Alpha's Vow (Shifter Ops series Book 2) Read online

  “Ch-Charlie. Charlie.” He sounds alarmed. “Oh, fuck.” Lance lets out an animal-like growl as he thrusts in deep, and comes. He brings his thumb to my clit and rubs and I scream my finish, too, tightening and squeezing around his cock, my feet flying up to his shoulders.

  The room spins. Or maybe the entire planet teeters. I’m not sure. I just know that I depart from the physical plane and spin off somewhere for who knows how long.

  When I open my eyes again, Lance shivers and eases out. “You okay, angel?”

  “Mmm. More than okay.” I’m floaty, but I roll over to watch Lance. Naked Lance is a sight to behold. And his smirk tells me he knows it.

  He reaches down to grip his cock, and then his eyes widen. “Oh shit. Oh, Charlie. The condom broke.”

  All I can do is laugh. “Well, it’s no wonder. You were moving pretty fast.”

  I grab some tissues to clean myself up.

  Lance’s blue eyes lock on mine. He’s probably panicking so I add, “It’s okay. I’m actually on the pill.”

  His eyes narrow. Some strange emotion flits across his face—surprise? dismay? Whatever it is, he hides it quickly. “Great. Good. Okay.”

  “Don’t worry.” I chuckle, and pat his arm. “No harm done. I had fun.”

  He still doesn’t look happy, but he gives a little shake of his head and lays himself out beside me, pulling me into his arms. I settle against his warm, hard body. Sex and a cuddle? This playboy is an overachiever.

  “Do you cuddle all your one-night stands?” I ask. A jolt goes through him.

  “No,” he mutters against my neck. He still sounds upset. Poor guy, this might be his worst nightmare.

  Too bad. I did have fun. And best of all, it’s done, and I have no regrets. Now I can move on to dating accountants. And Lance won’t care. He’ll have moved on, he and his ‘wingman’.

  Everything is going to plan.

  Chapter 4

  Lance

  In the morning, I get up and soundlessly dress, then go to make coffee in Charlie’s kitchen. I’ve never stayed the night with a woman before, but last night changed everything for me.

  Charlie is my mate.

  I can’t believe it. I never thought I’d mate. It was crazy enough that Deke of all people found his one true mate, but I didn’t expect it for the rest of us. It’s unusual to find one’s true mate, for one thing. Of all the shifters on the planet, you have to get the scent of the one that’s for you. And Charlie’s not even a shifter!

  Now I understand why her scent was so tantalizing down at the hot springs.

  Now I know why I couldn’t let the thought of her go yesterday. Why I had to spend all afternoon cyber-stalking her, and then all evening literally stalking her just to get her in bed.

  Only my wolf doesn’t just want her in bed.

  He wants her forever.

  That sex last night wasn’t just sex. I lost control unexpectedly because he wanted me to mark her, right there. It’s no wonder I pounded her so hard, the condom got lost.

  Fuck, I hope I didn’t leave her too sore. I don’t know—I might have even used shifter strength on her. I totally lost my mind for a few moments there.

  And now that I know Charlie’s mine… Now that I’ve tasted her, been inside her, I almost wish I hadn’t. Not because I don’t intend to claim her—I do.

  But I wish I could have a do-over.

  Because I’m not sure Charlie even really likes me. She has this idea I’m a player. Which I suppose I am.

  Was.

  Charlie wanted me last night—no doubt about that—but she definitely gave the impression that this was a one-night-stand. A fling. Just for fun. The result of me showing up at the perfect time on her birthday night. I mean, that was what I was going for. What I offered.

  She’s probably going to be surprised to discover I’m still here, waiting in her kitchen for her to wake up and smell the coffee I’m making.

  My leg jiggles up and down like I’m a horny, restless teen shifter. I’ve been like this since last night. I didn’t sleep more than half an hour. The rest of the time I spent staring at my beautiful female, which I’m sure she would’ve found a bit creepy if she’d woken.

