Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Michele Bardsley

  “Get out, before I call the cops.”

  Oh shit!

  She snatched her finger back and held it captive against her chest, where her heart was beating wildly. She’d forgotten about how powerful that gesture could be. But it was too late. A blast of ice had shot forward, hitting a spot on the floor that narrowly missed Connor’s toes. Within seconds, the ice blast built upward, forming a wall several feet wide and stopping just below Connor’s nose.

  Rampant emotions thrummed from his sapphire eyes: disbelief, anger.

  With Jericha’s ever-building senses, she could have sworn she’d picked up the heat of pheromones emitting from his hard body. They were strong, hopped-up alpha-male. How in the hell she knew how to decipher that was beyond her. She just knew what they were and, by basic instinct, what they meant. And the worst part was that the metaphysical craving made her nipples tighten in response, leaving her body laden with carnal need.

  She backed away from the ice wall.

  “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  He closed his eyes, and an expression of lust and ease flowed over his features, like a revitalizing waterfall. It was as if he could somehow pluck from her mind all of her shameless thoughts.

  “I can taste your need. You can’t imagine what that knowledge does to me.”

  If the lustful thoughts she was having were any indication, she had a clue.

  That wasn’t awkward… at all.

  She grasped at the hemline of her shirt and tugged nervously. He was making it unbearably hard for her not to crave him in every possible way. It was like she was under a spell, and he was the magician.

  Is horniness a side effect of becoming a hybrid?

  Even if she didn’t believe it for a second, her body’s intense response to him was hard to deny. He had to be projecting his need onto her.

  With a look that conveyed both need and triumph, he said, “Your wall can’t stop my urge to satisfy you.”

  She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she could feel raw power building. She sensed the use of a magic that burned—a magical element that was a contrast of her own.

  Red light gleamed through the ice, and water beaded, then dripped in long rivulets, to the floor. The glow began to spread out, into a pulsing circle, until the entire wall came crashing down in chunks of melted ice at Connor’s feet.

  “Now, let’s give this another go. You, my beautiful ice maiden, are my fated mate.”

  She was definitely not that guy’s mate. She didn’t believe in such a thing. But hunger, for what she then knew was blood, churned within her gut, reminding her that not all things were as they seemed.

  Her brows drew together.

  “I have no need for a mate, fated or otherwise. But thanks for the offer.”

  Connor’s fist hit his chest, and it stayed there.

  “The bond is not something you choose. It just is.”

  Her chin tipped up stubbornly, as she said, “What if I ignore you and your supposed bond?”

  He trudged through small piles of ice and leaned in next to her ear, his face in her hair, before he whispered, “There’s not a power in the world that can keep my inner-dragon from its fated mate. Not even the stubbornness of that mate.”

  She moistened her lips and said, “If you want to get with me, in any capacity, you need to do better, because this caveman act of yours is doing nothing for me.”

  “I accept that challenge.”

  With blurring speed, Connor was behind her. He reached around her waist.

  “You will be mine. Our bond has been woven within the unalterable fabric of the Fates.”

  A sense of contentment slipped across her skin, as Connor’s hands settled over her hips. The unexplained sense of belonging didn’t mean anything at all, she tried telling herself, but deep down, she knew better. So why did she suddenly feel like punching the guy in the face? Probably because he hadn’t earned that type of intimacy from her yet, even though it felt incredibly good to be touched by him.

  “How dare you!”

  She whipped around, pushing out of his hold.

  He blinked at her, eyes growing bright with interest.

  “You’re very beautiful, when you’re all worked up like this. I’ll make it my duty to tease you often.”

  In a flash, he moved to the door, stopping right inside of the frame. The scent of their arousal, filling the small space, didn’t escape the notice of either of them. He muttered a few obscenities.

  “Being a mated dragon really sucks.”

  Jericha huffed at his words and said, “Yeah, right. Like being the object of a dragon’s affection is a freakin’ joyride.”

  Wait. Did he just say he was a dragon?

  She’d assumed he was another magic wielder, like she was, with his power consisting of fire. Jericha snorted. Although the man dominating the doorframe was taller than most, with a sizable ego to match his height, there was no way he could be a dragon. She’d seen one firsthand, and he was no dragon. He was bat shit crazy, was what he was.

  Her eyes settled on the strong cut of his jaw and the upward curve of his full bottom lip. Connor flashed a shrewd smile, and Jericha flushed and glanced away.

  My God, he sure is handsome. What a pity.

  Ignoring her carnal instinct to drool, she swallowed the lump in her throat and sauntered over to him, stopping inches before she reached the door. She was going to put a stop to all of that nonsense right then, by putting his claim to the test. Besides, if she could prove he wasn’t a dragon, then maybe it would prove she wasn’t his mate.

  “If you’re a dragon, then, where are your scales?”

  He stared at Jericha blankly.

  Ah, ha! Just as I suspected—loony-toons.

  She gave him a smug smile.

  He stuck his arm out between them, smoldering eyes narrowed in concentration.

  His voice dropped down to a whisper, as he said, “Witness my true form.”

