Chapter 10: Alpha’s Bane: Chapter 10

I’ve never woken up with a man before. It’s delicious. Trey’s warm limbs are curled around me, his scent fills my nostrils. I turn into his embrace and nuzzle his neck. Then I remember that he marked me, and touch my own.

The wounds have already closed. I run my finger over the raised areas. Trey tangles his fingers over mine and traces the marks with his thumb. “Tell me it wasn’t a mistake.” Worry glints in his gaze.

He always was a thinker.

An -thinker, when it came to me.

He let me hate him just to make sure I’d go to Stanford!

Sweet, infuriating male.

But my mouth goes dry when I think—really think—about what this means. My parents will flip. One of us will have to move. We barely have a relationship to stand on. Yeah, maybe he jumped the gun.

If by jumping the gun I mean holding off for twelve years.

“Not a mistake,” I say, though. Because I can’t believe it was. I won’t. There’s no way the two of us would each wait twelve years for someone who hated us if it wasn’t meant to be.

He leans his forehead against mine.

“It doesn’t change things. I wore your mark already—on my heart.”

Trey relaxes. “I wore yours, too.” He taps his chest. We’re quiet a moment, his hand smoothing over my bare skin, up my hip and back down again.

“I can’t believe the outfit you wore last night,” he says out of nowhere. “Or, shit, the one you wore at the fight.”

“Oh yeah?” I prop myself up. “You like my little costumes?”

“Are they that, though? Costumes?” His eyes pierce mine.

I blink. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not like that’s what I wear to work.”

He just stares at me and I swallow. Of course Trey sees too much. Right through my lies, straight into my soul. After a long silence, I swallow. “All those outfits are just for fun. They’re not the real me.”

“Aren’t they?”

“No.” I frown, looking away, and he lays a hand on my cheek, guiding me back to face him. “They’re just for fun,” I whisper.

He presses his lips together, blows out a breath, and then it’s his turn to look away. Right at my closet, as if he has x-ray vision and can pick out all the freaky costumes I’m hiding in there.

“What?” I ask.

“I see things differently. The suits you wear, the daddy’s girl act—I think that’s the costume. Maybe the nights you let down your hair, that’s the real you.”

I lay down on my back, grabbing my pillow. I want to cover my face. “I don’t think so.”

Trey hasn’t moved. He’s still propped up, gazing down at me. Only now, his eyes turn tender. “I do.”

I roll away, bringing the pillow up to muffle my words. “Whatever.”

His palm smacks down on my left butt cheek.

I roll back, snarling. “Hey!”

He laughs and grips my bottom hard for a moment, before giving it a deep massage. “You can’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I pout.

“Not from me. Never from me.” He raises a blond brow. “I know all your secrets.” Dropping his head, he gives my shoulder a kiss. “They”—his lips trespass to the vulnerable spot under my ear—“are”—he catches my earlobe between his teeth and tugs—“all”—he pretends to gnaw on the outer rim of my ear. My eyes flutter closed. My ears are so sensitive—“mine.”

His tongue thrusts in, and sensation shoots straight through me, detonating between my legs. I try to twist away from him and his hands grip me harder, holding me down and helpless. I writhe against the sheets, growing hotter for him by the second.

He crawls lower and spreads my thighs, rolling my knees back to my shoulders. One long lap, and he has me straining against his hold. Shivering for more.

“Trey,” I rasp.

“You taste so good, baby.” He smacks his lips and dives down for more, licking into me, swirling his tongue between my labia, up around my clit.

I moan and wiggle and push my knees into his hands, but he continues his torture, flicking his tongue over my clit, then suctioning his lips over it to suck. Just when I’m about to go off, he stops and backs off me. “Roll over.”

It’s on the tip of my lips to demand why, or give him crap, but I remember how much I loved his domination last night, and do what he asks. Instantly I’m transformed to a slightly giggly, trembling bundle of anticipation. I hear the rip of a condom and Trey climbs over me, nudging my legs apart.

“I have twelve years to make up for,” Trey growls, like it’s going to be a punishment and impales me. He’s still too big, but I’m a shifter, so I’m not sore and I freaking love the position. Trey’s loins push against my ass, the head of his cock hits a spot inside me that makes me moan.

I tangle my fingers in the sheets, grip hard to hang on as he picks up his pace, dipping deeper each time.

“Trey—fates—Trey,” I moan.

He curses and picks up speed, smacking my ass with his loans, screwing me harder and harder.

Despite holding onto the sheets, he propels me to the top of the bed, where I brace my arms against the headboard.

“Oh that’s, hot, baby.” Trey pulls out and lifts my hips, so I’m up on my knees with my chest pressed against the bed. He enters me in this position, and I’m instantly moaning, totally ready to come.

