by Renee Rose
Alpha’s Bane
A Shifter Fight Club Romance
Renee Rose
Lee Savino
Burning Desires
Copyright © November 2018 Alpha’s Bane by Renee Rose and Lee Savino
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published in the United States of America
Renee Rose Romance and Silverwood Press
Editor:
Maggie Ryan
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
Created with Vellum
Contents
Alpha’s Bane
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
Author’s Note
Alpha’s Temptation (Bad Boy Alphas, Book 1)
Alpha’s Danger (Bad Boy Alphas, Book 2)
Alpha’s Prize (Bad Boy Alphas, Book 3)
Alpha’s Challenge (Bad Boy Alphas, Book 4)
Alpha’s Obsession (Bad Boy Alpha’s Book 5)
Alpha’s Desire (Bad Boy Alpha’s Book 6)
Alpha’s War (Bad Boy Alpha’s Book 7)
Alpha’s Mission
About Renee Rose
King of Diamonds - A Dark Mafia Romance Excerpt
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Also by Renee Rose
About Lee Savino
Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers
Sold to the Berserkers
Alpha’s Bane
By Renee Rose and Lee Savino
She ruined my life, got me thrown out of the pack.
The only revenge I crave is her.
Trey
I never thought I’d have a girl like Sheridan. A pack princess—beautiful, smart, one of the elite. She picked me. She gave me her heart, her innocence.
Hurting her was my biggest regret. But then she betrayed us all.
Now she’s back—sent to spy on our pack.
She wants revenge.
But my wolf...he just wants her.
Sheridan
He crushed my heart and broke my trust. I ruined his life.
Now we have to work together, and it’s killing me.
I want to hate him. But more than that...I want his mark.
Chapter One
Wolf Ridge, Arizona (Northern Phoenix) Sixteen Years Ago
Sheridan
The thunk of bone hitting flesh knots my stomach. I grab my little sister Ruby’s hand and tug her back, out of the way. An inhuman snarl comes from the slender, malnourished teen attacking my cousin Garrett Green, a kid twice his size. You’d have to be insane to take on our alpha’s kid.
But Trey probably has a death wish.
His drunk of a dad got hauled in by the police today. For murder. Of a human.
And the reason all the kids are gathered on this field behind the clubhouse is because our alpha called a pack meeting. Word is, they’re discussing whether to let Trey and his mom stay. The pack doesn’t appreciate trouble with humans, especially cops, so any wolf who puts us at risk is subject to banishment.
So yeah, Trey’s probably got a world of anger and fear pounding through him now. Taking the beating from Garrett might be a welcome distraction.
To Garrett’s credit, he’s hardly bloodied Trey yet. He maintains the upper hand but lets the fight go on, lets Trey blow off steam this way, punching and kicking, throwing himself into it again and again. Trey picked the fight as soon as the meeting started and we kids clustered up to watch.
And they aren’t friends. No one’s befriended Trey since his family moved here last year. He’s stony quiet most of the time, barely talks in class, although he seems to be smart. This is the most interaction I’ve seen from him all year.
It’s not as ugly as it sounds. There’s a beauty to the fight—both boys moving with light-footed grace, like trained boxers instead of freshmen. If my older brother were out here, he’d break it up, but he just turned eighteen, so he’s allowed into meetings now.
Trey throws his weight and tackles Garrett. They tumble to the dirt. Garrett pins him, but Trey slips out and punches him in the temple, eliciting a surprised grunt.
Garrett’s four-year-old sister, Sedona, runs forward, crying for him, and I dash in to get her out of the fray. At the same time, Garrett tosses Trey backward, and he knocks me and Sedona to the ground.
A collective growl snarls through Garrett and the group of kids watching. I fully expect Garrett to finish Trey now, his alpha instinct to protect the females overriding whatever restraint he was showing.
My friend Pam picks up and soothes Sedona.
“Sheridan.” Trey ignores Garrett, instantly transforming from out-of-control fury, to… gentleman. The wolf in his eyes fades from silver to pale blue.
I didn’t know he even knew my name, although why wouldn’t he? I certainly know his.
He lifts me to my feet at the same time he scrambles up. His knuckles are bruised and bloodied, but he holds me gently, concern etched in the line between his eyes. “I’m sorry—are you hurt?” His tooth has gone through his lip and blood spills down his chin, but he seems unaffected by his own pain.
Our gazes tangle and something cinches up in my lower belly—some intense new awareness that I’m female, and he’s male.
I can’t look away. He doesn’t release me, even with Garrett breathing down his neck just behind him.
“I’m okay.” I finally make my numb lips move. My heart pounds in my ears as I absorb everything I’d missed about this scrappy kid from the lowest pack family. The deepness of his voice. The intensity of his pale blue eyes. The muscle definition on his slender frame. The scents on him—blood, earth and pine.