  They stood through an awkward moment. Connor’s tanned skin began to shimmer in and out, then with miraculous speed, it settled into a dark shade of blue. Smooth flesh reformed into scales, stacking one after the other, to engulf his arm completely. The transformation stopped, as Connor’s nails elongated and curved into black claws.

  Propelled by shock, Jericha’s jaw dropped.

  “Is that proof enough for you, stubborn woman?”

  Jericha would’ve told him exactly where he could shove that nerve of his, but she was stunned stupid.

  “Get out!” The words shot out of her unhinged mouth.

  She went to shut the door on him but was stopped short by his hand, pushing against it.

  Connor dropped his arm and half-turned.

  “So there won’t be any kissin’ or messin’ around, then?”

  She leaned forward, the top of her lip curling upward, to reveal a pair of fangs that glistened like sharp weapons. The threat of violence didn’t deter him one bit. On the contrary, it turned him on.

  “And there will be some pain involved?” he asked.

  He gripped the frame tight and smiled wider.

  For a split second, her wall of defense fell, and the corner of her mouth twitched to smile. But she cleared her throat instead and pointed over Connor’s shoulder. Her magic stayed put that time.

  Unfazed, he studied her tiny fangs. He then leaned inside the apartment, with a beefy hand on each side of the jamb. She noticed his arm was all tawny flesh. Gone were the blue dragon scales.

  “Suit yourself.” He pushed off the doorframe. “Cute fangs, by the way.”

  He then turned and marched away.

  And damn if her eyes didn’t shoot straight to his ass, the traitorous bitches that they were.

  Her fingers fluttered to cover her mouth.

  He likes my fangs.

  Chapter Nine

  The Dragon Blade Keep

  ***

  Conner swept into his bedroom from the terrace. With his ego bruised, he stomped around the larg
e space, as his body finished its transition back into its human form.

  “Great! Just fucking great!”

  He was in the worst fucking mood possible. Not only was he forced into being mated, but his intended was an unwilling bride. She had run at the first sight of him. And the little lady was quick, moving so fast that she practically vanished into thin air. But he’d found her—he always would.

  “Damn it!”

  The truth was, he hadn’t expected a warm welcome from her. He understood the absurdity of his claim. Who in their right mind would react casually to a man bursting inside of their home, claiming to be their fated mate? Nobody stable—that’s who. As a matter of fact, he’d expected some resistance.

  His mother had almost killed his father, after Tram’s dragon-spirit took her by force back to his cave. But times were different a thousand years ago, when a good old fashioned mate-napping was the norm and, in most dragon-spirit circles, encouraged.

  A man would surely lose his balls in the current day and age if he tried something like that on a modern woman. And thanks to his mother’s rearing, Connor would never dream of forcing a mating onto a woman. His lady would have to come to him willingly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to convince her. Hell, judging by the hardened state that her scent and incredible beauty had left his cock in… he had to. His inner beast growled low in agreement.

  The fuming dragon tossed his shirt across the room, after ripping it to shreds in a failed attempt at putting it on. His wings were still out, making the task comical.

  He scowled at the door, when someone on the other side dared to knock at it.

  “This had better be important,” Connor rumbled.

  Warrick, better known as War, was Connor’s good friend and one of the four Sentries of the Dragon Blade who lived with him at the Keep. The Dragon Blade Sentries were comprised of the Dragon Horde’s rarest and most lethal blue dragons. Each majestic winged beast had sworn, upon pain of the death, an oath to protect their species’ most valuable relic—The Dragon Blade.

  According to the Horde’s recorded history, which went back millennia, there were always four Sentries assigned to guard the blade, and every one of them had been a blue dragon.

  War stuck his head inside the door and said, “I heard some banging coming from your room, more so than usual, so I wanted to check and make sure you weren’t dead or something.” His black brows pulled together over his pale blue eyes. “Put some clothes on, man. I don’t need to see your junk.”

  Connor pulled a fresh shirt from a drawer and snagged a pair of pants from off the stone floor. He shrugged the pants over his hips, zipping them up in one smooth motion.

  “You busted in on me, prick. It’s on you, what you see and whatever male inadequacies you’re left dealing with.”

  War shook his head and laughed.

  “Whatever, Conn. You’re all good, then?”

  Connor tried to be patient, but it wasn’t his greatest talent. He nodded once and grunted a yes, while pulling on his shirt.

  “Other than being mated, yeah, I’m just fucking dandy.”

  The stunned dragon was the picture of shock at the bomb Connor had just dropped on him. With eyes glazed over into a blank stare, War’s mouth fell open.

  Out of nowhere, Lark Solaris, the only female blue of the four Sentries, pushed between War’s muscled physique and the door. Once inside Connor’s room, she lifted an imperial nose, along with one of her dark red brows, at her fellow Sentry.

  “Mated? Blues don’t mate, you daft dragon!”

  Connor gave Lark the stink eye.

  “Apparently, they damn well do. And to make matters worse…” the grouchy dragon said, while shoving his feet hard inside of his leather boots to punctuate his annoyance. “…my mate is the fuckin’ most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Oh, and there’s also the fact that she can’t stand me.”

