Denying the Alpha: Manlove Edition

by 5 Author Anthology

  More customers. He decided to leave his front door open, grabbed one of his extra flyers, and taped it on the front door.

  People came and left, smiles on their faces. The sound of excited voices felt like a welcome change, a wake-up call for Cal. Since Pierce left, he’d been working late nights at the office to escape coming home to the apartment. He’d even sleep at his desk if he could, but the last time he burned the midnight oil, his boss told him to go home, get some rest.

  “Are these frames for sale too?” asked a blonde who looked to be in her mid-thirties.

  Cal paused to see what she pointed at. Their wall of memories. Smiling photos of Pierce and him through the years looked back at him. Conversations ebbed away. Staring at the wall summoned good feelings and bad, reminded him that ten years ago, he thought Pierce was it. The one.

  They built a life together, but in the end? Pierce left him hanging, with his heart ripped out of his chest, and the wounds were never going to heal.

  “I’ve seen these frames from a designer magazine a few years back and they’re sold out online,” the blonde had been saying.

  Designer. God. That word was sufficient enough to yank Cal from his daydreams and back to cold reality. Pierce loved shit like that, designer pieces their combined paychecks could barely cover.

  “You know what, they are,” he said, pulling the first one from the wall. He dug his nails into the wood and yelped as a splinter got caught. The double-sided tape gave him a hard battle. Cal grunted.

  “Are you okay?” the blonde asked.

  Energy renewed, he pulled harder and the double-sided tape finally gave away. He pried the backing away and took out the photo. Cal handed her the frame and stared at Pierce with his arms around him.

  They took this picture on the Holborn City Bridge. Ten years younger, the two people in the picture looked drunk on happiness. At eighteen, it had felt like they had the entire world at their feet. After all, few folks from their hometown ever managed to make it to the city.

  The happy couple made his insides wither, summoned a negative well of emotions—regret and anger, most of all. His rage burned white-hot at first, then eventually cooled. On other days, he felt numb all over. Cal didn’t know what was better.

  “Five dollars,” he said in the present.

  The blonde gave him a shocked look. “No offense. That’s highway robbery. These go for a hundred bucks online.”

  “I don’t care.” Cal looked at the rest of the wall, remembering how some days, he avoided passing this particular corridor because he hated being reminded of the past. Cal wasn’t sure why he added, “These mean nothing to me, not anymore.”

  This apartment had never felt like it belonged to him, anyway. Pierce chose everything, from the furniture to the hateful pigeon-blue color of the walls and ceilings. When had he become such a pushover?

  Cal always stood his ground and never relented when it came to debates. No, it wasn’t that. Cal had gotten tired, worn out from constant fights, so he let Pierce have his way with the space. Fighting required too much energy he couldn’t afford to expend.

  He worked his ass off so they could pay off debts that magically kept accumulating, never-ending. By the time he returned home at the end of a long day, all he wanted was a soak in the tub, to put his pajamas on, and fall asleep watching Netflix. Instead, he’d find Pierce all dressed up, entertaining pretentious people he called friends.

  “Well,” she hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll take them all.”

  Cal blinked slowly. He felt so sluggish sometimes, his mind repeatedly drifting from past to present. Disconnected. Even his co-workers at the accounting firm started to worry. They thought a relative died or that he had some kind of incurable illness.

  Nothing that dramatic, he told them. He’d get over his breakup soon, move on. Saying the words was easy. Taking action was another matter. No matter how much he hated Pierce now, he couldn’t just erase everything they’d been through and had seen together.

  “Give me a couple of minutes to take them all off.”

  “Let me help,” she offered.

  Half an hour later, she left, her enormous tote bag full of frames. The load in his heart lightened. Far from cured, but seeing the apartment being torn apart helped. Cal didn’t even care about pricing. If he didn’t have this sale, he’d probably just toss everything out without a second thought.

  Whatever didn’t sell, he’d donate or something. Anything to get rid of the rest of Pierce’s shit.

