Taming the Alpha

by Mandy M. Roth

  Shoving the quilt away, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his bag and yanked them on while striding into the living room. The woodstove merrily sent out a chorus of snaps and pops and the room was toasty, so she’d added wood to the fire. Snagging his shirt from last night off the floor, he tugged it over his head and went into the kitchen.

  “Jo?”

  The coffee pot had a steady trickle of black liquid filling the carafe so she had been here a few moments ago. His eyes drifted to the back door and he paused. Her boots were missing. Hurrying to the window, he peaked out and all the wariness that had ebbed into him faded away. Josie stood with her arms around her waist, her pajama pants legs sticking out of the tops of her boots, and watched the sun peak over the mountain ridge.

  Frosty wind laden with the scents of wet evergreen, damp earth and fresh air washed over him as he opened the door. “Josie, what are you doing? You’re going to freeze to death.”

  She peeked at him over her shoulder and the dewy grin on her face slammed into him. She looked happy. He hadn’t seen that look in a long, long time.

  “Can’t help it. I’m used to getting up early with Sadie. The sunrise was beautiful. I should’ve woken you to see it.”

  “I prefer sunsets.” Nothing could surpass the beauty captured in his eyes now. “Get back in here before you turn into a popsicle. You don’t even have your coat on.”

  She turned to face him with a wide grin. “Nope. You come out here.”

  “I just rolled out of bed.”

  One sculpted brow arched and he sighed, reaching for his coat. He shrugged into it as he stepped into his boots. A shudder took hold of his spine as he stepped into the wintery scenery. He grumbled even as he silently admitted he’d walk through the coldest frozen wasteland or the hottest desert just to be with her. “You stoked the fire, brewed the hot coffee and yet decided to take in an early morning sight-seeing trip without your coat. This makes no sense.”

  Her hands were ice-cold as she slipped them around his neck. “Yeah, but I needed you out here with me for this.”

  “For what?”

  “Carry me across the threshold.”

  “What?”

  Her frozen and reddened nose brushed along his. “We’re starting over, or at least, starting again. I want to do it right this time. No more secrets or grudges or ignored slights. Nothing like that. I know we still have stuff to work through but we can do that. You and me, together, and being one hundred percent honest with each other. This game is for life.”

  Her sweater was so chilly it stung his palms but he pulled her close and buried his nose in her hair, sucking in the scent of crisp morning, new beginnings and a cherished love. “Think we’ll win?”

  “I think we already did.”

  Sliding his arm under her knees, he plucked her from the snow and carried her inside, crossing the threshold together.

  The End

  About the Author

  Inez Kelley was born and bred in the mountains of West Virginia. Although you can never take the hillbilly out of the girl, her lumberjack husband transplanted her to the Midwest along with their teenage drama queen, Spawnetta, and the Demolition Duo – Damien and his twin, the Omen.

  www.inezkelley.com

  One Night of Passion

  by Eryn Blackwell

  Death did not separate them, but Bishop only has on night to prove to Skyler he knows she is his soul mate.

  Chapter One

  She had to get out of here.

  The music thrummed through the air in a language she couldn’t understand but rubbed along her skin like a satin glove.

  The Czech club strobed in a rainbow of colors as the lights blinked to beats of the screaming music. The beer she’d had wasn’t sitting well on her empty stomach. People bumped and jostled against her, setting her nerves on edge.

  She sat at a table watching all the energy careening around the place. Yet her eyes were constantly drawn to one shadowed corner. The dark corner and a table set above everyone else’s. From here she couldn’t clearly see the occupants—she had no idea if they had short or long hair, if they were as beautiful as she believed them to be or not. Though she couldn’t see every detail, she could feel them. Feel him. The man sitting between the others beside him, the man in the middle. Occasionally, the lights would flash off his eyes, pale eyes that she knew were staring at her.

  He’s dangerous.

  And yet some part of her wanted to walk up to the table and…and…and?

  Had she learned nothing?

  Get out! Get away! Leave here, now!

  Following the voice inside her, like she had for the last several months, she pushed away from the table and made her way through the grind of bodies on the dance floor. Too many people. The college kids arguing near the door jostled into her, but she stepped between them and out into the fresh air, sidestepping the armed bouncer.

  She froze.

  Armed? She was in a club with armed guards?

  What the hell was happening to her?

  Shoving through the queue of people snaking down the sidewalk, she finally found…air.

  Breathing deep, she tasted the foreign city in the back of her throat. The muddy scent of the river coupled with spiced foods she’d yet to taste filled the air, swirling with flavors of a world she didn’t know.

  What was she doing here? She, Skyler McBurroughs, didn’t have a clue.

  Shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest, she jumped when a deep voice said, “Excuse me, ma’am. Ma’am?”

  Skyler turned and looked at one of the bouncers who had followed her from the front of the club. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right? Do you need a cab?” His eyes were dark, so dark she couldn’t tell where the irises ended and the pupils began.

  Something about him tugged at her memory. She blinked and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine. I just needed some air. I’m going to walk.” She motioned towards Charles Bridge in the distance, back-dropped by the sentinel of Prague castle.