“Hey.” The cluster of kids jumps apart at the command of our alpha’s deep voice. “What’s going on down here?” My uncle sniffs the air, no doubt picking up the scent of blood. The back door to the clubhouse is open and parents are coming out to round up their kids. Sedona runs to Alpha Green and he tousles her hair without taking his narrowed gaze off his son. “Were you fighting?”
A muscle in Garrett’s jaw ticks as his gaze flicks to Trey, who dropped his hands from me like he received an electrical shock. “Nah.” He affects a lazy tone that in no way matches the intensity of the tussle he had. “We were just letting off some steam, right, Trey?” He puts a fist out and Trey bumps it, like they’re best buds. Like Trey somehow earned his respect by taking him on.
I release a breath I d
idn’t know I was holding.
Emmett Green turns his commanding gaze on Trey. “You’re going to have to man up and take care of your mother now, son.”
Trey keeps his eyes dropped submissively to show respect. “Yes, sir. Are we kicked out?”
“No,” Mr. Green says. “You’ll be permitted to stay, so long as you keep out of trouble and sever all contacts with your dad.”
Trey swallows. “No hardship there,” he mutters. Then adds, “Thank you, sir.”
The alpha walks off and the kids all stay, eyeing Trey with curiosity. I want to punch them all in the face now, even though I am just as much a party to this scene as anyone else. It’s Garrett who shifts things up.
“Come on.” He smacks Trey’s shoulder like they’re old friends. “Let’s go hang out.”
And just like that, Trey gets folded in as one of Garrett’s little pack, the bad boy alphas of Wolf Ridge High.
* * *
Present
Sheridan
Those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.
The quote from my ‘daily wisdom quote’ calendar rolls through my head as I stride across the pitted parking lot. My heels crunch on broken glass and I grit my teeth. I’m here under duress. If I ruin my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos on this fool’s errand, I am going to be really pissed.
You can do it, sweetheart. This was just one line from my father’s pep talk. The pack’s counting on you, was another. I hear the unspoken addition: I’m counting on you. If there’s anything thirty years of life have taught me, it was that I’ll do anything to make my dad proud. Including walking back into a scene from my high school days.
Apparently, I didn’t learn anything from the past, because here I am, repeating it. Come to think of it, my dad gave me that damn ‘daily wisdom quote’ calendar.
A rundown warehouse looms across the gravel lot, rising from the cracked concrete. A line of motorcycles lean in front of a broken chain link fence. A few beat up pickup trucks break up the endless row of leather and chrome. I pass one mud-spattered Chevy, a rusty replacement door adding a splash of color to the battered blue. A faded bumper sticker features a howling wolf. Another: a dog with its leg cocked, a telltale arc of liquid splashing on a Ford symbol.
Charming.
As I approach, the door slams open and a shifter staggers out, his matted mane of hair and sweat stained shirt reeking of beer, piss and pot. At 6 p.m. on a Wednesday.
Lovely.
“Excuse me.” I’d touch his arm to get his attention, but I don’t know where he’s been. “Is this the shifter fight club?”
The shifter dude gapes at me, and I stiffen. I’m dressed in an Anne Klein suit and skirt. The olive tone makes the caramel and chestnut highlights in my hair pop and my green eyes look amazing. Paired with the sheerest of sheer stockings and my lucky Jimmy Choos—I’m business up front, yowza in the back. And sexy as fuck underneath.
Not that this trifling shifter wolf will ever know it. His gaze roams from my shiny shoes to my elegant skirt to my rather generous hips, detouring around the tailored cut at my waist and stalling right at my girls.
“Hey,” I snap. “My eyes are up here.”
The shifter looks higher. “Is it a full moon?” he leers. “‘Cause I got the urge to mate right now.”
A bad pick up line. Awesome.
“No,” I bark, no longer willing to waste politeness on this moron. “I’m looking for—”
Behind the shifter, the door swings open, and rock music blasts into the sunny day. A drunken howl fills the air. “Drink, drink, drink, drink!”
Just like that, I’m back in high school.
A keg in the woods, bare-chested shifter boys doing handstands. My heart flutters as I walk up to one. The beautiful troubled one with the ice blue eyes. He turns as I approach, a smile lighting his rugged face. It takes my breath away...
“Lady? Lady…” Beer-soaked breath on my face makes me step back. “I wouldn’t go in there if I was you,” the wolf informs me solemnly. Great advice. Too bad I can’t take it.
