Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More

by Michele Bardsley

  Which was true. But the casualness was all an illusion. This was not a guy seeking his bedmate, looking for more nookie. This was a powerful, pissed off male, holding on to his temper by a thread.

  Not that she blamed him. Perfectly reasonable response to finding his cuddle bunny ransacking his safe.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Another seven minutes and she’d have made good her escape. Now?

  Easing back to a standing position, feeling her bare feet sink into the soft carpet, she kept all her movements deliberately slow and easy. No panic, no fear. Stay calm. No matter how much tension Kane radiated, every muscle clenched, his head lowered in a classic position of aggressive offense, the skin across his face tight. Any second he could explode. She had no idea what would happen then, but she didn’t want to find out.

  “You’re awake,” she said past the lump of building fear jamming her throat. A stupid comment, but all she could come up with. The sharp angle of his brows told her he wasn’t sure if she meant it as a joke or had balls of steel. If she had balls, which he very clearly knew she didn’t.

  Her face heated. Damn traitorous body. No need to go there. This was not an awkward morning after, this was a sucks-big-time caught-in-the-act moment.

  Instead of responding to her let’s-not-go-for-the-jugular remark, Kane eased open his right hand, the one he pressed against the doorframe. As if she’d even consider running past him to escape. She might have been caught, but no need to make things worse. She might be stupid, but not suicidal. Then she saw what was swinging lightly in his fingers even as he asked, “Looking for this?”

  It took everything in her not to lunge forward. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to grab the flash drive he flaunted before her or slap his smug face. He knew. He knew—

  Wait! He’d used her name. He’d said Jaylene, though she’d never told him her first name. They’d been too busy, and desperate, to focus on anything except sex. More than once.

  But now? Now anger joined the fear battling within her, even as a small, infinitesimally small, part of her appreciated the supreme irony of being manipulated by him even as she was manipulating him. She kicked that glimmer to the curb.

  When she moved—only a step, because only a fool came closer to a threat as large and powerful as Kane—she notched her chin higher, her hands tightening into frustrated fists. Her voice sounded like a cross between a purr and metal rasped against metal, not like last night’s come-hither sound at all, as she demanded, “How’d you know who I was?”

  A crooked, aw-shucks grin softened his face. Like she believed it for the space of a half a breath. “I know a lot about you, Jaylene Smart. Resourceful. Determined. Sexy as all hell. All true by the way.”

  “Eat shit.”

  Her knee-jerk response kicked his lips up a notch. Not playing fair. Not at all. He was distracting her. She knew they both caught that her gaze had slid to those sexy, sinful lips before she wrenched her attention back to his eyes. Those too-seeing, too-compelling eyes.

  Waiting, she held her silence, running through possibilities. Someone set her up. Someone she knew. But why? Nothing to be gained by having her caught. Or was there?

  He rattled the flash drive a little more. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy to waltz in here and take what was mine?”

  “Actually, I did,” she admitted, surprised at her own naiveté, hearing the unspoken threat beneath his words—what was his, remained his. Her unexpected admission snapped the tension between them, but only by a fraction. She wanted to know who ratted her out. Not that it really mattered but if, and it was a big if, she got out of this mess, she needed to know who she could trust. And how far? “How’d you know?”

  “Who’re you working for?” The light winked out of his eyes as he clasped his hand tightly around the flash drive and moved a step into the room. All momentary camaraderie evaporated.

  So they had conflicting agendas. Nothing new there. Only difference was it was out in the open and they both knew it. Now it was a matter of tit for tat. Negotiations. The streets had taught her that fine art, too. Give him a little to ease him into giving her a little.

  “You tell me and I’ll tell you.”

  This time his smile did not reach his eyes. “Not going to work that way. You’ve been caught red-handed. I hold all the high cards.”

  As if. Maybe technically, but cards were her gift. Different kinds of cards, but Tarot cards were still cards. Easing the steel rebar she could have sworn was twisting her spine, she shrugged her shoulders as if she possessed all the control. First rule of negotiation: Never let them see you sweat. “You invited me to your home. I opened a safe but didn’t take a thing—”

  “Because I stopped you.”