  For a minute, he didn’t say anything, then he raised his hand, and she instinctively stepped back, too conditioned from years of terror to do anything else. A crease formed between his brows at her actions. He kept those fathomless eyes on her and said into his wrist, “She’s going for a walk, sir. Yes.” Then to her, “I must ask you to stay here for a bit longer,” he told her.

  Must? She shook her head, stepping farther away from him. “I must decline, but…um…thanks.”

  With that, she turned and shoved her hands in her pockets, striding away with her nerves frayed.

  What the hell?

  She had come here to find…answers? A person? A place? Who the hell knew. All she knew was that this trip was supposed to be a starting-over for her.

  Skyler had travelled to a foreign city, a beautiful city, on nothing more than dreams, whims born in the darkest parts of her. Dreams that had called to her, whispered with voices she knew only in sleep, scents she recognized in places she’d forgotten but had never actually been. The dreams had painted pictures of…of…home.

  Shaking off the thoughts, she walked, listening intently to see if the guard followed her. He didn’t. There were no footfalls on the old street that led along the river to the bridge. Charles Bridge.

  Something about the bridge had called to her the first time she’d seen it in a photograph back in college. In a time she’d almost forgotten, back when she knew she was sane.

  Now? Now she had no idea. Perhaps she was just as insane as her friends had worried. Granted, not many of her friends would ever travel halfway across the globe to a city they’d dreamed of, simply because it felt like something that had to be done. None of them understood this driving desire to find out if any of her secrets to understanding herself were in this city, in this part of the world. A part of her knew, knew with every fiber of her being, that she would find herself in this city, a city she’d dreamed of, in times past. There were never any cars in her dr
eams. Never any modern conveniences. She dreamed of people, of castles, of fires, of battles and death. She dreamed of a man whom she loved and who loved her.

  What the hell did it all mean? Her friends jokingly told her it clearly meant she needed therapy. They meant well, but they didn’t understand.

  Hell, she didn’t really understand herself.

  Scanning the street, the darkened shadowed doorways, she was aware of her surroundings.

  Insane she might be; stupid she was not.

  Though that might be debatable too. She’d like to think not, but her past probably proved otherwise. Did sane people quit their jobs after a divorce and travel thousands of miles from all they knew? No, probably not.

  Skyler didn’t care.

  In less than five minutes, she was at the bridge. The statues lining the old stone structure stood as guardians to a city, a river, to a time forgotten. Why she felt that way, she had no idea. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the bridge without them. When she did, she’d break out in a cold sweat, images dancing, flashing in her mind that had no anchor.

  Images of different times.

  Of different places.

  Of people she knew but had never met.

  Of a man rearing over her as he plunged into her aroused body, his mouth hot and demanding on her own as she rose to meet him. His face was rarely clear to her, just brief flashes that she could never really hold on to. She had no idea why those brief images felt more like memories than fantasies. Why she felt so…so…safe with the man. Would she never learn?

  Sighing, she propped her arms on the railing and looked at the dark waters swirling below her.

  “What is wrong with me?” she whispered.

  A pebble scraping across a stone jerked her attention to the side of her.

  A man stood there.

  Skyler’s breath froze, her heart slowed, and all the blood in her body paused before it warmed through her veins.

  Power radiated off him. Not in some weird light waves, but in an aura that all but reached out and caressed her. His long dark coat swirled gently around his calves from the breeze, hiding the rest of him from her. The lights along the edge of the bridge cast him in harsh relief, in shadows and in light, something in between. His features were sharp, chiseled, and strong. Dark hair danced in the wind, just shy of his chin. His eyes held her captive, pale, icy blue.

  The man from the club. The one in the corner who had watched her.

  She gasped.

  Natiya. My Natiya.

  She blinked and jerked.

  Natiya. The name from her dreams. Had he spoken those words? Had she imagined them? She was losing her ever-loving mind.

  “A woman as beautiful as you should not be out alone in such a city. There are many dangers here.” His smooth voice was like bass piano keys, pulling something low within her. Teasing, tempting, testing.

  She licked her lips, wanting to break eye contact with him, and yet something in her warned her not to. “D-did you follow me?”

  One dark brow arched at her question. “And if I did?” This time, his voice didn’t just tease, it caressed.

  She practically felt the soft, possessive glide of his hand from her neck, down the front of her turtleneck, across her breasts, lower to twirl around her belly button, and lower to swirl around each hipbone.

  She jerked and stepped back, rubbing her head.

  “You do not feel well?” He stepped closer, concern lacing his words.

  “Stay away from me,” she managed to get out, even though she wanted to…wanted to…go to him. Taste him. Kiss him. Her breasts felt heavy, and damned if she wasn’t wet.

  He stopped and tilted his head. “You don’t mean that.”

  A startled laugh flitted out, though it held no amusement. “I’ve no idea what I mean half the damn time. What I do know,” she said, focusing back on him and meeting that frozen stare, “is that I want to be left alone.”

