Conrad pressed his thin lips together and sat from his chair, placing one hand on it like a famous orator.
“I see you’ve found a new girl. Is that what you mean by letting your guard down? I was always sorry about what happened to Sarah. Honestly, Dom -”
Dom shifted. In an instant, he wielded the size and the muscles of a bear, and the teeth too. He roared, knocking Conrad back. then snapped his jaws on the bars while he tried to bend them apart.
“Don’t you talk about Sarah,” Dom growled.
Conrad put a hand up for him to stop.
When the bars didn’t budge again, that deep rooted, all encompassing regret of what happened to Sarah hit him like it always did. He changed back to a man in an instant.
Changing so fast left him panting. He fell from the bars. Conrad put his hand back on the chair and regained his composure.
“We won’t talk about her, but trust me when I say it, this new girl of yours will be found as well. If you want to see her safe, you’ll cooperate with us.”
“Sarah,” Dom muttered.
His fiance, so close to being his wife, then she was taken from him. Dom was placed on assignment with Conrad, hunting the elusive and well connected terrorist, Renzo Rojas. Sarah followed Dom, pulling for the assignment in his group just to be closer to him when she should’ve been back home shopping for a wedding dress.
Sarah was good, one of the best operatives, but he would never forgive himself for bringing her there that day. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was all because of Dom. The terrorist ambush that day had been planned to kill Conrad. Instead, four other CIA operatives were killed, including his fiance.
Something inside him snapped that day.
He didn’t know why, or how. Hell, he could’ve been some sort of CIA operation gone wrong. Perhaps he was knocked out one night, given some sort of serum that would make him turn at the right time. Perhaps it was magic. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to figure it out someday.
All he knew was Sarah dieing made it happen
He turned into the beast. There were a lot of casualties. A bear running through a cramped two story apartment with rooms the size of closets, packed with terrorists and illegal weapons, can cause quite a lot of carnage.
Dom snapped back to the present. Thinking about that time was never a good idea. Conrad brought it up on purpose, to get a rise out of him.
“Don’t talk about Sarah,” Dom said again, this time, his voice rough and grating. He couldn’t stand bringing those memories back. Amy made him feel better about all of it, but now it came around full circle.
Conrad, Dom, a woman in trouble, and regret.
Dom dropped back onto his ass.
“So what do you want?” Dom asked. He could guess what Conrad wanted. He wanted to use him for his mercenaries, turn him into a research experiment. If he could wield Dom’s power, he would have the best fighting force on Earth.
Conrad leaned over. He stared unflinchingly at Dom.
“What are you?” he asked.
“A bear in a cage.”
Then Dom sneered at him again, showing his jagged teeth.
No, make that, “a pissed off bear in a cage.”
Conrad would understand what that meant soon enough.
***
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***
The Alpha’s Kiss
Change for Me
Coming of Age Werewolf Romance
by
Lynn Red
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Change for Me
Graduation came way, way too early.
Of course, none of us thought so...
We thought we were ready. Ready to get out and make our ways in the world, to try to be grownups and do whatever it was grownups did. But most of all, about ninety-five percent of us were just ready to get the hell out of Fort Branch. This little town, on the intersection of Nothing, Arizona and Nowhere, Arizona, was just holding us all back.
The guy talking at the podium, some speaker that I guess the principal of our school knew had been going on for what seemed like the glimpse of eternity you see when you fall off the edge of a black hole. Right before you get sucked down to the middle and turn into spaghetti, pulled apart to your atoms – that’s about what it felt like.
Looking around the tiny auditorium, there were at least four people with faces in various stages of irritation. Beside me, I recognized get-me-the-hell-out-of-here on Aaron Critten’s face. Aaron had been my boyfriend for about a month. It was freshman year when we got together, so it wasn’t anything interesting, but still, he was a nice guy.
Next to him sat Caitlyn Hodges, who was proudly wearing her this-place-is-a-mile-beneath-me look, which had come into vogue the instant she got accepted to Harvard. The attitude made sense, I mean, Fort Branch in the wilds of northern Arizona, half desert and half forest with the weird bottom part of a mountain chain isn’t exactly Cambridge. Still, it got old seeing that scowl on her face for most of the last two years we were in school.
Come to think of it, those two words – tiresome, but understandable – explain a lot about this place.
About four seats down from Caitlyn was her boyfriend, Devin Cline. Devin’s the guy who can win any girl’s heart with about four seconds of a glance. But even he, even unflappable Devin with the dimples, Devin who drives a motorcycle and parks it in the teacher’s parking lot sometimes, he even had a look. I couldn’t decide exactly what it was, but I thought it was somewhere between I-drank-too-many-screwdrivers-at-the-party and what-the-hell-happens-now?
Rocking back and forth behind the podium, our guest speaker bellowed, “And that is the whole crux of life, isn’t it? Following passion, making a difference. A real difference.” He only distracted me from looking around for a second.
