Dirty Alphas

by Alexa B. James

  “Explain it to me again,” Lance says to Aaron for perhaps the eightieth time in the last thirty-six hours. The pair stand framed in the kitchen doorway, and I can feel the annoyance wafting off my younger brother from here.

  “She threw us a curve ball—they both did,” I call out before taking another sip of stout. “The father won’t surrender even though we cornered him in every respect, and the daughter threatens to challenge us one-by-one if we don’t take off with our tails tucked up our asses.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Lance growls. “She weighs about as much as one of my legs. And from what I can tell, she’s smart enough to know it.”

  Scarlet is far more intelligent than Lance could possibly guess, smart enough to read the three of us in less than an hour of knowing us. Aaron has already suggested complying with her, and all of us have at least considered the idea. They’ve considered it because they don’t want to kill a fiery, young submissive, determined to save her father—I’m considering it for a very different reason.

  I’ve seen a glimpse of what lurks within Scarlet Riley, and it’s both awe-inspiring and terrible, like a column of fire closing in. I click on my phone’s screen again, but there are no messages or calls.

  “You expecting a call?”

  I look up as Aaron falls onto the couch beside me and snatches my phone.

  “Fuck off,” I growl, grabbing the phone and throwing it onto the couch before lifting my beer back to my lips. “I just don’t like things unsettled.”

  “Messing with your spirit’s flow or some shit?” Aaron says with a grin, but the expression is tight, like he doesn’t feel right about this situation either.

  Lance is right about one thing, it doesn’t make any sense.

  I have my suspicions, though—that Jack Riley has made a secret pact with Titania is chief among them. It would make sense for a man who put the welfare of his pack above the well-being of his kind. If it’s true, however, the pact is hidden well.

  And for some reason, Scarlet Riley is at the center of it all. We all felt it the moment we met her. What other explanation could there be for Lance to so aggressively pursue this apartment?

  The way Lance went about it still churns my stomach. This whole operation makes me a little ill. I love my older twin, but Lance can be an underhanded prick when he wants to be. It had only been at my insistence that our true purpose be revealed to all involved on our second day in the area—and I’d had to put my boot down more than once to see it done. Aaron could give two shits about how we take Six Rivers, as long as we do—so pointing our ethical compass north always seems to fall to me.

  Bunch of asshats.

  My screen lights up, catching my attention. I reach for it, but Aaron is faster.

  “Scarlet?” he reads slowly, not handing over the phone. His coppery gaze veers over to me as his brow puckers in confusion. “Scarlet Riley is calling you? Why the hell is she calling you?”

  I hold out my hand. “Because I gave her my phone number.”

  “You didn’t think maybe this was something you should have discussed with us?” Lance asks as he stalks over, his expression thunderous.

  “Didn’t think it was either of your fucking business, to be honest,” I say before taking another swig of my beer.

  Aaron hesitates a second before handing over the phone. “Thought she had a boyfriend.”

  I might be imagining things, but I swear I detect a trace of hurt feelings in Aaron’s tone.

  “As far as I know, she does. This isn’t that kind of phone call.” I set down my beer. I know I can’t rush from the room, but I’m not about to risk missing Scarlet’s call either. Sliding my finger across the smooth screen, I answer, “Darrel Knight.”

  “Uh, yeah, hi,” Scarlet says after a beat of silence. “This is Scarlet…Scarlet Riley, your property manager…even though I’m not calling as your property manager.”

  “I know who you are, Scarlet,” I say as I exit the apartment and head into the hall. I turn to find both of my brothers following, so I firmly close the door in their faces.

  Scarlet inhales audibly. “I got your note yesterday, and…can we talk for a minute?”

  “Where?” I ask, though some instinct tells me to head for the roof access when she speaks.

  “The roof.”