  He stared at her, then he nodded. “I give you my word, I will not touch you.” Yet hung in the air between them. “However, I cannot allow you to wander around unaccompanied. Women disappear in this beautiful city.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Women disappear in every city.”

  He conceded her point with half a nod. “Perhaps. But I shall stand here until you are ready to leave and see you safely back to your hotel.”

  He wouldn’t budge on that. She knew that tone. She’d lived with its brother for years.

  Men.

  Sighing, she walked a few feet away and looked again at the water below her. Water… Salvation. Water was an escape. It carried things off, washed away grime, pulled things deep that should never see the light of day.

  She stood like that, leaning over the edge, the air from the water chilling her until she shivered. She crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands beneath her arms, trying to warm them.

  “Prague is growing cold this time of year,” he said softly, pulling her attention back to him.

  God, what was it about the stranger? He called to her, made her want…

  “What?”

  “You should have a coat,” he answered, shrugging out of his.

  Skyler stepped to the side. “I’m fine.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek, and he held her stare until she looked away. His fingers twitched near his thigh. If nothing else, the past had taught her to pick up on those small, telling actions.

  He was irritated with her.

  “I’m not irritated with you,” he told her.

  Had she said that out loud?

  He cleared his throat, then said, “I see no reason for you to catch a cold.”

  “You don’t catch colds from being cold.”

  “You can, however, become hypothermic.” He held up his coat as if she were going to step into it.

  Uh-huh.

  The wind, as if mocking, swirled up from the water and wrapped her in chilling arms. She shivered.

  “To hell with it,” she muttered and reached out to take the coat.

  He merely held it. She’d have to turn her back on him to put the damn thing on.

  “On my honor, I will not harm you,” he told her softly, his eyes shifting so that she couldn’t read them.

  Change. She’d come here to change. To become the woman she used to be. Whoever that was. Damn her ex-husband anyway. Don’t go there, Sky. Nope, wasn’t going to think about him. Taking another breath, she nodded and turned around, holding herself still.

  The heavy weight of his woolen coat settled across her back and shoulders. A scent of sandalwood and spices tickled her senses. She reached up to grasp the lapels together, and her hand brushed his.

  Shock zinged through her, an electric charge that awakened every nerve in her body. Her blood hummed hot through her, and all she could do was stand there, her hand just beneath his even as her breasts grew heavy and lower regions grew damp, aroused.

  He stepped to the side, then around her so that she faced him. She barely topped his chest. He was rather tall. He bent just enough until they were eye level. “Better?”

  Better? Her body felt as if it belonged to someone else, even as her mind still jumped from one thing to another, never knowing which way to go. All she could do was nod.

  His hand still rested just over the top of hers, and he made no attempt to move it.

  “What happened to put that wariness in your eyes?” he asked, his other hand coming up and softly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Skyler held perfectly still. She knew about men. How they could be sweet one moment and monsters the next. How a soft touch could flip to strike a shattering blow.

  His eyes narrowed, and she tried to pull her hand away. Instead, he tightened his grip, and from years of dealing with such tactics, she knew to relax. The more she tried to get away, the harder it became. These tugs-of-war; a controlling game where she could never be strong enough to win, only left her bruised.

  She shook her head. “What
do you care?”

  “I care because I do not like to see that look in a woman’s eyes. I find it bothers me even more that the look is in your eyes. I care because I don’t like that you are afraid of me. I care,” he said, stepping closer to her and lacing her fingers with his, “because I care.”

  Something about him called to a place deep within her soul, her very being. The man was a sexual fantasy, from his build, to his looks, to his damned voice. His voice alone made her want things…things like them tangled together…preferably naked. Hot. Wet. Sweaty. Or not. Here or someplace else.

  Which was completely unlike her.

  But it was more than that. It was something about him that spoke to her, in that place where dreams collided with reality.

  She looked down at their hands and startled. There on his hand, on the right pinky, was a ring. A small circlet of woven silver, emeralds set deep within its braiding. She knew that ring.

  She’d seen that ring.

  In her dream.

  On her own hand.

  Slowly, she reached out, held her own finger just above it, and noticed her hand trembled.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, wanting to touch the ring, yet afraid to.

  His chest rose as he deeply inhaled. “Who do you think I am?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, do I? I just met you.”

  “Did you?” he asked, his hand coming up again to brush across her cheek. “Why do you stiffen when I touch you? Once, you craved my touch.”

  Oh no. Craved his touch? Probably. But, how? Images flew through her mind, so fast she couldn’t catch them, but she felt their emotions.

  She touched the ring, and the world around them fell away, tossed her into her dreams. To another time. She wore a velvet dress fit for a queen, a tight corset, and there he stood before her, laughing, dressed in velvets and hose. The images shifted. They lay together in bed, in a stone room, with the firelight dancing over their naked bodies as he slid hotly into her, their hands grasping, their fingers linking as they made love. And on her hand was the ring, a matching band on his own. The image shifted again, and she wore chainmail on a battlefield, calling his name, dead scattered around her in every direction.