by Elsa Jade
Alphas Unbound
Elsa Jade • Elle Thorne • Emma Storm • Ronin Winters • Mina Carter • Anna Lowe • Anne Marsh • Viola Rivard
Hero
Copyright © 2015 Elsa Jade
Forbidden
Copyright © 2015 Elle Thorne
Temptation
Copyright © 2015 Emma Storm
Iron
Copyright © 2015 Ronin Winters
Enforcer’s Heart
Copyright © 2015 Mina Carter
Desert Moon
Copyright © 2015 Anna Lowe
Tempted by the Pack
Copyright © 2012 Anne Marsh
Red Fever
Copyright © 2014 Viola Rivard
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
Box Set Contents
Hero
Forbidden
Temptation
Iron
Enforcer’s Heart
Desert Moon
Tempted by the Pack
Red Fever
Hero
Wolves of Angels Rest
Book 1
Elsa Jade
Website | New Release Alert | Facebook
The mating moon is rising…
A wandering werewolf returns to town during the mating season to become pack leader and reunites for one last fling with the high school crush he left behind, unaware of how short their time together might be…
Maddie Joplin left the high desert town of Angels Rest with the searing memory of her one night in the arms of the local golden boy nipping at her heels. Now, years later, she’s back, haunted by a need she couldn’t outrun and determined to finally set herself free from wishes that can never come true.
In the army, Kane Villalobos traveled the world, seeking other shapeshifters who’d learned to live in harmony with human, only to find secrecy and death. He’s destined to become alpha of the Mesa Diablo pack, but he can’t forget the lush curves and quick mouth of the girl he had to leave behind. Seeing her again arouses his wolf in dangerous ways, and keeping her safe—from himself and the perils of the werewolf world—might mean letting her go forever.
Copyright © 2015 by Elsa Jade
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as factual. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be scanned, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Chapter One
‡
Welcome Home Hero
The lie in each of those words pierced Kane Villalobos like three rounds from a hunter’s 9mm. A night breeze, still carrying the threat of winter, snapped at one corner of the cheap vinyl banner hanging under the Gypsy’s sign. It waved like it was giving him a mocking middle finger.
Get lost, loser.
Setting his jaw, he shoved away from his Mustang. The big V8 ticked as it cooled, a disapproving sound. He did not need this inanimate commentary.
He had enough big, bad thoughts lurking in his head without them.
The gravel, shining like silver bullets scattered under the light of the rising moon, crunched beneath his boots as he headed toward the tavern door. Despite the chill, his palms were damp. Strange to think, for as many times as he’d passed Gypsy’s, he’d never been inside the bar. He’d been too young to drink when he’d first enlisted and got the hell out of Angels Rest.
But now he was…back. Not home, not anymore, definitely no hero, and—he pushed open the heavy timber door, letting out the twang of some country pop starlet, to meet a dozen wary stares—apparently not welcome either.
Not that it mattered. Because before the rise of the next full moon—welcome or not—some lucky lady here would become a werewolf’s mate.
His mate.
*
Maddie Joplin trudged down Main Street, past the darkened storefronts of clapboard and yellow concrete block, headed for the edge of town.
In Angels Rest, that wasn’t a long walk.
Dammit, why had she come back here? She’d fled the hick town in the middle of nowhere as soon as she was done with high school. Not graduated, technically. But done. Back then, she’d hated everything about this place: the holier-than-thou name, the salt-of-the-earth people, the too-good-for-you guy…
And yet somehow her desperate flight to escape had curved around and brought her right back to where she’d started, like a stupid moth to the place where it would gutter out and die. There wasn’t even a flame in Angels Rest this time of night, just the glare of the waxing April moon.
Okay, that was the one thing she’d missed about the Colorado Plateau spread out between high desert and the mountains: the endless sky. Pausing on the narrow bridge that marked the edge of town, she gazed up at the stars. So many stars that the path of the Milky Way was a soft but distinct glow across the heavens despite the boldness of the swelling moon.
She took in a slow breath, tangy with the mineral-rich scent of Angel Creek meandering under the bridge. In daylight, the creek shimmered with a quick, cheerful current and zippy fish, but now its tarnished pewter surface seemed mysterious and full of whispers.
Maddie shivered as the night breeze crept past her, touching her through the thin cotton of her hoodie. It swirled up under the hem of her little denim skirt and between her legs. She didn’t usually mind the chill since she carried a few extra pounds as a convenient barrier between her and the rest of the world. But for some reason, the cold air and the bright moon seemed a little too close tonight.
She crossed her arms over her chest to block the wind and was shocked at the thrill of pleasure that shot through her peaked nipples. The only high-beaming headlights in this dead-end town.