  Finally, I hear movement from the bedroom. The toilet flushes. An electric toothbrush runs. Charlie pads out to the kitchen in her bare feet, wearing one of her sassy t-shirts and a pair of hot pink panties.

  I have to swallow the possessive growl that rises up in my throat.

  Fuck.

  I’m going to have to really keep my wolf in check if I have any hope of getting a second date with her. She probably wouldn’t take kindly to: you’re mine and I must possess and protect you for the rest of my life or I’ll turn into a feral beast that needs to be put down.

  Sure enough, she gives me a strange look. “You made coffee, huh?”

  I shrug, trying very hard to appear casual as I pour her a mug. “I figured I should ride you back to your car before work.”

  “Good point.” She blushes, like she’s regretting last night.

  Damn.

  “Great. Yeah, thanks. That’s a good idea.” She hides her face in the coffee cup, taking a long sip. “So I will just, um, get showered.” She gives me an up and down sweep of her eyes. Either she’s remembering what it felt like to have this body over hers last night, or she wants more.

  “Need any help?” It sounds as lame to my ears as I feared it would. What’s wrong with me? Have I suddenly lost all game with women?

  But Charlie’s not a game.

  I don’t want to use charm and coax another interlude out of her. I want real connection. I need her to want more than one night.

  “Um, no, I’m good.” She says it way too fast.

  Crushingly fast.

  I really couldn’t have fucked this up more.

  She turns on her cute little barefooted heel and disappears to the bathroom, and I’m left with a jumbo-sized boner that is likely to kill me. I’ll be jerking in my shower the second I get home.

  Speaking of home, I’m going to have to explain my absence last night to Rafe. Of course, he’ll assume I’m being my usual, careless womanizing self, and breaking the rules to dip my stick in another human.

  He’ll give me shit but it won’t be anything he doesn’t expect from me.

  The question is, do I tell him about Charlie? Not that I fucked her, but that she’s my mate?

  No. It feels too private, and far too tenuous. I mean, I don’t even know if I’m going to get a second date with this female, and landing it feels like a national fucking emergency. I’m too tender to absorb Rafe’s disapproval, or a repetition of his rules about who I can and can’t fuck.

  A black cat yarls at me and jumps onto the counter, tail puffy, ears back. He smells danger.

  “Oh, right. You must be Merlin.” I pick him up by the nape and hold him up at eye-level, giving a low warning growl to show him what I am, and who’s alpha here.

  The moment I set him back on his feet, he drops to his side and shows his belly in submission in a decidedly dog-like manner.

  “Smart kitty.” I stroke his soft cheeks to reward him. He takes it for a few moments, then springs back up and trots away, apparently cool with me now.

  I listen to the sound of the shower turn off, and have to work hard not to picture Charlie coming out of her bathroom, dripping and naked, that glorious body begging to be taken again.

  No. I doubt she wants round two right now.

  In fact, my gut says she doesn’t want another round at all, so I need to get my mind off fucking her and start figuring out how to get her on a date. I walk around her place, memorizing every detail. There’s a photo on her refrigerator of a young man in uniform—must be the brother. Another one of her whole family—the parents, Charlie, and her brother. A few coupons are stuck under magnets, and a card for a plumber and one for the chimney sweep.

  I take in Charlie’s furniture, sparing a moment to savor the memory of Charlie served up on th
e dining table for me. Like the table, all her furniture is sturdy and practical. Well-made. Not expensive, but not cheap, throwaway crap either. She has a red Turkish rug in the living room, and a brown leather couch and chair set oriented to face either the kiva fireplace or the television.

  The interior paint is a pale mustard, except for an accent wall of brick red. The house is southwestern without beating you over the head with it. There’s no coyote with a handkerchief or horned skull on the mantle, but there is a mirror framed with cheerful Mexican tile, and another colorful piece of art.

  Charlie emerges in her work uniform, which shouldn’t look hot. I mean, the U.S. Postal Service wasn’t going for sexy when they designed the blue uniforms, but for some reason, I sprout a semi from the way the fabric drapes across her perfect tits. The flash of skin at her throat. Her pine and peach scent that fills my nostrils.

