Red Hot Alphas: 11 Novels of Sexy, Bad Boy, Alpha Males (Red Hot Boxed Sets Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  It didn’t register her scream but stayed right there in the light, unmoving.

  Chad raced into the kitchen at the sound, however. “What?” he said, breathless.

  She pointed.

  “Oh,” said Chad, his voice high-pitched. He backed out of the kitchen. “It’s a snake.” He sounded like a frightened little boy.

  She peered at the snake. “It’s a black snake. I don’t think it will hurt us.”

  “You screamed.”

  “I was startled.”

  “Well… well…” His voice was a squeak. “I don’t know how we’re going to get it out. Maybe we should call someone. An exterminator, or… or…”

  Calla knew she shouldn’t fault him for his fear. They were married at that point, and she was meant to help him. If he was vulnerable, he was allowed to show that to her. Didn’t women always wish men would share their fears?

  But she couldn’t help it. She hated him in that moment. She hated him for being weak and scared and pitiful. She didn’t want a man who was frightened of black snakes. She wanted a man who would rescue her.

  And then she scolded herself for that, because wasn’t that thought setting the women’s movement back to the 1950s?

  It was the thought of feminism that made up her mind. She took a deep breath. She was a woman, and she needed a man just as much as fish needed bicycles. She could take care of this snake on her own.

  She kept a pair of gardening gloves in the junk drawer, and she got them out, just in case the snake did decide to strike her. She knew that a black snake bite wouldn’t kill her. It would only be a tiny wound. However, she didn’t think it sounded pleasant either. Hence, the gloves.

  “What are you doing?” came Chad’s tremulous voice.

  “Getting rid of the snake.” She put on the gloves.

  “Oh, no, Calla, I don’t think you should do that. We need to call an expert.”

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  And he looked away. She could see that he was ashamed of himself for not being braver about the snake. That made her hate him even more.

  She stalked over to the snake, making sure to approach behind its head.

  When she picked it up, she got its head firmly between her gloved thumb and forefinger, pinching its mouth closed. She caught the rest of the body firmly in one hand. The snake wriggled a bit, but it wasn’t able to get free.

  Calla marched the snake outside, hurried through the lawn, and threw it down in the grass.

  The snake slithered away immediately, disappearing under the green growth.

  When she got back to the house, Chad was standing at the window where he’d been watching her. He was clutching his elbows. “What if it comes back?” he’d said, his eyes wide.

  She found that she couldn’t speak to him. She despised him then.

  Later, the hatred faded, but she always remembered it, and she was frightened of it. She was frightened it would come back, that she wouldn’t be able to feel anything for Chad but that hatred.

  Now, as she looked back on it, she realized she should have gotten out of the marriage right then and there. It was going nowhere, and she had known when she looked into his pinched and pathetic face that she didn’t really love or respect him.

  It wasn’t because he was afraid of snakes either. That was a symptom, not a cause. If she’d loved him, then she would have felt a surge of protection towards him when he was afraid. She would have wanted to soothe and take care of him. When she loved someone, she wanted to fix that person’s imperfections.

  No, the fact that his imperfection made her hate him should have shown her that she didn’t love him in the first place.

  And now she was looking at Ryder, who was far more imperfect than Chad had ever been. But yet, she still found herself captured by Ryder’s gaze. She couldn’t help but peer at him, take in his body and his expression. He was so attractive, but there was something else to her feelings for him. Because she did feel protective towards Ryder. His weaknesses made her tender, not resentful. How could it be that this man that she barely knew had roused deeper and sweeter emotions within her than the husband she’d been with for years?

  It didn’t make sense.

  The fact that it was senseless should have frightened her, but she wasn’t afraid. Not of Ryder. Not anymore.

  His dark eyes found hers, and they gazed into each other. She looked into the depths of his eyes, and she could see the animal there, but also the man. There was something expressive and kind about him, as well as something dangerous and savage. The mingling of all that made her feel lightheaded. Made her pulse quicken and her limbs tremble.

  She couldn’t deny that she was deeply affected by this man on a physical level.

  Maybe it was his primitiveness that called out to something wild inside her as well. Maybe there was a level of primal desire between the two of them. She recalled the way his kiss had felt. But that hadn’t been a savage kiss at all. It had been sweet and good, like sugared fruit.

  She parted her lips. She oughtn’t be thinking about this.

  Ryder’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips.

  She could feel him looking at her there, almost as if her lips began to burn. She licked them, but it didn’t take the sensation away.

  He came for her, and there was something dark and possessive in his expression.

  It undid her. She wanted to belong to him, to give herself utterly and completely. In that moment, she couldn’t think, she could only want, and she offered herself in surrender.

  His mouth claimed hers, and his lips were as sweet as they’d been before, bursting pleasure into her body. But there was something else behind the kiss. A touch of force, held in check.

  Calla knew that he wanted to release it.

  She wanted him to release it as well, and she pressed her body into his.

  He let out a little groan—it was primitive, and it forced her body to come undone. Ripples of surrender went through her.

