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

by Jo Raven

  She supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she had lost her mind. Here she was, captured, stuck out here with a man-wolf. It wasn’t as if she was in a situation that she had any experience with. And before all this had started, she had been lonely. She had been so sure that her life was going to take a certain path, and when it veered off in another direction, it broke her heart.

  Maybe Ryder was somehow a preferable partner to someone like Chad. Ryder seemed loyal like a puppy. He was uncomplicated. He was beautiful. And he was obviously attracted to her.

  No, she thought. I did hear him speak. He can talk.

  She wasn’t losing her mind. She’d had Ryder back to human for a moment, and then she’d lost him.

  Now she stared at him where he lay next to the dying fire. He looked so defeated. She made her way over to him and knelt down. “Are you disappointed too?”

  He looked up at her, but there was no understanding or even spark of intelligence in his eyes. He gazed at her in that dull, dumb way that dogs do.

  It hurt her heart. “What happened?”

  No response.

  Of course there wouldn’t be a response. She could see that he couldn’t even understand her, let alone answer. However, she couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t make any sense. She knew that people who had amnesia sometimes got all their memory back in a big surge. It was possible that Ryder’s memory of being a man worked in the same way. On the other hand, she had never heard of someone with amnesia regaining their memory and then immediately losing it two minutes later.

  So, this was some sort of strange werewolf thing. Completely unrelated.

  Werewolf. She shivered. She didn’t like werewolves. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be trapped in this place. If there were only a way to get home. But she’d tried. She tried to run away, and she hadn’t made it very far. Maybe, she could try again. She could go the other direction. Of course, that man was still out there.

  Unless she was crazy. Maybe she had hallucinated the man and hallucinated Ryder talking as well. Well, hallucinations were generally visual, weren’t they? Did hallucinations also mean that she would hear things that weren’t there? She guessed if she was crazy, anything was possible. But she didn’t think it added up. The kinds of people who were so crazy that they heard voices like that, they were generally schizophrenic. There was no history of schizophrenia in her family. Nor had she ever exhibited any other symptoms similar to the disease.

  No, logically speaking, she was going to have to accept the fact that she was not crazy. And that meant that Ryder had been talking, but now he couldn’t. And it also meant that that man was still out there. The man with the gun.

  Hadn’t that been what Ryder was yelling about earlier? The man with the gun?

  A cold tendril of worry began to crawl up her spine. She wrapped her arms around her torso. The man with the gun was still out there. He was out there, and he was coming for her.

  Then she shook herself. She didn’t know what that man had been doing. Maybe he was just a hunter. Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with her. Maybe he’d already gone home and had forgotten all about her. There’s no reason to think that he was stalking them out in the woods hiding in the darkness, waiting for just the right moment to come out, stick the muzzle of the gun in her face, and—

  Crash.

  She whirled in the direction of the noise.

  She couldn’t see anything.

  Ryder rose up onto his hands and knees. He growled out into the darkness.

  Calla swallowed.

  Ryder began creeping in the direction of the noise.

  But she didn’t like that. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. She sprang forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him back. She shook her head at him. “No. Don’t.”

  Ryder shook her off.

  Calla cringed.

  He crept forward, past the fire pit, past the chairs surrounding it, over the shadowed grassy area. With each step, he got closer and closer to the woods.

  Sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Her heart began to pick up speed. In her mind’s eye, she could see the man now. Except he didn’t look like a man, not exactly. He was taller, shoulders more broad. His forehead protruded over his eyes, which were glowing red. And he was smiling some kind of demonic smile. He would come out of the woods, and he would rip her to shreds with his bare hands, all the while laughing like a hyena. He wouldn’t even need the gun to kill her.

  She shuddered, hairs raising on the back of her neck. The fear was riding her body like a live thing, and she was tense and taut as she turned in a circle, looking around her for any signs of danger.

  Suddenly, a deer ran out of the woods, running a breakneck speed.

  Ryder turned after it, even began to run after the fleeing animal.

  Oh, only a deer. She sighed in relief. Then she called out for Ryder to stop.

  At the sound of her voice, he halted and turned to her. He cast one longing look after the deer, which had already shot across their small camp area and gone back into the woods on the other side. Then, seeming to accept that he must stay with her, he came back, still on his hands and knees. He rubbed his face against her legs.

  She shut her eyes. Her heart was still beating so fast from the scare. She needed to stop watching scary movies, that was all. Red eyes indeed. She chuckled a little, shakily. Then she wandered over to one of the chairs next to the fire pit and sat down. She tried to breathe evenly, thinking that might calm her heartbeat.

  She had been frightened like this before, of course, but never quite this exposed. Fear was generally something she dealt with in the safety of her own house. It was something that was unnecessary. Being afraid was a silly thing that she did occasionally, not a response to real danger.

  Why, she’d never thought that there was something out to get her.