She snorted to herself and then caught her breath when an answer seemed to come from somewhere far out in the darkness. She strained to hear it again.
Arooooo!
The faint, wild cry blazed through her, as the light and the cold and the wicked tingle in her breasts exploded along every nerve ending. She gasped, one hand rising to cover her mouth. Her fingertips brushed her lower lip, the flesh tight and swollen, as if someone had been kissing her for hours.
This time the shiver down her spine was like a fever.
What the hell? She wasn’t scared of a coyote or some rancher’s guard dog calling down the stars.
But she hadn’t been gone so long that she’d forgotten what those beasts sounded like, and they didn’t sound like this.
Ancient, powerful, longing… It was like one lingering note in a song she couldn’t quite remember.
The urge to holler out a reply swelled behind the cage of her ribs, and against her crooked elbow, her breasts felt heavy and sensitive. She bit her fingertips to silence herself. Even the creek seemed to hush. She waited, poised on the balls of her feet
, straining to hear it again.
But the cry was not repeated.
Maddie settled back onto her heels, the inexplicable tension draining out of her. She turned her cute suede boots back toward the room she rented over the town’s lone gas station where she worked. But then a flicker of neon caught her eye and reminded her why she’d come out this way in the first place.
Gypsy’s was the only place open—well, really, it was the only bar in about a hundred square miles, period—and she deserved a drink. It had been a long week, pumping gas and directing crazy tourists out to Mesa Diablo. Among the rocky spires, petroglyphs carved in the stone allegedly told the story of shapeshifting monsters haunting the mesa and canyons.
She’d never been afraid of the dark, but maybe she should’ve called Darling to come with her. Her high school bestie had never moved away from Angels Rest, and though they hadn’t kept in touch, they’d picked up right where they’d left off. As the county librarian and records clerk, Darling had one of the few real jobs in the whole zip code and she was probably already tucked away happily in her bed. Maddie was the only one wandering restlessly in the night.
When she stepped across the bridge, runaway strands of her sandy-brown hair whipped up on the breeze, perfumed with sage, dust, and the hint of snow still up in the mountains. The breath of untamed places. Maddie kept her gaze fixed on the beckoning light of civilization—such as it was—and walked a little faster.
It had been a long time since she’d sneaked into Gypsy’s, but she wasn’t particularly surprised to see it looked pretty much the same. Roadhouses never changed. Maybe there was a life lesson there. She’d tried so hard to change, but where had it gotten her?
Well, at least that gorgeous pony car in the parking lot was new. She eyed the strong, clean lines with appreciation. It wasn’t pristine—too many miles over gravel had nicked tiny dings in the obsidian paint that glinted in the lunar light. Still, it was a fine machine. She sailed her hand over the sleek rear wing, not quite touching it, as she walked past.
That welcome-home banner was new too. Huh. So she’d been wrong; things did change around here, like, once in a blue moon. She flicked a glance at the sign as she hopped up onto the rambling front porch and grabbed the heavy door handle. Apparently some other fool had been lured back to this place. Or maybe just the ashes of some World War II vet bound for the pioneer cemetery. She couldn’t imagine what sort of hero would want to come—
The door flew open, crunching her knuckles, and she stumbled back in surprise. The country chick on the jukebox sang out a line about “come hell or high water or him.” Maddie’s stacked heel caught on the rough wood planks of the porch, and she went down on her ass, hard. She half tumbled toward the steps.
A big hand thrust out of the dazzle of neon lights filling the doorway and clamped around her elbow, halting her fall. An inexplicable awareness blazed through her already sensitized body, tightening the secret muscles in her core even as her knees wobbled in her thigh-high tights.
“What the—?” The rumbling voice, familiar but pitched low made her shiver. The tavern door swung closed, muffling the music and shutting them out in the night alone.
Son of a bitch. She should’ve guessed. If ever Angels Rest had a hero, it was golden boy Kane Villalobos. The guy who popped her cherry and broke her heart.
And here she was, on her knees at his feet again.
Chapter Two
‡
Maddie cursed under her breath, her mind racing. Kane hauled her to her feet as if she were a slightly heftier version of the football he used to tuck under his arm and run into the end zone most Friday and Saturday nights. Every bit as easy as she’d let him into her end zone. Right before he spiked her and chicken-danced away.
At least her denim skirt was too snug to fly up, though she gave it a discreet tug anyway as he took a long step back.
And dammit, she noticed he was just as sexy as ever. No, he was worse. His lean, running back body had filled out, his shoulders heavily muscled under a plaid western shirt and his forearms ridged where he’d folded back his sleeves. The dark ink of a tattoo she couldn’t quite distinguish disappeared under the fabric bunched at his elbows despite the chilly night.
