by Angela Foxxe
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALPHA BALLA'
A PARANORMAL BAD BOY SHIFTER ROMANCE
ANGELA FOXXE
Copyright ©2017 by Angela Foxxe
All rights reserved.
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About This Book
Superstar NFL player John Wild had it all. The looks, the skills and the money.
He could have any woman he wanted. But he didn't want just any woman. He wanted a mate.
This was because John Wild was harboring a dark secret life as a Werewolf and his desire for a mate was growing by the day.
Childhood sweetheart Heather Camp might just be John's fated mate. But Heather has her own dark secret. In fact, it’s a secret so dark it just might get them both killed…
WARNING: Steamy paranormal read, best enjoyed alone!
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
The moment the ball touched John Wild’s fingers, he almost let go in disbelief. It had worked. It was perhaps the most Hail Mary play that he and quarterback Darren Rogers had ever pulled, and it had worked. As the ball tumbled off the ends of his fingertips and slid comfortably down to secure itself in the grip of his large hand, he focused on his next move.
He had to keep running. Just two more steps.
His other hand clamped down on the ball, locking it into place, and he felt his feet pound the artificial turf beneath them twice as he crossed the goal line. The weight of twenty-thousand eyes was slowly lifted off his back and the voices now filled his ears as the crowd went wild with passion and enthusiasm.
John came to a stop at the back of the end zone before colliding with the wall where a crowd of fans cheered him on only a few feet from him. His gaze panned across the few hundred faces that peered back at him with total glee and pure joy in their eyes.
At that moment, he felt heroic. The Cardinals had beaten the Seahawks after an epic brawl. It had been neck-and-neck the entire time, and he had caught the game-winning touchdown. His feet came to a stop finally, feeling suddenly heavier than they had ever felt before, his body was suddenly on the verge of collapse, but he was ready for anything.
He closed his eyes and tapped slightly into the animal inside of him, just enough to shoot the adrenaline back through his body and reinvigorate him. He’d only had to do that once during this game, but he definitely needed a recharge now as he watched the seconds tick away at the game clock and the buzzer blare loudly, vibrating through his ears and clashing against his overly acute ear drums.
Easy… Easy.
He had to make sure he didn’t utilize too much of his true self right here. Shifting into a wolf in front of twenty-thousand people would be somewhat of a bad idea. But with so much excitement rushing through his body, it was hard to hold it back.
But that was the cross he had to bear. He was a werewolf. He had been for a long time, but he could still remember the day that he had been transformed and how his life had changed dramatically since then. He tried not to dwell on it very much and hardly thought about it anymore, but it was always going to be there. It was a mixed bag of pain and joy.
He had been born to play ball, there was no question about that, and he constantly proved that he belonged on that ball field without any help from his supernatural abilities. It took a long time to learn to control the beast inside of him well enough that it did not bleed over into the real him and enhance his own abilities. Using too much of it was a recipe for an out-of-control shift, and that was something that he was happy to avoid.
Of course, there were the full moons—the one night of the month that he couldn’t avoid the shift and he would completely black out, unaware of what he may or may not have done in the absence of his true mind. It was terrifying. He had discovered that the hard way during the first shift on the first full moon after he had been cursed.
He had felt the shift coming on, and the next day he had woken up with ripped clothes in a field miles from home. He had no idea how he’d got there or what had happened during that time. He couldn’t let that sort of thing happen to him again. He had to be constantly vigilant over it.
“You did it!”
Russ Wallace, a linebacker on the team, slapped him on the back and began to pick him up. Before he knew it, John was surrounded by his teammates who were lifting him up on their shoulders and carrying him off the field. It was a tradition that if there was a player responsible for winning a game, they would be carried off the field no matter how cheesy and embarrassing it was.
John was happy to play along, and he had to admit that it was a lot of fun. It was the toughest game of the season, and though it had been a pretty rocky year with no chance at a title, the team had still come together and played as hard as they could against their biggest rivals.
John was going to miss this feeling. It was his third year on an NFL team; the Cardinals had drafted him right out of college as a rookie, and he had quickly become their best receiver thanks to his speed and athleticism. It had been a lifelong dream come true to play for a professional ball club, to excel at his position, and to be a vital part of the team when he was little more than a rookie was beyond his wildest expectations.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his coach getting Gatorade dumped on him from behind—another great tradition. It was always hilarious, and every coach thought he was somehow going to get away from it, but the guys always got him, no matter what.
