Alpha Mate: BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance

by Natalie Kristen

  The duo was presently patrolling Sixty-ninth Street. Bars and clubs populated the length of Sixty-ninth Street and drunken brawls often broke out here. A few ladies of the night had been found mutilated, more dead than alive in the alleys along this smoky street.

  Lucas pushed off the shop window and sniffed the air, as he watched the two rookie Enforcers stroll into a crowd of merrymakers. A breeze picked up, blowing the heady scent of drunken humans and paranormals right into his face.

  Lucas inhaled sharply, separating the smell of human sweat, alcohol and food from the various paranormal scents. He took another breath—and stiffened. It was every part of his body that stiffened. He stood erect, tensed and throbbing, unable to believe what he had just scented.

  It was—her.

  His mate.

  His erection pressed against the fly of his jeans, and his claws lengthened and dug into his palms. Wolves aged very slowly, so that a century was like a mere decade to them. His wolf had lived for three hundred years, but in human form, he was a virile, strapping thirty-year-old, with wavy brown hair, intelligent hazel eyes, straight sharp nose and a mouth that was more used to scowling than smiling. Three hundred years, and no sign of his mate.

  And she had to turn up now.

  Talk about timing.

  He could scent her, her sweet feminine scent calling to him, drugging him, pulling him, sending his body into a state of heightened arousal and need. Lucas let out a low growl and shook his head hard.

  No.

  It couldn't be—her.

  Not that human rookie.

  Sure, he had found her mugshot attractive and alluring, and thought her curvy body was hot. But give any male a picture of a pretty girl and these randy thoughts would just gallop through their minds. Men think about sex every seven seconds. More or less. Wasn't that what some scientific or not-so-scientific studies had claimed?

  So he thought she was sexy.

  But from the way his body was reacting, he definitely thought that she was more than sexy. She was—his.

  And his body and his wolf was clamoring to claim her right now, right here.

  Down, boy, down!

  He wasn't sure if the command was directed at his wolf or his cock. Both were on high alert, restless and raring to go. And neither was pleased at being denied. His wolf howled and clawed at him internally and his cock jerked painfully, torturing him to make their point.

  And that was when she glanced back over her shoulder. Those brilliant green eyes seemed to stare right at him, piercing his soul—if he still had one, and his heart.

  Charlotte Cole was perfect.

  Her emerald eyes were startling in their intensity and brilliance. Her cheeks were flushed and her full lips were slightly parted as she squinted at the street behind her. Her pert nose scrunched up as she bit her plump lower lip and frowned. She scanned the crowds and the shadows, but Lucas had slid swiftly into an alleyway the instant she turned her head. She couldn't see him, yet her eyes seemed to widen a fraction when she stared at the spot where he had just stood a second ago.

  He took in her beautiful face, every curve and nuance of her body, and inhaled her intoxicating scent.

  There was no doubt.

  This rookie human Enforcer was his mate.

  Lucas's claws dug deeply into his palms, drawing blood. A tidal wave of fear and wrath surged in him, drowning him in a sea of red. The roar in his ears made it impossible for him to hear, see or think clearly.

  What the hell was his mate doing, stalking through the danger infested streets and hunting rogues which could kill her with just a swipe of their filthy claws?

  He had to protect her. Get her away from here. And lock her up in his mansion, in his bedroom, where she would be safe.

  Every protective, possessive instinct reared up and threatened to override whatever senses and sensibilities he still had left.

  Lucas quickened his long strides, closing in on his mate. But just as he was about to reach out and touch that sweet leather-clad shoulder, he saw two rogues emerge from a small pub just up ahead. A shifter and a demon, each with a drunken, semi-conscious human on their shoulders. The rogue shifter was dressed in a smartly tailored suit, but the fur sprouting from the back of his neck gave him away. The demon was naked, its red skin rippling with muscle and tattoos. They were greeted with screams, shrieks and some laughter, as some inebriated humans attempted to approach them.

  The two rookies caught sight of the rogues at the same time, and reacted immediately.

  “Bryn! Two rogues, just up ahead, to your right!”

  Lucas's eyelids slid shut briefly at the sound of his mate's voice. Her voice was beautiful and exquisite. But he shook himself hard, growling in frustration. Her hold on him was hypnotic and powerful, and if he wasn't careful, he would lose control entirely. He wanted her, and his want was like nothing he had ever felt before. Just one look and she could drive him out of his goddamn mind. He hadn't even touched her, and his usually disciplined body was already rioting, his senses exploding and going supernova on him.

  The two female Enforcers began to give chase, weaving through the revelers and outdoor diners with speed and skill. Bryn was faster, being a vampire, but Charlotte moved with admirable grace and speed. She ducked and twisted through the crowd, her body soft and fluid, flowing between the cracks of the crowd like water.

  Lucas's eyes tracked her like a hawk, watching her as she chased the rogues, her hand moving under her jacket to drag out a silver dagger.

  At the sight of the deadly weapon in her dainty little hand, he somehow pictured the rogue demon twisting the dagger out of her grasp and turning that deadly blade on her. Demons were immune to silver. She could only use the silver blade on the rogue shifter. As Lucas trailed them, he saw Bryn grab a fistful of salt from her pocket. The salt glimmered with pure energy, having been enhanced with the most powerful, potent witches' spells.

