His Two Alphas
A Men of Meadowfall novel
Anna Wineheart
Contents
1. Micah
2. Spike
3. Kai
4. Micah
5. Spike
6. Micah
7. Kai
8. Spike
9. Micah
10. Micah
11. Kai
12. Spike
13. Micah
14. Micah
15. Micah
16. Micah
17. Kai
18. Micah
19. Kai
20. Micah
21. Micah
22. Micah
23. Micah
24. Micah
25. Micah
26. Kai
27. Micah
28. Kai
29. Spike
30. Kai
31. Spike
32. Micah
33. Kai
34. Micah
35. Spike
36. Micah
37. Kai
38. Micah
39. Kai
40. Kai
41. Kai
42. Kai
43. Micah
44. Micah
45. Spike
Epilogue
Thank You! + Coming soon!
Also by Anna
About the Author
Copyright Anna Wineheart 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This novel contains graphic sexual content between three men. Intended for mature readers only.
Warnings: past child neglect/abuse, an alcoholic parent, and some violence
To all my readers:
Thank you for all your support - I wouldn’t be here writing books if it weren’t for you :)
Take care, and I hope you’ll enjoy Micah, Kai, and Spike’s story!
.
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Plus, sign up for Anna’s newsletter and catch super sneak previews at Anna’s Wine Shack (Anna’s reader group).
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1
Micah
“Up next: Despite the rain, a high-profile celebrity wedding took place in Meadowfall this afternoon,” the news anchor announced. “Said to be one of the most romantic unions of the year...”
Micah Davis thumbed the remote with every intention of changing the channel, but he couldn’t.
On TV, the camera panned over a tremendous crowd gathered by the lake: the most popular wedding spot in Meadowfall, with a scenic forest in the background, and chairs with gold ribbons arranged in front of a gazebo.
The celebrity couple gazed adoringly at each other, bonding marks on their necks, wedding bands on their fingers. The crowd cheered.
Micah’s heart ached with longing.
If he ever had a wedding... the chairs would be pale yellow with royal blue ribbons, and he’d wear a lace shirt with flowing pants. He’d stand in front of the minister and his alpha, hand in hand, his alpha staring fervently at him.
Like Micah was his most important person in the entire world.
What would that feel like? Micah shivered and looked down at his hands—one with pale skin, the other covered in mottled red scars.
Just like that, his hopes for the future receded like the tide.
The burn wounds had healed horribly. Thick, uneven scar tissue ran down the entire right side of his body, scars that sometimes hurt for no reason at all.
Micah tried not to look at his walking stick, or the mess of scars on his foot. He patted the hair on his right side, combing it down over the bald patches on his scalp.
He still felt the bulky flesh on his cheek and shoulder, though, scar tissue with messed-up nerve endings, lumpy and thick, attracting stares everywhere he went.
Sometimes, Micah just felt so ugly.
At first, after the fire, he’d tried dating. All his dates had stared, and the conversation had grown awkward after a while. Then he’d tried putting his picture up on dating sites, and only creeps had messaged him there.
After a series of more dates, some convincing from his friends... Micah had tried again, only to give up.
He was forty-one. He was past the prime of his child-bearing years. He had a son, and York was the most wonderful child a parent could ask for. But York was also nineteen, and sooner than later, he’d find his own omega to settle down with.
And then Micah would be all alone—why would an alpha pick a limping, scarred mess of an omega, when they could have any number of prettier, younger ones out there?
With a sigh, he cracked open his laptop, pulling open his work email. New regulations on staff-student relationships, the first message said. Maintain the college’s reputation—inform your superiors about suspected relationships between professors and students.
Like Micah needed a reminder.
“Hey, Dad,” York said from the kitchen. “You have a moment?”
Like Micah, York had blue eyes and brown hair, but the similarities ended there. Where York was tall and strong, Micah was thin, a whole head shorter, and he smelled like gardenia, instead of York’s hickory scent.
“Kai and Spike are coming over for a bit,” York said. “We’ve got the group project due next week.”
Micah blinked. And then horror crashed through his chest. “Wait, they’re coming over?”
“In five minutes.” York frowned. “I asked you earlier. You said yes, remember?”
Micah looked down at himself—he wasn’t dressed in much: just a T-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts. With any other friends of York’s, that would have been okay. Except Kai and Spike Ventura... they weren’t any ordinary students.
And Micah was in heat.
Last week, Spike had come up to the podium after class and said, My brother needs help with his homework. He’s too stubborn to ask for it, so is it okay if I wrangle him into your office? I swear I’ll make it up to you if he’s a grumpy bastard.
And then Spike had winked. At Micah. Who was his professor.
Micah had stammered a yes, only because it was his duty to teach.