  I clear my throat, turning away so she won’t see how excited I am to see her.

  I rinse my coffee mug out in the sink and put it in the dishwasher.

  “Thanks.” Charlie eyes me like she’s surprised I’m house trained enough to put away my own dishes.

  “You ready? I mean, there’s no rush.”

  “No, I’m ready.” She grabs her puffy coat from the hook by the door and then hands me my leather one. I hung it there this morning when I got up and found it on the floor under the table.

  I slip it on. “You want to drive?”

  She shakes her head.

  The fun is over. Whatever willingness Charlie had last night to explore and play with me, it’s gone. It’s no longer her birthday. The permission she gave herself to indulge has passed.

  I try not to let the low grumble of my wolf come out of my throat. It’s no problem.

  I’ll get the second date.

  I just may have to work a lot harder for it than I did for the first one.

  Charlie

  There’s nothing worse than the morning after a one-night stand. I mean, it’s not really supposed to happen, right? The morning-after part? The person who slept over is supposed to sneak out at dawn before the other one is awake. Or, at worst, make a mad scramble to grab their clothes and jet the moment they realize where they are.

  It’s not a stay and make coffee kind of scenario.

  And riding on the back of Lance’s Duck or Duke or whatever he calls it to Arroyo Seco just to get my car to drive back into town to work feels all wrong.

  Irresponsible. Foolish. Definitely shameful.

  I’m literally doing the ride of shame right now. I let the player get in my pants last night and now the whole town will know.

  Not that the people of Taos give two fucks about who I screw. It’s a small town, but it’s not that kind of small town. Maybe if I we were both born and raised here, someone might take note, but no one’s taking notes on my sex life except me.

  And maybe Adele, who sent me a text last night saying: Screw the plan.

  Well, I screwed something. He definitely wasn’t the plan, though.

  The thought of all that screwing makes me rock my hips down over the vibrating seat. My hands rest lightly on Lance’s hips. It feels precarious, but I didn’t want to make direct contact with those washboard abs by holding onto his waist. I tuck a finger through his belt loop, as if that will hold me in place if we get thrown.

  Because in the light of day, the Ducati seems like an extremely dangerous machine. Like, where are the seatbelts? And what the hell was I thinking actually driving this thing last night? And for all its speed and power, it’s no comparison to the man driving it. He’s truly a specimen of the ultimate in masculinity. Hard-bodied. Smooth-talking. Sex on wheels.

  But there’s no danger today of me falling into bed with him again.

  He was good. Extremely talented at making me come, but definitely not my type. No need to go down that path again.

  He pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant where my Subaru is still parked, and stops beside it.

  I unbuckle his helmet and climb off, then hand it to him. “Thanks for the ride. And for last night.”

  “Definitely my pleasure.” He leans on one foot, balancing the bike beneath those powerful thighs. I try to ignore how good he looks in the leather jacket and the motorcycle underneath him. A bad boy out on the prowl. “You want to get dinner sometime?”

  Huh. I didn’t expect him to ask me out. But then, I hadn’t expected him to make coffee, either. It’s a little weird. Lance didn’t strike me as the clingy type last night. Far from it.

  “Um, no, I’m good.” I put an apology into my expression.

  “Let me guess—you don’t date military guys?”

  I blink in surprise, then laugh, disarmed. This guy wrote the manual on charm. That cock-sure teasing way he has of getting right to the point probably gets him right into the panties of every girl he turns it on.

  “Actually, I do have a rule against it. No offense to you. Last night was really fun. It was just… not something I usually do.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Birthday fucks are fun.” He still doesn’t leave. “I guess this is where I refrain from asking for your number.”

  “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

  I can’t blame a guy for trying. I mean, I expected him to get my number for another booty call. It was the dinner date part that surprised me.

  “Well, I like you, Charlie. I want to see you again—with your clothes on. So if you change your mind, let me know.” He hands me a card.