“This is Fight Club?” I ask, and when he nods, I hit the door with my palm, sucking in a breath and holding it as I enter the murky underworld.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. Dust motes hang suspended in the smoky air. To the right, a shifter stands behind a makeshift bar, slinging drinks to his rowdy patrons. A group of leather-clad jackals slam shots. A few sway. One stands on a metal stool, singing a drinking song that sounds vaguely Irish. I can’t tell because he’s slurring and cussing every other word.
The place is cavernous, with a concrete floor and light sifting in from windows near the ceilings. Whoever converted this warehouse didn’t do a bad job. The bar and the backsplash are made of recycled wood. There are a few tall tables, metal topped with more polished wood. Not bad looking, actually. Give this place a good cleaning—maybe a powerwash—and it would look trendy, a hipster brunch spot. Of course, you’d have to change the bathroom signs. Right now they read: Bitches and Studs.
Enchanting.
I roll my eyes and step aside as a prowl of jaguars brush by, heading to the bar. They have their dark hair slicked back and collars up like wannabe 50s greasers. A few look back at me with casual interest and I fight not to roll my eyes again.
I do not fit in here. For one thing, I’m the only one in a suit. For another, I’m a she-wolf. There aren’t many females in this place. A few bitches maybe. Well, I can be a bitch, too. I set my teeth into half smile, half snarl, and stride into the shadows. More shifters stand in clusters, muttering together. One points to a notebook, and his companion pulls out a wallet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see bills change hands. I nearly stop and stare at this blatant proof of gambling.
A large cage sits on an elevated stage. Inside, a scrawny shifter with a shock of orange hair pushes a mop around lazily. My nose pricks with a sharp smell. Blood.
The closer I get to the fighting ring, the stronger the scents hit me. Blood, sweat, piss in a dizzying miasma. If testosterone had a smell, this would be it. I wrinkle my nose and pick my way around the piles of trash, and walk smack into a solid wall of muscle.
“Oh excuse me—”
“Watch it, princess,” a rumble like an avalanche comes from a hulking beast of a man. I look up and freeze, mouth falling open. Feral eyes peer from a fight-ravaged face. Arms, neck, cheeks—whatever part of him that isn’t tattooed is covered in scars. The scars alone make me stare. With shifter healing, they’re not common, but not impossible. How much damage had this guy taken that he didn’t heal right away, but scarred?
One beefy hand hovers at my elbow, as if he’s ready to grab and steady me—or throw me out. “This is no place for a lady.”
“I—uh-I—” This is ridiculous. I’m Sheridan Green of the Wolf Ridge Greens, leaders of the Phoenix pack. Both my uncle and cousin are pack alphas. I’ve navigated werewolf politics since before I could walk.
I stare up into the scarred face and try to remember my mission and manners. “I beg your pardon.”
“You looking for somebody?” he growls.
I straighten my suit jacket, searching for composure. “I...yes. Is Garrett Green here?”
The big guy cocks an eyebrow. “The alpha don’t come here.”
I lick my lips, trying to think of who to ask for. “I was told this was a pack operation.”
“You were told wrong,” the big guy tells me. He’s a shifter, but I can’t scent what type of animal, though I feel it, big and brooding under his intimidating skin. Definitely an apex predator. “This here’s independent from the pack.”
My brain scrambles. If Garrett’s pack isn’t running this operation, who is? “I thought this place was under the Tucson pack’s protection.”
The big guy shrugs. “We’re fighters. We protect our own.”
“That’s”—I shake my head, not wanting to say ‘crazy’—“I’m from the Phoenix pack. I was sent here to find ou
t what’s going on—”
“Hey, Grizz. Who’s your friend?”
I turn towards the silky voice, and get my second shock of the night. Grizz—the big guy at my back, steps between me and the speaker, but not before I get a whiff of cologne. The seductive scent covers an uglier smell—a stone-cold scent like a tomb, with an undertone of old blood.
My lips curl back and I snarl, “Vampire.”
The leech is tall, too tall, with a fine-boned face so beautiful it’s inhuman. His beauty is predatory, lethal, like a poisonous flower. Men and women will find themselves attracted to him, but before they know why, they’ll be dead.
He smiles, showing a pair of pointy teeth. My hackles go up and my wolf surges to the fore.
“Back off, Nero,” the big shifter barks, his brawny shoulder inserted between me and the vamp. “She’s a guest.”
“My dear Grizzly.” The vampire spreads his elegant hands. He’s wearing a thousand-dollar suit and snakeskin cowboy boots. “Aren’t we all?”
“Come on.” Grizz herds me toward the back, away from the smiling vampire. “Office’s this way. The boss will want to speak with you.”
I let the scarred shifter—grizzly bear, of course—guide me around the fight cage toward the corner of the warehouse, where a dark, room-sized cube hugs the walls. Behind us, Nero watches, his teeth shining in the gloom. I suppress a shudder.
