Alpha Hero

by Terry Bolryder

  Earlier, Senna had looked almost too irresistible to deny. Her curves went on for days, and he especially thought about how nice her large breasts would feel in his hands as he licked them and made her scream his name.

  But that wasn’t on the table. So if he couldn’t satisfy one hunger, he was going to satisfy the other in the meantime.

  By the time they’d been given menus, Jordan could tell Senna was getting uncomfortable with the fanciness of the place. She opened the menu and gasped audibly.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not very hungry,” she said, closing the menu and putting it down.

  “Nonsense. Get whatever you want,” Jordan said, already knowing what he was going to get.

  “I couldn’t possibly,” she said, looking uncomfortable.

  “If you don’t, I’ll just choose something for you,” Jordan said, taking a sip of water.

  He could see she was torn between not wanting to eat at this price and not wanting to act inappropriately.

  “Consider it my apology for how I acted yesterday,” Jordan said diplomatically. “My treat.”

  This seemed to satisfy her, and Senna quickly picked up the menu and gave her order to the waiter when he arrived. Jordan added his, along with an order for a nice wine that would pair well with their meals.

  “Wine at lunchtime?” Senna asked, confused. “Little early, don’t you think?”

  “Social lubricant,” Jordan replied. “It’s always easier to have something to talk about when there’s a little alcohol.”

  Senna blushed slightly, which made Jordan smile. He liked getting a reaction out of her.

  “So how did you get into working with guys like me?” Jordan asked, intrigued by this person who came out of nowhere into his life.

  “I worked in marketing and promotion for several years for one of the major fighting leagues. I did a little freelance PR coach work on the side. After a while, I quit my main job and moved to doing this full time, and I’ve been doing it ever since,” she said, taking a drink of water.

  “So you get paid to turn assholes like myself into respectable members of the MMA community? I thought people liked the bad-boy persona a lot of fighters have.”

  “Yes and no. It depends on if that’s what they’ve built their brand on… and whether or not people respond well to their personality quirks and demeanor. Some of the guys I worked with only acted like jerks in the ring so they could look tough, but they were complete gentlemen in general.”

  Jordan didn’t like the thought of Senna having interacted with other fighters before, maybe even dated some of them, but he didn’t know why.

  “No, I’ve never been in a relationship with one of my clients, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, as if reading his mind.

  “I wasn’t thinking that,” Jordan said quickly, brushing the subject aside. Senna raised an eyebrow questioningly but didn’t prod further.

  There was another pause. Their waiter came by and said their food would be there shortly.

  “He’s my half-brother,” Jordan interjected.

  “What?” Senna asked, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

  “Earlier at the dojo, you asked why I give Asher so much grief. He’s my half-brother and kind of the family favorite. There’s a lot more going on I can’t say, but for now, just think of him as the next prince in line and me as the bastard son.”

  “Funny way of putting it, but I guess I see what you mean. You’re at least lucky enough to have siblings, even if they’re half. My parents died when I was very young, so I was raised by my aunt and uncle who took me in. They had kids of their own, and even though I wasn’t some sort of Cinderella, I was never really one of the family.” She took a large swig of wine. Probably a lot of memories down that rabbit hole.

  “Well, it’s what made you who you are, so that’s not something to be ashamed of,” Jordan replied, hoping to take the emotional edge off.

  Then Jordan realized it. Something that had been tickling the back of his mind since he met this woman. Something so subtle, so repressed, that nobody must have picked up on it before.

  Senna was a wolf-shifter.

  There was something magnetic about her he had missed when he first met her due to his anger after the press conference. But from the moment she’d walked into the dojo this morning, he’d seen her differently. And it wasn’t just the fact that she was smokin’ hot with her sexy curves and confident attitude. There was a uniqueness to her scent. Very hidden but almost like daffodils in springtime. Something very unlike any human he’d ever met.

  The longer he was with her, the more he was sure. She was wolf.

  The only question was what to do about it.

  Jordan had only heard of a situation like this once before, and that woman had been found by shifters who were connected to her family. This woman, though she had a great career and an ass-kicking attitude, had no other family members or friends that were shifters.

  She had one now. Him. But how could he tell her everything she knew about the world was suddenly wrong?

  Jordan refocused on the woman before him, who was now sipping wine and enjoying the art hanging on the walls around them.

  He changed subjects again. “So what’s it been like working in the world of mixed martial arts? Is everyone as much a gentleman as you make them out to be?”

  Jordan knew many of the pro MMA fighters from the different leagues he’d met were shifters. Over the years, more and more had tried their hand at making a living by fighting. Most of them were rogue shifters or of fairly low status, but he was still curious to see if any of them might have figured it out or at least suspected.

  “Sometimes,” she said with a small sigh. “They run the gamut.”

  “Go on,” Jordan encouraged.

  “Mostly, they’re just self-absorbed or egomaniacs. Which is why they tend to be the type of person that needs my services. But once or twice, I had to end a job early because a client got… weird,” she said, trying to sound normal.

  “You mean aggressive?” Jordan peered at Senna suspiciously.