  “Excuse me, is that bed for sale?” a guy asked.

  “The stuff in my bedroom’s off-limits,” Cal began, then paused. Wait. Why? He forgot to put a no entry sign on that door, but he’d slept on the couch since Pierce’s departure. “Actually, let me think.”

  He and the guy padded back to his bedroom and he eyed the bed, a queen-sized monstrosity made of iron. Another one of Pierce’s beloved designer collection, but it always reminded him of a prison or hospital bed.

  “I’ll give you a hundred for it,” the guy said.

  “If you can find a way to take it apart by today, it’s yours for five.”

  “Five hundred?”

  “Five dollars.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  The rest of the day passed by in a blur. The last customer, the guy interested in the bed, left, carrying the disassembled pieces with two of his buddies. With a sigh, Cal sat cross-legged on the floor where the bed used to be. He finally took a sip of his now cold and bitter coffee.

  “Never tasted better,” he said, glancing out the windows, bare of drapes. He sold those too, although he couldn’t remember when. Night had replaced day. No wonder exhaustion seemed to weigh his entire body down. He should make a list or something of stuff he’d give away.

  Finishing his coffee, he headed out of the bedroom, struck by how spartan the apartment looked. If Pierce ever came back, he’d have a meltdown. Well, didn’t matter now. Besides, who cared about that cheating bastard?

  He wondered where he’d sleep, given he sold off the couch. Maybe pull out the comforter and sleep on the floor? That might work.

  A knock on the door shattered his momentary peace.

  “So everything’s gone, huh?” asked a deep, cocky male voice. “I heard from a neighbor downstairs about your sale. Hoping to get some cutlery and plates.”

  “There’s still some over here. Would floral patterns be your thing?” he asked, then turned. Stared.

  This guy was massive, towering over his five-foot-five frame with his six-foot-plus, and every bit of him seemed to be carved out of hard muscle. He wore a thin black t-shirt that hugged his impressive upper body, and he could see the outline of his six-pack abs and the V of his hips, disappearing down into his matching black jeans full of holes.

  “I get that reaction a lot,” the cocky bastard said, running a hand through his messy, short black hair. Gray eyes streaked with a hint of yellow winked at him. Was he actually flirting with Cal? Seriously?

  This guy probably had it easy, never had a problem with finding people to hook up with.

  Cal recovered from his initial shock. He’d never seen anything quite like this man. Every inch of this guy screamed danger, but he knew his type. They’d only traded a couple of words and he already knew he disliked this handsome, sexy stranger on sight.

  Handsome? Sexy?

  What the hell?

  Cal was just lonely, feeling vulnerable after Pierce’s departure. That was it. Nothing wrong with noticing a good-looking stranger, if roguish, rough types were his type. Not his. He squared his shoulders, straightened his spine, and put on a bored expression.

  “Plates are over there. I need to take inventory, let me know if you need anything.” With that, he left the stranger so he could hide in the bathroom. Hopefully, by the time he came out, the bastard would have left.

  Chapter Two

  Diesel Ryker frowned as the human turned his back on him and walked out of the living room. He heard a door slam so
on after, followed by the sound of running water. Did that cute guy just brush him off?

  Wow. That never happened. His wolf liked that. Flirting always came easy to Diesel, so did getting anyone he wanted, but he’d never encountered anyone like this human. Fuck, that scent. It drew him from downstairs all the way up to the seventh floor.

  Vanilla and mint. He caught it after passing by a couple of loud women carrying vases on the third-floor corridor. The same intriguing smell came from more people carrying a various assortment of stuff. The source led him here, along with a flyer on the floor.

  A moving-out sale, it said. Perfect. He just moved in a week ago and had been so focused on finding a job that he hadn’t managed to completely settle in.

  That trail of breadcrumbs led him here, to this tasty human’s apartment.