That hadn’t been the only time he’d spoken to Spike Ventura, though—on far too many afternoons this semester, Micah had bumped into Spike on campus.
Once, Spike had handed Micah his fallen stack of assignments. The next week, he’d handed Micah a red pen and said, You dropped this, even though the pen was new and there was still a price tag on it.
On a third occasion, Spike had nudged past Micah, and he’d sniffed. Are you using a new perfume? It smells good, he’d said, meeting Micah’s eyes with a warm, toe-curling smile. Micah hadn’t been wearing any perfume at all; Spike must’ve already known that.
Micah had glimpsed Spike and his brother on the campus basketball court, sweat-soaked jerseys clinging to their strong, muscular bodies. They’d run and jumped, their muscles flexing, their damp skin gleaming. Micah had stared, their bodies burning into his memories.
Time and again, Micah revisited that memory when Spike touched him on the arm, or let his gaze drift down Micah’s chest.
Spike... he was Micah’s secret, the one thing Micah could never tell anyone.
How could he, when Spike was two decades younger, and also his student? And over the past year, he�
��d become York’s close friend?
It was one thing to stare at your student, or to try to shut down his flirting.
It was a completely different thing to think about your student in bed, spreading your legs, pretending that those fingers thrusting inside you were a certain blond’s.
Micah knew he shouldn’t. There had been professor-student relationships in the chemistry department, and the professors had been fired because of it.
But when an alpha had been hitting on you for weeks, and when no one had ever given you this much attention... Micah had dreamed about Spike’s hungry smile, he’d imagined Spike bending him over, squeezing his cock.
Maybe even easing his length inside Micah, filling him up.
Micah’s throat went dry. His heat throbbed through his bones, raking down his spine. He looked back at his email, trying to force his thoughts to cooperate.
It was obvious that Spike wanted Micah as another notch on his belt.
How much of an accomplishment was it, to say you’d fucked your disfigured professor? Would Spike brag about it to his friends? Or his just-as-handsome brother?
Micah flushed, his cheeks growing hot.
Unlike Spike with his easy smiles, his gelled blond hair and copper eyes, Kai Ventura intimidated Micah. It wasn’t his dark hair or his thundercloud-gray eyes, or even his surliness.
It was Kai’s stare—it felt as though he saw through everything, and found Micah lacking. Even though Micah was older and had more power than him.
If Micah ever gave in to Spike, Kai would find out, wouldn’t he? And he’d judge Micah more than ever. Maybe he would even pass the information along to the department heads.
Micah’s stomach twisted.
He fumbled with his laptop, pulling open an internet browser. He didn’t want to look at his work email anymore.
The browser loaded the last website he’d visited—it was a porn site, and he’d been in his own bedroom. The list of videos had refreshed; the first video began to play. Micah was supposed to turn off that auto-play setting.
Before he could pause the video, tanned skin flashed. So much skin. Gleaming muscles, thick thighs, thrusting hips.
On a mini stage in the video, a group of half-naked alphas danced to the muted music. They were dressed in Santa hats, and scraps of crimson fabric fluttered around their hips.
They wore nothing else.
Micah stared, his heat thrumming under his skin, whispering in his mind, You want to climb onto someone’s lap. Sit on one of those thick cocks and let him fill you up. He’ll pound into you good and hard.
Micah gulped.
The video zoomed in on one alpha in particular—broad chest, bulging biceps. A confident smirk that almost dropped Micah’s shorts.
Gods, it was Spike. And Spike was nineteen.
Micah watched the video with growing horror and arousal, unable to tear his eyes away. In the video, Spike grinned, spun in a circle, and leaped into the air. When he landed, he had both hands pressed over his groin, as though the fabric had flown off his cock in an indecent display.
What had that looked like?
With a smile, Spike continued to dance, rolling his hips, snapping them up. Then he thrust his hips so hard, his cock flipped the fabric clean off his thighs. He had a nice cock. Thick, big.
Micah’s blood swooped south. I need to stop watching. I need to close the video before York sees.
But he couldn’t. Spike turned, bent over, and the curves of his ass peeked from beneath the red fabric. It looked firm, strong. And between his thighs, Micah glimpsed his heavy balls and cock, fertile and tantalizing. His pulse throbbed between his legs.
Why is he in this video? More importantly, Micah needed to get back into his bedroom. And lock the door behind him.
On the screen, Spike smoothed his palm down his cock. Then he thrust his hips again, looking right at the camera like he was saying, This is how I’ll fuck inside you. Micah’s hole squeezed.
“Dad, you didn’t ans—Ew, what the fuck?” York stopped behind him, his eyes growing wide in horror. “And is that Spike? I swear—”
Micah flailed, his heart lodging in his throat. He lurched off the couch. The laptop slipped off his knees and thumped onto the floor, its screen winking out.