Apparently, it’s good for him, too, because his fingers dig into my hips, breaths turn into snarls.

“Sheridan—fuck!” He reaches around the front of me and slaps my clit.

I come on a scream. He roars and flattens me to the bed, coming and coming with wild, pulsing thrusts. He kisses my neck, rocks against my ass slowly, tenderly. “How could I have let you go?” he murmurs.

My heart squeezes. I haven’t fully forgiven him for it, even though I understand.

He gets up to dispose of the condom and I roll over. My stomach growls, loudly and I clap a hand over it and giggle.

“Gotta feed my baby.” He plants a soft one on my lips.

“I love a man who cooks.” He strides off, the play of his muscles in his back mesmerizing.

It hits me. I don’t have to hide from Trey. He likes me for me.

I climb out of bed and throw on a pair of panties.

So he likes my wild outfits? Might as well bless him with another one.

I stand in the closet, designing a new outfit I’m going to call “Sheridan up front, slutty in the back”, when a weird beeping noise pulls me away from trying to figure out what cardigan to wear over cut off shorts and a crop top. I hunt under the blankets and find the ringing mobile—Trey’s—just as he swaggers back in.

“Food’s ready.”

“Great.” I hand him the phone. It cuts out ringing just to start ringing again. “Someone’s popular. This early, you’d think they’d leave a voicemail.”

He frowns at the screen. “It’s Grizz. Hang on.” Bars of light from the blinds rest on his face as he takes the call. I curl around a pillow, trying not to eavesdrop.

“Yeah.” His shoulders stiffen, every line in his body alert and haunted. He turns away, as if protecting me from whoever’s on the line. “No. Got it.”

“What’s wrong?” I reach out my hand and he flinches away. Close enough to touch, but so far away.

“I gotta go,” Trey says. “There’s a dead body at Fight Club.”

All the oxygen sucks from the room. “Shifter?”

“No.” Trey’s blue eyes are bleak. “Human.”

When we pull up to the club, Grizz is standing guard, his scarred face still as stone. He’s a life-sized gargoyle until we approach and he moves to intercept us. “Boss.”

“Where’s the body?” Trey asks grimly.

Grizz brings us to the back door. The body is a limp pile half-leaning against the door, soft red hair spilling over the face. I bite my fist to stifle a cry. The redhead at the club—could it be her? Did she scene with a vampire and disappear, a victim to Nero’s bloodlust? Did he whip her flesh in a frenzy and drag her to an alcove to drain her dry because he was angry with me?

Did I cause this?

Then Trey stoops down, brushing the hair aside. It’s not a woman, but a young man with matching red hair. That doesn’t help any. It could’ve been her.

I close my eyes, breathing deep to steady myself. My nose fills with the scent of the dead. Underneath the corpse smell is a subtle cologne that doesn’t quite cover the cold scent of a vampire.

“Fang marks on the neck,” Trey confirms. Trey looks ten years older as he handles the body, his large, calloused hands infinitely gentle. “Already stiff. Rigor mortis setting in.”

“Must’ve waited ‘til dawn to dump him,” Grizz says. “I kicked everyone out around two thirty. Left an hour later, figuring I’d finish clean up this morning. If they were monitoring this place, they know I rise early and get back here before eight, even after fight nights. They had a two, maybe three hour window.”

“Do you have cameras?” I ask, fear and bile still clogging my throat.

“No.” Both shake their heads.

“We don’t need ‘em,” Grizz mutters. “We know who did this.”

“We need to know which one,” I protest. “Frangelico seemed to think his nest knew how to eat without killing. He might not have sanctioned this.”

Grizz shakes his head. “Only good vampire is a dead one,” he growls, before giving me his back.

I jolt as a motorcycle roars up into the club lot, spraying gravel. Jared dismounts and strides to us. The closer he gets, the more his expression grows more shadowed. He crouches in front of the body, raising his nose to the air. One sniff is all he needs.

“Fuck,” he explodes up, pacing away while raking a hand through his hair.

Trey’s big hands pull me close. I lean into him and shiver, even though it’s not cold. “You all right?” he murmurs.

“I’ll be fine,” I answer, as Jared paces back.

“This is fucking bullshit,” he barks. “Fucking vamps, playing games. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted them.”

“We don’t know if it was Frangelico,” I caution.

“Of course it is,” Jared explodes. “He reeled us in to agree to a treaty, and pulls this shit to prove how all powerful he is.”

I want to argue that it could be a rogue vampire acting against Frangelico, but bite my lip. Now isn’t the time.

A growl rumbles in Trey’s chest and I splay a hand over his heart, facing Jared. “Doesn’t matter who did it. We need to act. Cops will ask questions if they find the body.”

“We gotta move it,” Jared says.

“I can do it,” Grizz says. “I have my truck.”

