Alphas of Summer: A collection of shifter romances

by Lia Davis

  With a roar of fury, Pahlin unleashed the spark building inside him. Electricity rushed through him, burning a white-hot path through his body. Though it hurt as it passed through him, it would be a hundred times worse for Fidhur. The shockwave slammed into Fidhur, and the other man went rigid in his grasp. Pahlin hit him again, and the other man crumpled like someone had melted the bones right out of him. He slumped onto the stone floor, staring up as his mouth worked silently. The outline of Pahlin’s hand was burned onto his face, blistered and angry red.

  The crowd’s response was deafening. They hadn’t rung the gong yet to signal the end of the match. Fidhur’s legs kicked as if he was trying to turn himself over, but Pahlin pounced on him, pinning him with his full body weight. It was tempting to beat him until his fists bled, but instead he pressed both hands onto the other man’s chest and released a massive burst of energy.

  Fidhur’s back arched. His veins popped out like ropes binding his rigid muscles as the electricity coursed through him. His gray eyes were wide and terrified, fixed on Pahlin. Finally, Pahlin released him, and the man slumped, gasping for air.

  Pahlin leaned in and put his face close enough that he could have kissed Fidhur if he was so inclined. “If you even think about touching her again, I will fucking kill you,” he hissed, leaning on the newly learned curse word. It was infinitely more satisfying than the equivalent in his native tongue. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Fidhur choked.

  “Good,” he said. “Now yield, or we find out if the healer can bring you back from the dead.”

  Fidhur slapped his hand against the ground to signal his submission. As the gong sounded, he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “T’haran dan keth,” Pahlin spat. He got up and let the official grab his arm, holding it up in a sign of victory. The lightning had burned through him, leaving him exhausted, but it was worth it. He searched the crowd again, and most of them were on their feet. Violet and Ariv stood in the back, and they were both smiling. Ariv was grinning, the satisfied look of a man who’d just won a massive bet. Violet’s expression was still tight, but her lips curved ever so slightly.

  As if the Skymother herself had smiled on him, Pahlin turned just in time to see a Kadirai woman in a black coat over slim leggings and boots emerge from the anteroom. The woman’s uniform signaled that she was one of the Gatekeepers who’d first greeted him upon his arrival in the human world. She nodded to him, then crossed quickly to speak to the official. She whispered in his ear, gestured to Fidhur, and nodded. The official’s jaw dropped, and he gestured for the medical team to carry Fidhur out. The Gatekeeper followed closely behind him. The crowd went oddly quiet as they watched.

  Fidhur was about to get his second round of what was coming to him.

  The fights continued, but Pahlin had no desire to remain and watch. Though he didn’t need her services, he paused to stick his head into the healer’s office. Despite the beating he’d taken, Fidhur hadn’t been brought here. Perhaps they’d decided to take him straight back to the Gate and deal with him there. He had a feeling the Gatekeepers would be in no hurry to tend to Fidhur’s wounds and make him more comfortable. It served him right.

  Pahlin knocked lightly on the doorframe. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Are you coming to see me? I notice that you’re walking on your own this time.”

  “I took your advice,” he said. “I didn’t get hit quite as much.”

  “I told you it was good advice,” she said, her lips quirking into a smile. “Make it a habit.”

  “We’ll see,” he said. Despite his victory, he didn’t feel any desire to continue his fighting career at the Pinnacle. “Have a good night.”

  When he arrived in the lobby, Ariv and Violet were waiting for him. Ariv was excitedly counting through a stack of cash while Violet slowly scanned the room. As soon as Pahlin appeared, Ariv waved the money at him and chattered in Kadirai. “You just won us over three thousand dollars,” he said. “Let me count your half.”

  “Not right now,” Pahlin replied. Switching to English, he turned to Violet. “I am glad you came.”

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, though she smiled. “After seeing that, so am I.” Her eyes drifted away from his face.

  “He will not bother you again,” Pahlin said, hoping his voice did not betray his hurt at her refusal to look at him. “Our kind do not take it lightly. He will be dealt with.”

  She nodded, raising her eyes to his for a brief moment. “I have to go,” she said. “Work. No rest for the weary.”

  He had hoped for something more, but he didn’t really expect it. After what had happened, he didn’t blame her for wanting to get away from him. “I understand,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

  Violet glanced over her shoulder at Ariv. He pointedly turned away as he split the money into two handfuls. She took a tentative step toward Pahlin, then pressed her hands on his shoulders. Calling the lightning had left him tender and sore, and even her light touch pained him, but it was worth every second. She pressed insistently, and he crouched so she could meet his gaze. “Thank you,” she said. “For being a good man. Or a good dragon. Or both.” She laughed, then leaned in to brush a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were like fire on his skin. Her breath caught, as she kissed his lips lightly. He parted his lips, letting her linger as she wished. An entirely different sort of lightning shot through him, stirring his blood. “If you want to call me sometime…”

  His eyes creaked open. “If I…yes,” he said. “I would like that.”