  Seconds later, I push the heavy metal door open and exit into the night. The misty evening air nips at my exposed arms, and I realize I forgot my jacket in my hurry to leave the apartment—that wasn’t like me. The Christmas lights I’d strung yesterday morning outline the complex’s roof in a colorful glow. My gaze scans the area, finding the young woman almost immediately. A gray, hazy moon shines through the clouds above her, casting her reddish-blonde hair in a ghostly glow. She stands, arms at her side and legs somewhat apart. It’s a defensible position, and it occurs to me how very unwise it is for a werewolf of her size and status within her pack to rendezvous with an alpha of my size and training. Even if Scarlet is a martial arts master—which she very well may be, she has to estimate there is a very good chance I’m equally trained and can outmatch her physically.

  As I stop before her, my gaze surveys the space around us. A tree peeks out to one side of the building, but from here, I can see no one hiding in its upper boughs. There’s a slight tang of old urine from the direction of the redwood, likely a canine who marked the tree, but as I walk closer to Scarlet, her natural, honeysuckle scent drowns it out.

  “You have backup with you, right? Or a weapon?”

  Scarlet tenses, her hands closing into fists. “Are you going to attack me?”

  “Never, but you didn’t know that,” I say succinctly.

  If she were my mate, I’d have made damn sure she either had backup or a bazooka when meeting in a secluded place with a werewolf of my size. It isn’t that she’s a female; it’s that she’s small and her wolf will be too. I won’t pay her the disrespect of voicing the thought out loud though—I don’t think she’ll take it as it’s intended.

  Scarlet’s gaze goes distant. “Maybe I—sort of did know you wouldn’t hurt me. I did some research on you today.” Her full lips twist into an expression that could be an apologetic grimace. “Extensive research—especially on you. Lance’s pack wouldn’t give me a moment of their time, and I didn’t want to get near Aaron’s history.”

  I can’t help a little chuckle at that. I wouldn’t want to delve into Aaron’s history either. Crossing my arms over my chest, I regard her. “So, what did you find out about me, then?”

  She runs her teeth over her top lip before bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, obviously nervous. “I talked to your betas Mathew and Rachel at first—I did tell them I plan to challenge you if you don’t leave in two weeks.” She holds out her hands, as if pacifying me, though I don’t show her any sign of distress. She continues after a moment. “I didn’t want things under false pretenses. I want this all to be as fair as possible—but you live right next to me and plan to take over my pack.”

  “You don’t need to justify calling them to me,” I say. “I’d like to know what was said, though.”

  She shifts her weight to the other hip, and a breeze skirts past us, carrying more of Scarlet’s intoxicating scent. She pushes her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear before answering. “Mostly good—they told me how the former alpha was a closet man-eater. It had been a good day for them when you took over, even with your age and inexperience. They said you don’t rule so much as they follow. They say you spend hours of attentive listening, trying to understand their problems but mostly wanting them to work their issues out on their own. You refuse to help with domestic issues unless there’s abuse—even when guidance is needed.”

  I feel a pulse of annoyance thrum through me. That last complaint would have been from Rachel, who has said something like this a thousand times.

  Scarlet raises one hand ever so slightly, as if placating me again, but drops it a second later. She clears her throat. �
�For some reason, your betas handed me over to a woman named Lola after that. She really had good things to say about you, and that went on for a while.” A slight, almost imperceptible blush colors Scarlet’s cheeks.

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I explain, wondering what the hell Lola said to cause that rose color on Scarlet’s face.

  Scarlet puckers her lips as her eyes sparkle with amusement. “I figured that out. Lola’s mate—I forget his name—picked up after that. He seemed unthreatened, even though I could tell he listened to everything Lola said. I guess you three are close. And he passed me off to probably fifty other members of your pack, all who had something to say about you. All of them seem to have either saved your life or have been saved by you.”

  “We’re that kind of pack,” I say.

  She lifts her brows and tilts her head. “Even the kids seemed tough.”

  “They are—though I don’t take credit for raising them that way. They’re valuable members of our pack. It seems like you and my pack talked for a while.” I was going to have to have a long conversation with Rachel about boundaries; the others had probably been modeling after my beta’s openness.

