A Very Alpha Christmas

by Anthology

  "Your…life?"

  "Yes. My people have been led by one of my ancestors for ages. Our line secured the right to rule because we are the strongest. We soon discovered more than strength was needed to rule. For many generations we've prized education and ability as much as strength. That has kept us in control up until now."

  "Okay, but you're still in control, right?"

  "For a couple more weeks, yes."

  "And if I turn down this mysterious position, you lost it all, even your life."

  "Let me remove the mystery," he said. He smiled and placed his hands on the top of his desk so he could lean forward. "The requirement is that the Regent of our kind insures they insure the future of the Continuum and maintains the balance necessary in the world."

  "Wait— if there are rules like this in place, why were they trying to kill me? Aren't those your people too?"

  "Yes, but politics exist at all levels. Even among my kind."

  "Dragons," she accused.

  "Yes."

  "You're a dragon."

  "Yes."

  "You don't look like a dragon. Not like the ones I saw last night— that was last night, wasn't it?"

  "It was. We're flying to one of my homes in Europe. Another few hours and we'll be there. As for the other thing, if you'd like when we land I can show you."

  Selena shook her head. "No! Um, I mean, that's okay. I saw your hands a few times. I'm not ready for any more than that."

  He nodded. "That's fair. You will need to accept me as I am though, if you stay with me."

  "Stay with you?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed as she took apart what he'd told her. "You need to maintain the future of your way of life."

  His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward more. "Go on."

  "You want me," she said. "You've invested a lot in me already, even the life of one of your friends."

  "Yes," he said. "Tanya did what was necessary and will be remembered for it. It would plunge the world into dark times if the reds, greens, or whites were to gain control."

  "What are you?"

  "Black."

  Selena snorted. "You don't look black."

  "Now who's the racist?" he asked.

  Selena burst out laughing. She shook her head and held up a hand. "Good point. Okay, sorry. That was bad of me."

  "I think you're allowed, given what you've been through."

  She nodded. "And what you're asking me to go through. Which is what, exactly?"

  "I thought you'd figured it out?"

  "I'm afraid to guess. How about you tell me?"

  He nodded. "Very well. I need a partner. As assistant and an associate. A friend. And more."

  Selena forced herself to breathe through the tremors in her belly. "How much more? Insuring the future of your line is, um, something else."

  "Yes, it is. I don't need to worry about that for several more years."

  The tension in her shoulders drained away for a moment, until she realized she was clueless again. Her brow creased. "Wait, so what do you need me for?"

  He stared into her eyes. "I don’t need an heir for some time, but I do need a mate."

  Her jaw dropped. He'd said it. He'd confirmed what she'd thought he was getting around to, although the way he'd done it had been confusing and misleading. But he was charge. The Regent. Krenn Regent. Their king. Royalty.

  Selena gasped and snapped her fingers. "That's what they meant!"

  He frowned. "What?"

  She turned and glanced at the door behind her. "They said they'd give their lives to protect me. The same as they would for you. The same as Tanya already had."

  He turned to his desk and pulled open a drawer on the side. He reached into it and withdrew something that glittered in his palm before he closed his fingers over it. "Selena Judge, I realize this is awkward and far from customary for what you are accustomed to…"

  Selena stared at him, her mouth dry and her heart hammering.

  He rolled his hand over and unfolded his fingers. An intricate strip of golden with a herring bone pattern rested in his palm. "Search inside yourself. We have a chemistry between us that makes us a natural pair. You are a good, caring, and just person. More so, I enjoy being around you, you surprise and entertain me."

  Her chest eased up as he continued to flounder. She couldn't believe any of what was happening, even though she was living through it. She had no idea how she was going to respond to his request. She was only twenty four. She had a degree, but no job and practically nothing else to her name. And she barely knew the man, even if they did seem to get along. Well, other than when he was being creepy.

  She smiled and finally laughed, "I'm sorry, but you really are bad at this sort of thing."