  At least not in her adult life. The edge of her consciousness raised the image of the red balloon again—

  And she promptly shut it down. That was the last thing she wanted to think of. It had been popping up far too often these past few days, and she usually didn’t think about it at all. Of course, she knew that it was partly because of the stress of her kidnapping, but that didn’t mean it was acceptable.

  No, she chose to think only of her ridiculous fears, when she was snug in a bright house after an afternoon marathon of zombie movies. Those kinds of fears made her feel in charge, because they were contained, and they were fantasies. There were no such things as zombies. Being afraid of them was safe.

  Werewolves, on the other hand, they were real. And that man in the woods, the one in the white t-shirt…

  Stop it, she told herself. This wasn’t helping anything. I’ll think of something happy instead.

  She wracked her brain for a happy memory, but she just kept tripping over memories of the good times with Chad, and that didn’t make her feel any better. Each of those memories were like bombs. She’d touch them, feel the outer ring of pleasure, and then the fact that Chad had left her would explode in her face, and all she would feel was devastation and loneliness.

  Things weren’t supposed to have gone the way they’d gone. She wasn’t supposed to be a fat, divorced woman in her mid thirties. She was supposed to be a happy mother, two children in bed as she puttered around the kitchen, cleaning everything up and making lunch for her devoted husband.

  She felt like crying.

  Why was it that everything she thought of made her sad? Was her life really that pathetic? I’m divorced, I’m childless, I’m attracted to a man who thinks he’s a wolf, and I’m about to get killed by a man lurking out in the woods.

  But no. There wasn’t any man in the woods. He was gone now, and she’d dreamed him up.

  That was when the man from the woods burst out into the clearing. He was holding his gun and waving around a flashlight. “I heard you, Ryder, and I’m here,” he said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cal
la screamed.

  She got to her feet and tried to move, but the lawn chair she’d been sitting in got tangled in her feet, and it was all she could do to keep her balance.

  Ryder raised up, baring his teeth and growling at the man.

  “It’s me,” said the man. “It’s Leroy. You aren’t going to say hi?”

  Calla lurched forward, knocking the chair over completely. It collapsed noisily.

  The man looked at her. “Well, hi there, button.”

  Button?! She was streaked with terror now, all of it churning through her gut and making her feel wild and crazy. She grasped Ryder by the shoulder and yanked him upright. She wasn’t sure how she had the strength. She held Ryder’s body like a shield between her and Leroy. “Stay back,” she whispered.

  Leroy’s gaze flicked away from hers and back to Ryder’s. “Come on, Ryder. You were yelling for me. I heard you. Well, I’m here. Let’s talk.”

  Ryder snarled.

  “He can’t talk,” said Calla.

  “Bullshit he can’t,” said Leroy.

  “Please go away,” she said.

  Ryder wanted to jump on the man. He was straining against her grasp, but she wouldn’t let him go. The man had a gun, and if Ryder attacked him, she didn’t know what might happen.

  “I heard him,” said Leroy.

  “Well, he was talking, but he stopped,” she said. “There’s something wrong with him.” God, was she really trying to explain this to the man with the gun? Well, he wasn’t pointing the gun at them. But she could see it, dangling from his hand, glistening darkly in the night. It wouldn’t take much for him to level it, to shoot.

  Ryder tore out of her grasp—too fast for her to stop him. He lunged onto Leroy, throwing his entire body on the man.

  Leroy fell down on his back underneath Ryder, letting out a hoarse noise. The gun fell out of his hand.

  She let out a little cry. No. What was happening? Without thinking, she threw herself after Ryder. She ripped him away from the other man. “Stop it. He’ll shoot you.” She managed to pull Ryder back, but Ryder stayed on his hands and knees, growling.

  Leroy fumbled for his gun. “Ryder?” He looked warily at the other man.

  “Run,” said Calla, tugging on Ryder. “Before he gets the gun.” She took off away from the fire pit, past the tent, heading for the freight container.

  Ryder wasn’t coming with her. He was still snarling at Leroy, every muscle in his neck standing up straight against his skin.

  She shrieked. “Ryder! Come on!”

  Leroy picked up his gun. He fired into the air as he started to get to his feet.

  The gunshot was loud, piercing the air and echoing over the trees.

  It seemed to spook Ryder, who let out a howling cry. He scrambled backwards, closer to Calla.

  “That’s it,” she said. “Come on.”

  Leroy was standing. He pointed the gun at them. “Just hold on. I only want to talk to Ryder.”

  “He can’t talk!” She screamed it.

  Ryder was running fast now, and he overtook her. When he caught up to her, he grasped her hand. Together, they sprinted for the container, diving inside the dark metal box.

  Only as she was getting to her feet did she realize that Ryder had been running upright on two legs—like a man. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that particular piece of information. She needed to get the door closed, get them safely inside.

  She felt frantically around for a pulley or a lever or—

  But Ryder stretched his body up and found the handle on the door. He pulled it down, just like a garage door.

  The metal clanged closed.

  Calla let out a breath. Safe.

  Bang, bang, bang. Leroy was pounding on the door. “I only want to talk, Ryder. You were yelling for me. You know that we have things to settle.”

