Alpha Contender Boxed Set: BWWM Paranormal shifter romance BBW Page 5

  “Well, I suppose so. But you have your own kind of beauty, you know? I just think you should know that before going into this.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Don’t believe me?”

  I snort. “I think you have reasons of your own for saying that to me. Or maybe Rowan has reasons…”

  “Are you this suspicious of everyone? Why did you even go with Rowan then?”

  I stop, straightening. “I guess I didn’t have anything I was leaving behind, and it sounded interesting.”

  “Bullshit. You’re not stupid, misty. You went because you trusted him. You could sense it. Just like you can sense that you can trust me.”

  I frown and prop one hip on the counter so I can study him while resting. I don’t really feel trust. I mean, I sort of want to trust him and I know when I’m worried, his face comes to mind. Maybe because I’ve interacted with him more than anyone else since I came with Rowan.

  But there’s something else about him. An attraction that feels almost dangerous. I feel like if I don’t watch my heart I could lose it to this beautiful, wounded man who doesn’t even want it.

  And there are apparently others who do want it.

  “Do you want help picking an outfit?” he asks.

  My heart sinks. After all that talk about being myself, he’s trying to make me over after all. Boo.

  “I want to make sure it’s nothing too seductive, too revealing.”

  My mouth quirks up at that. “Not too revealing?” I ask.

  “Oh no,” he says. “No, I can see what’s going on in that devious little brain of yours. Remember, Misty. It’s my ass on the line if one of these guys gets out of line, so…”

  “So all the more reason not to worry about what I wear, since I’ll know you’ll be there to ‘protect’ me,” I say, knowing I sound like a brat.

  But it’s cute to see him flustered. He’s always so cold, aloof. He gathers his composure and manages to merely look coldly angry. “Misty…be appropriate.”

  “Hmph.”

  “I thought you were going to start listening to me.”

  “Says you,” I retort. “Look, I’ll take care of myself okay.”

  He sighs and puts a palm up to his face. “What do I need to do to get you to trust me?” He removes his hand and looks at me earnestly. Honest, like he was that night in my room when I first got the hottie calendar. “I told my dad I would help you, and I owe him everything, so I’m going to do it. Please don’t make it hard on me.”

  I blink, biting my lip as unbidden tears sting my eyes. I blink them away and dab with a tissue, hoping he thinks it’s just my makeup. Don’t make things hard for people, Misty. Don’t be a burden, Misty. Why don’t you just disappear. I hate words like that. Words I’ve been repeating inside myself for a long time.

  It’s not going to be like that anymore. I’m going to be in the way if I want to.

  “Are you okay?” he’s there in a second, one hand gently lifting my chin, the other deftly wiping away any trace of tears with his thumb. “What did I say?”

  “It’s not you,” I say, sniffling. “Just my issues. All my life I tried to just accept less. I tried to just be okay with whatever wouldn’t trouble anyone. But inside, I wanted more. I’ve always wanted more.” I let my shame shine out of my eyes and see comprehension dawn in his eyes. And maybe a little warmth, though I could be hallucinating.

  “Wanting more, huh?” He releases my face slowly, but stays close to me. “I thought life was good for you in the human world. With your family at least.”

  I bite my lip and turn away jerkily. It was good enough. It was more than I deserved. I was happy. I told myself I was.

  And now I don’t have to live inside the confines of what someone else thinks is good for me. Even if that someone is Lindon.

  “I’m sorry I made it sound like you were a burden,” he says. “That must have been hard for you, as an orphan.”

  I nod, but I’m already busy putting my hair this way and that again. A sweep of pain that is gone already. The world is what it is, and I’m going to meet hot guys soon.

  And that will make it okay that there’s a hot, understanding man right here that acts protective and possessive and doesn’t want me at all.

  “And I promise, no ulterior motives. I’m never going to fall in love with you, Misty. You’ll have at least one person you can always count on as just a friend.”

  I feel like someone just tossed a bucket of ice water on my vagina. Thanks Lindon, you beautiful bastard.

  The doorbell rings and Lindon flips his wrist up to check the time on a sparkling steel time piece. “A little early, but we should probably let them in. Are you ready?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Let me get changed.”

  He nods. “Sure, I’ll see you downstairs.”

  I walk down the hall to my bedroom, go straight to my dresser and pull out the sexiest shirt I have. A long tee shirt in silky, body skimming material that glides over my curves, outlining their shape but not making me self conscious. It has a deep v in the front and I tighten my bra straps to make extra cleavage show in front.