  Lark’s phone beeped inside of her jacket pocket, but she ignored it and tossed a daggered look at War.

  “How could you let this happen?”

  With wide eyes, War looked between Connor and Lark, like they were both on drugs.

  “Me? You think this is somehow my doing?”

  Her brow stayed arched, as she said, “Make this go away, War. You’re the only one who can.”

  War had a reputation for getting into everyone’s business, and somehow, could fix anything. Lark really needed him to settle that bullshit, because there was no way in hell that she was ready to deal with a mated dragon.

  War shook his head, though he was standing at her back, where she couldn’t see the gesture.

  “This is beyond even me and my devious machinations, silly woman.”

  Lark’s fists clenched at her sides.

  “Oh, you just suck… big time.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Connor started to laugh, clumsily at first, then deeper.

  Lark crossed her arms and said, “There’s nothing humorous about this situation.”

  The fact that Lark was acting like she were the one afflicted by the mating call was exactly the reason it was funny.

  War turned and walked out of the room.

  “See, War’s so upset he had to leave.”

  “That’s not true,” came War’s voice from down the hallway.

  Lark’s forehead bunched up red, as if her brain were about to implode. She didn’t say another word, as her hand flew out in front of her, and with a slashing motion, she made the terrace doors fly open, to crash against the wall.

  Her flush grew deeper. She ran outside, and the moment her bare feet hit the stone landing, her legs bent at the knees, and a set of large blue wings ripped through her back, taking the shirt she’d been wearing with them, as they burst forth from her flesh. The leather-like wings flared impossibly wide, and her body shimmered in and out, as she leapt up and over the banister.

  Connor watched, as her claws and wings kicked to climb the air. He shook his head.

  That stubborn dragon never could stand to lose an argument.

  An urgent hunger from deep inside, where his dragon-spirit dwelled, cleared all thought.

  I need to see my woman… now.

  In silence, Connor crossed the room in search of the cellphone, which Lark insisted he buy for emergencies. The she-dragon watched over him and the other men like a mother hen. And though her intentions were noble, he wasn’t a child. He was a grown man, who preferred to take care of himself.

  Where is that damn thing?

  Up until then, he never had a reason to use a cellphone, so even if he found it, he doubted the device would be charged. He pulled open the drawers in his side table, tipping over several chess pieces and knocking his original copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway to the floor in the midst of his search. A few seconds later, he hit paydirt. Connor snatched the phone out of a nest of other touch screen devices that Lark insisted he’d need and pressed random buttons, until it turned on.

  “Shit. I don’t know her number.” He paused and then called out, “Kress!”

  A few minutes later, Kress Sabre, Sentry of the Dragon Blade and Connor’s best friend, pushed through the door of his bedroom. The goliath had a towel draped over his shoulder and sweat trailing down a thick neck, fresh from an intensive workout.

  “You bellowed?”

  Connor had to look up at his brethren, who towered over him by a few inches.

  “Hey, man. Do you know how to use this thing?”

  “Do you mean a cellphone?” He chuckled. “Yeah, who doesn’t?”

  With an impatient thumb, Connor started pushing buttons on the phone.

  “Do you mind showing me?”

  Kress dried his hands on the towel and then reached for the phone, saying, “Sure, man. What do you need?”

  He frowned at the device.

  “Someone’s number from Winter Haven.”

  “No problem.” Kress swiped the screen and pressed a couple of
icons. “Here you go, man. Winter Haven’s phone directory. Just type in the name of the person you’re looking for, and you should be all set.”

  He handed it over, and at the same time, studied Connor’s features.

  “Are you all right? You seem tense.”

  Aside from feeling partially castrated by his infuriating mate, Connor was hanging in there.

  “Yeah, I just have some personal issues to handle.”

  “All right, then. I’m heading back down to the gym. Call if you need me.”

  He wheeled around and marched out the door.

  Connor probably should have told Kress about Jericha. But after the reactions he’d received from the other Sentries about his mating, he decided to save it for a later date. There was enough drama on his plate to deal with. Not to mention, the biggest secret of all—Jericha was a Rime, a bloodthirsty creature that the Dragon Blade Sentries had been fighting to save humankind from for centuries. His family would try and hurt her if they found out. But Jericha was like no Rime he’d ever encountered before. She was different. He knew that the first time she bared her pretty little fangs at him.

  His dragon-spirit growled from deep within, Mine!

  Chapter Ten

  In a jovial whisper, one of the three elves asked, “Did you see the look on her face, when the dragon revealed himself to her?”

  “Yeah, she looked like someone reached inside of her pants and gave her a wedgie,” another said with a giggle.

  “I think she likes him,” the third one added.

  The sneaks were eavesdropping!

  Jericha locked the door and turned to glance toward the elves. She paused and frowned, when she saw them sitting next to each other on the couch, with mischievous smiles painted across their faces.

  “Keep that nonsense to yourselves.”

  The beardless Yule smiled wider and said, “It’s okay if you like him. You’re supposed to.”