Alpha’s Secret: A Bear Shifter Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 10)
Alpha’s Secret: Chapter 10

Grizz

I roll up to Frangelico’s house right at dusk. It’s a brand new mansion set on a private lot down a long drive and up on a hill. The Italian-style marble columns look weird against the desert backdrop. The gate at the bottom of the hill opens for me slowly. There’s no sign of security, but I’m not fooled. This place is crawling with guards, both human and drones.

I park behind a red Lamborghini and white Tesla Roadster and sit a spell, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. My fingers itch to call Jordy, but I hold off. She’s safe with Declan and Parker. Their odd behavior allows people to write them off, and they fly under most people’s radar.

I head into the house, striding between the white marble columns to the front door.

Two goons emerge from opposite sides of the house and stop me. I strip out of my leather jacket slowly, holding out my arms for them to wand. Inside, I walk through an archway I know holds a hidden metal detector. Vampires are paranoid fuckers, and their king is the most paranoid of them all. That’s what’s kept him alive.

Frangelico steps into the living room without fanfare. As much as he loves ceremony, he’s pretty direct and good to work with when we’re alone. Or maybe he just doesn’t want me in his house for long.

“Broderick. Welcome.”

I shake my head at the sound of my real name. I don’t know how Frangelico found it. The last person to call me Broderick was my mother. The king just calls me that to mess with me, but I won’t stoop to telling him to stop. That’s a power game I won’t win.

Frangelico crosses to the bar and pours himself a glass of wine. I refuse his offer of a drink and wait as the king holds the glass up to the light, swirls the red liquid, brings the glass back down to take a deep sniff and on and on. He does everything but marry it before taking a sip. “I take it you have something to report?”

I tell him everything I’ve found, with one exception. Jordy. I leave out any mention of her. Just because the king and I are allies doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. I’d rather keep Jordy off his radar.

“So your sources told you of the movements of the shifter slavers, and from there you discerned the location of the auction house?”

“I found this.” I pull out the flyer of the theater and smooth it before handing it over the king. He studies it briefly before handing it back.

“I had a lead that led me to the theater first,” I admit, in case Frangelico has me followed.

“A lead?”

“Confidential.” I fold the flyer and put it back in my pocket. “But obviously correct. Your vampires are playing around behind your back.”

Frangelico sighs and heads to the French doors looking out onto a stone patio. The doors open as he approaches and he exits. I follow, staying a few feet behind him as he leans against a column. His throat works as he tips back his drink.

He listens as I tell him all I know about the secret club. “There seems to be a contingent of your vampires who has a taste for submissive shifters. A new type of sweetbloods.”

“Ah yes.” He swirls the dregs of his glass. “Shifter submissives. One of my vampires has mentioned his sweetblood has gone missing. A pet fox, I believe.”

I freeze, schooling my features carefully.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He smiles when I don’t answer. “I admit, I’ve been lax about my children. I indulge them. It’s so hard to create a vampire, you see. So I tend to keep them alive, even when they turn against me.” His smile, half hidden behind his wine glass, is chilling.

“You’ve had evidence of a coup for some time now.”

“Ah yes. Little Nero and his bid for an empire.” Frangelico taps a finger against his glass. The moon has risen, washing the mountains with ghostly light. The polished columns of his portico frame the desert vista perfectly. The mansion is on a hill, too, facing east as if waiting for the first touch of dawn’s early light.

I wonder how long it’s been since this vampire saw a sunrise. Frangelico is old, older than anyone knows. It’d wear on me, all those years in the dark.

As the silence stretches, I resist the urge to move or cough, to remind the vampire king that I’m here. Just because Frangelico is as still as a statue, his profile limned with silver-grey moonlight and frozen like a Roman emperor’s face on a coin, doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten I’m here.

Finally Frangelico straightens. “It’s an incredibly difficult process to sire a vampire,” he murmurs, still not looking at me. I get the feeling he’s talking to himself instead of me. “So much time and blood. So many defeats. And when it finally works…” He sighs and bows his head. “You still have to support them. Wean them. Such a delicate process to produce another of my species. Humans blink and pop out brats. That’s why they’ll win in the end. They’ll breed us out.”

He turns and I avert my eyes.

“I used to think it right that our food was so plentiful. So prolific.” A mocking smile curves his lips and I resist the urge to back away. Nothing scarier than a smiling vampire. “I thought that if I created enough vampires, I’d bring balance to the world. Like introducing wolves to Yosemite, to bring down the overpopulated deer.” He looks at me then. “You must be amused, hearing me compare our species to wolves.”

Nope, not amused. Fucking terrified. I don’t know why Frangelico’s getting all nostalgic and ranty, but I don’t want to know. Some monsters are better left in the dark.

“Anyway,” Frangelico moves back into his living room, and the moment is broken. “It seems my sired are rising against me,” he says coolly. “Not just Nero, but a large contingent. There may soon be some…unpleasantness.”

Unpleasantness. Another way to say ‘complete slaughter of my enemies’. Another sign I’ve been working with Frangelico too long, I know exactly how he understates things.