  Krenn's cheeks flushed. "Yes, I am. All right. Selena, will you be my mate?"

  Selena's smile faded. She swallowed and glanced at the door behind her and then at the strange piece of metal in his hand. "What is that?" she asked.

  He glanced down and then up at her. "You place it around your finger and it will mold itself to you. It flexes and changes as you do. Fitting, for my people, but for you it will remain the same size."

  "Oh," she said.

  He hesitated and then raised an eyebrow. "Well? Will you?"

  "Be your mate?"

  He nodded and said, "Yes."

  "Marriage," Selena said. "We call it marriage. And I don't know if I can do that. I mean, I grew up wanting Prince Charming to rescue me from a lousy life. I guess I grew up and figured out I needed to rescue myself."

  His shoulders and the corners of his mouth drooped. "I understand, I mean, I just— Selena, will you marry me? "

  "Krenn," she said and then leaned forward to place her hand over his. She felt the strip of metal between their palms. It seemed hot, like it was transferring his body heat directly into hers. "There's so much I don't understand still. All these people and all they can do. I wanted to marry for love, not for the fate of mankind. Granted, that's a pretty compelling reason, but still."

  "Now I'm confused," he admitted. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying maybe. You've got until the first to convince me this isn't one more bad choice I've made in my life. And please, no more stairs or people trying to throw me off of buildings?"

  "If it means that much to you, I will carry you up any stairs you find," he said.

  She laughed and then saw the sincere look in his eye. He meant it. And why not, he'd already carried her across a roof and held her in his arms while a helicopter whisked them away from the top of the hotel.

  "Well then," He asked after she remained silent. A hopeful smile began to lift his lips. "Are you saying yes?"

  Her belly tingled and her chest warmed. He did have a nice smile. And maybe he wasn't as old as she thought he was. The more she got to know him, the less mature he acted. She returned his smile and winked.

  The metal between their hands warmed and writhed. she jerked her hand back with a gasp, but it was too late. The serpentine metal clung to her palm and slid around her ring finger. She watched as it latched onto itself like a snake swallowing its own tail. The rings warmth rushed through her, fighting the panic that choked her breath.

  Selena lifted her hand and turned it, staring at the unique ring. It was studded with tiny diamonds and black gems— opals, maybe? She couldn't find a clasp or a mouth to it. The ring seemed seamless and perfect.

  She focused on Krenn's face and saw his smile was wider than ever. Not scary-wide, just filled with genuine happiness. She forced herself to breathe again and returned his smile. Beneath it, inside, she couldn't help but wonder, what had she gotten herself into?

  The End

  About Dawn Michelle

  NY Times bestselling author, Dawn Michelle

  facebook.com/booksbydawnmichelle

  The BBW and the Beast by Sylvia Frost

  When Bel’s father ruins a million dollar rose, she makes a bargain with a werewolf who wants her for his own.

  Twelve y
ears ago curvy Bel Booksmore snuck into a mysterious mansion in the woods where she had her first kiss and glasses stolen by its owner. Now a successful writer, Bel thought she would never return. But when her father unwittingly steals a million dollar rose, she’s dragged back into alpha werewolf Samson West’s world. And this time, whether by claw or by contract, he’s not going to let her go.

  1

  No one should have found him.

  Six miles of snow-clogged side road, an abandoned summer camp, and more ‘keep out’ signs than a human could count stood between Samson’s farmhouse and civilization. He had no mailbox. No phone. And when he’d purchased his childhood home from its new owners, he did so under the name of his brother’s company, Rom Investing.

  No one should’ve found him.

  But someone had.

  A silhouette stumbled through the snowstorm toward Samson’s yard, holding something above its head and shouting.

  Samson leaned toward his front window, his bare chest brushing against the freezing glass. He rubbed the windowpane with the edge of his half-undone flannel shirt to unfog his view.