  His hands smoothed over her waist. His fingers sunk into her hips, and he pulled her firmly into him.

  Oh, he was so solid. Calla moaned, losing herself. She ran her hands over his massive shoulders, feeling every ridge and valley of his hard muscles. He was glorious.

  His mouth left her lips and burned a hot trail over her jaw and neck, wrenching gasps from her at every kiss. His lips moved over her clavicle.

  She sighed.

  He dragged one hand up her body and closed it possessively over her breast.

  Calla cried out at the sensation.

  He sighed too. And then his lips were at her ear. “Soft,” he whispered.

  What? Had he just spoken?

  She sat straight up, pushing him off of her. “Ryder? What did you just say?”

  He was startled and confused. He leapt backwards like a frightened deer and stared at her from several feet away, balancing on all fours.

  Shit. She’d scared him. She held out both of her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s all right, Ryder,” she said in a quiet voice. “Come back here.”

  He wouldn’t move.

  “Can you say it again?” she asked. “Can you say that word?”

  His gaze darted back and forth, searching for danger.

  “I want to hear it,” she urged.

  It was quiet. No sound except for summer insects and the distant song of birds. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to calm down. If he could speak, then maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible, what she kept doing with him. He wouldn’t be a wild animal, but a man, and then she’d be free to pursue…

  What? A relationship? With Ryder the wild man?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. She was embarrassing herself. Her divorce had traumatized her and turned her into some sex freak, willing to allow a half-wit to paw her and kiss her. The hell of it was that she’d never felt anything quite as intense as his caresses, and he wasn’t even a real man.

  As if to illustrate her point, Ryder let out
a little whine and bent down in a crouching, feral posture.

  He barely looked human.

  She put her fingers to her lips. What was happening? Why did she feel as if she lost complete control of herself with this man?

  There was a noise behind her.

  Something stepping in the underbrush, breaking twigs, crackling leaves. It wasn’t especially loud, but there was no other noise now.

  Ryder leaned forward, teeth bared, a low growl radiating from his body.

  That frightened Calla. What did he sense? Was there something out there that was a threat?

  She turned immediately but stayed low to the ground. She peered out into the woods, trying to see what was out there.

  There was a flash. Something moving fast.

  But Calla could see it was a man. A man with a gun. Maybe a hunter—although he wasn’t wearing camouflage or hunter’s orange. He seemed to have a white t-shirt on instead. More than that, she couldn’t make out, because he was gone so quickly, racing past them into the woods.

  Ryder took off after the man, leaping out in that direction, still growling.

  “Ryder,” she said quietly.

  He ignored her. He thrashed forward, a snarl escaping his lips.

  She tried to follow. She didn’t want to be alone.

  But he reached back and placed a hand on her chest, holding her back.

  So, she didn’t move. But she was amazed again, because that was another attempt to communicate, more than he’d made before. There was more inside him that she’d originally thought. He wasn’t all beast, after all. Of course, that still didn’t excuse her indiscretions. She should never have let him touch her the way that he did. Should never have touched him back.

  Still, was this the time to think about that?

  Ryder thought the man was dangerous.

  Ryder stopped moving several feet ahead of her. He sniffed the air and then turned back to look at her.

  Her heart began to thud, this time out of fear. She didn’t like this. The man in the woods… he might be a hunter, yes, but he’d seen them, hadn’t he?

  If he’d seen them, why hadn’t he spoken? And if he was a hunter, why wasn’t he dressed like one? Actually, now that Calla thought about it, it wasn’t even hunting season. She felt as if a hole was growing in her stomach, and it was letting in dark, inky fear.

  This wasn’t good.

  The man might want to do them harm. She wasn’t sure why he’d do that, but she still wasn’t exactly clear on why Jasper had captured her either. Sure, he said he wanted her to help with Ryder, but that seemed strange to her. Bad things sometimes happened for no reason. Maybe this man was a wanted fugitive. Maybe he’d kill them both to make sure that no one knew where he was.

  She was starting to sweat. She didn’t like the fact that Ryder was far away, and so she hurried over to him, conscious of how noisy every move she made was. The man with the gun might still be close by, and he might hear her.

  Ryder was no longer growling, but he was still and quiet, listening and prepared.

  She wanted to huddle against him. She wanted him to protect her. Ridiculous. Again, did she have a feminist bone in her body?

  She looked around. She saw trees. Bushes. The sky overhead. Everything was green and brown. It looked peaceful, but, to Calla, it had all taken on a sinister edge. Danger was lurking behind the lush branches.

  She thought of a news story she’d seen a few years ago. Maybe it had been one of those true-crime documentaries. She wasn’t quite sure. At any rate, a girl had been out on a hiking trip with a few friends when she’d been separated from the group. She’d gotten lost and she’d wandered onto private property. The land was owned by a paranoid conspiracy nut who had deliberately removed himself from society, and he didn’t like it when anyone came on his land.

