The Alpha’s Tempting Mate

Foxfire

I dream of my paws scrabbling in the rocky earth. A sunset blazes in the distance, fiery red and orange. My broken cell phone crackles with my mother’s voice telling me I should dye my hair those colors. Then Tank looms over me, shaking his head…

I wake with a start, the smell of bacon so intense, I can taste it.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

My stomach rumbles as I pad to the kitchen. Tank stands at the stove, his broad back hunched and shaved head bowed over a skillet.

“OMG,” I say. “Are you making breakfast?” A folded paper bag soaks up grease under a stack of bacon. “Is some of this for me?”

He flashes me a grin, jerks his head at the table. My little card table is covered with dishes of meat. Sausage, hamburger patties, more bacon.

“Oh my god, Tank. Did you kill every pig and cow in the world?”

“Just for you, baby. Eat up.”

Baby. I like that.

Bad Foxfire!

“I’m such a bad vegan,” I mumble as I sit down.

“Seriously?” Tank raises a brow.

“What? I thought it’d be healthy.”

“You can’t be vegan.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re a carnivore.” Tank puts a plate of bacon right in front of me.

“I could eat tofu and stuff,” I argue, as if I’m not about to swallow a pound of delicious pig.

“You can’t cut meat out. Your fox won’t let you.”

Right.

That.

My stomach twists.

“Eat, baby.” Tank gets more bacon going then comes to the table. “You had a long run last night. Your fox needs this.” His hand settles on the back of my neck, calming the storm in my stomach. I nod and pick up a strip of bacon. In no time, I’ve demolished half the plate, and a third of the sausages. Just enough to take the edge off my hunger. I’ve always had a great metabolism. Guess now I know why.

Tank moves around my kitchen as if he owns it. He’s so big, but somehow he fits.

“I had a dream about my mom last night,” I announce. Tank doesn’t look up from the stove, but I know he’s listening. “Do you think she knew?”

“She did name you Foxfire.”

“That could just be her. Trippy hippy. She smoked pot all through her pregnancy.”

“That explains a lot,” Tank mutters.

“Hey!” I pout in his general direction.

He comes with a fresh round of meat, and spills half of it on my plate before bumping my foot with his in a silent order. We chew for a while.

“Do you remember ever shifting before?”

I put down my fork and think. “I once ate some mushrooms and felt like I had fur. You didn’t happen to give me any mushrooms last night…?”

He shakes his head as he goes back to the skillet.

“Didn’t think so.” Too much to hope for.

~.~

Tank

She’s stewing again, frowning at the window. I dreamed of her last night, running and catching her and pulling her into position under me. I shift in my seat, glad the table doesn’t have a glass top. I’ve got to get myself under control.

I clear my throat. “There are benefits to being a shifter.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Being able to eat this much, for one. You’ll need to bring extra food with you when you go to shift.”

“Where would I go? Wouldn’t I just run out here?” She nods to the wash.

“In an pinch, yes. But be careful. People around here like to shoot coyotes, even though it’s illegal. In the dark, your fox could be mistaken for a small one.”

“All right.” Her forehead wrinkles.

“You have to let your fox out once in a while. Once a month at least. Otherwise… well, it might be different than for wolves. But it helps you maintain balance.” My voice holds an echo of my father’s words, teaching me our way of life at the kitchen table. “It’s important to take care of your animal. Feed her meat, let her out to run.”

“It’s like I’m a dog.”

“You are. A wild dog.”

“So you… run regularly? Where?”

“The Catalina mountains. But also A Mountain, in a pinch.” A Mountain is the small peak near downtown painted with a large letter A for the University of Arizona. It’s where Garrett shifted and ran off on his date with Amber the day before yesterday.

I bite back my offer to have her come on a moon run with the pack. “You might be able to get away with some midnight runs out along this wash. But a better choice is a wildlife preserve, somewhere that bans hunters. Even then, you have to be careful.” I cut myself off before I scare her. But I’m worried. Poachers, other animals, shifters, anyone who sees a pretty fox and decides they want her. Especially another wolf. My wolf is rabid at the thought of another male sniffing around her.

I stand and clear the breakfast dishes. Foxfire stays zoned out. Maybe she’s in a meat coma. She’s never sat so still for so long.

My wolf insists we go and comfort her. But it’s better she doesn’t come to rely on me too much. She needs her own kind. A fox den, maybe a mate.

My fingers curl into the countertop. I release it before I leave an imprint.

Not a mate, my wolf growls. Not anyone but me.

I check my phone. No messages. Something’s wrong. But Garrett told me to watch Foxfire, so that’s what I’m going to do. Even if I now have my own reasons.