Her gaze ran down the pearl snaps over his broad chest, gleaming like little full moons, and settled on his hips, encased in worn denim. She didn’t mean to look, but he’d scraped his palms down his flanks as if he’d touched something that shocked him and then shoved those big hands—extra wide to catch passes from quarterbacks and starry-eyed teenage girls—into his pockets.
Which just made the bulge there more obvious. Her lady parts did that annoying tighten/soften thing that totally ignored her brain screaming, You know you can never go back!
Yup. Sexier than ever.
As soon as she realized where she was staring, she zipped her gaze back up his body to his face. The shining black waves of his hair and the dark gold of his skin granted him by some handsome Puebloan ancestor had always made him look like a creature of sun and shadow both, perfectly balanced with his world in a way she’d wished for but never been able to match. It was part of the reason she’d wanted him so badly.
But now, in the harsh neon shining through the tavern windows, the face she’d mooned over in high school seemed not quite so familiar. The dark brown of his eyes that she might’ve once written a really bad poem about looked weird in the reflected neon, like there was a yellow ring around his irises with sparks of scarlet. As if half-hidden flames burned behind his stare. An ugly scar running along his cheekbone to his temple hadn’t been there when she’d kissed her way over every inch of him, and his jawline was taut, any lingering baby fat honed away by…she wasn’t sure what. But something had left that merciless glint in his oddly lit eyes.
Her pulse ticked over a little faster, sending a rush of blood to the farthest reaches of her body.
His nostrils flared. “Maddie,” he said in a low, reverberating tone. “Maddie Joplin. I’ll be damned. What are you doing here?”
That was one thing she hadn’t quite remembered about him: the timbre of his voice. Father Gus had added extra hymns every Sunday just so the faithful could indulge in Kane Villalobos’ crystal tenor. That beauty was still there but it was almost buried under a menacing growl.
She stiffened her spine against an instinctive quiver. “What are you doing here?” she shot back. “I heard you were overseas.” She’d thought she’d been pretty smooth sneaking that info out of Darling on her second day in town, only to earn a pitying glance from her friend.
“I’m back.” The clipped words strangled any melody in his voice. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m here to drink. Too bad you were just on your way out. Anyway, nice seeing you again.” Nice? Ugh. “If you’ll excuse me…” Since when was she so gracious? But something about his stance—half turned away, half canted toward her—was making her jumpy.
She took a step forward, but he shifted from one boot to the other, blocking her reach for the door. She halted. A strange heat filled the small, intimate space of the porch. Was it his big, looming body or something inside her raising the temperature like a desert sun? It had been like this on their first—and last—night together: hot and rushed and wrong. But dangerously thrilling.
“This isn’t a good place to be right now,” he said. “You should go home and stay there until morning.”
She couldn’t find a place she wanted to stay even for an hour. Except maybe that time in his arms… She tilted her head, as if she could let the naughty thoughts slide right out of her ear. “I don’t have a home.”
His strange eyes narrowed. “Your parents still moving around?”
The fact he’d remembered sent a strange mix of gratification and old anger churning in her. “Yeah, my dad’s working for the oil company in Qatar this time.” His survey work had brought the family to Angels Rest when she was a high school freshman, but the community—torn between the seductiv
e and destructive possibility of a black gold mine of crude and the risk to their older, quieter ways of life—had always kept them at arm’s length.
Those old qualms seemed to darken Kane’s gaze when he fixed his stare on her. “Still, you have someplace to be that’s not here. So go. Go on.”
She lifted her chin. “Does that actually work on the chicks you hang out with now?”
“It worked on you, even back then.”
Shame churned up past all her other unsteady emotions, and she recoiled from him. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that?”
“I wish,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sadly, I know exactly who my father was. That’s why I’m back.”
Suddenly she recalled one of the details Darling had mentioned when they’d been playing catch-up, and her prickling anger wilted. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I haven’t been back long myself, so I just heard about your dad. He was…” She cast about for the right words that skirted the fact the senior Villalobos and his suspicion of outsiders had been one of the reasons her family was never accepted. “He was a leader in this town. I suppose his passing left a hole no one can fill.”
For some reason, her condolence only made Kane’s expression more grim. “I wish,” he repeated.
While she hesitated, trying to find something to say to ease his blatant pain, he took her arm, spun her around, and frog-marched her down the roadhouse steps.
“Hey.” She stumbled, but his iron grasp kept her upright. “Look, I’m sure this has been hard for you—”
“I’ll do what I have to.”
“Actually, what you have to do is. Let. Me. Go.” She set her boot heels in the gravel and wrenched her arm out of his grip.