“I’ll help,” Trey squeezes me before breaking away.

“Wait. You hear that?” Jared asks. We all cock our ears. Trey starts swearing and doesn’t stop as the piercing emergency sirens grow louder and louder.

I stand in the middle of the fight club lot, my hands loose and open at my sides. Best not to make fists and look angry with this many cops around. Staying relaxed is a real effort.

Behind me, the officers question Grizz and Jared. They already interviewed Sheridan and me. I called Garrett to get his mate Amber, a lawyer, down here in case they find a reason to haul us away. Of all of us, they’re the most suspicious of Grizz, shooting him dark looks and muttering. The bear is the most likely suspect—he’s from out of state, found the body, and has priors.

Someone fucking set us up. The tip was phoned in at 8:02, right when Sheridan and I got here. No time to move the body. I barely had time to stuff the trash bags in the dumpster before the cars filled the lot, sirens screaming. We didn’t have time to move, or run, or even think up a story.

Sheridan comes up behind me. I know it’s her from the soft vanilla-orange scent on the breeze. “I called my dad.” She hugs her arms around herself. “He and Alpha Green are gonna pull strings, try to figure out an explanation for the bite marks on the body.”

I give a short nod. I hate asking for favors, but the Phoenix pack has more clout with human officials than I’ll ever have.

“We should also let Frangelico know.” I rub the back of my neck. I’m getting a headache thinking about having that little conversation.

“Yeah, and Garrett should be here soon. He’s bringing Amber.” Sheridan chafes her arms. She shivering in her jacket—the one I gave her. I want to pull her into my arms, but don’t think she’ll allow it. At least she’s wrapped up in something of mine.

We both watch the police tack up yellow tape over the door.

“That’s it then.” There’s more bitterness in my tone that I mean. “I guess you got what you came for.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Fight Club’s officially closed until further investigation. That’s what you wanted, right? You and the Phoenix pack.”

It’s a mean shot, and one I definitely shouldn’t be taking after marking her as my mate. The wolves have made and accepted their claim, but the wounds between our human sides…they haven’t totally healed. And we still have a helluva lot to figure out.

“That isn’t fair,” she retorts, coldness in her tone. “You think I wanted this?”

Fuck.

“No,” I sigh. I’m worn out and pissed, but it’s not right to take it out on her. “I think it was just shit timing.”

“I didn’t want another body. I wanted to stop this from happening.” She bites her lip, glancing back at the crime scene.

“Yeah.” I deflate. The officials carted away the body, but in my mind’s eye I’ll always see the victim huddled at the door of the place I worked so hard to build.

“Hey,” Garrett calls, crossing the lot with his mate, Amber, by his side. He stops in front of us, caressing his mate briefly as she points to Grizz and murmurs something. He nods and she rushes off, making a beeline for the grizzly standing a head taller than the officials buzzing angrily around him. Amber elbows her way into the fray, her voice rising about ‘my client’ this and ‘jurisdiction’ that.

“Thanks for coming.” I grasp my alpha’s hand and accept his back slap.

“Of course. We’ll get through this.”

Sheridan hovers just out of arm’s reach.

“My dad knows?” Garrett asks.

“Yeah. Sheridan called him.” We both wince.

“All right.” He sighs. “I better brief him. Chin up. We’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. I know as well as he does that I put everyone’s ass on the line. If word gets out about the marks on the victim’s neck, all paranormals might be exposed. That would be a shit storm like we wouldn’t believe.

Fuck me. How did this all go so wrong, so fast?

“Hey,” Sheridan murmurs at my elbow. Even with just the few minutes we had to change and race over here, she looks pretty and perfect, not a hair out of place. Definitely doesn’t belong in this shitty gravel lot, the site of a crime scene.

I did this. I brought her here, made this part of her life. Marked her, binding her forever to me. Dragging her down like I did before. Soon she’ll wake up and realize she’s sick of slumming. Only a matter of time.

“You okay?” She searches my face.

“Yeah.” I can’t bear to look at her anymore.

“Well”—she hesitates, then places a hand on my biceps. At her slight touch my dick gets hard—“I guess I better go.”

I want to stop and drag her into my arms. Apologize for being an ass-wipe. But it’s like high school all over again—her dad pointing out how I’m a bad influence on her. Now I’ve gone and marked her and we have so much shit to figure out. It’s hard to see how we’ll ever get through it.

I sigh. “Yeah, you better.”

She sucks in a breath, like she didn’t expect me to agree with her. I cradle her face and stroke her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to see any of this ugliness.”

Her expression softens. “I’m a big girl,” she murmurs and squeezes my arm, but I don’t look down at her, or watch her slowly take her leave.

My whole world is crashing down, and once more, she’s here to witness it. If there ever was a reason we don’t belong together, this is it.