Frangelico continues, “I understand if you wish to decline the remainder of this job.”

“Nah,” I say. “I’ll see this through.”

Frangelico’s features flicker. “I did not expect you to say that. I thought you would be relieved to return to your quest to avenge your fallen family.”

“Oh, I’m not giving up on that,” I say grimly. “As soon as I get to the bottom of this, I’m back on the hunt for that murdering bastard.”

“As much as I wish for you to focus on the business I assign you, I admit I am impressed by your dedication. I wish I could help you more on your quest.” Before I can tell him how he can help me, he continues, “You have spoken of this vampire before. Are you any closer to replaceing out his identity? Then I might be able to help.”

“The only thing I know is he’s male. Tall. Big.”

“With one eye, you told me.”

“Yeah, one eye. He lost it…in a fight.” The fight that killed my mother.

“I have no acquaintance with such a vampire.”

“You might have known him when he had both eyes.”

“True.” Frangelico sets down his glass. “I regret that I cannot help you identify him.”

“Don’t need your help with that. The only way you can help me is to give me more blood.”

Frangelico sighs. “Ah yes. I wondered when you would ask.”

“I need it.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that the side effects of drinking my blood might be…life-changing?”

“You don’t mean turning, do you?”

“Oh no,” the king’s voice turns cold. “Not turning. I would not give you my blood if there was any chance at turning you. A shifter turned vampire—would be an abomination.”

The hair on my arms prickles at his tone.

“No,” Frangelico continues, heading to the bar and going behind it to open the mini fridge. “I do not allow you this blood because I wish to sire you. If there was any chance of you rising as a vampire, I’d kill you right now and burn your body.”

“Good,” I can only mutter while my stomach roils. “I’d slit my own throat before becoming a vampire.”

“And I’d remove your head,” Frangelico agrees, his tone turning smooth and genial. “This is why I work with you. We are on the same page.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I say. I hate how eager I am, watching the king stack several blood bags on the bar. The first time I had to make myself drink the blood, I only did it because I knew the edge it’d give me.

After the tenth time, I stopped gagging. After the twentieth, I savored the power coursing through my veins.

Now, after a hundred doses and several vampire kills, I live for the hit, the high it gives me.

He glances as me, and must see some of my need on my face. “Are you sure you want this?”

I turn away. “It’s not about wanting. I need it.” It’s only a partial lie.

“I’ve never heard of a shifter taking so much and surviving. Most vampires would not allow it. I only do because we work so well together.”

“And I’m willing to do your dirty work.”

“That too. But the day may come where we replace ourselves at the end of our bargain. You would be wise to weigh the toll the blood takes on you before then.”

I stare at him—not his eyes, a spot on his face. If he thinks I’m going to break down and tell him how the blood affects me, how each hit leaves me weak and blacking out afterwards, he’s got another think coming. I don’t need his sympathy, or his advice.

I don’t need him to tell me that one day when I take this blood, it will be my last. Either the dose will kill me, or it’ll leave me so weak my enemy does it for me. I don’t care. I just need to take out the one-eyed vampire before I go.

The king finishes stacking the blood bags on the bar. “Good luck on your hunt,” he says softly, and leaves. I wait until he’s well and truly gone before heading out. Finally, I can get back to Jordy.

But first, I go to the bar and take the blood. I have to. Without it, I can’t take a vampire and win. I need the blood to give me power to fight. I need the blood to hunt down the vampire that killed my mother and have my revenge.

Grizz

The white Camaro sits in much the same place I left it, a few parking spots over. It’s later than I’d like, well after dark. I had another errand to do after I left the vampire king.

I ride my bike right up to the parked car, squinting against its headlights. I can’t see anyone. Then a figure darts in front of the car and my entire body tightens. Jordy.

She runs right up to me, her little white Keds flashing, her dress swirling around her knees. The Camaro’s headlights outline her form, but the halo of light around her is not as bright as her smile.

“Hey,” she says, breathless. Her sweet, unassuming beauty punches me in the gut. she’s a flower blooming in a trash littered parking lot. A star blazing in the night.

Forget this shitty day. Forget the wolves, the vampires, and debriefing the Stooges. I gotta get her home, now.

Fuck if I can talk. I hand her the helmet. After she buckles it on, I check the strap and jerk my head for her to hop on. Her arms go around me, I pull them tighter, cause I’m a masochist. The feel of her pressed against my back, her hands locked around my abs makes my dick hard enough to punch through a steel door.

Gritting my teeth, I wave at the three stooges. I’ll call them and give them the news and my gratitude later. I’m racking up favors all over town. Jordy leans into me, her head resting on my back and I think, Worth it.

The drive to my mountain takes for-fucking-ever.

She jumps off and goes ahead of me, leaning against the house as I open the door. Once inside, I dump the bags I’m carrying and flick on the lights, before catching Jordy. I haul Jordy into my arms and she lets me, not a squeak of protest as I lift her and give her a hard kiss.

“Missed you, Kit.”

“I missed you.” A smile plays on her lips. I haul her weight against me and she arches like a cat and rubs herself against my hardness. Fuck, I could get used to this. This is why Augustine kept her collared and caged.