  The female vampire was going after the demon. “Charlotte, we have to split up!” Bryn yelled, as the demon veered off into a side street.

  “The monster is mine!” Charlotte shouted over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with determination...and satisfaction.

  The shifter was running full tilt ahead, and Charlotte continued the chase alone, as her vamp partner took off after the demon.

  Lucas opened his mouth, then shut it. He was assessing these rookies, not supervising them, he reminded himself angrily. He was not to shout orders at them, no matter what. That was the rule that he and Jett had laid down for the assessors. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his own reminded him in his trademark surly, gruff tone.

  You're an invigilator, not an interferer. Your job is to assess the rookies, not interfere with their Finals. By interfering, you've just blown their chances of earning their Enforcer's Badge and graduating as a full-fledged Enforcer.

  Lucas started, as his own words came back to admonish him. He had said those very words to the assessors who had seen it fit to direct and intervene in the Final test of a rookie team when the assessor had thought that the rookies lacked the skills and judgment to handle a situation. But that was just the assessor's opinion. The assessor should have let the team react to the unfolding events and assess their reactions objectively. And thanks to the assessor's interference, the team had failed their Final test.

  Lucas gritted his teeth.

  He was an assessor on the field. That was a duo of trainees who had endured and survived the grueling basic and advanced training, and was so close to graduating. Would he be the one to disqualify them, and have them fail the Final test through his own possessive meddling?

  Funny. Possessive and meddling had never been words associated with him. He was anything but. Cool and detached. Aloof and inscrutable. Those were the words most frequently associated with him.

  Cursing, he stabbed the button on his watch.

  “Yes,” Jett's voice crackled with static.

  “Jett. The rookie team split up. I'm going after the
human. You have to shadow the vamp. She's headed down Sixty-eighth Street, in chase of a demon!”

  “Yes, Alpha!”

  Lucas clicked off, and sprinted after Charlotte. A waiter balancing a tray laden with food and drink came barreling out of a cafe, stumbling straight into his path. As the tray flew out of the waiter's hands, Lucas twisted to the side in a flash, narrowly missing the shower of chips, dips and sips. Screams and curses erupted in Lucas's wake, but he didn't stay for the mayhem and the mess.

  The overpowering smells of corn chips, salsa sauce and latte almost drowned out the scent of his mate and the rogue shifter. He straightened up, his eyes darting furiously through the crowd.

  Charlotte and the rogue shifter were nowhere to be seen.

  He fought the urge to shift into wolf right there and then. In wolf form, his senses were sharper, fiercer, more feral. But a little spilled food and drink already had the civilian humans and paranormals screaming and swearing like it was the end of the world. The appearance of a large wolf would just add to the chaos and attract more rogues out of the woodwork to take advantage of the mayhem and snare more panicking victims without anyone noticing.

  In the distance, he could hear sirens blaring.

  Someone had called the police.

  But the New Moon City Police Department was staffed entirely by humans. And they weren't selected and trained by the PAC. They policed the city, investigated and solved crimes, and apprehended your run of the mill criminals. Granted, some of these criminals were not so run of the mill. Some were dangerous psychopaths and serial killers. But even their most hardened and violent killers couldn't compare with the rogues.

  Rogues were in a league of their own.

  And his mate was going after one of these—what did she call them?—monsters.

  Where was she?

  Shaking his senses clear of the cloying smell of sweat, alcohol, spice, and flavored blood from the blood bars, he tried in vain to scent his mate again.

  How could she have run so fast?

  She went through the training program, you idiot. She made it through the basic and advanced levels. She's a fighter, an Enforcer. She's no sitting duck.

  Of course not. But...what if she got hurt?

  His claws and fangs lengthened at the thought.

  He would never allow that.

  An animal roar tore from his human throat, and he knew that glowing wolf eyes were now staring out of his human face. His beast was very near the surface, clawing and striving for release. His animal instincts and hunger were flaring and just about to burn out of control.

  Both wolf and man would never allow his mate to be hurt. But his wolf would kill first, and kill without compunction and conscience. His wolf would simply kill anyone who threatened his mate, or caused his mate to be in danger. And that included the rogue's human victim, which the rogue shifter had been hauling over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he loped down the street.

  His wolf might not distinguish between the rogue and its human victim. To his wolf, the human was the cause. The hapless human had caused his mate to be in danger, and so should be killed. Human or rogue—it didn't matter to his wolf.

  Whoever put his mate in danger would be taken out.

  The brain of the beast saw everything in black, white and red.

  If only everything was so simple.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Charlotte turned and saw Bryn take off after the rogue demon. The slim, petite vampire bulldozed her way through the throng of revelers, almost mowing down a group of beer-guzzling, burly men who all looked like linebackers. Some reeled back and whistled at the pretty vampire as she sprinted past. Charlotte almost rolled her eyes. Men.

  She frowned, realizing that she never saw men as men anymore. There was just no attraction or desire. Sure she had dated, but that was before she woke up in that hospital. Was it that Potion of Promise that the witch doctor had poured down her throat? Did the Potion also promise celibacy?