Sitting here, in this basketball gym, it was hard to process my actual feelings. Yeah, I wanted out of town, of course I did, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that there was nowhere for me to go. It was easier to keep that stuff at arms’ length.
Trying to distract myself from reality, I looked back to Cat and Devin. I never liked Devin. Not really. He seemed always to be just a little too far off the edge. Don’t get me wrong – yeah, he’s hot and he’s got the muscles and the attitude and everything, but he’s just so, I don’t know, loud? He’s got a real unchained id thing going on, and I just can’t keep up with that type
“Wake up to your true calling!” the speaker said, taking a moment to wipe a drip of sweat off his cheek. “Life is hard and long and you can either fight for what you want, or you can shrink down, afraid to do what’s right.”
The collective eye roll was almost audible.
Oh, and two rows up from Devin was Craig Willis, the single guy in our school who both really seemed like he fit in with Fort Branch, and who I actually liked. He’s got a big beard, always wears plaid shirts over his big belly and huge, like, impossibly huge arms. One of the jokes is that he spends his off-time from the football team practicing by tackling trees. I’d almost believe it if I didn’t know how much of a hippie he was.
Craig had his patented I-wish-my-beard-covered-my-whole-face-so-I-could-sleep look. This involved one closed eye and one open one with a cocked eyebrow over top. Also, he usually had his massive arms crossed over his chest, and his head resting on his beard. He looked a li
ttle like a turtle, but when he saw me looking his way, he shot me a glance. I puckered my lips, pulled them back over my teeth, and made a sucking sound that was maybe just a little louder than I thought.
Everyone. Turned. And. Looked.
And I mean everyone. Every single head in that tiny little auditorium turned and stared at me at the same time. Though a few of them seemed relieved that my teeth sucking had made the guy on the stand be quiet for a second.
The only face that wasn’t on me is the one I wished was. But Damon King, the one who got away, was nowhere to be found. Of the boys I dated through high school, he was the one who was the least like a high school boy. Stubble was growing on his jaw by the start of freshman year, and he’s got this long, wavy, dark brown hair that’s either in a ponytail or falling around his shoulders. Damon’s bigger than a high school guy has any right to be, but he never got into sports.
Aside from that, Damon’s a strong, chronically silent kind of guy.
Spends his time fixing motorcycles and being stoic. We were together for a year, almost all of sophomore year then through the summer, and every single move was mine. I asked him out in the first place, I kissed him first, everything.
Our relationship was a long stretch of me trying desperately to get him to like me as much as I did him. Every now and then, his shell would crack, and he’d do something just incredible – like the time I went into a really bad place over my parents, and he took a week away from school just to sit in my room with me.
But then, days later, he was back to normal. Eventually it just got to be too much up and down and I called it quits.
Podium guy broke into my consciousness again with a loud, fake laugh. “Am I up here for fun? Am I up here just to have attention and feel important? No! I’m up here because I believe in the class of double-aught-eight!”
I shook my head.
Okay, wait a minute. Back up, back up, back up. If this were a movie, the film would screech and get all spotty and then go in reverse before a montage played with some cheesy music laid over it. Probably ‘Working for the Weekend’. I think I should probably explain a few things. Graduations are usually huge, right? Big basketball arenas full of people staring around and falling asleep.
Yeah, sure, that’s pretty much what they’re like. In any normal place, that’s true. Fort Branch though, isn’t anything remotely approaching normal. This town used to be a military town; an Army town, actually, back in the ancient days before I was born.
When the base closed, most everyone – almost all of them veterans – moved away. There really wasn’t any reason to stay unless you worked in one of the desert vineyards a half-hour out of town, or unless you didn’t have anywhere else to go. My parents were in the second category.
My grandpa and grandma moved here when the base opened. He worked as a mechanic for pretty much his whole life, until he managed to save enough to call it quits, and never wanted to leave. He likes it here.
The few, the proud... no, nevermind.
Long story short, my parents were gone and I lived with Grandpa Joe. We took care of each other. He was smart and wise and way stronger than I could ever be so when I’d have my intermittent breakdowns, Grandpa Joe helped me get over them. As for my part, I made him feel young. That’s what he said, anyway. He always got these funny looks on his face when I got in trouble, like me having a hangover the first time I drank two entire Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers.
But as much as I liked him, and as pretty as this place is, I never wanted much more than to leave it behind. Not even in a realistic way, either. I didn’t have any job prospects or dreams of marrying wealthy. I just had the vague idea that leaving was what I was supposed to do.
“And that! That is what you will do, class of two-thousand-eight, is just what you’re going to do. Go forth, and conquer!” The man behind the podium slammed his hand on it so hard his toupee flopped a little. Aside from comic relief, the banging also woke everyone up. All fifty-six of us started awake from our stupors all at the same time.
Noticing that no one was applauding yet, he repeated his closing line. The second time, it was more clear what we were supposed to do, and in a great act of mercy, the students began to clap, and the guests who sat in metal folding chairs in mismatched rows around us joined in a few seconds later.
