Alpha Trio 3: A Special Taste

by Ana Vela

  Alpha Trio

  A Special Taste

  Vol. 3

  By Ana Vela

  © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This story is intended for mature adults only. It contains sexual scenarios, dirty language, hot action, and much more! Please store your digital files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  ~Volume Three: A Special Taste~

  The attack was his own fault. Grigore Lupei knew better than to walk the streets of this area alone these days. Especially three sheets to the wind.

  He spun, tried to bring his hand up to block a blow aimed for his collarbone, and ended up whiffing air.

  Okay, maybe more like five sheets to the wind.

  The vamp’s fisted hand was right on target, smashing into his shoulder. Grig felt the bone splinter, tear through the skin, and growled as hot pain crackled through him. The blow drove him to his knees, blood pattering to the dirty pavement like red rain. His wolf prowled beneath his skin, but he held it back with the last vestiges of his power.

  Too close to civilians. Mundanes. He’d only made it a few blocks from 5tM, the hardcore club where he and his brothers – and now his brother’s Mates – spent their nights off, before the five vamps jumped him. He couldn’t chance shifting. At this point, any human stumbling on the scene could write it off as a bunch of guys fighting, chalking any oddities up to the alcohol they’d most likely consumed if they were hanging out in this area at this time of night.

  But if he let his wolf out... well, a wolf in the middle of a city was odd enough, but a wolf fighting a pack of pale, skinny guys? Too big a risk. Not that the fucking bloodsuckers seemed to care.

  Roaring, Grig sprang to his feet, gritting his teeth at the throbbing pain in his busted collarbone. It didn’t stop him using both arms. He tore at their pale white flesh with sharp nails, shredding their skin and shedding some of their blood too. Gouts of it, in fact. Vampires bled like stuck pigs, but only for the few seconds it took them to heal.

  The blood that splashed the pavement was bright red. These weren’t Specials, at least. The vamps with the extra upgrades bled a thick, black, oily substance that had just as much in common with blood as it did with crude.

  Normally, Grig wouldn’t even be phased by a couple of garden-variety bloodsuckers.

  This wasn’t normally. For one thing, there were 5 of them and only 1 of him. He’d gone off on his own, having reached his absolute limit of kissy-face, lovey-dovey cooing and moaning for one fucking day.

  He was happy for both Em and Drei. Finding a Mate was what every Shifter dreamed of, meeting that one person that completed you and made your life have meaning. And they’d lucked out; their surprisingly human Mates were both gorgeous, funny, intelligent, amazing women.

  Which left Grig often feeling like the fifth wheel lately. Which resulted in the other reason this particular fight wasn’t normal.

  Grig was drunk. It took a lot to get a Shifter even buzzed, and he’d consumed about six times that amount in an attempt to not think about how ridiculously happy his brothers were with their Mates. The amount of liquor he’d consumed would float an armada. And cost a fortune. Or, it would have if he’d paid for all of it. There were upsides to having a sister-in-law who was a bartender at your favorite club.

  Downsides too, clearly.

  One of the vamps, a short guy with lank brown hair and pudgy features, leapt onto Grig’s back, his arms, stronger than their wiry appearance alluded to, wrapping tight around Grig’s throat, cutting off his air. Fuck, he hated bloodsuckers.

  His wolf bristled, pushing for him to release it. But even through the fog of alcohol and the darkness creeping in from lack of air, he remembered that was a bad idea.

  If only Cassandra’s range was wider, he thought fleetingly. Normally, he wished the opposite. It unnerved him that Drei’s willowy red-haired Mate could hear his thoughts. He worked hard to maintain the impression that everything was a joke to him, that his life was all about having fun, drinking, and fucking.

  Cassandra’s ability to hear what he actually thought about was disconcerting most of the time. Now, he just wished she could hear better.

  Unwilling to give up, Grig called enough of his wolf forward to punch through the fat, balding vamp’s chest and tear out the thumping heart, squeezing it in his bloody fist. He snarled, lips pulling back from his teeth as he watched the vampire crumple to his knees and begin to melt into a sticky puddle of bloodsucker soup.

  One down, four to go.

  But Grig knew it was a loosing battle. He was badly injured. Not just the broken collarbone, but a few shattered ribs, a gash in his throat that steadily pumped blood, and a tear in his side that ached abominably. Also, he was pretty sure his right knee was broken.

  “Don’t kill him,” he heard one of them hiss as the black dots in his vision began to coalesce into darkness. If they weren’t trying to kill him, they were doing a pretty bad job of it. “We need him alive.”

  Why? What would vamps want with him?

  A few months ago, when Cassandra had first stumbled on him and his brothers fighting with some vamps, she’d overheard one of them thinking about the discovery they’d made – some human women were different, Other, Cassandra called them, and their DNA was compatible with Shifters.

