The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Tank looks from the thug lying at the floor to me. “And just how are you going to do that?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

He catches my arm. “You’re not going anywhere, baby.”

“Oh please. I’m hardly going to tell your little secret. I’m one of you, remember?”

“Hush.” He pulls me into the kitchen. “You need to be quiet about that.”

“Well, I am. One of your little gang now, right? The furries?”

“You can’t just run off. It’s not safe.”

“Why not? You already took out the guy they sent after me. He’s not a threat.”

“I don’t mean him. I mean other shifters.”

“What?”

Tank curses, sticks his head in the other room to check on Mr. Unconscious, then returns and hauls me farther into the corner. “You’re not pack. You have no protection. If you ran across a shifter’s pack, they might come after you.”

I blink. “What? Why? And how will they know?

“Your scent. It’s getting stronger. Every time you shift, until other shifters will know exactly who and what you are. And you won’t have any protection. You have no people. You’re alone.”

Jesus. Like I needed the story of my life spelled out once again. I shrug him off. “Well, whatever. I’m used to that.”

He presses his lips together, studying me. I meet his gaze, raise my chin. I’ve always been an outsider, a freak. He knows me a day and thinks I’m going to fall apart facing my problems on my own?

Fuck him. I’ve always been on my own.

“I’m going.” I start for the door.

“You are not,” he growls, grabbing my wrist.

“You don’t get a say.”

“You shifted for the first time in front of me. That makes me responsible for you.” He seems to have just made that decision. His words shock me into stillness. “You don’t want to go out there alone. Trust me.”

“Well, I’m not staying here. My mom is in trouble. The goon in the other room is proof of that.”

“Another reason you shouldn’t be alone. He came here thinking he was going to confront a five-foot, hundred-pound woman he could easily overpower. And he would’ve, if you’d been alone.”

“Luckily, I wasn’t. And I weigh a hundred and twenty pounds, thank you very much.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not going alone. It’s not safe.”

“Fine.” I grin without mirth. “Then you come with me.”

“I-” He stops. “Fuck.” He looks down at his phone like it’s an oracle with the answer.

“I’m going. You can either come with me or stay here with my unwanted guest.” We both look at the still-unconscious thug. Werewolves hit hard.

“Or I could tie you to the bed.”

I don’t dignify this with a response. It’s all fun and sex games until you get a visit from thug and a frantic call from your mom.

Tank reads this on my face and sighs. “Fine. But I’m in charge.”

I blink. I never expected him to have my back. Relief rushes through me. “Okay, yeah. I’m getting used to that.”

“Go pack.” Tank jerks his head at my bedroom. “I’ll take care of this guy.”

“What are you going to do to him?”

“Wake him up and try to question him. I don’t want you in here.”

“Do you want me to get a tarp? In case there’s blood.”

“No. I-”

A sound at the door makes both of us freeze. Someone’s trying to get in. Keys jingle, and I hear a curse.

Shit. It’s Benny. Good thing I changed the locks.

Tank starts for the door, a dangerous set to his shoulders. He’s going to knock Benny unconscious.

“Wait.” I catch his arm. “You can’t-it’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“What?”

The doorbell rings. “Foxfire?” Benny whines. “I know you’re in there.” He rings the doorbell a few more times and knocks. Jerk.

“He left stuff here. I’ve been on him to pick it up,” I explain quickly.

“Fuck.”

The mafia man is still sprawled on my rug. Fuck is right.

“I can stall him-” I start, when the thug begins to stir. At least, until Tank’s fist flashes out and catches him on the jaw.

“That’s probably not good for him.”

“He held a gun on you,” Tank says. The flint in his eyes tells me in his world, you don’t hold guns on women. You do pin them against a wall and spank them if they’re naughty. It’s a pretty interesting place, Tank’s world.

“Foxfire!” Benny shrieks.

“Coming!” I shout, stepping in front of the window in case Benny decides to try to look through the curtains. “Give me a minute.” I whirl to face Tank. “What are we-”

Tank already has the thug rolled in my rug and is carrying him to the back room.

“No, not there.” I whisper. “That is where I keep Benny’s stuff. Out back. ”

Tank heads into the kitchen.

The doorbell dings constantly.

“Go get the door,” Tank orders. “Keep him occupied away from the windows.”

I scramble back to the door, wrench it open, and slip out, pulling it shut behind me.

“What the hell?” My ex squints at me. It’s not yet ten a. m. Early for him. In the daylight, he looks almost anemic.

“What do you want, Benny?” Weak chin, skinny, pothead. I have no idea what I even saw in him.

“I’m here to get my stuff. Whose truck is that?” He scowls, pointing at the big gray truck with a covered bed in my driveway. “It’s in my spot.”

“You don’t have a spot, Benny. I own this house, and we broke up.”