  Another shrug, slighter but she was just warming up. “Not necessarily. I have nothing of yours in my possession. I did not leave the premises. Intention is not the same as execution in the courts and you, of all people, should know that. A good lawyer and I’ll be out with a slap on the wrist.”

  The short laugh he uttered held no mirth. “And who will believe you over me.” He didn’t ask it as a question because they both knew he was right. Pillar of the community against a nobody woman with a few priors to her name.

  Ouch. Even if it was the truth, those words, coming from him, hurt.

  Even as she was figuring out how to respond, she sensed a change in him. From casual control to a stillness that sent a shiver racing down her spine. His gaze no longer held hers, but was focused elsewhere, as if far away. Every muscle poised. A predator on alert.

  She looked behind her, seeing nothing. They were in a small, interior room. Made smaller as he silently closed the door behind him. Trapping them both inside it. But against what? Or who?

  “What—” He moved so quickly, she couldn’t say more, clasping one hand across her mouth, swinging her around until her back pressed against the wall nearest the door, he pressed her against that wall, pinning her in place.

  Fear catapulted through her. Fight or freeze? Only one option. Fight.

  But he wouldn’t let her. Pressing his length against her, a caricature of what they’d done last night, he pinned her. His breath warmed her skin as he spoke against her ear. “Quiet. They’re here.”

  They who?

  CHAPTER 9

  Jaylene froze, though everything within her screamed to lash out, to escape. She heard nothing beyond the kabooming of the blood surging through her, the short breaths of Kane covering her.

  He remained deathly still, listening.

  She tried squirming, but he only tightened his hold. “They can hear us.”

  Yeah, right. Whoever ‘they’ were. A ploy to keep her off guard? But why?

  “Who’re you working for?”

  Bingo. He wanted intel. Over the top way to get it, but…

  “Who?” he all but growled in her ear. “Everett? Ballio? Dyer?”

  So he knew some things about her, but not everything. True, she’d worked for all three douchebags, but they were the biggest players on the East Coast, and as a freelancer, she’d be a fool to limit herself to only one of them.

  Kane had paused, catching some small clue she betrayed, though she could have sworn she hadn’t so as much as twitched. “Dyer then. Shit.”

  You could say that again. If Dyer ever heard she ratted him out, she was done for. But she hadn’t said a word. Nothing.

  She’d had enough and started fighting like the street kid she’d been, using what limited wiggle room she had to distract him until she could open her mouth enough to bite.

  He said nothing. Which scared her more than if he’d shouted a blue streak. Or backhanded her. She’d dealt with both before from men who wanted something from her. Kane? He was still paying more attention to what was beyond the doorway.

  He pressed against her until she could have sworn they were one, not two. Last night? Not a problem. Now? Now, she had no idea what was going on.

  “They can hear the beating of your he
art.” His terse words unleashed a new round of tremors through her.

  Who, or what, could hear heartbeats? Not unless they were up close and personal.

  Just trying to scare her? He was doing a damn fine job of it, but he was too intense, too focused for it not to be a real threat.

  “Do exactly what I say,” he added, his head turning as if tracking something, or someone beyond the room. “If anything happens, the safe room is off the master bathroom. Go there.”

  Safe room? As in panic room? What did he expect? A break-in was one thing, but his stance and steely tone said this was no B&E.

  Nothing made sense. She didn’t mean to make a sound, she really didn’t, but there was so much fear bubbling through her a small peep escaped.

  His attention ricocheted back to her, his eyes so fierce she wanted to turn away. Instead she swallowed and nodded, an abrupt, abbreviated movement.

  “One more noise and we’re both dead,” he warned before slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

  She bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, ready to attack if he’d lied. Or if she had a chance to escape.

