Alpha’s War (Bad Boy Alphas Book 7)
Alpha’s War: Chapter 3

Nash

The address leads me to a little house in Temecula. I pull up and idle a moment. My hand shakes as I park. Excitement? Or the last stages of madness?

It’s a mistake to come here. I know this as soon as I step onto the little porch, and her scent hits me. Blackness curls from the edges of my vision, pulling me under.

The guards have guns on her. My lion surges to the fore, angry. It’s been so long since he’s killed. But when the naked female stumbles forward, I catch her. My arms close around her body and I pull her soft form against my hard one. She’s tall, her head coming just under my chin, soft, dark hair a cloud in my face. The cinnamon scent hits me again, until I taste it.

“Another one for you, Nash.” The guard’s voice is harsh, mocking. They see what I do with the females they bring me. There are cameras in the corners of the room. They watch. I know what they’ll do if I refuse: hurt the female. They’ve learned I don’t give a shit what they do to me, but I can’t stand to watch someone else be tortured as a result of my choices.

For some reason, this one sends an extra blast of protective fury through me. My grip tightens around her. She stiffens.

“You know what to do. Get to it. Or else.” The threat hangs in the air. I want to tear them apart with my teeth.

The door scrapes as they leave.

I don’t want to move. I could hold her like this for the night, and never feel wanting. But desire’s there too, bubbling up, the first hint of warmth after a long winter. With the other females, I had to focus to get myself hard enough to breed them. I spent a long time on foreplay to make sure they were ready and get myself into the right mindset. I’ll do that for this one, too, but it won’t be for me. My lion’s already rumbling for her.

She glares up at me like I’m the enemy. I sense anger in her, rising, matching mine. Frustration. A spirit uncowed. Brave. Naked and defenseless, but not afraid.

Because I’m angry for her, because I’m furious such a beautiful, fresh lioness would be forced into this awful situation, I snarl.

She jerks back, out of my grasp.

I immediately reach for her. “I won’t hurt you,” I promise. My lion needs to soothe her. It’s a primordial instinct, like eating or killing. I try to push down the need coiling below my waist.

“What are you supposed to do?” she asks. The wariness in her expression tells me she already knows. Her body knows it, too. Her cocoa-tipped nipples stand up, hard and pointed.

Filling my lungs with her delicious scent, I tip her face up to mine. “What’s your name?”

“Denali.” I whisper. Inside, my lion waits, patient on this hunt. I follow the cinnamon scent on the air to the screen door.

And I see her. Long, lean limbs, flawless mocha skin. She’s barefoot at her kitchen counter, weight on one hip, pert ass encased in cutoff shorts. Her elegant neck curves as she looks down at what she’s doing.

Unable to stop myself, I push the door open and enter silently. I’m back in the jungle, a soldier, a predator stalking my prey.

Her head turns slightly.

My lips move to form her name.

Her chocolate brown eyes flare to blue-grey. “Nash?” she chokes.

I walk toward her. She rears back.

“It’s all right, Denali.” I stop and lift my hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.” That’s the truth, even if my lion is a crazy mo-fo.

A tremor runs through her. Once, twice, and the spiced scent rises between us.

Mine, my lion snarls. My mate.

“Denali, I—” my voice cracks but it’s too late. She whirls and runs out the back door.

Denali

I run without thinking. I’ve been hiding so long; my first instinct is to bolt.

The kitchen door slams behind me. Whenever the weather is nice, I keep the doors and windows open to let in the scent of wildflowers. And to alert me to anyone approaching.

But my lioness was sleeping. Or, perhaps she caught the subtle scent of the soldier she once knew and decided not to tell me. Or I ignored it. Too long I’ve carried the memory of Nash, the ghost. I see him in my dreams, wake up with the smell of him hanging over me like a cloud. I eat sleep and breathe Nash, even as I ran from him.

That’s what happens when you’re mate marked. You can’t escape. You’re bonded on the deepest cellular level.