  “A little too clingy. Not professional. So it was in everyone’s best interest I remove myself from the situation.”

  “How diplomatic of you.”

  At that moment, the food finally arrived. The waiter brought out a hearty steak cooked to perfection for Jordan and a lobster tail with a side of risotto for Senna.

  “So a fan of the lobster?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes, everything about it is perfect,” Senna said, smiling as she ate a bite.

  “Is that going to be enough food?” he asked, motioning to her fairly small dish with his fork.

  “Of course. I’m always trying to be mindful of, well, you know,” she replied shyly.

  “Bullcrap, there isn’t enough there to feed a kid. Waiter.” Jordan waved down the waiter. “Another lobster tail and a filet, medium rare.” The waiter nodded and left to take the order to the kitchen.

  For a moment, Senna’s eyes blazed indignantly. Jordan just smiled back in reply. But as she resumed her meal, her annoyance turned to contentment. Jordan found it oddly satisfying, watching her eat merrily and savor each bite. He looked forward to getting her dinner.

  Jordan finished his food quickly as he pondered what to do next. His manager, Ken, was a shifter as well. Maybe he’d know what to do.

  “Thank you, Jordan,” Senna said, interrupting his thoughts. “You may come across as a jerk, but I can tell, deep down, you’re much more than that.”

  “Well, I’m glad you feel that way,” he replied neutrally. “Now, about these guys you had to “remove yourself” from. Who are they?” Jordan asked, feeling protective.

  “I’ve taken care of it. It’s nothing you need to be worrying about, anyway,” she said, taking the last piece of lobster and enjoying it.

  “Well, if you’re going to be following me around, it’s my business too, is it not? Can’t have my consultant fearing for her life while we
’re working together, can we?”

  Senna chuckled quietly, then smiled as the waiter brought the second order to her. But Jordan could sense the tension there, just in how the mood shifted whenever he brought it up.

  He’d have to ask Ken if he knew anything about that as well.

  “So where are you staying?”

  “Ugh, don’t even get me started about the hotel I’m at. It is without a doubt the worst place I’ve ever stayed before,” she said, moving her plate so the waiter could set the food Jordan had ordered in front of her.

  “Really? Then stay at my place,” Jordan said.

  Senna paused for a moment, head cocked, trying to read Jordan, almost as if she expected him to rescind any second.

  “No, seriously. I have a place not far from the dojo. It has a spare bedroom with its own bathroom and everything. I won’t even be around, since I usually stay in the overnight room we have at the dojo. Makes early morning training easy.”

  Jordan could see she was considering it. She took a bite of steak and chewed thoughtfully.

  “The place is completely safe. I just want you to be comfortable while you’re working with me,” Jordan added, hoping to tip the scale.

  “No funny business?” she asked accusingly.

  “None. Scout’s honor.” Jordan halfheartedly held a hand up with several fingers pointed upward, hoping it at least resembled something a Boy Scout would do.

  “You never struck me as the kind of person who would ever be a Boy Scout. But I trust you. Just promise me it doesn’t have any sort of infestations or serial killers living inside the walls or anything,” she said, resuming her meal.

  “None whatsoever. And I’ll just be a call away if you need anything.”

  “Jordan Vale, are you being a gentleman? Am I witnessing the first sighting of this momentous event?” she said jokingly.

  “I can be a gentleman when I want. You just have to rub me the right way. Now eat up. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to be around me.”

  Senna rolled her eyes at Jordan, but he could see a slight blush on her cheeks at his insinuation. Damn, she was beautiful. And every time she got even a little aroused, he was more and more sure she was a wolf. And it made something call from deep inside of him, drawing him more to her each second they were together.

  There was only one little problem.

  How to tell her all of this.

  * * *

  The “guesthouse” Jordan had insisted Senna stay in was much more than just a guesthouse. It was more like a guest mansion.

  After lunch, during which Jordan had asked more than once if she’d had enough to eat, he brought her back to the dojo so she could take her rental car back to the hotel, check out of that hellhole, and bring her stuff to the address Jordan had given her.

  When she pulled up, she thought he must have been pulling a prank.

  But the key he’d handed her worked, and no sooner had she gone inside than she was greeted by an almost stately, fully-furnished home that must have had at least half a dozen bedrooms with bathrooms, a large kitchen, a den, and other spaces befitting of a trust fund family or someone from old money.

  As much as she wanted to, she didn’t have time to explore though. She chose a room, unpacked, and spent the afternoon making calls to various events companies, newscasters wanting to do interviews, and local organizations.

  But during all of it, she couldn’t get the way Jordan looked at her out of her mind. Especially the way he’d looked her over that morning, like a hungry wolf sizing up its prey. There was something feral about it, something unleashed.

  Just thinking about it gave her chills up her spine and made her cheeks warm. She’d never been one for overnight crushes or summer flings. Never been one to want a man just because he looked hot. But there was something different about Jordan Vale. Something she couldn’t put a finger on.