  The thought of freedom unfroze her muscles for the space of a heartbeat. Until he leaned closer again, brushing his lips against her ear. “Don’t even think it.”

  How’d he—? The thought jammed south of her breastbone as a sudden noise in the living room snagged her attention. The brushing of someone against a piece of furniture. So quiet that, if all her senses weren’t on high alert, she might have missed it.

  The told-you-so cant to Kane’s lips was the only warning she had before he grabbed her hand and thrust her behind him, his other hand grabbing the door handle.

  No way did she want to leave this room. No way!

  She didn’t have a choice.

  CHAPTER 10

  Everything happened at once. Kane wrenched open the door, raced into the hallway, his hand iron-banded around her wrist, not stopping to look right or left.

  A shout behind her, from the living room. Someone crashed against her from behind, tackling her to the ground. A heavy weight on her.

  What the—

  Jabbing an elbow backwards, she connected with something malleable. A rough male voice cursed. Score one, Jaylene.

  Whoever her tackler was, he wasn’t giving up easily. He must have weighed a good two hundred pounds, all muscles, grinding her into the carpet. “Got her.”

  Like she was the target.

  No way.

  Kane fought two opponents as she caught both boots and trainers flashing past her limited view. Male grunts and the thud of fists hitting flesh roiled around her.

  The hallway was a trap—cramped, hard to maneuver. She could lay there like a lump of clay or join the fray—Jaylene style. Kane wasn’t her ally, but he seemed a better bet than the ton of lard with his knee in her back.

  First move—play dead. If Lard-Knee wasn’t too smart he’d assume she’d either given up—never—or was hurt bad enough to fall unconscious. All she needed was a window of opportunity and—

  “Shit.” Lard-Knee rocked back.

  Wait. Wait. Give him a sec to do the next most natural thing in the world—if someone wanted her alive.

  Fingers dug into the collar of the shirt—Kane’s shirt—she wore and tugged her backwards, far enough so she could bring up her right fist and arc it in a hard swing toward his face. A guy would have gone for the jaw. Jaylene knew she didn’t have enough power for that. Instead, at the last second she extended two fingers and aimed for the eyes.

  Shazamm—she did it! Bulls-eye.

  Lard-Knee reared back with a roar, cupping his hands to his face, giving her enough mobility to twist, draw back her hand again, fisted this time, and go for the family jewels.

  Now he fell backwards. She scrambled to untangle her legs and rise to her feet, giving Lard-Knee one last kick just for good measure. Kane was dead ahead, down on his knees—two beefy men on top of him, pummeling him.

  A quick look around and she spied a bust of some long-dead white guy on a table just inside the living room. A bust made of metal—heavy metal.

  It’d work like a dream.

  She lunged toward it, realizing too late that there were two more men in the living room—one guarding the front door, the other near the balcony windows, his back toward her. The minute she appeared from the shadowed hallway, they pivoted and tensed, spotting her.

  Shit.

  Grabbing the bust in one hand, she charged back toward Kane. She had the element of surprise but only seconds for execution. With a downward stroke, she clobbered the guy nearest her, jumping back to give him room to topple.

  As the second guy pivoted to see what happened to his partner, she brought the bust upwards in a returning arc and smashed it dead center against his forehead.

  Three down, two to go. On second thought, one—herself—against two enraged men didn’t sound like good odds. Especially with Kane hurt. Blood dripped from his forehead into his right eye as one arm curled around his stomach. Ribs most likely. She only hoped they were cracked and not broken. Choice made. The panic room. Hopefully equipped with the means to contact the police?

  So far the luck gods hadn’t been smiling on her, but if they could get to the safe room, they stood a chance. Their only chance. And they had to do it before the two in the living room appeared. They should have by now. Any second.

  She jumped over both crumpled bodies, loathe to let go of her weapon but needing both hands to pull Kane out of the dog pile. Tugging Kane the few steps into the bedroom, she slammed the door behind them, catching a flash of the other two guys.