Even after they die.

I thought he was dead.

The screen door bangs behind me, and a gust of wind hits my back, spurring me on. Nash is coming after me. The lion is on the hunt.

Glad I’m barefoot, I call on every muscle in my legs, pounding up the hill. I chose this house for its seclusion. Not many people want to live out in the hills, but I found the beauty irresistible. The warm sun, the neat rows of vineyards cutting across the land. Nothing like the grey cell I was trapped in for nine long weeks.

I should’ve known he’d come for me. I saw it on the news. The Data-X lab burned to the ground—the one that held us. Oh, the news didn’t call it Data-X. In fact, after the initial report, no news could be found on it at all. Like it got hushed up quickly. But I recognized the location. That wasn’t a random wildfire as they later reported. It was a fire set to destroy a prison.

So I waited, breath held. Surely, if Nash was alive, he would come for me. Hadn’t he been whispering it every night, in my dreams?

But he didn’t come. I figured he was dead, after all. And I’d done nothing to prevent it.

Now he’s here. His hot breath reaches the back of my neck and I feint right, then dodge round the scrub brush. The lion follows me easily.

Nash was military. He was one of the strongest, fittest shifters I ever met, and the years did nothing to dull his prowess. I won’t get away. I don’t even know why I’m running, except that seeing him brought up too much, too fast. He was part of my experience at Data-X. But I know he’s not the enemy.

“Denali. Stop.”

I put on a burst of speed, dodging around boulders. The one thing my lioness is best at—running.

Only she doesn’t want to run. She wants to stay and face the charging lion.

I go too fast and slide on some loose gravel, scraping my hands on the ground as I replace my feet again.

“Dammit—you’ll hurt yourself.”

My chest tightens. Still the gentleman.

Not as much as you’ll hurt me. My ears ring with my shout. I said it out loud.

“I won’t. I promise.”

At the pain in his voice, my calves spasm, my feet fumble. My lioness has had enough. She forces me to slow, just enough for the hunter to catch up.

He tackles me and drives me down to the ground, but twists to cushion the fall with his limbs. Oh, this is familiar. Nash on top of me, straddling my body, turning me to face him.

“No, no, no.” I whimper. “You’re not real. You’re not here.” If I can’t see the monster, he isn’t real. Except Nash isn’t the monster.

He pulls my hands down roughly. I’m pinned, his body on mine. Mine responding with alacrity. My lioness in awe.

Foolish, wanton animal. I can’t just throw caution to the wind. To give myself up to a male I barely know.

“Denali,” he rasps. Face to face, I see he hasn’t changed. Maybe a little leaner, a little harder, but same smooth cheeks, military cut hair, scar in his eyebrow. He’s so beautiful he makes my chest hurt. Of course, he’s also on top of me—but that feels right. My hips lift without my permission.

“It’s you. It’s really you.” His eyes blaze gold. The lion came out with the chase. I make myself go limp under him. I can’t best him in a one-on-one fight. If he does mean me harm, my only hope is to get him to let his guard down, and escape.

He doesn’t mean you harm, my lioness whispers. But I see a wildness in his eyes and my body tenses with uncertainty.

He brushes my face with the backs of his fingers and I let out a whimper. I can’t do this. It’s too painful, too raw.

“Why do you think I’ll hurt you?”

I shake my head as if to jostle my thoughts into place. Get my twisted emotions out of it. Running was just a PTSD related reaction. After what I survived, who wouldn’t have post-traumatic stress? It wasn’t fueled by thought. I took one look at the male who’s haunted my dreams and bolted.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You already did,” I sob before I can bite my lips. I don’t even know this male. We spent one night together in a prison cell, forced to mate under duress. He marked me. End of story. I don’t know why I’m acting like he’s a lover who abandoned me. Like I gave him my heart to begin with. I wouldn’t be so naive.