My dad wouldn’t approve. But who else is going to take care of her?

I approach the table, and Foxfire startles. Her big eyes snap to mine. Wide, dreamy. Sweet face, Loony Tunes hair. She’s so small and, deep down, submissive. No wonder her fox stayed dormant for so many years.

“Come on,” I rap the table in front of her. She jumps but doesn’t move. “Time to get up. Face the day.”

“Are we going somewhere?” She arches an eyebrow.

“You need to act normal. Do whatever you do on a Sunday.”

“Normally, I’m not under house arrest.”

The bluster, it’s an act. She’s too smart for her own good. And she’s been alone too long, without anyone to watch out for her.

My wolf wants to give her everything she needs.

“I guess I’ll take a shower.” She scoots out of her chair. “Maybe then I’ll feel normal. Human.”

She pushes past me, and I ignore her disrespect. She’s acting out because she’s scared. And I’m not her pack leader.

I grew up knowing I was a shifter. Expecting it. Meeting my wolf was a beautiful thing, a rite of passage. I felt powerful.

Foxfire emerges from the bathroom, clean and glowing. Her hair falls in soft rings around her pixie-like face. She struts out in cut-off shorts and a tight top, cleavage popping.

“Oh no.” I stand. “You need to change.”

“Why?” she shoots back, pretending to be oblivious to her body’s effect on me. “We’re staying here all day, right?”

“Just… put on some clothes.” I don’t need the temptation.

She puts her hands on her hips. “What’s your problem with these?”

I grit my teeth. My problem is my dick is hard enough to punch through a door. I’d send her to her room for the day, but I don’t trust myself.

“Just change.”

“Sure.” She shrugs and strips off her shirt. It falls to the floor between us.

“Foxfire,” I growl.

“You want me to change, Daddy Pops? I’m changing.” She shoots me a lethal smile. Sweet as strychnine.

“Don’t push me, baby,” I growl. “I warned you what would happen.”

“Mmm.” She twirls a rainbow curl around one finger. “You’ve made a lot of threats. I have yet to see you carry through with any of them.”

Fates help us both. She has no idea what I want to do with that hot little body of hers. And it starts with showing her who’s boss. In more ways than one.

“Okay, baby. Let’s do this.” I lean down and pick up her shirt and toss it at her. “Bedroom, now.”

She smirks and waltzes in that direction.

I fully planned on insisting she get dressed and having a sit-down discussion about dominant animals and her required submission.

Instead, I snag her wrist and spin her to face the wall. I press her small hand beneath mine against the textured plaster, pick up the other, and add it to my collection. She’s still topless, and now I have the world’s best top view of her cleavage. Heaving cleavage. Because she’s definitely excited by my little show of who’s boss.

I pin both her wrists against the wall with one hand and squeeze her breast roughly with the other. My open mouth finds the column of her neck. “You need to understand something, little fox. In a pack, there are rules.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t pack.” There’s a hurt quality to her voice that makes my wolf whine.

“Shifters, then. Either way, you need to know the limits on your behavior.”

“If I misbehave I’ll get groped by a hot wolf?” she suggests hopefully.

I suppress a laugh. “I mean it. Following the rules can save your life.” She doesn’t understand how dangerous this world is, and that’s the part that has my wolf going nuts.

“Okay.”

I release her breast and rest my palm on her ass. “Your actions have consequences. Shifters who step out of line are punished.”

“You gonna ground me?” Her voice is pure sex, husky.

“Mm, no,” I rumble in her ear. I work the button on her short-shorts with my free hand and tug them until they drop to the floor. “I take a more hands-on approach.”

She waggles her ass in a clear invitation.

Fates, I want to take this so much farther than I’m going to. I have images flashing in my brain of stripping her completely naked and pounding her hard from behind.

Instead, I bring my palm down on her panty-clad ass.

“Ooh!” She jumps.

Did I spank her too hard?

I crane my neck to see her face. She’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed with color, eyes glazed.

She likes it.

I smack her cute ass again. And again.

And then the goddamn doorbell rings.

~.~

Foxfire

Tank goes rigid. He releases me in a flash and yanks my top over my head. Motioning for me to stay put, he heads to the door.

So, of course, I yank on my jean shorts and follow him. He stops in the hall.

“It’s a man,” he says softly. “I can smell him.”

I wrinkle my nose. I can’t smell anything that specific yet. “It’s probably Benny. He’s supposed to come by to get his stuff.”

He catches my arm. “Are you going to be cool?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to run now. You’re the only one telling me I’m not crazy.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Har har. I’ll be right back. Stay out of sight.” I wave Tank into the kitchen, and he goes, face stony.