  He needed to rethink his strategy. To waste time, he looked over the plates and lifted one up. It had an enormous orange tulip at the center. Diesel overheard two women excitedly talking about what a bargain everything was. Apparently, the stuff in this human’s apartment went for a lot and the guy sold it dirt cheap.

  Why? Diesel took a look around the empty, almost sad space. He sniffed. There. It was old, but he could pick up another man’s scent. That didn’t sit well with the beast that shared his skin.

  Diesel knew it was wrong playing detective, but he wandered from room to room, eventually finding a couple of photographs stuffed inside a drawer in the kitchen. He took those out.

  He flipped through them. The brown-haired cutie with the most amazing pair of blue eyes that made him initially doubt if he was human was in all the photos, along with some other dude. Instant dislike filled him at the sight of the blond-haired bastard with the huge fake smile plastered across his face. Douche.

  These pictures told a story, Diesel realized, after checking the date on the bottom right corner. They spanned years even. The scenery changed, from what looked like the countryside, to some kind of town and finally, the familiar sights of the city of Holborn. There were also photos of this apartment, complete with furniture.

  “Wow,” he muttered.

  Where was this blond-haired bastard now? He presumed the older scent belonged to him.

  He picked up the latest picture and folded it into half, so he didn’t need to see the other guy. The cute human had tired eyes in this one, his smile fragile. He looked vulnerable in this shot, breakable. Diesel didn’t like that.

  “What the hell? Do you just barge into strangers’ homes and look at their stuff?” demanded an angry voice. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

  “These aren’t for sale?” he asked, holding out the photos.

  The human crossed his arms and glared at him. Massive fail. He shouldn’t have made that inappropriate joke. The human probably thought he was the world’s greatest jerk. Wet strands of hair stuck to the human’s face. Had he washed his face? It was a little puffy. Did Diesel make him cry?

  “No.” The human snatched the photos away. “If you’re not buying anything, can you leave? Sale’s over.”

  Double shit. That hadn’t been his intention. He should have read the situation a little better, acted more considerate, but that was his problem, wasn’t it? Even his former pack mates complained that he was too blunt sometimes. Even growing up with them, they’d never understood him, not completely.

  Diesel didn’t even know this human’s name yet and that bothered the hell out of him. Was the man in the photo the reason for the dark shadows under this human’s eyes? Fuck, it should be wrong the way Diesel wanted the human even more now. If this human let him in, Diesel could help him forget about all his demons.

  “I want those tulip plates.”

  The human twitched his lips. “Hundred bucks for the whole set.”

  “A hundred? Last I heard, everything was five dollars, even that huge-ass ugly bed.”

  The human flashed him a smile, no doubt to mock him, but it only intrigued him further. “Guess what? You’re special. A hundred or leave it.”

  “A hundred and five if you go out on a date with me tomorrow night.”

  “I’m busy,” the human blurted. “And keep your stupid money.”

  Diesel had frankly never encountered extreme dislike from a stranger he just met but his nose didn’t lie. He’d scented the human’s arousal when he first entered the apartment. Didn’t the human know that shifters had an excellent sense of smell?

  He growled softly, and that made the human take a step back. Good. Diesel might like his feisty attitude but the human had to know the ground rules. Riling up an Alpha werewolf like him had its share of consequences. Diesel didn’t let anyone push him around without biting back or showing claws, but maybe he’d allow this human to push his buttons on occasion.

  “Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?” he asked.

  “Nope. Parents were away most of the time while I was in school, and they didn’t even wish me good luck when I left my hometown with Pierce to come here,” the human answered in a sarcastic voice.

  “Pierce? The asshole in those photos?”

  “Pierce is.” The human paused and stared at the photos in his hands. The human’s fingers trembled as he gripped the photos and Diesel had the sudden urge to come close and give the stranger a hug. The human looked like he needed one but he might only see it as him taking advantage.

  Diesel wasn’t easily surprised but the human stunned him when he started shredding the photographs. Cal let out what sounded like a triumphant curse, then tossed the pieces in the trash can.