And yet not a day’s gone by since then I haven’t ached for him. Wondered what my life would be like if he were by my side, as a true mate should be. In the years since, I’ve thought about replaceing a real mate—one I chose voluntarily. But I couldn’t even bring myself to go on a single date. No male compared to this magnificent one, this king of beasts.

“Denali.” He cups my cheek with his warm, rough hand and my lioness leans into his touch. “Please,” he whispers, and brushes his lips over mine. My back arches automatically and I push into the kiss. He tastes like spice, surrender. Like home.

He drops his head into the crook of my neck and inhales deeply. His body reacts to my scent, erection punching out and pressing between my legs, a low growl sounding from his throat.

I’m pinned under a large, randy male but there’s not an ounce of fight in me. Instead—fates help me—I rock my damp sex over the bulge in his jeans. He stamps his lips over mine, claiming my mouth as he draws up my t-shirt and cups my breast. I writhe under him, desperate for more contact. The air grows heavy with a cinnamon scent. One sniff of Nash and my lioness is in heat.

But this is crazy. We’re not lovers. We’re not even friends. We are two shifters who were forced together under horrifying circumstances. We can’t just pick up where we left off, because that’s not a place I ever want to return to.

“No.” I break off the kiss, gasping.

“Can’t stop,” he murmurs urgently, still moving his lips over mine. He nips at the corner of my mouth. “You taste so good.”

Damn, he tastes good, too. And having him devour my mouth like a starving man does something powerful to my libido. It’s like my sexuality has been in a coma since we’ve been apart and now, under his touch, it revs back to life. He has an arm under me, cushioning me even as he holds me fast. I’m a tall, strong woman, but under Nash I feel small. Delicate.

Beautiful.

His hand moves down from my breast over my flat midriff, sliding straight into my shorts.

I suck in a breath, desire igniting in my core.

His eyes flare with amber light. “Mine,” he growls.

“No.” I don’t mean no I don’t want him in my shorts. But no, my pussy isn’t his. He may have marked me, but that mark doesn’t count.

I don’t belong to him.

The only shifter I belong to is Nolan.

I fight for sanity, even as he palms my mons and strokes along my juicy opening. “This is—”

He stops my protest with another savage kiss, his mouth dominating, claiming. Shivers run up my spine. I dig my heels into the ground and push into his hand working between my legs.

He presses a finger into me, rubs the heel of his hand against my clit.

My orgasm blows up like a summer storm—beautiful, wild. Devastating.

I close my throat to keep from moaning his name as he makes my body dance. Just like the last time we were together, our connection is magnetic. I want to refuse, but my body, my lioness, has other ideas.

I cling to him, panting. This, like our entire relationship, is fucked up. And yet it feels so right.

“Beautiful lioness.”

I sag in his embrace, mind swirling with worry even as my body soars with the stars.

We only shared one night, in a cell with guards watching the cameras outside, but it changed the course of our lives. I knew that as much as he did. As much as I told myself to forget Nash, to forget that night, I couldn’t stop. I longed for him like no other. My body remembered his touch. I couldn’t forget his strength, his tortured soul, his gentleness. Our incredible chemistry. We only had one night in a prison, but we created something real.

The truth is scary. I ran from it as much as I did to escape Data-X, and the lion who marked me as mate.

Nash’s eyes still glow yellow, and he watches me with a predatory stare. One that promises retribution. For leaving him. For running. For denying his claim. His lion won’t let me go—not without a fight.

He eases his fingers from me and brings the digits to his mouth, tasting them. All the while, watching me.

I don’t even know where to begin with this male, so I go for the inane. “You keep your hair so short.” His hair, so short and bristly, is softer than it looks. I run my palm over it and a rush of emotion steals my breath. I don’t want to stop touching him.

“Force of habit,” he mutters.

“You should grow it out. I want to see what it looks like long. Shaggy lion.”

The corners of his mouth ease. The rest of him is tense. I should be the one who’s tense, but I’m not. At least my body isn’t. I just had an incredible orgasm.