  Dinnertime approached all too quickly, and Jordan sent a text saying he would be busy and unable to join her for dinner. Along with it, he sent the number for a good takeout place and insisted she order something or he would “come after her” later.

  Incorrigible man.

  She called the place, which apparently was actually a fairly expensive Chinese restaurant in the area. She cringed at the thought of spending the amount they charged just for fast food, But Jordan had instructed her to simply use his name and they would put it on his tab. And she didn’t plan on seeing what his reaction would be if she decided to skip dinner.

  As she placed her order, she decided to double it and take some to Jordan. He was probably at the dojo, and if not, she would have leftovers for tomorrow.

  In no time at all, the food arrived, smelling delicious. She left the house, making absolutely sure the door was locked, and drove her rental car to the dojo.

  When she arrived, she came through the front door, surprised to see the lights on but the dojo completely empty. A lone punching bag hung from the ceiling in the center, so she sensed Jordan couldn’t be far.

  She heard a hushed voice from one of the back rooms, so she followed the sound behind the desk and into a small hallway connecting several rooms with files, old equipment, and other clutter. As she got closer, she heard Jordan, presumably on the phone with someone.

  “She’s one of us. You can’t just pretend that information doesn’t change everything,” she could hear him say quietly.

  A short pause. Senna waited in the hallway, not trying to be a snoop, but too drawn in by the conversation to walk away or interrupt him. Something about it made her strangely excited.

  “No, you can’t do that.” Pause. “I won’t just accept she’s going to have to live like that.” Jordan was sounding increasingly agitated. Whoever he was speaking to wasn’t telling him what he wanted to hear.

  “Well, you can kiss my ass,” she heard Jordan yell. There was a tap and then the sound of what was presumably Jordan’s phone crashing against the wall.

  Jordan walked out into the hallway, looking harried. The second he saw Senna, he stopped.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you were here,” he said, trying to sound calm.

  “Yeah, I brought us dinner,” she said, holding up the bag of food. “What was that all about?”

  “Just helping a teammate out with some girl troubles. You know, women.” Jordan rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t convincing.

  “Since when were you the kind of guy people went to for advice?” Senna prodded.

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Jordan winked, dodging the subject.

  Jordan led them out into the main area and pulled some plates and utensils out of a side closet near a mini fridge in the corner. But the whole thing still stuck with Senna. What were they talking about in there?

  “You can tell me anything, Jordan. I want you to know that,” Senna blurted out between bites of delicious orange chicken.

  “Confiding in me already?” he joked.

  “No, I mean if there’s anything bothering you, you can tell me.” The words seemed to come from nowhere. She’d never been this forward with a client before, or any man for that matter.

  “Well, maybe someday, Senna,” he said, seemingly lost in thought.

  The rest of the night passed quietly, but once Senna was back in her room, the conversation and Jordan’s response still hovered in her consciousness.

  What was that all about?

  * * *

  The next day was their first event, and Jordan’s first formal public appearance since the announcement of his hiatus.

  It was a moderate-sized fair to promote local sports. In attendance were dozens of clubs, leagues, dojos, and organizations seeking to find new members or clients for every sport from baseball to cross country running to Tae Kwon Do. Senna thought it odd Jordan’s dojo didn’t promote at the event, but he’d simply told her they served a “fairly specific type of clientele” when she’d asked earlier.

  It was late morning, and already there were throngs of peop
le around. Some to promote their own studios and teams. Others just to be outside and enjoy the fresh air and food vendors in attendance, and others that seemed to just be passers-by on this city block.

  In reality, Senna had scheduled and coordinated much larger events, both at her previous job and in conjunction with doing PR work for her clients. But she thought this would be a good starting point, since Jordan was notorious for skipping out on things like this, even after having committed to it.

  They walked side by side, scoping out the different booths where they would make an appearance. She was wearing a green blouse and feminine slacks, hoping to appear professional. Jordan, on the other hand, didn’t care about that at all, wearing a tight black T-shirt with tattered angel wings that extended across the back and a logo for an edgy MMA brand on the front, with fitted jeans that showed off his taut thighs. He looked like something from a fantasy, with his dark, edgy hair and his perfect, masculine features.

  Get it together, Senna.

  Thus far, only a few people had stopped and asked for autographs, recognizing a well-known MMA fighter. And Jordan had, at least thus far, been professional and cordial with his adoring fans.

  “So why did you choose an event like this?” Jordan asked dryly. Something seemed to be wearing on him, and small stress lines were forming at the corners of his eyes.

  “It’s a good place to make a public showing without getting inundated. You’ll have plenty of fans here, but it’s not an MMA-only event. And as such, it should be fairly low key,” she replied.

  “The fact of the matter is…” Jordan trailed off. As they walked to their first booth, he got closer and closer to her, to the point their arms were touching. Senna was acutely aware of how tall the huge man next to her was. She felt tiny, a feeling she wasn’t used to. And yet she felt totally safe.

  “The fact is, I hate crowds, Senna,” he grated out, looking ahead as they walked.

  “What do you mean? You’re a pro MMA fighter. How can that be?” Senna asked, curious.