Alpha Bear Princes Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Immediately, he could see their lives pairing together. He could see them waking up for cereal and her falling asleep in his arms. He could see them growing older, sipping lemonade on the front porch. He could see them in the bedroom too, probably that clearer than anything. He imagined touching that soft skin and kissing those full, ripe lips.

  His face broke open into a wide, goofy grin.

  Then she spoke, and the grin faltered a bit.

  "You must be the suit."

  Chapter Two

  Laila

  Laila stared down at the fumbling executive who had ruined her take--a take where the two leads had finally started playing off each other instead of simply waiting for their turn to speak. She tried to suppress the urge to kick him while he was down. But that grin on his face riled her. Did he think messing around on her set was funny? She wanted to show him her definition of funny--namely, kicking asshole execs off her set.

  But he was the money, and she had to be nice to the money. It was practically the first and only rule of filmmaking: Be nice to the money, or the money goes away. And they couldn't afford that. Her budget was already stretched to its limit.

  So instead of kicking him, she reached out her hand to help him up.

  "Sorry about that," he said. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

  "Seemed like it," she said. "I don't think we've met. I'm Laila Marks, the director."

  "Elliott Regan, from Greenlight," he said, holding out his hand.

  She shook it and looked at him--really looked at him--for the first time. He was ... well ... she had to admit he was hot. He had tousled black hair and olive skin. And he was big--at least six-foot-five of pure muscle. She liked her men big.

  He would have been even more handsome if he wasn't covered in coffee and his eyes weren't so blood shot. It looked like he was rocking one hell of a hangover. She thanked the gods above for that hangover. Because without it, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to resist crawling all over him. And he was the absolute last guy she needed to be messing around with right now.

  Then she caught a whiff of something.

  No. It couldn't be.

  She raised her nose in the air, just to be sure, but the scent only got stronger. She was certain. To most, the scent would be subtle, hardly noticeable. But she'd been born with an excellent nose. It came from her father's side of the family.

  This situation had just been upgraded from annoying to infuriating.

  "Can I have a word with you? In private?" she hissed, pulling him by the elbow into a copse of trees. She felt the eyes of all the crew following her as she fled with the Suit. This was costing her time, but there was nothing for it. They needed to be away from prying eyes ... and ears. She pulled him deeper into the wood, only stopping when the din of activity faded behind her.

  "Please, please tell me you're not a shifter," she said.

  "A--a what?" he fumbled, but she could see that the startled look in his eyes wasn't confusion, but shock.

  "You know what I'm talking about. I can smell it on you."

  "Smell what?" he stalled.

  "Well, if I had to guess, I'd say you were a bear," she said.

  "You think I'm a bear?" he asked with a derisive laugh. He'd seemed to regain his composure. "Is that some sort of sex thing?"

  "Don't be cute. My dad's a bear. And he has lots of shifter friends, mostly wolves. But you don't smell like a wolf. You smell like a bear."

  "Look, lady. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Play dumb if you want, Yogi, but I've got your number. I know exactly what you are and what you can do, and I don't need that kind of drama on my set, okay?"

  "Honestly, I really think you've got things mixed up here," he said, leaning casually against a tree.

  "Oh, I've got things right. I've met a lot of bears in my time. My dad's great, but most of them are infuriating assholes who think they can walk around telling people what to do and how to do it. But that's not how this is going to work," she said.

  She stepped toward him and looked him straight in the eye. The only way to deal with bossy bears was to establish a pecking order right away. And she was at the top.

  "Maybe this is just another movie to you, but this is my movie. This is my one shot. Directing gigs don't come easy to people like me, which I'm sure you well know. It's easier to win the damn lottery. So I'm not going to have my one chance ruined by some entitled prick who wants to get into a pissing contest over every little thing. Are we clear?"

  "I--You don't--"

  "So here's how this is going to go. I'm betting not many people know about your little 'talents,' do they?"

  He just frowned and stared at her. It was all the confirmation she needed.

  "If you do anything--and I mean anything--to get in my way or slow this production down again, I'm going to go right to the head of Greenlight to out you."

  "You can't do that," Elliott protested.

  "You bet I can."

  "It's against shifter code."

  Laila snorted and crossed her arms. "Well, buddy, I'm not a shifter."

  "He wouldn't believe you. You'd sound like an insane person."

  "Maybe. But from what I hear, that guy's been looking for any chance he can get to fire your ass. How long would it take for him to have cameras on you 24/7? Hell, he might already be doing that now. And if there's one thing I know about your kind, it's that you need to shift pretty regularly, right?"

  "I wouldn't say--"

  "What's the longest you've gone? Three days? A week? It builds. I've seen it build if you don't release it. Then it's only a matter of time before you lose control in front of everyone."

  Again, Elliott was silent. His mouth was twisted into a scowl and he'd crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler who just got told he couldn't have any more candy.

  "So you play by my rules from now on. No throwing your weight around. No distracting the women on crew. And no more coming to set hungover. I need you on your game for this picture, are we clear?"

  "Crystal," he said gruffly.