  “Tell me your number,” she said, taking her phone from her pocket.

  “Uh…vazredakh,” he muttered. He couldn’t remember the series of numbers, especially not with the fire of her kiss burning through him.

  Still without turning around, Ariv said loudly, “770-555-2178.”

  “Thank you,” Pahlin said. Violet’s fingers moved rapidly. When she was done, she touched the screen. A second later, Pahlin’s pocket started buzzing. He fumbled the phone out, but the call stopped as soon he got it out. He frowned.

  She smiled. “Now you have my number. Don’t wait too long to use it,” she said. With a little smile, she turned and walked out of the Pinnacle.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I had to help you out,” Ariv said. “Are you going to call her?”

  “Of course,” Pahlin said. “Are you an idiot?”

  Ariv handed over a stack of cash. “Job well done,” he said. His face went serious. “You’re aware she’s not supposed to know about us.”

  “I know,” Pahlin said. “But—”

  “She already knows she’s not supposed to know either,” he interrupted. “So just make sure she knows how to play dumb.”

  Pahlin laughed. “You think of everything.”

  “That’s what I do,” Ariv said. “Now don’t wait too long. She might forget about you.”

  Chapter 12

  Violet had hoped Pahlin might call her that night, but for some reason, he waited. She almost called him instead, but decided to wait. Kissing him had been a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing, unusually bold for her.

  Before going to the fight, she’d decided she only wanted to see Fidhur punished for what he did. She would thank Pahlin and part ways afterward, assuming he won. That resolve had lasted through the fight, although it had been shaken when she watched him stand over Fidhur, victorious and proud as he looked up for her approval. It wasn’t until she saw him up close after the fight that things changed. When it occurred to her that this might be the last time she saw him, her stomach plunged through the floor. Maybe it was just animal attraction after watching a shirtless man pummel the guy who’d tried to violate her. And maybe it was something else, as she accepted that this man was not like anyone she’d ever known. Even if she took out the whole turns-into-a-dragon thing, he was something special. She wasn’t going to get ahead of herself, but she knew one thing for certain: she wanted very much to see him again.

  The next morning,
she got a text from him.

  Pahlin: Violet? May I call?

  She could barely control the smile as she read the message. She immediately responded.

  Call me.

  The message had barely gone through before her phone started to ring. His deep voice was tentative on the phone. “You told me I could call,” he said. “I am not sure of how things are done here. May I see you?”

  “You may,” she said. His precise, formal speech was oddly appealing. “Tradition says we should go out to eat.”

  “That sounds very good,” he said. He hesitated. “I do not drive. And I’m afraid my preferred way of getting around attracts too much attention.”

  “I’ll pick you up,” she said. “How do you feel about Mexican?”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that virtually everything was a new experience for Pahlin. He wasn’t a fan of margaritas, but he quickly declared his enthusiastic support of the bottomless chips and salsa. Dinner was a dream, as he told her about the wonders of his world.

  After they ordered, she leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Okay, tell me everything.”

  His brow creased. “I cannot tell you everything.”

  “Well, tell me something. Why are you here and not there?”

  He toyed with the straw in his drink, drawing her attention to his graceful hands. “I come from a nation of dragons called the Stormflight. When we come of age, we are allowed to leave our home to wander. It’s called the khalle t’aradan,” he said. Now that she knew he was speaking the language of another world, she was fascinated by the exotic syllables spilling over his tongue. Everything sounded like magic.

  “So you’re never allowed to leave home otherwise?”

  He shrugged. “Kadirai are territorial. We stay within the lines that are drawn for us. The khalle t’aradan permits us to explore the world beyond our home for seven years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “Not for us,” he said with a shrug.

  She frowned. “How old are you?”

  “Forty-nine.”

  She gaped. “And how old can you get?”

  He shrugged again. “My mother is one hundred and eighty-six. And she is still young.”

  Her stomach lurched. Then he might live for centuries. “Holy shit.”

  “We should talk about something else,” he said.

  “No!” she blurted. His eyes widened. “I mean, if you’re not comfortable, we can. But I’m fascinated.”

  “I will talk if you wish,” he said. “You just seemed upset by my mother’s age.”

  She laughed. He was a bit dense. “It’s all right. I’m sure she looks great for being nearly two hundred. Have you spoken to her since you left?”

  “When we leave home, we break contact for the most part. Some families will send a messenger into the human world to check on their relatives and ensure that they are all right, but most do not. Some simply send messages through the Gate. My family will not make contact with me,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s sad. Are they angry at you?”

  He paused, frowning as he clasped his hands. “Not angry,” he said. “Perhaps disappointed. They did not want me to leave, but it is my right and they did not outright forbid me to come. If I return, they will welcome me home, but until I do, they will not reach out to me.”

  “That seems sad,” she said.

  “That is the way things work,” he said. He shook his head. “Is it human tradition for the male to answer all the questions, or may I?”

