Dirty Alphas

by Alexa B. James

  “So much, Darrel. I want you so much.” She wraps her legs around my hips, giving me deeper access.

  “Good. Because I want you, Scarlet. You, and only you.” I push the rest of the way into her.

  Crying out, Scarlet arches her back and squeezes her thighs.

  I can barely manage words, but I whisper, “Is this hurting you?”

  “No,” she moans. “Please, don’t stop.”

  “I won’t.” I kiss her while moving in and out of her, almost tipping over the edge every time she grips me. Soon, we’re moaning onto each other’s lips. The pleasure builds between us, so high and strong that I can’t keep it in anymore.

  “Finish with me, baby.” I thrust into her all the way to the hilt, pull out, and then thrust in again.

  That’s all it takes. Scarlet bows under me, her eyes roll up, and she clenches so tightly that my orgasm explodes through me.

  I collapse onto Scarlet, deep inside her. My forehead and lips touch hers gently. As I lay there, I can’t help marveling at how absolutely, completely content I feel. The moment is perfect in a way no other has managed before.

  Opening my eyes, I find a tear slipping down Scarlet’s cheek.

  “You okay?” I breathe as fear eclipses my haze of pleasure.

  She smiles and shakes her head slightly. “I’m amazing—I just…this all feels so intense.”

  I know exactly what she means. It all feels too intense, too connected, for us to barely know each other.

  After pulling out, I roll Scarlet back on top of me so I’m looking up at her. She lays her head on my chest, and we lie together for a while as our heartbeats slow. Eventually, Scarlet rises up and threads her fingers through mine, pulling my hands above my head.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

  “I’m wondering what happens now,” I tell her honestly.

  She watches me for a few moments as her blonde, messy hair falls around our faces. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you still going to work at the apartment complex?” I ask.

  Her brow furrows. “Yes—why wouldn’t I?”

  I can’t help a little smile at that. “Because you’re an alpha now. And unlike your father, who cut off trade associations, you’ll have alliances with San Francisco, Sacramento, and my pack, meaning your pack probably won’t be impoverished anymore.”

  “Oh.” She looks away. “I’m not really sure yet. Can I ask you a tough question, too?”

  “Sure.” I chuckle.

  “All right, are you leaving?” Scarlet says it lightly, but from the intensity of her stare, I can tell my answer will mean a lot.

  “It’s only four hours' ride between your pack and mine.”

  “Four hours is a long ride,” she points out.

  “Well, I like riding.” Squinting an eye at her, I ask, “How often would you want me coming up?”

  “You pick—I don’t want to pressure you into doing more than you really can.”

  That sounds like she wants me around—quite a bit, actually. My insides do a little flip at the thought. “Scarlet, you need to stop acting like you’re pressuring me into anything I don’t want—I want you.” I slowly trace her hipbone with a finger and add, “Trust me, you are not pushing me into this.”

  A smile spreads wide on her lips. “Okay.”

  “How’s about I’m around here for three or four—” I cut off as pain sears into my shoulder.

  Scarlet flinches against me as well. A mark glows on my arm, a crescent moon. When I look over to Scarlet, she now has two moons, touching at their ends and forming an open circle.

  Scarlet leans down, gently kissing my mark. “So, do you want to go eat spaghetti and meatballs naked...” her eyes shine with her happiness, “…and come back here after?”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Scarlet

  Nothing says being an alpha of your very own pack like fixing a broken, burned out light fixture in a troll’s horde. I wrinkle my nose against the smell of piles of unwashed armor, but it does no good. Werewolf scent glands are as much of a curse as they are an advantage—especially when you work in property management.

  “It just lit on fire by itself,” Mickey, a troll with three-foot horns, tries to tell me.

  “Mickey, this whole place is one big fire hazard. You’re lucky to be alive—we all are,” I growl as I climb down from a small, cleared spot on a table otherwise piled high with swollen wallets. They rain over the side as I attempt to find a vacant area to land on, then just decide to land on a pile of what looks like blankets. “I thought you cleared all this out in September.”

  He looks down, his pockmarked wide cheeks turning a darker shade of green. To the ground, he mumbles, “Yeah, I did.”

  “You robbed all these humans in three months?”

  Even for a bridge troll, it’s quite the treasury. I know Mickey has issues, as he’s part of the small population of bridge trolls that don’t like the taste of humans—but really, he needs to compensate in some other more productive way.