As his teammates put him down, he jogged over to the bench and tried to gather his bearings. It was insane to see the action under the lights, and he wasn’t sure he would ever get tired of it. It was just the sort of thing that you couldn’t really imagine, no matter how many times you dreamed of it. It was just ten times better than any dream; that was the only way to really describe it. And he loved it so damn much.
“John! John!” a voice called from his left. It was a reporter named Michelle Patton. He had seen her several times before, and lately, she had been clamoring for his attention to interview him after every single game. Most of the reporters usually had their hands full interviewing the quarterback
and the coach, but since he’d made the game-winning play today, John was in on the action as well. He had never been especially comfortable in the spotlight, and he hated giving interviews. He wasn’t normally shy in typical situations, but something about interviews always made him a bit nervous.
There were several other reporters now following Michelle over to John to get the big scoop. He could tell that this was irritating the hell out of her, and he chuckled to himself about it. Michelle was beautiful and sexy, she had charisma, and she was very intelligent. But John had always been able to read people pretty well, and he just got a weird vibe from her. He was pretty sure she had a really vindictive streak, and he didn’t trust her at all. He’d also read her reports, and she looked for every angle possible to create drama where there was none by twisting people’s words around and trying to get them flustered to say something weird or stupid that could be taken in the worst possible way. He always tried to avoid her, but she was damn relentless.
At least this time she wasn’t alone, and he could resist her push in front of others.
“What did it feel like to grab that game-winning pass?” Michelle asked.
“It felt great, as I’m sure you can imagine. This is a big win for us,” John replied. He turned his attention to the reporter behind her.
“How did you hang onto the ball so well with a one-handed grab?” the reporter asked.
“I’m not sure. It was a stretch, and I just tried to do my best with it. It just happened to work out this time,” John replied.
Michelle instantly cut back in, practically knocking two other reporters out of the way.
“So, what happens now, John? You guys aren’t up for any playoffs or anything this year, which we expected with a few of the blunders the team had at the beginning of the season. Tell me, how does it feel to be the star on a team of… well, not stars?”
John felt himself glaring at her, but he forced a smile anyway. He had to stay cool and calm. The witch was just trying to get a rise out of him. That was her stupid game. Michelle came from the school that bad news was the best news. No one wanted to read about how good anyone was or how happy some people were. He wondered why she didn’t just become a tabloid reporter; she would have been a perfect fit for someone who made up the news.
“I don’t look at it like that, Michelle. We are a team. We play as a team. We win as a team. And if we lose, then we lose as a team. Every person on that field is there for a reason. There are no superstars here.”
“Well, I think the public at large would disagree with you.”
“The people are always entitled to their opinion,” John said. “If you’ll excuse me.”
John turned away and headed for the locker room. Some of the guys had already gone in, tired of giving interviews and autographs. Most of them were ready to party to celebrate the end of the season. He was dog-assed tired, but having some drinks with his friends sounded like it might be a damn good plan.
*
The hot water of the shower felt heavenly as it flowed down the contours of his body. As he rubbed his hands over his body, cleaning with the body wash, he couldn’t help but notice how muscular he had become. He had hit the weights hard this year, and it was beginning to show. He had noticed that he was overall faster and stronger than before.
And his last girlfriend, Rachel, had definitely approved. He realized that he hadn’t thought about her in almost a week. They had broken up almost six weeks ago when she was given a job offer in New York City that she just couldn’t pass up. They had been going out for almost three months, and John didn’t believe they had actually been in love, but it had been a good relationship and there might have been a future there. He realized when she was gone that he did suffer a bit of depression and sadness; he missed her a great deal. But as the weeks went on, he began to think about her less and less.
The other guys on the team were always ragging on him about how he never took the women home who were always hitting on him in the bars and clubs they went to sometimes after games. Playing the field in the romance department had never really been John’s style. He wanted to find that special someone, settle down, and have a nice simple life.
Of course, with his extra baggage, that hadn’t proven to be so simple. Even Rachel hadn’t found out about his secret, and he wasn’t sure when he was going to tell her. It was just something that no one would understand, and he was terrified that she would turn him in as a freak. Being a public figure, he had to be extra careful about his secret. If something like that got out about him, and if the person he told could round up irrefutable evidence to back it up, then he would be ruined. He doubted Rachel was that type of person, she was a sweet girl, but he just didn’t know when he would be ready to be fully honest with someone about his secret.
