you’ve been eliminated.”

  The two women walked to the sidelines and sat on a bench, looking frustrated and grumpy.

  “Second question: What is the name of Charlotte Bronte’s most famous work?”

  Really? Another literature question?

  “Jane Eyre,” I said after buzzing in. Two more were eliminated.

  The next questions were all to do with Dickens, Shakespear
e, Vonnegut and other famous authors. I could hear the candidates sighing, bitching, remarking how unfair this was. Meanwhile I smiled internally, only feeling the tiniest bit of guilt that this contest had been custom-designed for me.

  “Now,” said John as I happily accepted my victory, having eliminated the women one by one, “You may choose the lady who will have the first date with Craig.”

  I thought that I would seem insane not to take it myself, but there was one woman I wanted to keep with me and this was her best shot, I knew.

  “Julia,” I said. “She should have it.”

  My friend, who’d made it quite far in the trivia contest, gave me a hug. I knew that she was mostly in this competition for the excitement of it but who knew? Maybe the feisty redhead and Craig would hit it off in ways neither of them had imagined.

  When the time came for Julia to be picked up for her date, the women gathered in the living room. I sat in the corner on a comfortable armchair, enjoying my vantage point for watching her greet Craig.

  Having had a round in wardrobe and makeup with Jay, Julia came out looking gorgeous. Whatever their planned date was had to be a fairly glamorous one as she was dressed in a backless, slinky blue gown.

  “Julia,” I said, “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you, darling,” she said, blowing me a kiss from across the room.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Brittany, flashing a forced smile.

  “You mean like burst an implant when I fall on my Botoxed face? Unlikely,” replied Julia in a lilting voice. It was fun to watch Brittany change to a shade of crimson that rivaled the reddest rose. I guess Botox doesn’t prevent rage from showing itself all over a woman’s face after all.

  The doorbell rang and Julia opened it to an enthralled Craig, who hugged her, told her how lovely she looked and briefly came in to say hello to us. From my corner I saw his eyes dart around the room, and I thought I saw him sniff the air before his gaze settled on me. It looked as though he was searching me out, but he didn’t seem particularly happy about it. Perhaps he was more embarrassed than Tristan about last night’s incident.