Sierra stepped up to the guy, the scent of woodsmoke and fresh earth saturating the air in his proximity. He must’ve been running through the forest and recently shifted to human. “Welcome to my territory,” she said, placing a hand out with emphasis. “I’m Sierra Kanoska, alpha of the Red Rock pack.”
The man’s eyes widened with interest as he clapped his large, callused palm against hers and shook. Even though he towered at least a foot above her, Sierra thrust her chin up, not intimidated in the slightest. Men tended to rely too heavily on their size instead of realizing one well-placed blow would make them crumble. And Sierra had honed her body into a weapon.
“Dax Williams, alpha of the Silver Spring pack. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The challenge dwelled in his tone of voice, in the openness of his stance and the flare of his nostrils as he soaked in the scent of her surrounding wolves. The smirk on his face was one Sierra’s knuckles itched to knock off. The bastard had barely been here five minutes, but already she hated him. He stepped away, sidling past her to rest his forearms on the bar. “Don’t suppose I can get a drink around here?”
Raven glanced over to her, her eyes glowing silver with the same aggression as the rest of them. Sierra slid back onto her stool, giving Raven a nod in return. Until they established why Dax and his cronies had picked her territory to torment and whether they could be convinced to turn away without bloodshed, a pint would be the best way to defuse the powder keg this room had turned into.
“Sorry, we’re fresh out of milk,” Sierra said with a too-sweet smile.
Dax’s lips curled with a wicked smirk. “Pity. Guess I’ll have to settle for a pint, then.”
The woman behind him took one of the empty stools, her ponytail bouncing as she sat. “Make that three. All our running made Kyle and me thirsty.”
Raven stared stony-faced at the counter as she filled Sierra a pint first, then followed with drinks for the intruders, her claws pricking out in the process. The air thickened, and every eye homed in on the three intruders lining the bar by Sierra. She hadn’t taken her gaze off them for a second, waiting for a slip-up. The day she’d become alpha she’d swallowed her responsibility pills, but she wasn’t a saint.
Dax lifted the closest pint to his lips and his cronies took theirs. Not to be outdone, Sierra tipped hers back, chugging the liquid in an attempt to distract herself from ramming a punch into the too-calm kitty alpha’s face. The ale coursed down her throat until foam dripped to her lips, and she slammed the glass on the bar, heat flushing through her at her triumph. The three mountain cat shifters stared at her, sipping at their drinks as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
“Pint’s over. Since you came rolling up to what’s obviously one of our bars, I’m assuming you’re ready to discuss business now,” Sierra said, leaning forward to place her forearms on the bar. Her braid shifted down her back with the way she thrust her chin forward. “Right now, you’re considered guests in our territory. However, if you’re here to try and stake a claim, you’ll find yourself out on your ass before you can blink.”
A couple of growls reverberated around her, including from Finn, who hunched forward, his eyes glowing amber.
“I’d like to see you try.” Dax’s lips curled into a smile, smug enough to make her say to hell with the consequences and tear into him. He shifted on the seat, near dwarfing it with a lethal, coiled body that spelled dangerous. Despite his calm, the way his blue eyes flashed promised trouble. She’d heard rumors in the breeze of unrest in the Silver Springs region, of the old alpha passing. If these cats had encroached on her territory, they must’ve arrived for a damn good reason, since he didn’t seem the sort to go running from a challenge.
Sierra wasn’t alpha just because she’d wiped the floor with the big guys in the pack—hell, most of the strong ones could go toe-to-toe with her. She’d become alpha because she paid attention, she listened and, most importantly, she understood the big picture.
Her brow lifted as she soaked Dax in. Proud shifter like him wouldn’t come slinking in asking for help. No, he’d bluster on in and start a ruckus, distract, maybe carve out a niche for himself and his cats. Bringing her suspicions up in front of his pack wouldn’t help, either, because he had to keep a bold front. She had to figure out a way to get him alone, so they could hash this out alpha-to-alpha.
“Right, keep talking big while you’ve got your posse at your back,” Sierra challenged, pushing him.
He snorted into his pint. “Says the woman with an entire bar full of wolves to hide behind.”
“Fine,” Sierra responded, hiding her amusement at how fast she’d maneuvered him. “Then let’s have this conversation somewhere private. That is, if you aren’t too scared.” She threw the barb in for good measure but didn’t have to fake the heat of challenge in her voice.
Dax’s grin widened, revealing teeth as he leaned against the bar. “Darling, if you wanted me somewhere private, all you had to do was ask,” he drawled. The languid way he carried himself oozed sensuality and the confidence of a guy who got his way often. Just the sort she’d run roughshod over. Sierra didn’t blink, crossing her arms.
Finn tapped her shoulder. “Boss, you don’t have to give him the time of day, let alone engage in any one-on-one negotiations. Cats aren’t trustworthy.”
“My beta’s bringing up some pretty good points,” she said to Dax in return, getting up from her barstool. “Think you can survive a talk with me without resorting to petty tricks?”
The beanpole, Kyle, jumped in. “And why should we trust you to not launch an ambush once you get him alone?”
Sierra’s gaze flashed, her claws pricking out. “Because Red Rocks keep their word.” Her voice turned molten and harsh despite the complete control she’d regained. Intimidation against a bitty cat like him came as natural as running water. “Because we don’t go intruding on other folks’ territories, making demands. We learned a thing or two about honor and loyalty along the way and about defending our home with our lives.”
“I believe you,” Dax replied. His eyes danced with amusement, blue like the shifting seas. He slid his emptied pint glass across the slick surface of the bar and hopped off his seat. “So why waste any more time?” With his powerful stride, he was halfway across the room in seconds before he turned around to glance at her.
Sierra clenched her jaw. Even though she’d been able to unseat him for a couple of seconds, every interaction with him was a push-pull for power, one seeping beneath her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She cast a glance to Finn. “Treat them like guests while they’re here,” she murmured. “However, if they get aggressive, don’t hesitate to slit their throats.”
“Please, my pack is nothing but well-behaved,” Dax called across the room. “Just tell your puppies to play nice.”
Sierra shot Finn one last glance before striding across the room to catch up with Dax. She didn’t trust the bastard for a heartbeat. Even though she could hold her own in a fight, the mischief blazing in his eyes and the slick calm he oozed set her nerves on edge. Whatever reason he had for bringing his pack into her territory, one fact remained undeniably true: The man was pure trouble.
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About the Author
Strong women. Strong words.
Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that rep
resent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women. Easily distracted by cats and sugar.
Katherine loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com
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