  Kane staggered toward the bathroom, one palm holding his head, the other bracing his side. She raced in front of him, just as a thud hit the bedroom door.

  “Come on. Come on,” she urged, grabbing hold of Kane’s arm and tugging him forward.

  She managed to get them into the bathroom when the bedroom door burst open, sending splinters everywhere.

  What the—? Never mind. Pushing Kane in front of her, she rocketed the bathroom door closed. Not that it’d last any longer than the bedroom one did.

  “Where’s the room?” she demanded, looking around.

  Kane pounded his palm against a tile near the shower and a burnished steel door snicked open behind a full-length mirror.

  Finally. Something going right.

  Kane pushed her ahead of him, even hurt as he was. No time to argue. As he stumbled in, she caught sight of one of their attackers. Big, burly and—no, that couldn’t be right. His face looked wrong. All wrong. Elongated. Ferocious. Not human. Neither were the sounds he made—grunts, snarls, more animal than human.

  He leapt toward her just as the door whisked shut. Amen and halleluiah. Metal should hold them off better than wood. Right?

  Bent over, hands on thighs, sucking air in gulps, she looked over at Kane, shaking his head, his arm still holding his ribs. No telling what kind of internal damage he’d sustained.

  “Where’s the phone? Or SOS panic button? Something?” She scanned the small space, looking pretty sparse to her. “Got to call for help.”

  “No time,” he mumbled as he headed toward the far wall.

  What kind of crazy-assed answer was that? She was caught off guard as a loud bang hit the door behind her. A bang and a dent. Pushing the metal inward.

  Who the hell could do that? Another thud. It sounded like a fist striking metal, as another dimple appeared in the door.

  Focused on the door, and whatever was able to create that kind of damage, she missed Kane’s order until he all but shouted at her. “This way. Now!”

  Glancing in his direction, she was surprised to see that what had been a wall was now an open space, leading to a shadowed set of stairs. He turned his back on her and headed down them.

  Choice was hers. Follow—who knew where to—or wait for whoever was busting down the door.

  Easy choice.

  She scrambled after Kane, hearing him abo
ut a flight below her as she started down. He looked up once, long enough to make sure she was there and the door behind her had closed.

  Even hurt as he was, it took a while to catch up with him. The man could move! How? Seconds ago he could only stumble and now? The speed at which they were descending made her dizzy. Her heart pounded in her throat, sweat dampening her shirt despite the chill in the concrete stairwell.

  “How much farther?’ she asked, her breath chugging as she pulled even.

  “Twenty more flights,” came his response. He didn’t even sound winded. Should have, but didn’t.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. No one could sustain the damage he had and keep going. Not at this rate.

  Another two flights and she demanded, “Where’s this empty out?”

  “You’ll see,” he shot back and kept going.

  No one could do that. No one.

  Maybe he didn’t trust her not to disappear the second she had a chance. Smart. Because that was the first thing she planned to do.

  Not that she said so. Instead, she concentrated on not skipping a step and tumbling face forward down the stairwell. The adrenaline that had been driving her this far was already fading, and she could feel the quiver in her leg and thigh muscles.

  If she survived this, she so was going to work harder on the Stairmaster at the gym. Kane must. That would explain his stamina. Here and last night.

  The thought led to another: never, ever again take a job dealing with a sexy hunk. A sexy, savvy hunk. No matter how good the side benefits of sex were.

  By the time they reached the lower level landing, she wheezed as if suffering from chronic emphysema. Bending in half, she braced her hands against her thighs, her freezing bare thighs, beneath Kane’s skimpy shirt, and fought for enough breath to make good her escape.

  Seemed Kane had other ideas as he snagged her arm, hard enough to tell her he meant business, swung open a metal door and dragged her though it.

  A garage. They were in a garage. Not the public one they’d entered last night, or it didn’t look like it. Smaller, a lot smaller, with only two vehicles on hand. A dark SUV, the kind the Secret Service folks used in cavalcades with VIPs, and a two-seater, scruffy Jeep.