  "Why don't you go for a run? A real run. Work some of those chemicals out of your system. Then take a damn shower. You smell like its been a while."

  Chapter Three

  Elliott

  Elliott felt his temper flaring. And with it, his need to shift. Laila was right. He could go four days max before he started to get antsy for a prowl. With her around, he suspected it would be even less.

  She was damned infuriating, talking about him like she knew him. She didn't know him at all. Entitled prick? What gave her the right to say that to him without even having a single real conversation. No one had ever, ever talked to him like that--especially not a director with practically zero experience--and it wasn't the sort of treatment he expected. Really, she had some nerve. He was more and more certain that the feeling he'd had earlier was just the last dregs of whatever the hell Zara had given him last night working its way out of his system.

  He desperately wanted to let his bear loose and blow off some steam. Obviously, he hadn't been thinking clearly so far today.

  But what about her? She was standing there, staring at him, like she was waiting for him to do it right in front of her. He supposed there was no point hiding it from her now. Careless of his clothes, he let his bear loose.

  The feeling started in his chest as it always did, a bone-cracking explosion that was as dynamic as it was satisfying. In a flash, his jeans and shirt were in tatters around him, and he was towering over Laila in all his glorious bear form. He'd never really seen himself as a bear--there weren't exactly mirrors in the wild--but by his best estimate he was about nine feet tall standing and at least a thousand pounds.

  He lifted onto his back paws so she could see him at his full height. Then he growled right in her face. He wasn't going to hurt the girl, just scare her a little to remind her who she was messing with.

  But for all his fury, she stood her ground. Stood there and smirk
ed. She didn't even blink an eye.

  "You're gonna have to do better than that, Yogi," she said.

  Screw this. He was out of here.

  As he turned tail and ran, he tried to tell himself he was only running, not running away.

  #

  Elliott ran for miles and miles. That was at least one benefit of being on location in the mountains. A bear wouldn't be out of place. Shot, maybe, but not an anomaly. And he was fast. He'd handled hunters before.

  He let his bear fully take over as he bounded through brush and forded a river. He climbed a tree and let himself hang from a branch before falling into the tall grasses below. It felt good to stretch his muscles. It felt good to push himself to his max instead of constantly being on the lookout for easily-excitable humans.

  Back in LA, he always felt like he was perpetually inside a dollhouse. He was too big for everything, always in danger of busting out. He loved it there--the nightlife, the city lights, the streets teeming with beautiful people and incredible opportunities around every corner--but the Hollywood Hills were nothing in comparison to his surroundings now.

  It was the constant push-pull of his life: trying to balance the demands of his bear while living the life he wanted to live. Not that his life was in great shape at the moment. He was barely holding on to his job by a thread.

  His boss basically wanted him dead. How was Elliott supposed to know his stupid daughter would fall for him? He'd been very clear--very clear--that they were just having fun. But she'd gotten her heart all twisted over him and that was that. Now her daddy was out for blood.

  But Elliott had had too many blockbusters under his belt to get fired outright, so Bruce had sent him to the boonies instead. Now he was supposed to shepherd this indie stinker to box office success. Which, everyone who knew anything knew, was impossible. But that was clearly Bruce's plan. When this film sank, it would be Elliott's head on the chopping block.

  Thinking about the movie brought his thoughts back to Laila, which made him feel even shittier. Just the thought of their conversation had him releasing a deep, rumbling growl into the dark, wild forest.

  How dare she speak to him like that?

  How dare she?

  And yet, buried beneath his fury, that tightening in his gut hadn't relaxed one bit. He felt drawn to her, pulled. Even now, he felt himself straining to head back the way he came, to take her in his arms and show her exactly what he had to offer as a mate.

  He knew it more surely than he'd ever known anything in his life. This feeling wasn't going away.

  He'd bonded with someone who hated his guts.

  But he was no wallflower. He wasn't just going to let her assumptions about him stand. Because one thing about the stories he'd heard from other shifters was true. Once you'd seen her, found her, the need for her eclipsed all other needs. And it wasn't just physical, though that need was strong. It was more. He didn't want to just possess her body. He wanted to possess her soul, and let her fully possess him in return.

  So he'd have to find a way to prove to her that he wasn't anything like what she thought. He would find a way. Or he'd die trying.

  Chapter Four

  Laila

  In the office trailer, Laila sank into the chair across from Kay's desk. It had been a long day of shooting. She was pushing the cast and crew to their limits, but what other choice did she have? They didn't have the budget for even one extra production day. At least Elliott hadn't been back--and thank goodness, because his bear was the biggest and meanest she'd ever seen. But apparently, he'd taken her advice and was planning to stay out of her way.

  "Where are we at?" Laila asked, scanning the production boards that lined the walls of the small space. They were full of schedules and storyboards and photos of locations and costumes and cast--all the parts she had dreamed up and pieced together over the last two years.