  The stranger was human, that Samson was sure of; but the cold hid their scent. Samson smiled as the intruder stopped at the front porch. It was frozen over. The human wouldn’t be able to climb Samson’s stairs, let alone ring his doorbell.

  But then, instead of turning around, the stranger started toward the footpath leading to Samson’s backyard.

  Samson frowned, a memory tugging at him, longing awakening in his chest. Only one other person had broken into his house through the back.

  What if…?

  No.

  It couldn’t be her.

  Isabella.

  A phantom ache shot through the mate mark on Samson’s back. But it was hard to say if that was from the memory, or because his mate was close.

  The figure pushed the fence open, following the cleared path to his backyard. And his greenhouse.

  “Damn it, Rex,” he growled.

  His brother must have left the gate unlocked when he went hunting. Samson headed outside through the back door, not bothering with shoes or even a coat. His inner wolf relished the biting wind and the grit of ¬¬white powder between his toes.

  When he reached the greenhouse, the door was ajar and a set of footprints made the rest clear. Samson’s heart clenched.

  The first and last time he had ever seen Isabella had been in this very greenhouse twelve years ago. The big, beautiful brunette had snuck in on a dare. A hasty seduction, thirty minutes, and one passionate kiss later, Samson had been sure she was his weremate. But then she’d run away. Mates didn’t run away.

  But if they do, a voice crooned in Samson’s mind, they always return.

  With the silence of an expert hunter, Samson slipped through the door of the greenhouse and shut it behind him. Thankfully, the temperature was still warm, and only a few of the closest orchids were freckled with snow.

  Samson sniffed the air. It would be much easier to find the intruder by following their scent then by trying to navigate the labyrinths of bushes and trees. One smell stuck out like a wilted weed — mothballs and the sour tang of sickness accented with polyester.

  It took Samson six seconds to follow the smell to its source, and the moment he arrived, it was clear the intruder wasn’t Isabella. A portly man dressed in a heavy frayed coat was bent over a row of Samson’s pink roses. To him, they probably looked ordinary, though with more petals than average.

  “What are you doing?” Samson growled, trying not to let his disappointment stoke his rage.

  The man jumped what must’ve been at least a foot in the air; a feat, considering his girth. “Oh, excuse me.”

  Samson could taste the fear in the intruder’s dank sweat, even underneath the man’s many layers of clothing. “Turn and face me.”

  Trembling more than a rabbit, the man stammered, “I’m so sorry. The door was open, and you didn’t answer, so …”

  Samson’s nostrils curled. There was another smell in the air besides the flowers and the old man’s stench. Rusty and hot, he knew it immediately. Blood.

  The man had one of Samson’s roses in his right hand, and he’d clutched it so tightly that its thorny stem had pierced his skin and sent blood trickling down his fingers to the clipboard he was holding in his other hand. Samson cocked his head to read the fine print of the paper on the clipboard.

  CLEAR WATER CREEK, ORDINANCE 189—FILING FOR A CREATION OF WOLF HUNTING SEASON

  Due to the recent attacks on livestock, we are asking you to re-approve the hunting of wolves to help protect our children and livelihoods.

  Samson’s inner wolf roared. The man hadn’t just come to steal from him. He had come to kill his wolves, albeit unintentionally. Samson clenched his fists, fighting back the claws threatening to emerge from his skin.

  But Samson couldn't yell at the man for that. Not without inciting suspicion. Werebeasts might have been gone for two hundred years, according to the public, but there were always those who still believed.

  But threatening his kind with hunters wasn’t this man’s only sin.

  “You took one of my roses,” Samson growled.

  The man looked down with comically wide eyes, as if the rose had just appeared there by magic. “Well, I guess I did.”

  “Do you have any idea how much that’s worth?” He could practically feel his canines lengthening into fangs, and he closed his mouth. With his wild black hair, massive frame, and inhumanly bright green eyes, Samson looked beastly enough already.

  The man held the rose out to him. “You can have it back.”

  “What use would a cut rose be to me?”