  What this meant to the vamps, they didn’t know. But ever since the bloodsuckers had accidentally discovered this fact, they’d been trying to kidnap Cat, Em’s human Mate. She was ‘Other’. As was Cassandra, though so far they didn’t think the vamps knew about her.

  So why would they be trying to kidnap him? Grig was 100% Shifter.

  Pain throbbed in all his limbs and his head felt like a deflating balloon. He was ashamed of himself. Taken down by vamps because he was drunk. His mother would probably have his name expunged from the Lupei family records in disgrace.

  Just before the blackness overtook him completely, the vampire on his back loosened his hold and gave a sudden shriek. Over the sweetly cloying powdery scent of the vamps, Grig smelled something light and floral. Like roses. He caught the fleeting glimpse of black and white silk stained with a red smear. It was beautiful.

  *****

  Someone was smacking his cheek.

  “Motherfuck. You’re heavy as shit. Come on, wolfie, open those baby blues. Help me out here, would you?”

  Her voice was husky. Distractingly so. Not with emotion. Grig could tell that without even opening his eyes. She sounded slightly aggravated, but not scared or upset. Just naturally raspy. He wondered idly what she’d sound like when she was aroused. The thought sent a sudden bolt of lust straight to his groin.

  It was enough to make him realize the rest of his body ached like he’d been run over. He blinked his eyes open, and then lay still for a moment, confused. Because everything was still pitch dark. He could feel a rough concrete floor under his ass, and what felt like smooth, cool wood against his back. But that was it. Where was he? And how had he gotten there?

  “What’s going on?” His mouth was full of the iron taste of blood.

  He felt her hands on his face in the blackness. Her ski
n was soft and smooth, cool against his heated cheeks. She slid her hands down to his jaw and pressed, checking his pulse. The scent of roses was coming from her, Grig realized. It was delicate and feminine. The snort was anything but.

  “What’s going on is I dragged your drunk, bleeding ass into this basement in case any other vamps are in the vicinity. You’re freakin’ big, you know that?”

  Who was this woman? She smelled human. Sort of. An ‘Other’? He hadn’t noticed anything all that different about either Cat or Cassandra’s scents.

  “You dragged me in here?” He didn’t know where ‘here’ was, exactly, but this chick must be a body builder. He wasn’t quite as tall and broad as Drei or Em, but he was no lightweight. 6’2” tall and nearly 200 pounds of muscle. And how had she fought off four vamps on her own? How did she even know about vamps?

  He sniffed again. Not Shifter. But not quite human, either. He could hear her heartbeat, slightly rapid from her exertion. She was sitting to his right, her breath a cool puff on his cheek, her legs pressed against his. He pictured her carrying him in here, one of his arms slung over her shoulders, and collapsing to the floor with him. It seemed a plausible scenario. But now matter how he tried, he couldn’t picture her as a big, muscle-bound weight lifter. That glimpse of black and white silk before he’d passed out... that had been her. He was sure of it. The image it conjured in his head was a petite woman, but that couldn’t be right.

  He reached out slowly in the darkness. His fingers skimmed silky skin. He felt her stiffen. Was he touching her arm? He brushed fabric. The softness that greeted his palm almost made him groan. God, she felt good. And then he felt her nipple tighten against his fingers and stilled in shock.

  “Yes, I dragged you in here. Not to make out though, so how ‘bout taking your hand off my tit?” Her tone was wry, but Grig jerked as if she’d screamed at him, yanking his hand back.

  “Uh. Sorry.” He felt heat sting his cheeks and was glad of the darkness. She chuckled, the sound a velvet caress over his skin.

  “No need to blush, wolfie. Honest mistake. It is a bit dark in here.” He could hear the slightly twisted sideways smile in the words.

  Could she see him? Impossible. There was no light coming in anywhere. Even his Shifter eyes saw only pitch black. No human could see through this darkness. Grig shook his head, which still ached. But he didn’t feel the least bit drunk anymore.

  He shifted, grimacing slightly at the twinge in his side. Then he froze. A twinge. Before he’d passed out the tear in his side had burned as if the vamps had opened him up and lit a fire inside. Now, it ached like a week old bruise. And the gash in his throat that had been leaking his lifeblood?

  Grig raised his hand and pressed against the side of his neck. His skin was tacky with blood, but unbroken. His heart hammered in his chest. Shifter healing ability was accelerated, but it should have taken him much longer to recover from such grievous wounds. Days, at least. But he was healed.

  He could still feel the raised ridge where the skin of his throat had knitted back together, and he still felt battered and a little dizzy, but he was better than he had any right to be.

  “How?” he croaked. Beside him, the woman sighed.

  “Well, you took care of the fat one. I got the drop on the one your back and Ginsued his heart from behind. You’d did a number on the short one too, with your claws, so he was easy. That left only two of ‘em, and one ran.” He felt her shoulder brush his as she shrugged. “Decapitated the last one and then dragged your ass here quick in case Drac ran to get some more friends.”