  “All day. We just got off the phone.” Scarlet laughs a little through the words. “Rachel gave me one hour to tell you about the conversation, then she’s going to call you and report everything that was said. They don’t want you to leave them—that’s clear enough. Even though it kind of seems like they’d be fine without you.”

  They would be fine without me—more than fine. I’d made sure of it. Crossing my arms over my chest again, I shift my weight before realizing I’m fidgeting—that isn’t good.

  “So,” I say as I meet Scarlet’s green eyes. “Are you saying you trust me?”

  “Rachel swore on her life I could,” Scarlet says with a half-smirk—though even the sexy twist of her full lips can’t distract me from the fact that she dodged the question. “Um,” she continues, “I just don’t get one thing—and in your note, you said you would answer what you could.”

  “You can ask me anything.” I nod, hoping she’ll take me up on the ‘anything’ part. I find people often reveal themselves more in what they want to know rather than what they actually say.

  She absently takes a step forward and into my space, almost as if she isn’t aware of the eagerness in her motion. Whatever she is hesitant to ask, she wants to know badly. “Why let my father decide between you three? It makes no sense to me. You…” she gestures to me, “…don’t seem like someone who wants to rule anyone, as if you took up the reins because you had to, Aaron seems ambivalent and laissez-faire about everything, and Lance strikes me as someone who would stop at nothing to get what he wants. Why not just let Lance be the only option?”

  It’s a good question—one I’d asked myself more than once in the two years we’d strategized our peaceful takeover. Problem is, I’m not sure I have an answer that will satisfy her. Except… if I look very closely at my own motivations, maybe I do have an answer.

  “I want it—I want to be alpha here,” I admit for the first time out loud. Dropping my hands to my sides, I add, “I think Aaron wants it too, as much as Lance and me. He’s less laissez-faire—as you put it—than he’d have all of us believe. I think we three did it this way to avoid conflict between us. Your father knows the wolves of this area best, and he’s the most qualified to select its next alpha.”

  She rakes in a long breath. “But he won’t.”

  “We’re still hoping that will change.”

  “And that’s why you’re here around me? You figured out I’m the one most likely to influence his opinion, so you’re using me to get to him.” She doesn’t sound accusatory in the claim, just matter of fact.

  Truth be told, when she puts it that way, it does seem like the only logical conclusion for why Lance aggressively pursued an apartment in the building in such close proximity to Scarlet. But… it doesn’t make sense at the same time. If that was the plan all along, Lance kept it to himself, and he'd made no move to ingratiate himself to Scarlet. The opposite can be said, actually, as both Aaron and I have come off as trustworthy, while our eldest brother has been more conniving. I’d never made the connection that Scarlet is a direct link to her father until this moment, either—though I really should have predicted she’d assume this.

  I blow out a slow breath. “This is going to sound, unbelievable, but sometimes I think the road takes you where you need to go. I’m the one who stopped before this complex. I needed some water from my bags, and I wanted to take off my helmet and breathe in the forest. We parked in the lot, and realizing the apartment was zoned in Heartland, Lance wanted to step in and talk to the owner. I can’t speak for my brothers, but I didn’t know you’d returned from New York. I recognized you when you stood up and turned around. If I ever want you to speak to your father on my behalf, I’ll damn well tell you beforehand and be very clear about my intentions. I don’t like bullshitters—”

  She raises her hands in protest. “I wasn’t calling you a bullshitter.”

  Yeah, sure she isn’t. But for some reason, the insult just makes me want to step closer to her. I don’t, knowing I’m so much larger than her, and any move toward her could be taken as physical intimidation. But maybe feeling the same impulse as me, Scarlet leans in just a little closer, filling my senses.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I say after a few beats of silence.

  “You can ask.”

  I lower my voice, softening it in an attempt to be as unthreatening as possible. “Is it a demon—do you have a demon possessing you?”

  Her green eyes snap wide in surprise, and she sputters, “Wha—what?”