Now that my focus has returned, I scan his face, noting new hollows under his cheekbones, a half-healed cut near his temple beside a fading bruise. Why hasn’t he regenerated?

I shift beneath his heavy frame and the animal in him recedes, the gentleman I remember returning. He pulls away from me, like he just realized the position we’re in.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters and scrambles to his feet, helping me to stand. “I didn’t mean to… ah…”

“Assert your claim?” I finish wryly, brushing the dust off my ass. “Oh, I imagine you did.”

I don’t expect the misery that swims over his expression. It washes over me, his emotions bleeding over mine and I have to fight to push the darkness back. Whatever happened to Nash after that night, it left him maimed.

It drives a spike of fear through me, even as my heart squeezes.

Fix him, my lioness whispers.

But I can’t.

Just like I couldn’t go back. There’s more than one life that hangs in the mix, and that life is more important than mine or his. At least to me, it is.

Around us the birds continue singing their celebration, oblivious to the two predators who invade their territory. My house looks lonely far below past a slope of wildflowers dancing in the wind.

I fix my gaze on it to keep from looking at Nash. “How’d you replace me?”

“Started searching as soon as I got out. My friends helped.”

I stiffen. How long has he been out? How much did his friends uncover?

“Don’t worry,” he soothes. “They’ll keep your location secret. They only told me.”

This doesn’t reassure me. I can’t afford for Nash to be a part of my life. There’s too much at stake.

Of course, my rash lioness is just fine with Nash turning up. She’s purring. I take a moment to sense his animal and a queasiness returns.

“Your lion is upset.”

“My lion is a sick fuck.”

I force myself to look at him, to search his haunted eyes. “They hurt you.”

“Yes. But I was fucked up before I went to them.”

“Why’d you come, Nash?”

Pain flickers over his face, dark with a storm I can’t decipher. “How could I not? I marked you. You belong to me.” He fists a hand in my curls and tugs my head to the side to replace the place where his teeth scored my skin. When he lowers his mouth and traces the barely visibly mark with his tongue, I shiver. My pussy clenches as if affirming his ownership over me.

“Why’d you run from me, Denali?”

I hear hurt in his voice—or is it warning? Will there be punishment? Shockingly, the thought excites me. I push the image of him tying me to the bed and asserting his ownership over my body again and again from my mind. “Are you afraid of me? Can you tell I—” he breaks off, eyes shuttering.

“I thought you were dead.”

“You thought you were seeing a ghost?”

I shake my head. He continues to trail the tip of his tongue over my skin, tracing the column of my neck, flicking my earlobe. Memories of what he can do with his tongue between my legs crowd the rational thoughts from my mind.

His body presses against mine, long and muscular and oh so right.

“I should have died. I feel half-dead most of the time since I got out.”

“But… you cooperated.” I swallowed. “I heard you volunteered to the program.”

I’ll never forget the day the men in suits showed up at my grandfather’s place. First they were slick-talkers. Trying to tell me I’d been chosen for a special study. My grandfather and aunt stood in front of me. Said no way they were taking me.

They drew guns, asked me to come or they’d kill my family. My grandfather and aunt screamed for me to shift and run. They weren’t going to give me up.

And now they’re dead.

Rage mixes with pain in Nash’s expression. His nostrils flare, jaw flexes. “I did cooperate. Hell, I volunteered for the damn study. Until I figured out what they were doing.”

“Master race,” I mutter and his eyes blaze lion bright. His grip in my hair tightens.

When I wince, he immediately releases me, stepping back. “You escaped not long after I claimed you.”

There it is. But I don’t hear any accusation in his tone.

Still, guilt swims over me. “I saw my chance and took it.”

“Good. I’m glad. It made things… easier, knowing you got out of that hellhole.” The wind picks up. I shiver, and he shifts to block me from the chill. I don’t think he does it consciously, but his care warms me from head to toe.