  The man shrugged, which made his jowls jiggle. “I don’t know. But I’ll pay it. I’m so sorry. My daughter, you see—”

  “One point five million. That’s how much that rose is worth.”

  The man’s mouth dropped open, and his lips moved mutely before his vocal cords began working again. “One… one point five million? You’re joking. How is that even possible? What are you growing them with? Heroin?”

  “Do I look like a man who jokes?” Samson said. The idiot wouldn’t understand how decades of selective breeding had created the most perfect flower, imported specially from England at great expense.

  “N-no, I have to say, you don’t.” The man sidled to the right, foolish enough to think there was some hope of escape. “But I don’t have that kind of money...”

  “There are other ways for you to pay.” Samson’s wolf rejoiced at all the fantastic ways he could have his retribution, all carefulness forgotten as his anger grew. He’d start by biting off the fool’s hands. Maybe if the man was lucky, he’d leave it at that. An impending transformation itched at his skin, and the line between man and beast began to fray.

  “But we’ll take the money.”

  Samson whirled to see his brother, Rex, standing only a few rows over, staring at both of them. With his brother’s lighter frame, boyish good looks and slicked-back sandy hair, the only trace of shifter in him was in his predatorily calm cerulean eyes. In some ways, his humanity made him even more dangerous than Samson. At least with Samson, you’d know when you were about to die.

  But now caution gleamed in Rex’s blue eyes. With his alpha’s intuition Samson got the message. They had enough troubles without adding murder to the list.

  Samson straightened his shoulders and pushed down his wolf’s fury.

  “But I d-don't have that kind of money. And I couldn’t ask my daughter, even with her book royalties,” the man spluttered, clearly oblivious to how close he had just come to being torn into a thousand pieces.

  Rex, knowing that Samson didn’t have the energy to deal with the man, strode over and grabbed the intruder by the elbow. “Our lawyers will deal with that.”

  “B-but I don’t have a lawyer.”

  Rex rolled his eyes discreetly. “I’d recommend getting one,” Rex said, dragging the intruder through the door.
The whistle of the wind drowned out the man’s reply.

  Samson closed his eyes as the door clicked shut and silence returned. Time slowed as he lost himself to the calming scents of green growing things and wet, fertile soil. His mother had kept the garden for his father, to help him keep his wolf in check.

  It was only the scent of life that abated a wolf’s hunger for death, she said.

  Samson hadn’t understood how necessary the garden was until both his mother and father had passed and he had been left to care for his two younger brothers, Rex and Luther.

  “I’ve packed him away, and I’ll have the papers drawn up by morning,” Rex drawled.

  Samson opened his eyes to find his brother leaning against a trellis embroidered with exotic vines. “How many times have I told you to close the gate when you leave?”

  Rex smiled gently, not cowed by Samson’s lecture. “Millions now.”

  “You never listened when you were a teenager. I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t now.” Samson pressed his thumb against his jaw, dragged down by a riptide of melancholy.

  “Don’t feel too bad. By that time, all my habits were set,” Rex lied.

  Even without his increased perception as an alpha, Samson knew it was lie from the bitter twist of Rex’s mouth.

  Rex had his first shift the first few days after their father died from cancer, and as far as Samson knew he hadn’t transformed more than a handful of times since. Which was better than Luther, the youngest brother and member of their pack.

  Luther…

  Luther was the reason, Rex had to re-purchase his family’s old home in the first place, and return back to Crystal Creek after twelve years away.

  “Cheer up,” Rex said, grinning grimly. “We’ve got a lawsuit in our future.”

  Samson shook his head, confused by his brother, as usual. “You’re the oddest wolf I know, Rex.”

  2

  Bel had thought it would look different.

  But even after twelve years, a publishing contract, and her virginity gone, her home town hadn’t changed. From the single dingy Chinese restaurant to her dad’s almost-condemnable ranch house on the outskirts of town, Crystal Creek, Michigan was like a time capsule.