  He scratches the stringy white hair between his horns. “Maybe.”

  Muttering obscenities under my breath, I wade through to the door. “Well, you know I have to call your elders—who will likely call in another police raid for the stolen human possessions and a cleanup crew—so I suggest you make yourself scarce.”

  Ignoring Mickey’s grumblings that he could disembowel me where I stand, I head through the apartment—wondering why in all the heavens I decided to keep this stinking job. It had seemed like such a good idea two weeks ago when I became alpha—eight hours a day where the pack couldn’t bother me with petty disputes, but I’m definitely rethinking that as I wade out of Mickey’s horde.

  Trudging up to the Knight brothers’ apartment, I find the door open, and two familiar faces glance up from the couch.

  “That’s a lovely smell,” Aaron says as he leans away from me and closer to Mack.

  “I can’t smell her,” Mack says with a wicked grin. “Please describe.”

  “Two parts troll shit, one-part body odor—that I don’t mind, though.” Aaron raises his dark brows at me. “Need some help washing off?”

  Mack chuckles. “Six hands are better than two.”

  “Hardy, har, har,” I say as I shoot them the bird and trudge over to the bathroom.

  Mack’s words send a little squeamish excitement running through me. Mack, Aaron, and I have fallen into this comfortable “friends’ space” that continuously pushes against the “friend” line. In the week since we rescued Mack, I only see those two apart late at night or really early in the morning—and that’s when Mack doesn’t crash on the couch.

  Glancing at the television, I find a video game in split screen mode with Mack playing a werewolf and Aaron playing what looks like a hot female elf in a bikini.

  “Is this the plan for tonight?” I ask while kicking off my shoes and shimmying out of my pants.

  “Nope.” Aaron shuts off the console with his controller and turns to watch me over the back of the couch. “Mack and I are going out for a beer and to shoot some pool. You’re welcome to come, but Lance said you two have plans to talk.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot,” I bald-face lie as butterflies take flight in my stomach. Lance told me yesterday he wanted to talk—and when he said it, he emphasized the word: talk. For the past week, we’ve both seemed to be avoiding being alone with one another. First, he seemed to be doing it, then I started to do it.

  Absently, I peel off my shirt, when suddenly there’s a werewolf bounding over the back of the couch and wedging himself between me and the vanity.

  I’m so shocked, I burst out laughing and grab Aaron by the shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  He leans into me, his red-brown eyes crackling with interest. His hands come down and fingers hook into the elastic of my underwear. “You know, I’ve never minded the smell of troll shit.”

  Laughing again, I lean up and kiss him lightly on the nose. “I a
m going to go take a nice, warm shower…by myself.”

  “You sure?” Mack says as he fills the doorway to the bathroom, hands holding on to the sill above.

  Am I sure? Not really. After a week of balancing the pack and two jobs, I kind of just want to blow off Lance’s ‘talk’ and see how much cleaner I can get with six hands instead of two.

  Aaron hooks a finger into the front of my panties and pulls them open to peek down at the V between my legs before looking up and giving me a devilish grin.

  “You two need to not start anything we can’t finish,” I say as I slap his hand away. “I promised Lance I’d have a talk with him, so we have to not be assholes…as much as we might want to be.” I shimmy out of my underwear, unhook my bra, drop both to the floor, and step into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind me.

  I hear a low whistle, then Mack says, “She says we can’t be assholes, then she goes and does that.”

  Smiling into the warm spray, I wash slowly until I hear the pair of them leave. I swear Mickey’s horde embedded into my skin, so I take extra time scrubbing every inch of me before hopping out. During the course of my shower, the butterflies in my stomach grow to be giant monarchs slamming around the confines of my stomach.

  When I exit the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Lance has opened up the door to his room, and I can hear him rustling around in there.

  I knock lightly on the door. “Lance?”

  “You can come in, Scarlet,” he says from inside.

  “I’m not actually ready to talk yet, I just wanted to check in…” I trail off as I look into an entirely bare room. It never had much, but the desk and books are gone, along with the chairs. “What—are you guys moving out?” Just thinking about it feels like a blow to my gut. It’s only been a week, but no one said anything about things changing. Aaron told me he planned to leave for Sacramento on weekends, and Darrel plans to come from Friday morning until Tuesday morning.