  Kay looked up from her laptop with determined eyes, her heart-shaped face focused and frank. Not only was Kay her best friend, she was also the real producer--not the executive producer who only showed up with cash and demands. Kay was the person who actually got things done. She hired and supervised the whole crew. She managed schedules and pulled strings and made sure they got the film done, and done on time. And one day, if they ever won an award for best picture, it would be Kay who'd accept the Oscar and display it on her mantel.

  She'd deserve it. Kay was doing Laila an enormous favor. She wasn't even supposed to be here. When Laila's original producer had a scheduling conflict, and Kay had left her job in the corporate world after a bad breakup, Laila had begged her business-minded bestie to take over. Thankfully, Kay had accepted.

  "Well, I spoke to catering and they think they can cut back their budget by maybe three percent," Kay said. "They're going to do more pastas and soups. It won't be glamorous, but no one will starve. That should get us a b-roll team for the house fire scene. Well, maybe not a whole team, but at least an extra camera and an op."

  "I can make that work."

  "Also, good news," Kay said with a smile. Then she furrowed her brow. "What's the term for the guy who's under the second camera assistant again?"

  "The second-second AC," Laila said. "Gary."

  "God, you film people have a stupid name for everything. I feel like I need a decoder ring just to work here," Kay said. "Anyway, Gary had a family emergency and had to fly home tonight."

  "Why would that be good news?" Laila asked.

  "It means we don't have to fire anyone," Kay said. "I'm going to suggest to Harold that we work without one."

  "No. Harold's already at capacity. I can't do that to him."

  Harold was her DP--her director of photography. But he was also a friend. They'd gone to film school together at NYU's Tisch School of the Arts and had been working with each other ever since. He was good at his job, but even the best DP couldn't work miracles without the right team.

  Harold wasn't the only one she'd brought with her from film school. Half the crew had graduated with her. In this business, you learned to work with people you could trust. When Greenlight had picked up her script, she was as excited for herself as she was for all of them. Until then, they'd been working on each other's projects for little or no money--bartering skills for skills to make things happen the best they could. She didn't think of this opportunity as solely belonging to her, but to them too. She was finally going to be able to pay them what they deserved. But every day it seemed like she was asking them to do more and more for less and less.

  "I know it sucks, Lay, but I don't see any way around it. We're stretched to the max here."

  "Cut back the days at the fairgrounds to just one day. I can make it work."

  "You can't. You know you can't. Three days is unrealistic as it is."

  She knew Kay was right. But when she had to choose between shorting her crew or shorting herself, she'd choose her crew every time. "Do it. It's the only place I see to make room."

  "Can I make a suggestion?" Kay asked.

  "Sure," Laila said. But she was tired. She still had to review dailies from yesterday and the sides for tomorrow. Not to mention prioritizing the shot list to make sure they made the most of every minute.

  "Maybe try to make nice with Mr. Regan," Kay said.

  "I don't think that's going to happen," Laila said.

  "Come on, Lay. Greenlight is rolling in cash from their last Riley Tate movie, and Elliott Regan is the one who made that happen. I don't know what he did to get here, but we're lucky to have him. He's got to be able to bring us more capital. Even a ten percent increase would be a drop in the bucket for them, and solve most of our problems."

  "If he's here and that much of a hot shot, then Mr. Regan must not have any favors left to burn."

  "He's got to be able to do something. Otherwise, why is he here at all?"

  "I agree. He is totally useless. Why don't we cut him from the budget?"

  "You know that's not possible. He is the budget," Kay said. Then she put on her
most studious face. "The relationship between studio and set should be symbiotic. And frankly, I think you could use a little symbiosis."

  "What are you saying?" Laila asked. She was suddenly very unsure of her friend's motives.

  "I'm saying that I saw him. We both saw him. He's exactly your type, Lay, and you know it."

  "I know no such thing."

  "Admit it. If he wasn't assigned to babysit us, you'd be all over that shit. I would. I mean, he's my type too, but the guy didn't even see me. Did you see the way he was looking at you? It was like you were a single rose in a field of weeds."

  "He was not." Maybe she had noticed him staring at her. But she didn't want to think about that. Thinking about that was a door to a whole mess of things she couldn't handle right now.

  "I'm just saying that maybe it works out for both of you. You make him happy, he makes you happy, and maybe it inspires him to pull some strings where our budget is concerned."

  "Kay! Are you seriously suggesting that I pimp myself out to get us more money? Because I'm not doing that."

  Kay eyed her conspiratorially. "It wouldn't exactly be a sacrifice. Did you see his butt in those jeans?"

  "No."

  "Come on," Kay coaxed, walking around the desk and sitting on the edge in front of Laila.

  "I said no."

  Kay tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. "You could finally unwind a little. Maybe even break your dry spell?"

  "Don't call it a dry spell. You make it sound like my lady parts are the Sahara."

  "They might as well be for all the action you've gotten lately. Two years is a long time, girl."

  "Like you have room to talk."

  "Not fair," Kay said, and Laila immediately felt bad. Kay had been through a very rough breakup with her ex that was nothing like Laila's choice to be alone.

  "Sorry, Kay," Laila said. "I didn't mean that. I just meant that I have no room in my life for men right now."