Should I flaunt my ex in front of him? He went nuts over my Daisy Dukes.

The doorbell goes again.

“Coming,” I sing and open the door.

It’s not Benny but a guy wearing a trench coat. It’s still early on a Sunday morning, and my neighborhood is pretty quiet. We don’t usually get solicitors.

“Can I help you?”

“Foxfire Hines?”

“That’s me,” I chirp. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” The man pulls his hand from his pocket and points a gun at me.

~.~

Tank

I smell the gun before Foxfire’s fear hits me, bitter and potent. My wolf snarls.

I pad through her “grow light room.” Maybe I can move fast enough to get to him before he sees what’s coming.

My lips curl back. My wolf is ready to hunt.

“What the fuck is this about?” My rainbow-haired pixie puts her hands on her hips. I groan No, Foxfire. Behave.

“Just get inside, sweetheart. We’ll talk it over.”

“Who are you?” she demands. “Who sent you?”

What is it about her that makes her bluster in the face of danger? Now is not the fucking time. Does she think the gun is a toy?

I want to smack her ass all over again.

The man pushes inside, and she trips and falls with a soft cry.

I see red. Five seconds later, the thug is on the floor at my feet. I kick the gun away.

“Foxfire. Shut the door.”

She scrambles to obey.

The man is unconscious. Considering how hard I hit him, he’ll probably be out for a while. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I still might.

I use a blanket to grab the gun, and then I wrench it open, emptying the chamber.

Unmarked. Street gun. Mine, now. My wolf snarls. I focus on the gun to keep my wolf from tearing the man apart.

“Duct tape in my bag,” I tell her. She nods and rushes to get it. I tie the man and cover his mouth.

Foxfire is pale and trembling. I take a deep breath and get my rage under control. Ripping this man limb from limb won’t solve anything, and will terrify her.

“Come here.” I open my arms. She dashes to them. Her body is so tiny. I swing her up and carry her to the couch, where I can comfort her and keep my eyes on the thug.

“What does he want?” Foxfire shudders.

“I don’t know, baby,” I nuzzle her throat. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s in my arms. Foxfire and her crazy hair. I use a fistful to tug her head back, gently, and take her mouth. She tastes like melon and strawberries, sugar and spice, and everything Foxfire.

My lips stroke over hers, despite the man unconscious on the floor. She’s mine. Her nipples pebble against the thin shirt, and I’m about to lay her down and claim her. When I back off, she’s got stars in her eyes. I put them there. My wolf is satisfied.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell her.

She stares at me, wide-eyed. “What are we going to do with him?”

Normally I’d make a few calls. But this job has morphed into something no one expected. “I’ll figure it out. I’m going to make sure he’s not a danger to us, and try to get some answers. Can you go into your room and work for a while?”

“Yeah. Um, Tank? Can I use your phone, to check my messages?”

“Sure, baby.”

Once she’s gone, I kneel down next to the thug. He has the look of an ex-fighter, rough hands, beefy strength, belly gone a little soft. A local muscle-for-hire. Not too bright. He should’ve come with backup. But he was thinking he’d shake down a small, unarmed woman. He didn’t expect me.

I step into kitchen for a moment while my wolf rages.

Foxfire. Fuck. She could’ve been killed. Or-

“Tank!”

I spin around as she hustles toward me. Something’s wrong. Her face is even paler than it was. Her eyes wide and frantic.

“I think I know who he is. We need to go, now.” She whirls and starts for the door. I catch her, holding her still when she struggles.

“Tell me, baby. What’s wrong?”

She holds up my phone. “My mom called. She’s in trouble.”

~.~

Foxfire

“Listen to this.” I jab the phone at Tank.

“Foxfire?” My mom’s voice comes over speaker. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m in a bit of trouble and had to throw away my phone. There might be some men who come asking after me. Just tell them I’ll get the payment when I can. Stay safe, sweetie.”

Tank plays the message again while I bite my lip. “Sounds like she owes the wrong people money.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I hiss. His face turns to stone, and I remember how wolves don’t like to be challenged. Well, tough. This is my mom we’re talking about. “She left me a message last night, but I didn’t get it because you killed my phone. Dammit! This is your fault!”

He rubs his jaw. “I’m sorry for that. I really am. And I get you’re mad, but dial back the challenge, baby, or my wolf will feel like he has to remind you who’s in charge here.”

The very recent memory of what form that reminder will come in rises up, a shimmering temptation. But now is not the time. “Whatever.” I fold my arms over my chest.

Yeah, he just gave me the best kiss of my life and punched out a gunman to save me.

Whatever. I’m still pissed.

“I need to go,” I tell him.

“Go where?”

“Go help her! I need to fix this.”