  Damn, if nothing else, I have great boobs. And I’m going to let that thought sustain me while I try to be brave about meeting a bunch of men that are just like all of the men who have hurt me throughout my life.

  I have to, if I’m ever going to get over this pet crush on Lindon. I sigh and pull the v neck down a little in front, pull my hair out of the ponytail, and after one last look in the full body mirror that convinces me I’m a curvy vixen, I’m ready to go downstairs.

  Watch out Lindon, here I come.

  * * *

  This was a mistake. Even as Lindon lets in the first male, I want to run back upstairs and change my clothes. Lindon’s eyes keep flashing to my cleavage disdainfully the shifter in front of me flatters and stutters, shaking my hand as his eyes molest my chest.

  His name is Bradley. He smells good. Not as good as Jack, nor is he as tall. But he’s nice, pleasant. His hair is a light brownish red, softly combed to one side, and he’s wearing a light linen shirt over jeans. Casual and fresh. Someone you’d bring home to mom, if you had one. Like all shifters so far, great features and skin. He looks a little like someone who’d be in a boy band ten years ago, with a boyish face and a rakish smile and soft hands. He may be an inch or two shorter than Jack or Lindon but he towers over my rather short height.

  Lindon clears his throat and looks pointedly at my hand, which the guy is still holding. “Bradley.”

  “Right, sorry Lindon.”

  I smile at him as he releases me and we go into the living room to wait for the others.

  Both men keep darting eyes at my body, my cleavage, and I can tell from the glow in Bradley’s eyes that even if he was here for the money, he’s staying for the sex. He actually wets his lips and doesn’t hear Lindon ask him how his pack is doing and has to raise his head and nod, pretending he did.

  I smile. I guess a part of me is happy to feel attractive. Another part is starting to see the wolf inside the men. Bradley may have a pretty boy face, but those eyes darting over me as if he could eat me alive are all animal. I squirm and Lindon sits beside me, leaning forward to intercept Bradley’s gaze.

  Whew. They talk about Bradley’s family and I flip through the hottie catalogue, wondering who will be next. The door knocks and Lindon sends me a glance that says he’s getting it and to stay there. When he gets up, Bradley takes his seat, the sudden movement making me take in a little gasp.

  “Misty, I wanted to say…” Bradley says.

  “Shove it, Bradley,” Lindon says. “Misty, you take the armchair so you can see everyone when they introduce themselves.”

  His eyes flick to mine and there’s something in them that’s different. His gaze drops to my cleavage, then back to my eyes in irritation.

  Ah, so that’s it. Maybe Mr. Lindon isn’t impervious after all? Bradley puts his hand on my arm to get my attention and Lindon’s quick in
take of breath has him pulling back instantly, giving me an apologetic glance as I get up to move to my chair.

  Is Lindon…no way it’s possible…but he seems almost…jealous.

  Hm.

  Lindon opens the door and another man comes in. He’s medium height and solidly muscled, with a square face and large, striking dark eyes that match his ink black hair that is shaggy and falls over his forehead and ears and down around his collar. Sort of like a typical bad boy hero from an 80’s movie. He pushes past Lindon and searches the room with hungry eyes until his gaze comes to rest on me. Then he smiles, and those intense eyes glow like a falcon spotting its prey. He starts forward, but Bradley stands and comes between us and Lindon grabs his arm, hauling him back easily.

  The shifter smiles, whips black hair off his forehead and says something to Lindon I don’t hear. Lindon says something back, calm and factual. Meanwhile I blush as the new guy sweeps his eyes over me, a hot, sensual gaze that says just how much he appreciates my frame.

  He breaks out of Lindon’s hold and goes to sit on the couch across from me. Bradley joins him, seemingly mollified. The new guy is wearing a leather jacket and he takes it off and puts it sloppily over the side of the couch, and goes on leering at me. He’s wearing a tee shirt and his upper arms are covered in tattoos.

  Even though I should find his overt, objectifying attention grating, I don’t. His arrogant, blatant appraisal of my breasts doesn’t negate the fact that he has great hair, hair that makes you think of riding on a back of a motorcycle. Hair a woman could hold onto during sex.

  “I’m Asher,” he says. “And you’re going to mate me.”

  I blush. “I’m misty.”

  “I like that blush,” he says. “Can’t wait to see it full-body.”

  My jaw drops and Lindon lets out a long suffering sigh. “What did I tell you, Misty?”

  Asher just shrugs and settles into the couch, as if having said his piece he’s now content to just wait for the games to begin.