  Charlotte shivered, but it wasn't from cold or revulsion. No sex, no desire, no dates were good in her case. She had no time or energy for anything other than training. The training for Enforcers was not for the faint-hearted. Those with weak bodies and minds shouldn't bother applying to the training program. Charlotte had signed up to be an Enforcer immediately upon her discharge from the hospital. It had been both her choice, and not her choice. After what happened to Charlene, she was seething with pent up frustration and hatred. Frustration that she hadn't been able to save her sister, and hatred for the monsters that still prowled the streets, infesting the city and killing innocent victims. But at the same time, she had no choice. She had to be an Enforcer. That was the Promise she gave, in exchange for this life. She would kill these monsters, and avenge Charlene. It had taken her almost a year to reach this stage, a year of sore, aching muscles, fractured bones, torn ligaments and sheer, steely stubbornness.

  “You're not going to escape,” she snarled at the rogue wolf who was fast disappearing into the distance. Her feet pounded the pavement even harder, but she was beginning to pant. Her training had vastly increased her speed and stamina, and the Potion had also given her a leg up, so to speak. She had left the hospital feeling revived and renewed. She felt stronger and fitter. She hadn't lost any weight though. Her body was still round and curvy, and she knew that no matter how she exercised, or trained, or dieted—not that she was inclined to deprive herself of anything, she would never have that same stick-thin figure as Bryn. Bryn had complained that no matter how much she ate, she was still going to have to wear push-ups. “Nothing will make these puppies grow bigger, save plastic surgery and body spell. And I am not going to a witch for a body spell.” Bryn had made a face as she sank her fangs into a bloody burger and slurped her O positive flavored milk shake with extra cream.

  Legs and arms pumping hard, Charlotte snapped her focus back to the rogue she was chasing. The rogue wolf had a drunk, blond woman over his shoulder, who was hiccuping and giggling inanely in the face of death. She had even started to sing, waving her hands in the air to keep time. Charlotte tightened her grip on her silver dagger. She had to bury the blade into the werewolf's heart before he killed the woman.

  A sudden commotion behind her made her turn her head to the side. From her peripheral vision, she saw a small, stuttering waiter skidding and slamming into a towering wall of a man. Charlotte let out a gasp.

  That man was...gorgeous. He was a towering, glowering, tanned male with dark brown hair and hazel eyes which suddenly flashed golden when he looked up and pinned her with his gaze. His gaze was scorching, fierce, angry. His features were chiseled, and his handsome face was all hard angles and lines. He was wearing a black shirt and black jeans, and as he moved she could see those broad, muscular shoulders ripple under his shirt. Charlotte blinked as he thundered towards her, his gaze intense and possessive. He looked like he wanted to...take her.

  She stumbled as a jolt of adrenaline and panic shot through her.

  Why was a smoking hot male coming after her?

  And why did that make her tingle all over, especially in all her female bits?

  Her panties were wet. She could feel the moisture pooling between her thighs.

  Shit.

  She was chasing a rogue through New Moon City in soaking wet undies.

  What the...?

  The instant their eyes clashed, his eyes had turned golden, smoldering with fire and desire. And her body had come alive, just from his one look. If he kept on looking and coming at her, she was going to spontaneously orgasm right in the middle of the street, in the middle of a chase.

  She hadn't felt any sexual stirrings or urges since she made that Promise. She had promised to hunt rogues, and her body and mind had been honed and sharpened to lethal perfection. She was a killing machine. Not a woman, at least not for the longest time.

  She wasn't going to over-think this. She couldn't afford to.

  She had to get away from him. Period. He was troub
le. He was all male, all hunger, all sex, wrapped up in a tall, dark and deadly package. And judging from the bulge in his pants, his package was pretty impressive too.

  Eyes on the prize, Charlotte.

  She couldn't afford to be distracted. She had a job to do, a Final test to ace. The rookies had been told that their performance on their first patrol would be reviewed through surveillance images and some eye-witness accounts. That eye in the sky could be anywhere. On lampposts, street signs, traffic lights, everything was connected.

  And if her trainers saw her ogling her sexy stalker instead of trying to lose him and concentrate on snaring her target, she was going to fail her Finals. But according to Bryn, who had heard it from another rookie, the eye in the sky was just an urban myth. They were being assessed not through the surveillance cameras, but in some other way. What that other way was, Bryn didn't say.

  As corn chips were launched like shrapnel from the hapless waiter's spinning tray and coffee rained down on shrieking customers, that sinful specimen of a man simply twisted cleanly out of the way and kept coming towards her. There was not a single drop of sauce or coffee on him as he continued his chase without even slowing down a beat.

  He moved with animal grace and speed, his golden eyes locked on her.

  She gulped.

  He wants...me.

  The hunter had become the hunted.

  Charlotte's palms suddenly became cold and clammy as she turned and ran, for her life and for the life of that blond woman, whose warbling singing she could still hear in the distance.

  For once, she was thankful for that singing. It was like a beacon, drawing her to her target, and reminding her of what was really at stake.

  Not her sanity.