  “Pierce is history,” the human said. “And I don’t even know why I told you about my parents. I’m sorry for acting all prissy, but it’s late and I’m tired.”

  Fine. Diesel got the message, but he didn’t plan on leaving until this cute human said yes to his proposal. Nothing deterred a wolf from the hunt, but the human was more than prey. Diesel knew that deep in his bones.

  Diesel took another chance.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Cal. Not that it matters.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Do you still want those plates?” Cal asked. “Five dollars.”

  “Sure.”

  He took out his wallet and followed Cal back to the living room. Cal grabbed a couple of old newspapers and began wrapping up the plates. Diesel did need the plates, and even if they had those flowers on them, he wasn’t picky.

  He pulled out his wallet and handed Cal five one-dollar bills and accepted the hastily wrapped plates. Diesel purposely brushed his hand over Cal’s. The human sucked in a breath and quickly pulled away, as if Diesel’s touch burned him.

  “I’m Diesel, by the way. I live on the third floor, just moved in a week ago. So, where are we on that date?”

  “You’re not going to leave unless I agree, aren’t you?” Cal asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Yup. You hit the jackpot.”

  “Why me?”

  “Why not you?”

  “Guys like you have it easy, don’t you?”

  He blustered, humorous mood evaporating. Wow. Cal might not be a shifter but he sure came with claws. Diesel knew the reason lay with Pierce. Those photos dated back ten years. Was Cal with that douche-looking prick for an entire decade? Diesel could relate to being stabbed in the back by someone he trusted.

  So many questions raced in his head, but he’d only find the answers if Cal and he spent more time together. One way or another, he’d get what he wanted. He’d have Cal pinned underneath him, naked and his for the taking.

  Cal swallowed and Diesel had a feeling his pupils had changed colors from gray to amber. Good. He wanted Cal to understand that he had to deal with both his human and animal half. That he wasn’t just a guy Cal could easily brush off.

  “You don’t even know me and you’re judging me?” he demanded.

  The human looked weary and reminded him of a cornered animal. Cal looked genuinely apologetic this time. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”<
br />
  “You owe me coffee. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said, flashing Cal a toothy smile. Before Cal could protest, he walked out, whistling under his breath. He had a date with his future mate and a bunch of plates for five dollars. Diesel considered that a deal well struck.

  Chapter Three

  “Sorry I’m late, had to close the shop,” Diesel said, sliding into the chair opposite his.

  Cal glanced at his watch, wondering why he hadn’t bolted ten minutes ago or why he had spent nearly an hour in the bathroom, worrying about what he’d wear. He’d hoped yesterday had been some kind of fluke, that he’d been so angry and confused he imagined his attraction to a complete stranger he’d just met.

  He grudgingly had to admit Diesel still looked good. Diesel took off his worn black leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a plain white shirt, jeans, and boots.

  “Shop?” he asked as the waiter came over for their orders.

  “Yeah, I repair cars.”

  Of course. Cal could totally see Diesel covered in grease, working under a powerful engine. The image sprang up in his mind. Cal wouldn’t mind getting down and dirty with Diesel, covered in sweat and—

  Cal took a sip of his water, glad the table covered his rising erection. What was it about this man that made him so easily aroused? He’d never reacted like this to anyone, not even Pierce.

  Diesel didn’t pick up the menu and told the waiter, “Double cheeseburger, cheese fries, and beer.”

  “I’ll have a grilled chicken salad,” he said. A burger sounded good but a salad would be easy to gobble up so could he escape, but did he really want to? Was he really so terrified of his attraction that he’d bolt like some kind of inexperienced kid? What would Diesel think of him then?

  “I’ll be back with your orders,” the waiter said, leaving them.

  “Just a salad? You on a diet or something? Maybe you’re a model, are you? In some kind of work that requires you to watch what you eat?” Diesel asked.