  In the past week, I’d just sort of moved in—dividing my sleeping quarters between the two rooms. I’d even given up my apartment to Zeezee and Zane—just not able to give enough shits to evict Zane from the unit.

  Oh, crap—I’m going to have to move in with my parents. Would the Knight brothers still visit me? Or is this the gentle way they’re telling me it’s over?

  Lance looks around before meeting my gaze a little warily. “Why do you look so upset?”

  “You’re moving out?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, his tattoo-covered muscles strain against his sleeves. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  I can’t help giving him an exasperated look. “Are you joking? Of course I don’t want you guys to move out. If I’m not working, I’m hanging out with you three and Mack.” I gesture out so dramatically, my towel starts to slip, and I grab it to keep my modesty. “Why would you even think that?”

  He hikes his dark brows up his forehead. “If you’re not working, you’re with Mack, Darrel, or Aaron.”

  “Well, whose fault is that?” I can’t help pointing out. “So, that’s it—you’re just going to decide for everyone and move everyone out like you moved everyone in?” Anger surges into my chest, and I feel my wolf rising. We’ll fight to make sure this bullshit doesn’t go down—on this, we’re in perfect agreement.

  He lifts his green eyes to the heavens, then gives me a lazy look. “Don’t worry, Scarlet, Darrel and Aaron are planning on staying here.”

  “Oh.” My anger sizzles as quickly as it ignites, and another, much more unwelcome feeling comes in to replace it. Hurt. He’s rejecting me. It’s not that I didn’t see it coming—with the way he’s been avoiding me like I was an incubator for a nasty virus or something ever since I defeated Jacob. “I’m sorry—of course you get to pick whether you want to live here. I’m sure we can make all our arrangements through the phone.” Surprising tears prick at my eyes, and I turn away quickly, grabbing for his door, which must have closed behind me.

  Lightning quick, Lance is there, his hands going to either side of me and pushing his door shut.

  “Let me go,” I growl as my first tear falls. When he doesn’t move, I spin in his arms, only to find his face inches from mine. I raise my hand to point into his face, only to remember my towel isn’t secure. It falls, slipping down my body, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to scurry to pick it up. Leaning back into the wood door, I glare. “What do you want, Lance?”

  “Why would you care if I move away, Scarlet?” he asks, his gaze so intent, it’s almost alarming.

  “What is this, some sort of fucking test?” I growl.

  His eyes flash as he leans in closer toward me. “Why would you care?”

  “I don’t. You should go—" I snarl at him as my insides feel like they want to sink through the floor. “I don’t like immature assholes who play games.”

  “Obviously, you do.”

  He leans in and kisses me once, surprisingly gentle. I rake in one angry breath, then fall into his embrace. I kiss him fiercely, desperately, and almost refuse to let him go when he pulls back. But I do let him go…

  …to find him grinning.

  Crouching down, Lance grabs my towel and stands to wrap it around me. “You might want to get dressed—the delivery service is going to arrive any minute now, and my wolf might come rearing up again if they’re ogling you in that. It’s up to you, though—I’m not telling you how to dress.”

  “Delivery service?” I glance around his empty room.

  “With my new bedroom furniture.” He grins, gesturing to the empty room. “I bought an office building downtown Eureka and had my desk moved there this morning.”

  “Of course you did,” I mumble, feeling like a complete and utter idiot. “So—you’re staying.” Grabbing my towel, the door handle, and my last scraps of dignity, I shrug. “That’s fine, if you want to.”

  Leaning in, Lance gives me another quick kiss on my lips before laying his forehead on mine. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  Surprisingly, his promise fills both me and my wolf with a deep, tingly contentment, and as I hurry across the apartment, I’m pretty sure, for a little while at least, things will be just fine.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to our beta readers Anne and Tory. Thank you to Kristin, it was amazing to get guidance from such a wonderful author. Thank you so much for your help, Kel!! You help so many authors and have such a big heart. Thank you to our editor Karen for being so flexible and thorough! You are incredible. Thank you to Vanesa. It was such a pleasure to work with you and such an honor to feature one of your covers.

  Thank you to the amazing teams of the RH group and RHRA group.

  Thank you to the B-Team and Alexa B James ARC team! Thank you to NF for writing such beautiful music. This line was inspired by his track, Mansion: “It usually just means someone you let in wounded you so badly, you’re terrified of giving someone else that chance.” NF’s music speaks directly to my heart -Alexa.