  “Uh… okay. Thanks.” I wave the card lamely, then back up and turn to open my car door.

  “I mean, clothes off is cool, too,” Lance says to my back.

  I turn, shaking my head, a reluctant smile twisting on my lips. There’s that playboy.

  “I’m down with seeing you in any state of dress or undress.”

  “I’m sure you are.” I toss him a smile as I climb into my car. “I’ll see you around.”

  His smile dips a fraction. I’m sure he’s not used to striking out. He puts the helmet on, watching me as I start the car and pull out.

  As I drive back into town, I shake my head, confused. It was weird that he tried for a second date. Players don’t usually try to hit it again so soon.

  But I don’t need to give last night so much mental real estate. It was a one-off. For fun. For my birthday.

  It won’t be happening again. I didn’t agree to see Lance again. I won’t be calling him for that date, or for a booty call or any other reason.

  I have a plan, and I’m sticking to it.

  Chapter 5

  Lance

  “Move it.”

  “What’s gotten into you?” Channing asks as I elbow him out of the way of the refrigerator. The guy seems to have taken up permanent residence standing in the open door, staring at the food.

  I reach past him and grab three packages of bacon, not bothering to answer.

  I admit I’ve been cranky as hell lately. The wound of being shot down by Charlie for a second date has festered all week. I rejected my frequently recurring idea to go and arrange a ‘chance’ meeting with her in town. Charlie is smart—she wouldn’t buy it, and I don’t want to come off as desperate.

  Which I am, by the way.

  This woman is under my skin in a big, bad way. An I-can’t-sleep-at-night-because-I’m-thinking-of-her way. And jerking off five times a day does nothing to relieve the mounting pressure to get inside her again.

  I couldn’t have fucked this one up more. I tear open the packages of bacon with my teeth and throw the contents of all three into a cast iron pan.

  “Seriously, dude. You’ve been an asshole all week. Ever since—” He stops with a look of surprise on his face, like he thinks he’s put something together. “Ah…”

  I want to kill the guy.

  “Ever since what?” Rafe asks.

  Fuck. Now I’m really going to kill Channing.

  “Who did you say you spent the night with last week?” Channing asks.

  Rafe folds his
arms over his chest, leaning one shoulder in the doorframe of the kitchen of our old ski lodge turned headquarters. “I don’t think you did say, did you?” He tips his head, his sharp alpha gaze suddenly trained on my face.

  “Fuck you both.” Gah. Now I’ve basically acknowledged that Charlie is the cause of my distemper.

  “I don’t believe it. Did Fate kick you in the nuts, Lance?” Channing chortles.

  Rafe stiffens, even though his posture doesn’t change.

  I rub the back of my neck. Rafe is going to flip, but if Charlie really is my mate, and the fact that I sprouted fangs and wanted to mark her that night proves she is, then this shit is going to come out anyway.

  My pack will have to hold my collar if I go off the deep end.

  So I don’t attempt to lie. Instead, I say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Oh, we’re talking about it.” Rafe is suddenly in motion, crossing the kitchen to pen me in against the stove.

  Channing follows his alpha, and takes up my other side.

  I don’t mean to, but a growl comes out of my throat, as if the two of them are trying to keep me from my mate.

  “Did you just fucking growl at me?” Rafe demands. He’s not just my big brother, he’s pack alpha, meaning his dominance rules here.

  “Who is it?” Channing wants to know.

  “A friend of Sadie’s,” I admit.

  “Which friend?” The ferocity in Rafe’s voice makes me wonder if his interest in Adele, the prickly chocolatier, isn’t also fate-related. But Rafe would never mate.

  “Charlie. The blonde. We hooked up; that’s it. She’s not interested in seeing me again.”

  Rafe’s gaze narrows. “But you’re interested?”

  There’s no point in lying. Rafe would smell it anyway.

  “My wolf came out,” I admit. “He wanted to claim her.”

  Rafe takes a step back and shakes his head. “Fuck.”