  On all his roads and driveways, he had huge handmade signs that said that trespassers would be shot, but the girl hadn’t come in through the road, and she hadn’t seen the signs. In fact, she didn’t have any idea where she was.

  The man had been convinced that the girl was there to hurt him. He thought she was a spy or something. Calla couldn’t remember. She knew that the man was so paranoid that he was basically crazy. Anyway, he’d been convinced she was stalking him, so he’d stalked her back.

  Thing was, it was unlikely the girl had even known he was following her until it was too late.

  The closer and closer she got to his house, the more nervous the man got. He worried about what she would do to him. In his mind, she was very powerful and well armed. She could do all kinds of damage to him.

  But there was no excuse for what he’d done to the girl.

  He’d shot her with an arrow, but he hadn’t killed her.

  She’d been terrified, though. Scared and bleeding, and she’d gone running through the woods, crying and yelling for help.

  The man had then realized his mistake, and he’d known that he’d done something bad. So, he’d retreated to his house to hide, because he was worried about the repercussions.

  But the girl had lost so much blood that she attracted the attention of a mountain lion out in the woods—one of the really big cougars. She’d been mauled to death, and when they found her, she was so mutilated that her own parents hadn’t recognized her.

  After watching that documentary, Calla had hardly been able to sleep, thinking of how horrible it must have been for the girl. She thought of the sheer terror of being lost in the woods, for one thing. Everything looking the same, not knowing where to go, not having food or water, being all alone.

  And then being shot. Being hunted. Being hurt. And finally killed by an animal. Calla could hardly even fathom the ratcheting levels of horror. Each moment had made things worse for the poor girl.

  Now, out in the woods, Calla felt just a tiny touch of that horror herself. Before, she would never have used the term “lost” to describe herself and Ryder, but she realized that she didn’t have a clue where she was. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t think that she could get back to camp. They were out here alone and there was a mad man after them.

  She eyed Ryder, who still seemed vigilant.

  Maybe she was being ridiculous. Ryder thought he was an animal. He’d be cautious of anything he didn’t understand. Perhaps he didn’t understand the man in the woods.

  Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she should get up and call after him, ask him if he had any food or if he knew the way out of the woods.

  But her heart seized with iron terror at the thought of doing anything of the sort.

  She’d seen the man’s gun, cold and metal. Just a flash between the trees. The sun had caught the edge of the barrel, and the gun had gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. It looked wicked and dangerous.

  And the way the man had run…

  No, Calla was not going after that man, and she didn’t trust him.

  She hoped he was gone, but—

  Another noise. Close by. Something snapping—a branch or a bush, maybe.

  Calla swallowed, dragging her gaze over the surrounding area, searching for any sign of the man or the gun.

  Ryder tensed next to her. He crouched down as if he was ready to spring.

  She didn’t see anything, but she couldn’t calm down. Her heart was beating double time, and she was certain that danger was just at the periphery of her vision. She adopted a similar crouch to Ryder’s and the two stayed close. He looked one direction, and she looked the other.

  They waited.

  But the noise didn’t come again, and neither saw what had made it.

  They waited for longer.

  Calla began to get a cramp in her legs from crouching down the way that Ryder did. She had to shift position. When she did, she rustled the undergrowth, and she cringed.

  She held her breath, waiting for an answer from the woods around them, some movement in return.

  But there was nothing.

  Still, she didn’t move. She was frozen, and she mused that sh
e was just like a frightened rabbit. She’d seen them freeze in place more than once—going so still as to be dead.

  No one had taught Calla to freeze. It had simply been instinctive.

  Maybe there was more of the animal in her than she’d like to admit. Maybe she and Ryder weren’t so different.

  Eventually, she began to wonder if they should be staying here, stuck and not moving. Obviously, they should keep on their journey. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to go anywhere.

  She imagined that she and Ryder would begin their trek through the wood. Perhaps they’d get as far as a few hundred feet.

  But then the man with the gun would appear, and the gun would gleam in the tired light, giving an evil, knowing wink before it exploded into the calm of the forest.

  Calla thought of a bullet in Ryder, blood gushing, his eyes turning blank and empty.

  It was more than she could take.

  She had no reason to think that the man with the gun wanted to hurt them, but she… she felt it.

  No, she and Ryder weren’t going anywhere.

  Instead, they huddled in the woods as the sun began to sink. They kept watch over the trees around them. At every sound, they started. They were both on edge, both concerned.

  The setting sun began to turn the woods orange. It cut a swath of reddish light through the trees, casting long, long shadows and dyeing everything with its mature tinge.

  Still she and Ryder didn’t move.

  The sounds of the forest were changing. The insects grew louder, more varied. Above, there was the flutter of bat wings as they escaped into the open air.

  The shadows grew darker. Pooling between the bushes and grass, the woods seemed a hidden place.

  Calla was on high alert.

  And then they heard a noise.

  This was distinctive. A man coming through the woods, crunching the leaves. He was even whistling.

  She and Ryder looked in the direction of the sound, but it was dark, and they couldn’t see anything. The orange light didn’t reach far enough.