  Calla scurried forward in the darkness, feeling around for a latch to lock the door in place.

  “Let me in.” Leroy pounded louder.

  There. The latch. She locked the door. It was good. They were safe now, closed off from him.

  “Ryder!” yelled Leroy from outside.

  Calla wanted to cry. She wanted to sob. But she just moved away from the door and huddled up against the cold, metal wall. She listened to her heart on its frenetic jag, and she didn’t try to quiet it. She was only glad that her heart was still beating.

  “Open the door!”

  Leroy kept it up for a long time. With every bang on the door, Calla winced. He kept yelling for Ryder, saying that he just wanted to talk, saying that Ryder had things to answer for.

  Ryder himself crawled in a circle with his head down, whining. He didn’t seem to like the noise.

  But finally—she wasn’t sure how much afterward, but it was a very long time—Leroy stopped. He seemed to give up, and he didn’t make any more noise. Calla stayed right where she was, of course. She wasn’t about to open the door. Leroy was probably still out there, and she didn’t want to take the chance. So, she stayed where she was.

  Ryder continued to whine for a while. But eventually, he quieted too.

  Sometime after that, she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was running through the woods and the man with the gun was chasing her. His eyes were glowing red, and he was going to shoot her because she wouldn’t let Ryder take off her clothes and put his mouth on her breasts—which were bare and flopping up and down on her chest as she ran. Soft, Ryder whispered, and she felt aroused and terrified all at the same time.

  She awoke sweaty and frustrated to the sound of pounding on the door. “It’s Jasper. I’ve got breakfast.”

  * * *

  “I still don’t understand why you locked yourself up in there when I couldn’t force you in there last night,” Jasper was saying. He’d brought breakfast from a fast food restaurant, and he had half a breakfast sandwich in one hand.

  Calla was eating another sandwich herself. She didn’t like taking things from Jasper, who seemed to think that feeding her meant that he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. But she wasn’t about to turn down food, not just to make the point that she didn’t like what he was doing to her. “I told you. The man with the gun came back.”

  “You’re just as loony as my brother, aren’t you?” said Jasper.

  “I’m not loony,” she said. “The man was here. I even know his name. It’s Leroy, and he says that he and Ryder have something to settle. Do you know who this man is? He’s obviously got some history with your brother.”

  Jasper made a face. “I’ve never heard of anyone named Leroy, and I don’t think Ryder has either.” He cocked his head to one side. “No, I know what it is. You’re not crazy. You’re making this up because you think it means I’ll let you go. If you’re in danger out here, then you think I’ll feel sorry for you and take you back home.”

  She chewed on egg and cheese, feeling furious. She swallowed. “That would be nice, of course. I’d like to go home. But I’m not making this man up. And I am in danger. So is your brother, for that matter. He’s very brave, and he seems determined to protect me, but that doesn’t mean that he’s any match for a gun.”

  “Lady, I’m onto you. Drop it.”

  She ate her sandwich, fuming. “I suppose you’ll just come back here one day and find both Ryder and me dead then.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  But then another thought seized her. A terrifying one. She nearly choked on her sandwich, and she started to cough.

  “Careful,” said Jasper.

  Getting herself under control, she swallowed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If both of us were dead. Ryder’s a burden to you. And me? Well, you’re not going to let me go home, are you? I mean, I’ve seen your face, and I could go to the authorities and turn you in. So what are you going to do with me, anyway? If I was dead, it would be easier.”

  Jasper furrowed his brow, as if none of that had ever occurred to
him. “You’d turn me in to the authorities if I let you go?”

  She backpedaled fast. “Of course I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do anything like that. I was saying that you must think that I would. But the truth is, I wouldn’t. I’d keep quiet for the rest of my life. I swear to God. Please, please, I didn’t mean for you to think…” Damn it.

  Why did she let her mouth run faster than her head like that? She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She was beginning to feel like she’d just signed her death warrant.

  Jasper was giving her a funny look.

  “Don’t kill me,” she murmured. “Please, don’t.”

  “I don’t make a habit of killing people,” he said.

  “Well, you’re a werewolf.”

  He glared at her. “We’re not all like the PSAs, you know. Those are bitten werewolves. They change without a pack structure, without an alpha to keep them in check. They’re the real wild wolves, even though they call genetic werewolves that.”

  She didn’t really know what he was talking about. She’d never given much thought to whether or not wolves were born or made or anything. As far as she was concerned—werewolves were werewolves, and they were all dangerous. Still, the other day when Jasper had shifted, he hadn’t hurt her, so that was something.

  She returned to her sandwich.

  “I’m not a monster, okay?” said Jasper. “I just want to try to help my brother, that’s all.”

  Ryder was lying next to them, on all fours again, like a dog, his legs tucked up next to him. He was eating his food with his mouth, not using his hands at all.

  Jasper shook his head. “I keep feeling like maybe he’s getting better, but then I see him like this. I don’t know if what you’re doing is even working.”

  “I told you I couldn’t—”