“You got a man in there?” He frowns at the door.

“None of your business. I know you’re here for your stuff, but I’m in the middle of something. Come back later.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tank emerge from the side of the house, carrying the rug. He’s headed down the driveway, to his truck.

“On second thought, now’s a good time.” I pull Benny inside before he has time to ask a question. “Here’s your stuff.”

“What happened to your rug?” he glances at the new bare spot in the middle of my living room floor.

“Termites,” I blurt. “Rug termites.” I grab the lava lamp from the corner. “Here.” I hand it to him. “This is yours.”

Benny frowns at it, which means he’s not looking out the window where Tank is loading a mafia man wrapped in a rug into the back of the big gray truck. Hopefully, none of my neighbors notice, either.

“I don’t want this shit.” Benny says. “I want my lights.”

“What?”

“The grow lights.”

“For my tomatoes?”

“No, you idiot, for my pot.”

I suck in a breath. I knew he used but didn’t know he grew. “Did you grow here?”

Benny rolls his eyes. “Where are they?”

I motion to the back room. “But, what about my tomatoes?”

Benny rounds on me and start in with that cutting, derogatory tone he always used when he thought I was too air-headed, “Listen, dumbass-”

The next thing I know, Tank’s in front of me. He has Benny by the collar and hauls him off his feet.

“Did you just call her dumbass?”

Benny splutters. “Dude-”

“You know this asshole?” Tank growls.

“Yeah, Tank! It’s okay. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

A louder growl this time, deeper in his gut. His wolf.

Hello, Wolfie.

“Apologize to Foxfire.” When Benny’s eyes bug, but he says nothing, Tank bares his teeth. “Apologize.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry, okay?”

Tank drops Benny, who sputters and backs up, wheezing. “What the fuck?”

“Does he have any right to this place?” Tank asks, his eyes on my ex.

“What? No. I own it. He was going to fix it up, though.” It’s probably the only reason I dated him.” That, and he stuck around. In the early days, he made me laugh. After that, he was just a habit, one I should’ve kicked a long time ago.

“He accosted me!” Benny shouts, pointing.

“Yeah, I know,” I scoff. “I was standing right here. Now, go away, Benny. Get your new girlfriend to buy you new grow lights.”

“I’ll call the cops on this place.”

“What?” I gasp. “You grew the pot, not me.”

“They don’t know that. Like you said, you own the place.”

“Get the lights,” Tank murmurs still not taking his eyes off Benny.

I trot to the back room, noting my returned rug, crumpled on the floor and missing the mafia man. I grab the pair of lights and return to find the two men in my life having a staring contest. If we assign points based on tough, commanding awesomeness, Tank is winning.

“Here.” Tank takes them from me and shoves them at Benny.

“You call the cops, I find you.” Tank says.

“Yeah, whatever man.”

Tank shuts the door in his face.

“You dated that thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Break up with him?”

“Uh, yeah. He was bad in bed. And then I found out he cheated on me.”

“He cheated on you?” Tank said as if I’d just claimed the sky was pink.

I nodded.

“If he bothers you again, you call me.”

“Okay. What are we going to do about the wise guy?”

“He’s in my truck.”

“What about his car?”

“I’ll take care of it. Get your things.” Tank whips out his phone. “Hey, Nox? Yeah, I need a tow… Hang on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and smacks my ass.

Fresh tingles start there and race straight to my core.

“What did I just tell you to do?”

I roll my eyes. “Bossy! I’m going, I’m going.” I spin on my heels and hustle to the bedroom to get my bag, feeling Tank’s gaze on my twitching ass the whole way. Not sure why my foxy bits get so wet when he tells me what to do, but whatevs.

Twenty minutes later, Tank helps me into his truck, and shoves my bag behind the seat. The mafia man is in the covered bed behind us, duct taped within an inch of his life.

“Sure he’ll be all right back there?”

Tank nods, and turns on the truck. It roars to life, huge and powerful, like its owner. Tank’s large hands turn the wheel. I get a thrill just watching him pull out of my driveway.

I bounce a little in my seat. “Road trip!”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Tank is silent. We head straight for the highway.

“Can we stop for snacks?”

“No.”

“Okay.” At least I have a water bottle. Although, I’d better save it for thirty minutes before we make a planned pit stop. I have a bladder the size of a pea.

I relate all this to Tank. His lips twitch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road or change expression.

“How about music?” I hold up my iPod. “I have a great playlist. Do you have a way I can plug-”

“No.”

“That’s okay, I have speakers in here somewhere-”

“No. No music.”

“Righty-ho, Big Daddy.”

“Don’t…” His thumb and finger touch his brows, and he briefly closes his eyes.

I grin at him, radiating cute vibes. They get me out of all sorts of trouble.

Tank sighs.

This is gonna be so fun.