As soon as the hats were thrown, and waves were made, Aaron Critten got my attention.
“You coming to the party tonight? Someone rented out that old barn on the edge town for the night, and supposedly, after graduations, cops never go out that way. They just let us run wild. I’m sure there’s gonna be all kinds of...”
Beer, pot and groping is probably what he meant to say, but really, he was right to stop. If anything could get me to not bother with a party faster than the promise of drinking a bunch of beer and smoking with the same people with who I spent most every day of my formative years, I haven’t found it yet.
“Uh, no,” I said with a grin. “You?”
“May as well,” he said. “Can’t think of much else I should be doing. Say, did you hear about Paul?”
Paul Cates, I guess he meant. Paul was kind of a prick, but the funny kind. He was another of my short-lived boyfriends.
Aside from Damon and Paul the last of them, and most recent, was Aiden Mayfield, a dreamy-eyed guy who moved here from California in junior year. He was the opposite of Damon in every way, and the reason we broke up is because where Damon went too slow all the time, Aiden went too fast.
“No, what happened?” I asked absently. “Did he get hit by a bus or something?”
“Yes. It was horrible. Brains all over the street.”
My mouth slammed shut. “Holy shit, are you serious?”
“No, Lily, no I am not.” He got one of those half-grin things on his face.
I hit him square in the stomach. “You’re a real dick, you know that? Jesus, Aaron!”
“You shoulda seen the look on your face!”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I pursed my lips. “Anyway, no, what happened to him? Couldn’t have been anything bad because he’s right over there,” I turned and waved to Paul, “you asshole.”
Aaron was still laughing. “Oh it’s pretty bad. Nothing quite that dramatic though, as getting hit by a bus. Oh my God, the look you had!”
My eyes fixed on Aaron’s forehead. Briefly, I tried to bore my way through with laser beams, but that didn’t work out.
“Anyway, no,” he said, finally getting ahold of himself. “His parents found a bunch of pot in his drawers. Apparently, his dad was so pissed he threw the, uh... whatever that stuff is he messes with all the time, uh –”
“Clay? You do have a whole brain, right? Aaron, sometimes I swear...”
“Disconnected hemispheres,” he said. “I’m mortified that you’d make fun of my crippling injury. Or maybe I was just... Caitlyn might be basically the most obnoxious girl on the planet, but that ass –”
“Anyway, pervert, what is it?”
“Sorry,” he said, looking back at me. “Yeah, his old man threw all that clay out, including everything that was waiting to get baked. Or kilned, or whatever you call it.”
I shook my head. “That’s awful, but why are you telling me this? He doesn’t look that upset.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course he doesn’t. He’s high. So you’re not coming to the party later?”
We had already started to drift apart, Aaron slowly backing away and obviously waiting for a response before he turned and talked to someone else. “No,” I said. “I think I’m gonna stay in tonight. Not really my scene, you know?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get you. Listen, call me, okay? I’m not leaving for Arizona State until like the day before class starts, so you better not be a stranger. You get lost out there at your grandpa’s place and no one hears from you for months at a time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure, I’ll call.”
“Leroy!” It was my grandpa, beaming and walking toward me wi
th open arms. It was like he’d never seen anyone graduate before. “Leroy, come here and give me a hug. God, I’m so proud of you, little girl!”
He told me he calls me Leroy because that’s what I was going to be named, except I turned out to be a girl on accident. I’m pretty sure reality is just that it’s a Grandpa thing. Still, hearing it made me feel safe, like I was home.
I sniffled when he pulled me tight. Even though he’s about as old as most of the mountains around here, Grandpa Joe’s still tall and strong enough to surprise me every single time he jerks me in close with one of his bear hugs. “Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, my nose stuffed against his sweater.
“Going to that big party at the barn tonight? I expect you’ll want a ride, especially if you plan to tip back a half of a wine cooler. Or,” he narrowed his eyes so that they almost disappeared beneath his heavy eyebrows, “a whole one?”
“Ah, no,” I said with a grin. “Aaron wanted me to go, but... Sorry, no, Aaron asked, but I dunno, I don’t think I want to do anything. I’m just not really feeling that sort of—”
“Say no more, Leroy.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, squeezing my arm. “To the house it is. We can order in.”
“We can?”
“Oh, well I suppose that pizza place closed, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, about six years ago? Maybe seven?”
I hooked my arm around his and lay my head on his shoulder. Parties aren’t for me, not at all. Neither is uncertainty or confusion about boys or fear about what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.
Once again, I couldn’t help but think about Damon and his stoic, cold-but-somehow-caring looks. I never really got over him, I don’t think, but he made it clear he wasn’t interested. Or maybe I had just been over-sensitive about his android-like attempts to talk about feelings?
Bad Boys and Billionaires (The Naughty List Bundles) Page 4