  That hadn’t been what he’d meant, but the information was welcome anyway. Still, she’d killed three vampires by herself? Grig’s hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her closer, their chests colliding, as if he could stare into her face, despite the complete blackness of their hideout.

  “Who are you?”

  There was a long moment of silence, in which he felt the tickle of her breath against his lips. Her arm was slender but toned beneath his fingers, the muscles supple as they flexed beneath her smooth skin. It was clearly a strong arm, but strong enough to carry his dead weight? With each breath she took, long and slow, he could feel the brush of her breasts against his chest.

  The shirt she was wearing, a t-shirt he thought, was thin and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were hard. Grig bit back a growl at the surge of lust that swirled in his gut. He didn’t even know what she looked like and he wanted to bear her back onto the floor, crawl between her thighs, and thrust wildly into her.

  Blood surged to his cock. He could swear her breath faltered, as if she were aware of the turn of his thoughts. But the next second it steadied and she shrugged out of his grip.

  “Kall.”

  Grig frowned into the dark. “Call who?”

  “My name. Is Kall. With a K.” She sighed. Clearly, he wasn’t the first person to make that mistake. He heard her shift and then the distinct sound of a blade being drawn. The sing of metal against cloth was unmistakable. He stiffened. “Relax,” Kall said. “I’m just wiping it off.”

  He squinted in her direction, straining to see anything. Was she cleaning the blade by feel? He ran a hand through his hair. The long locks were tangled and matted with blood. Had nearly been the death of him too. The wound on his neck had been a result of one of the vamps catching a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, and almost slicing his carotid. He probably should have listened to Drei and gotten it cut short. The thought reminded him that his brothers were nearby, just a few short blocks away at 5tM. He needed to get back to them.

  “How long was I out?”

  Apparently satisfied that her blade was as clean as she could get it in their present circumstances, he heard her slide it into its sheath once more. “Only a few minutes.”

  A few minutes. And yet he was almost fully healed. What the hell was going on?

  “Kall –”

  “Shh!” She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. Grig could have sworn he heard the silky glide of her hair shifting as she tilted her head, listening. And then he heard it too. ‘Drac’, as she’d cleverly referred to the vampire, apparently had gone to get friends. Just how the hell had she heard them before him?

  The walls of their hiding space were very thick. Grig could tell by the muffled sound of the vamps voices. They seemed to be coming from in front and above them.

  “You’re useless,” hissed a dark voice, somehow sibilant and clotted at once. Grig shuddered. If nightmares could speak, that’s what they’d sound like, he was sure of it. Cal stiffened, her fingers pressing harder against his lips. Her body vibrated like a tuning fork.

  “You recognize him?” Grig kept his voice low, but was unable to keep the suspicion out of his tone. He jerked in surprise as Kall pressed her body suddenly against his. His hands rose, instinctively finding her slender hips. Her lips skimmed his jaw before finding his ear.

  Her mouth trembled against his earlobe. “Hush. He’ll hear.” It was barely a breath. Her forehead, cool and smooth, rested against his temple. She was quivering all over, one hand fisted in his bloody shirt. Grig hesitated for a moment, stunned, and then carefully stroked her back and arms with long, soothing caresses.

  “... handle one Shifter?” the nightmare voice growled.

  “There... there was someone else too.” The second voice sounded like a young man, slightly petulant and a little afraid.

  “Someone else?” The hiss was a whip crack. Kall jerked. Grig tightened his grip on her, pulling her tight against his chest. She tucked her head into his neck, her breath warm and moist against his skin.

  Grig was dumbfounded. She didn’t seem afraid. He didn’t smell the acrid tang of fear on her. She thrummed, but it was as if she was struggling not to leap up and attack, not as if she were terrified. The other voice, the sulky teenage one, came again, along with a noise Grig could have sworn was a boot scuff.

  “There was... a guy or something. Came out of the
dark and killed Franz and Razor like that.” A finger snap.

  A guy, right. Clearly, the vamp didn’t want to admit to his boss that they’d been bested by a girl. A girl who was now rubbing her silky lips back and forth against his throat. Grig swallowed, loosing the thread of the conversation outside as the hungry brush of her mouth was joined by the wet, warm flick of her tongue.

  Her hands, small and slender, slipped beneath the hem of his bloody shirt. One slid up to the thick mat of his chest hair and tangled there, tugging. The slender fingers of her other hand trailed along the ridged muscles of his abdomen. Grig gritted his teeth, stomach tightening at the tantalizing caress.

  Kall’s teeth scraped the skin just below his ear, sending an electric bolt of sensation straight to his cock. Heat detonated in his gut. Grig yanked her into his lap, swallowing a growl of satisfaction at her soft gasp. Even without sight, he found the edge of her t-shirt easily and plunged his hand under it.