  I do reach out toward her then, just barely resisting the urge to touch her shoulder. “I promise, I'm not judging you. If you do have a demon, I want to help. I think I can.” I'd done some research of my own in the last day and a half. I continue with an admission. “I don’t know what I saw, exactly. I only saw it in your eyes for a moment.”

  Terror fills her green gaze, and Scarlet jumps back as if I’ve just threatened her rather than offered to help. Shaking her head, she circles me and rushes toward the roof access. Her hand wraps around the metal handle, but she pauses to look back at me.

  “At least now I know for sure you’re not psychic.”

  Yanking open the metal door, Scarlet disappears inside, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.

  The moment the heavy door slams shut, a rustling sound grabs my attention, and I just manage to make it to the side of the building in time to see a large shadow detach itself from the redwood tree’s lower boughs, land on the ground, and bound off between houses, blurring with its speed.

  Good.

  She brought backup even after doing extensive research on me. That’s a relief. Grabbing the grainy ledge that surrounds the roof, I squint past the colorful Christmas lights, trying to spot any sign of movement beneath.

  A sudden breeze carries a noxious cloud of werewolf marking scent mingled with the tang of stale piss, blood, and semen. Waving my hand in the air, I attempt to waft away the pungent perfume, but the smell has already lodged in my nose, making it itch as my eyes water.

  When my sight clears, I scan the shadows cast by the surrounding neighborhood houses once more and reevaluate my first assumption that Scarlet knew about the presence of the wolf in the tree. It was almost certainly male from the fresh scent of semen and girth of the shadow, and whoever he was—he’d waited until Scarlet was inside to move but hadn’t waited for me to leave the rooftop. Obviously, the eavesdropper wants me to know of his presence and claim to Scarlet, but he doesn’t want to alert Scarlet to his presence for whatever reason.

  The boyfriend?

  If it was her boyfriend in the tree, it lent credence to my theory that Scarlet isn’t intimate with the fae prince, as my brothers believe. If that man was Scarlet’s boyfriend, though—I would have preferred it be the fae prince—no matter the political ramifications.

&nb
sp; Because one thing is very clear to me—Scarlet Riley is in serious danger from without, and possibly from within as well.

  Chapter Twelve

  Scarlet

  My father paces his study, rubbing the bridge of his nose—something he’s been doing for fifteen minutes. I’m starting to get a little scared that I broke his brain with all the revelations I’ve dropped on him in the past hour.

  “Possessed by a demon?” he asks finally. Stopping, he looks at me with green eyes that match my own.

  “Yeah—obviously, Darrel is a little odd, but it sounds like he only saw my wolf for a moment.”

  “Actually, there are cases of wolf spirit or demon possession, depending on the religious interpretation.” His hand reaches out, touching the spine of one of the books that line his walls, a thick black leather tome, but a moment later his hand drops and he shakes his head. “Obviously, that’s not what matters right now. What matters is that you need to be going back to New York, tonight.”

  Grunting my annoyance, I climb out of the plush armchair I’ve been curled up in and look up at my father, who stands a foot taller than me. Unfortunately, my father’s height and massive build weren’t passed down to me—a lot of my problems would probably have been non-existent if I’d been built like a linebacker.

  “We both know why I can’t ever leave again, Dad,” I say as I lean my head into his shoulder. Mostly I do it to keep our conversation from any prying ears in the packhouse. “The moment I leave, you lose all connection to the pack. Are you sure there isn’t some magical way we haven’t thought of so I can just bequeath alphahood to you? If we can prove you’re a really strong alpha, maybe we can get them to back off.”

  “No. As you know...” he gives me a disapproving look, “a child can’t bequeath it to their parent; it only goes down the line of lineage. The only way to do a peaceful takeover is if your wolf submits to mine and releases the power in front of the pack. My wolf views yours as dominant—he won’t make a move, I know that for a fact. And if we even try to do it that way, we’ll have to expose that you’re the one who killed Jacob Knight on your wedding day.”