“So, you in, right?” Marcus Johnson, the starting safety said to John as he laced up his shoes.
John had just finished his shower and was now at his locker grabbing his clean street clothes. It was amazing how some of the guys just put back on the stuff they were wearing before the game. John thought it was a bit gross, especially if they were planning to go out clubbing to get drunk and pick up women. Of course, if they picked up drunk women, then it probably didn’t matter.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll have a few beers,” John said. “It’s going to be a zoo, though.”
“You got that right, especially for you. Man, after you made that sweet play to end the game, there are going to be honeys all up on you from every direction,” Marcus said as he started to do a silly little dance.
John couldn’t help but laugh; Marcus was one of the craziest guys on the team. He was an average ball player, but he was the life of any party. He was a fun guy to have around to keep you entertained.
“You know this isn’t our city,” John said. “I’ll be surprised if many Seattle women are after us.”
“After you,” Marcus corrected. “The rest of us will get lucky to piggyback off your status tonight. And it don’t matter that this is Seattle and we from Phoenix. Women like winners; they don’t care if you’re on the opposite team. Trust me, I know.”
John couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculous antics and comments that Marcus was making. In addition to being a party animal, Marcus also considered himself to be a gift to all women, but John didn’t remember ever seeing Marcus with any women. He basically had a zero percent batting average. Of course, maybe one day he would lose the teenage antics and talk to women like a real man. Then he might actually meet some great women in his life.
John shook his head as he thought about the advice he should be giving Marcus when he himself needed a serious overhaul on his own romantic life. He was blessed with great looks, a good physique, and athletic prowess. John had always had women who seemed interested in him, but it always felt that he was pushing them back instead of the other way around. It was usually women who were fighting off a man’s sexual advances and making things go slowly. John was raised to be a bit old fashioned, and he was okay with that. Of course, being romantic with women had become much more difficult since the change. Every time he got that excited, it was possible that he might wolf out. And then there was the small possibility that if she got pregnant, then the baby would have the curse as well. John wasn’t sure he could live with that.
But sometimes a man just needed a woman. That was life.
“Man, do not listen to a word this guy says. He only knows about self-love,” Darren said, opening his locker right behind them.
“That is not even right,” Marcus replied. “Haters always tryna hate, man.”
“So, where are we going?” John asked.
“This club called Paradise,” Marcus said. “It’s supposed to be hot!”
“Aren’t all dance clubs called ‘Paradise’ or something with ‘Paradise’ in the title? It’s weird,” John joked.
“Yeah, it’s a bit odd. Why can’t we go somewhere for once that is not called that?” Darren asked, pretending to be
deeply disturbed by it.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care what a club is called, as long as it’s packed wall to wall with hot honeys,” Marcus said, starting his dance up again.
John and Darren looked at each other, shaking their heads.
“I’ll bet you fifty bucks you end up alone with your self-love again tonight,” Darren said, egging Marcus on.
Marcus came to attention instantly. He was the kind of guy that if you told him he couldn’t do something, or if you put money on the table, he would do whatever it took to succeed, often to hilarious results.
“Oh, I’ll take that action. You’re on, my friend.”
“Sweet!” Darren said, slapping John a high five. “You want in on this action?”
John shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just enjoy watching you collect fifty bucks.”
“Really, John? You got no faith, man,” Marcus said.
“By the way, John, that sexy reporter girl is waiting for you outside the locker room,” Darren said.
John felt his heart sink. “What? Why? How did she get in here?”
“When a woman looks like that, she can get away with stuff,” Darren said. “Plus, I think she promised to write a blurb or an article about how awesome coach is.”
John groaned as he finished getting dressed. Michelle Patton was the last person he wanted to see right now. She was enough to make him not even feel like going out tonight. But he figured he would go out and tell her to leave as respectfully as he was able to muster with a woman like that. If that didn’t work, he would just be plain and blunt; sometimes that was all people like that understood.
“Hey, John,” Michelle said the second he stepped out of the door and started walking down the corridor toward the parking lot. The club that he was supposed to meet the guys at was only a few blocks away. John always chose to drive because he didn’t trust that any of the other fellas would be in driving condition when they left, and given their ultra-competitive nature, they would never let him drive or admit that they couldn’t. It was a football thing apparently.