The thought of the vampire is like a bucket of cold water on my dick. I loosen my hold and let her slide down to the ground.

“Grizz? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You hungry?”

“A little,” she says hesitantly.

“I’ll whip something up.” I go to the fridge and start pulling items out and slamming them onto the counter.

She hovers behind me. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I bark and repeat in a softened tone. “No. You’re perfect. I just—it’s been a long day.”

“Of course.” She dusts her hands on her dress. “Just…let me know what you need me to do.” She scoots off, bustling around the kitchen. I try to go back to preparing food, but I still have the scent of her in my nose, the taste of her on my tongue. I pounced on her as soon as she walked through the door, but she didn’t protest. I kissed her and she let me, as if I was just taking my due. I grit my teeth. Would she be so willing to offer her charms to the conquering victor?

I gotta get my head straight and let her know where she stands. Whatever we feel for each other, whatever we’re heading towards, it can’t last.

The thought makes me want to howl.

“Bags, Kit. Go unpack,” I order her. Tuned into her as I am, I listen to the bags rustle and wait until her breath catches before turning.

She’s holding a big sketch pad.

“Is this for me?”

“I’m not much of an artist. Anyway, I told you I’d get it.”

“You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“No problem.” I dump everything into a crockpot and turn it on low. “We have some time before dinner. Make yourself at home.”

I stomp to the bath to clean up. Strip off my shirt and examine myself in the dingy mirror. Fucking wolves got a few shots in, but the bruises are almost gone. The cats’ scratches have all but disappeared. Only a few red tears where they got me with their claws. I’m not surprised they tipped their nails in something that would delay shifter healing.

The door creaks open and Jordy stands there, eyes round as she surveys my bare chest.

“You’re all healed up,” she says, coming and touching my back. Her fingers dance over my skin, light and gentle. I still and she must take it as a sign of encouragement because she strokes both hands down the expanse of muscle then wraps her arms around my middle and presses her body into mine. Her breasts brush my back as she hugs me. Fates.

She has no idea how close I am to whirling around and pouncing, wrenching her legs open and pounding my cock into her sweet little cunt until she’s screaming my name.

I take a deep, steadying breath. “Course I’m healed,” I tell her gruffly. “Just took some punches.”

“And scratches and bites,” she says, a hint of chastising in her tone. I turn and cradle her face. “You don’t like me fighting, Kit?”

Biting her lip she shakes her head.

I drop a kiss onto her forehead, right where the reddish hair meets freckled skin. “Better get used to it, ‘cause I’m a fighter. It’s who I am.”

“I know,” her voice is muffled against my bare chest. Her fingers slide over my pect, tracing a raised mark. “You have all these scars.”

“You should see the other guy.”

She doesn’t crack a smile. “How did you get these? Not fighting shifters.”

“No.”

She frowns up at me. Her fingers still swirl over my scar, muddling my thoughts. A potent torture I can’t resist. A few more minutes, and I’ll spill my guts for a chance to get her in my bed. Gotta say something, get her off this dangerous subject.

“Did you ask Augustine so many questions?”

Her little body stiffens. Fates, why did I bring that leech up? Jordy starts to pull away and I haul her back against me.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it.”

“You know I didn’t,” she says shakily. “That was not the relationship we had. He was my master. I had to obey.”

“Jordy, I’m sorry.”

Angling her head, she eyes me with her hair half obscuring her face. “You’re not my master.”

“No, I’m not.” I bite back anything else I might add. I don’t want to be her master. Do I?

She’s frowning thoughtfully, her narrowed eyes flicking up and down my body. Sizing me up, weighing me. I get the feeling she sees every part of me. For the first time in my life, I’m not proud of who I am.

Even if I wanted to own her, she shouldn’t allow it. I don’t measure up.

“Jordy…” her name is sweet on my tongue. “I’m not a good man.”

Her frown deepens.

“I’ve… done things. It’s not that I’m not proud of them, it’s just that what I am, what I do, it doesn’t fit in the normal world. The world you live in. The world you deserve.” Fates, I’m not explaining this right. “I’m not like normal guys.”

Understanding lights her eyes. “I don’t want normal.”

I sigh hard enough to blow her hair back. My hand replaces her face. She closes her eyes. There’s a picture, my tattooed and fight roughed hands on either side of her sweet freckled cheeks. She’s so perfect and innocent. My skin looks dirty against hers. I don’t want to touch her. I don’t want to ruin what she is.

But I will. If she stays.

“I should send you away.”

“Where would you send me?”

“Somewhere safe,” I mutter against her hair. “Somewhere far away…from me.”

“I don’t want to go.” Her hand seeks my cheek. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here. With you.”

“You can’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve done. What I plan to do….”

She turns and draws the dress over her head, turning a little. I stand stunned as she lets the clothing drop to the floor and smiles at me over her shoulder. Her hips sway, and all the blood rushes out of my head, going straight to my dick.

“Well?” She pauses in the doorway of my bedroom. “Are you coming or not?”