“I-I...” Micah wanted to be one of those parents who had all the composure in the world. But there was a bulge in his shorts, his laptop had quit working, and he couldn’t scrub that video from his mind. He’d been ogling York’s friend. His student.
“I know you’re in heat,” York said incredulously. “But that’s my friend!”
Micah pressed his hand down between his legs, trying to hide his erection. His ears burned.
“Gods, Dad, you need to get laid,” York said. Then he cringed. “But not my friends, okay? That’s just wrong.”
Don’t I know that.
The doorbell rang. York winced. “That’s probably them.”
Had they heard York telling Micah to get laid? Micah flushed, needing to burrow under the floorboards.
“Yell if you need me,” he blurted. Then he scrambled out of the living room, his shorts damp with the slick of his heat, his musk trailing after him through the apartment.
There were many ways to be a good professor, but fantasizing about your student, and leaving hints of your arousal everywhere—those weren’t things Micah should be doing at all.
2
Spike
York had given them the green light. Spike punched the air, doing a victory dance. “Finally! I thought he was never gonna agree.”
Kai rolled his eyes. “All you want to do is get into Davis’ bed.”
“Hey, he’s never let us set one toe into his place,” Spike said, shoving Kai over to their dorm room door. “I want to see what his bedroom’s like. I want to sniff at his sheets. I want to bury my face in his old underwear. But you know what’s better? I smelled him yesterday. He’s in heat.”
If Spike played his cards right... Micah Davis might even let Spike touch between his thighs. Spike’s throat went dry.
“Little wonder why he’s so adamant about keeping us out,” Kai muttered.
Spike elbowed his stepbrother in the ribs. “You know he’s been my crush forever. Shut up.”
If it had been a month-long infatuation, yeah, maybe Spike would agree with Kai’s hesitation. Except he and Davis went back far longer than that: years.
Nine years ago, when he was ten, Spike had been in Micah Davis’ backyard. There had been a party, and Spike had asked an older alpha, Can I set off a firework?
The alpha had agreed, holding Spike’s hands so they could light the fireworks together. On their third firework, the tiny, whistling rocket had smashed into the professor’s house, and set it ablaze. It had been an accident.
Spike remembered the screams from when the fire spread. York’s dad had been inside the house. His screams had gone on for a long time.
In the following days, Spike had heard that Micah Davis had been badly burned, and he’d fought for his life at the hospital.
After that fire, Spike’s mom had forbidden him from attending any more backyard parties, or playing at York’s place. But Spike had glimpsed York’s dad around town—with bandages from the accident, and later, terrible scars.
He’d grown up wondering about Micah Davis—how he was, whether he was still angry with Spike, whether he would let Spike talk to York again.
Somehow, over the years, Spike’s curiosity had taken on a life of its own. He’d wondered about Davis’ scars, he’d wondered how difficult it was, walking around with a limp. He’d painted red marks all over his face and washed it off, not feeling much different than before.
Then he’d presented as alpha, and puberty had given him dirty thoughts. Thoughts that had his mind delving inside Mr. Davis’ pants, wondering what his cock looked like. Then his hole.
The first time Spike had thought about Micah Davis’ ass wrapped around his cock, he’d jizzed so hard, he’d
gotten come into his hair.
Kai looked askance at Spike. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
Spike laughed. “I’m already a sick fuck. I don’t think sleeping with our professor is going to make it better.”
He reached between Kai’s legs, grabbing Kai’s cock. Kai rumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut with pleasure.
Sometimes, Spike figured he was the sickest person in Meadowfall. He had a years-long crush on his professor. He’d taken up the chemistry major because Micah Davis taught the subject at Meadowfall College.
Spike was also regularly fucking his stepbrother, sucking Kai off, offering himself when Kai got into one of his ruts.
“You took your meds, right?” Spike asked, glancing at Kai’s desk where the orange pill bottle was.
Kai shrugged. “I did. Whether it’s gonna work today, I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t go into a rut at York’s place,” Spike said.
“You say that like I have any choice.” Kai snorted, grabbing his satchel. “Are we going?”
“Yeah.” Spike gave Kai’s cock a last squeeze, then pulled on his own backpack. “Actually, maybe you should go into a rut at York’s place.”
Kai threw him a dirty look. He was half a head taller than Spike, his limbs corded with muscle, his full lips utterly kissable. Throw in Kai’s strong jaw and broad shoulders, and Spike could see why omegas regularly tried to hit on his brother. Granted, they also asked Spike for his number, but Spike had figured they were after him for his pecs and ass. At least, that was where Kai stared when he thought dirty about Spike.
His Two Alphas Page 1