  She laughed. His question wasn’t sarcastic. “You may,” she said. “I’m an open book.” His brow furrowed at the unfamiliar phrase. “It means I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Violet had been on some awful first dates, so her bar wasn’t terribly high. But conversation with Pahlin came easy. And she couldn’t help feeling excited at sharing his secret. She caught herself glancing around the restaurant, looking at the other patrons as she thought I bet you have no idea I’m eating dinner with a dragon. The secret thrilled her to no end. Somehow, two hours flew by and suddenly they looked around to see the waiters sitting at tables to roll silverware and eyeballing them.

  “We have to leave,” she said apologetically.

  Though his touch was hesitant at first, his hand rested on the small of her back as they left the restaurant. As they sat in her car after dinner, Pahlin bit his lip, then took a deep breath. “Thank you for allowing me to spend the evening with you,” he said. “It was the most enjoyable evening I have spent in this world.”

  “Wow. A girl doesn’t get compliments like that often,” she said. It wasn’t like her to invite a man home on the first date, but something about Pahlin made her throw caution to the wind. “It doesn’t have to be over. If you don’t want, I mean. I hope that’s not too forward, but considering the other night, I—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, his hand sweeping through her hair to cup her head. When he broke away, he said, “I apologize.”

  “Why in the hell would you apologize?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Perhaps you should drive now,” he said, his lips curving as he gave her a mischievous look.

  She silently congratulated herself for picking a restaurant less than a mile from her house. By the time she pulled into the driveway, her heart was racing. As she fumbled the keys out of the ignition, she was preparing mentally. She’d worn a cute matching set of underwear just in case. Good planning, Vi.

  Pahlin’s fingers traced her spine as he followed her up the driveway and into the house. She had just gotten the door closed when his hands seized her waist and gently pushed her back toward the door. Dipping his head, he kissed her, stealing her breath away. One hand slid up the back of her neck, trapping her in a beautiful moment. His other hand drifted up her side, then gently brushed across her breast. His hips pressed against hers, pinning her to the wall. The familiar touch sent a shudder through her, and the memory of the other night flashed through her mind. She broke away for a moment.

  His brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed. “I just…you can do that thing with your eyes. I know you wouldn’t, but…God, I’m the worst. Let’s do this.”

  But he didn’t look upset as he pulled away from her, releasing her from the wall. “Hmm,” he said. He plucked at the scarf artfully tied around her neck. “May I?”

  She tilted her head quizzically. “You may.”

  Untying it carefully, he extended it between his hands, then glanced over his shoulder. With powerful strides, he crossed the living room and retrieved one of the high-backed chairs from her dining room table. Situating it in the middle of the room, he sat in it. Then he carefully wound the scarf around his eyes and tied it in a knot at the back of his head. Then he held out his arms and smiled.

  “You look silly,” she said. Even with the glittery blue scarf, he looked good enough to eat.

  “I cannot force you to do anything,” he replied. “I know that you were frightened by what happened with Fidhur. And I want you to know that I would never do such a thing to you. But I also understand that you must trust me in your own time. Whatever desire you feel for me is completely yours.” He folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Do what you wish. I am yours to command.”

  Regarding him carefully, she stepped out of the low heels and left them on the carpet. Then she leaned over to kiss his lips. He let her kiss him tentatively at first, then captured her lips, letting his tongue explore her mouth. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already touched him. Careful not to hurt him, she straddled him and sat on his lap. His lips curved against hers as his hands slipped around her waist and situated her closer to him. Heat ignited in her as she spread her legs to surround his powerful legs.

  “May I?” she asked, imitating his formal question.

  “You may do whatever you like,” he replied breathlessly. She pressed herself tight to him, grinding her hips slowly against him. “Tell me what you want.
”

  Still writhing in a slow rhythm against him, stoking a low burn in her center, she plucked his hands away from her waist, then reached down to peel up the hem of his shirt. “Put your arms up,” she said.

  Obediently, he thrust his arms overhead. She pulled the shirt up and over his head. The quick movement nudged the scarf over his eyes, but she fixed it before returning her attention to him. As she rearranged the scarf, his lips quirked in a smile.

  There was still a dark handprint on his chest from his fight with Fidhur. She brushed her fingers over it. “Does this hurt?” she asked.

  “A bit,” he replied. Carefully moving around the mark, she traced her fingers along the smooth cuts of muscle, as if she were tracing a roadmap. His strong arms closed around her waist, forcing her closer to him. With a wicked idea forming, she dodged his searching kiss and peeled his hands away from her body.

  He reached for the scarf, but she made a tsk sound and said, “Keep it on.”

  “Oh,” he replied. Searching for her balance, she stood over him instead. She deftly unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. There was a rumble of satisfaction in his voice as he said, “Oh.”

  Freeing him from the confining pants, she stroked her hand over him lightly, teasing her fingers along the sensitive skin. “May I?”

  He shivered and drew in a breath. His hips shifted, his legs opening for her. “You may.”