  The doorbell rings again. This time it’s the twins.

  Even more gorgeous than their photo, but as they come and introduce themselves to me and the guys, I can start to see differences that weren’t apparently in photos. One has multiple earrings in one ear, and his dark auburn hair is soft and feathered around his gorgeous, exotic looking face. The other has short, butch hair, no piercings, and seems much more serious compared to his twin, who is shaking hands with Lindon and apologizing for being late.

  The more serious twin watches me, eyes slowing sweeping up and down, and the smallest hint of a smile quirks one side of his mouth. The twins have beautiful, full lips. Wide, almond eyes that are an amber brown, and tanned skin that looks exotic with their dark auburn hair.

  The friendlier one with longer hair and piercings is wearing a leather jacket with fringe and I notice for the first time he has a motorcycle helmet under his arm. Is this the real bad boy in the room?

  No, I think, shivering as my gaze switches to the other twin, who is folding his arms and looking at me with that intense amber brown gaze. He’s wearing a simple black tee shirt and distressed, dark jeans that fit powerfully sculpted legs. And he can’t stop watching my breasts.

  Maybe this is the bad boy.

  His long haired twin grins and throws an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, Thor. Introduce yourself to the lady.”

  “I’m Thor.”

  I swallow at the name. “I thought it was Thornton,” I say.

  “Too bad,” he mutters. “It’s Thor.”

  The other twin smiles apologetically and rubs his hand over his neck as Thor takes a seat between Bradley and Asher. “I’m afraid we rather let Thor do whatever Thor wants. My name’s Lachlan, by the way. But you can call me Lock, everyone does.”

  I meet his eyes and we share a warm, sympathetic look. I can tell Lock and I are going to get along fine.

  I put him down on my list as the top contender so far. When he takes off his leather jacket, he’s wearing a loose fitting v-neck tee shirt and I’m happy to see that his body is every bit as fit and muscled as his more severe looking twin’s.

  Thor has the short hair and the grumpy face. Lock has the longer hair and the piercings and the killer smile. Got it.

  The doorbell rings again. This sort of feels like the marathon version of a blind date. And the room feels like it’s heating up. I can feel scents mingling, making me feel a little light headed, but nothing too severe so far. Nothing as bad as being close to Lindon that time in the kitchen where he unleashed it all on me.

  But each of these men have to be the most beautiful I’ve ever seen in my life, and I have to resist literally licking my lips as I look around the room.

  This time, the man at the door is short and blond, barely coming to Lindon’s chest. He’s young, definitely younger than me, but still a good deal taller than me despite being shorter than the other men.

  He looks like he’s maybe in his early twenties, but he has the bearing of a prince, ignoring Lindon and coming into the room to scan us all haughtily as if we’re beneath him.

  “Ah, nice to see you, Shortstack,” Lock says, giving him a friendly grin.

  The blond man’s features contort, and then he flies into a rage. “Don’t call me that! Don’t you dare! I’ll tell my dad! I’ll—”

  Thor rises up at the smallest sign of aggression, catching the twerp by the collar and heaving him into the air. “Tell your dad what?” he asks.

  The man, boy really, clutches at his collar and glares ominously at the man holding him. “Tell him you weren’t respecting me and—”

  Thor hauls him up higher, and I can see Thor’s impressive arm muscles tensing as the kid struggles. “You aren’t making me want to put you down right now.”

  The kid kicks out, catching the guy in the leg.

  “Thor, put him down,” I say, not wanting to see anyone bullied. Thor drops him immediately, but sends me a resentful look, like I’ve betrayed him. He drops down next to Lock and glares at the kid and me intermittently.

  The kid brushes off his collar and turns to face me with icy disdain.

  “How old are you?” I can’t help asking.

  He opens his mouth but Lock answers. “Twenty-five going on fifteen.”

  The kid turns to him, fire in his eyes, but then remembers I’m the one who asked the question.

  He gives me another haughty glare, and then allows his eyes to wander over my body, lingering for a prolonged moment on the boobs (at least all the guys seem to agree with my appraisal of my boobs) and then a sneer curls his face. “My age shouldn’t matter to you, human. Unlike the others, I’m not here to slobber over a mate.”

  Hm, just to slobber over my boobs then.

  “Why are you here then?” Bradley says. Even he seems to resent the newcomer.

  “My name is Matthew,” he says, ignoring Bradley and facing me. “And my father is head of the Tribunal.”

  Ah, that ruling thing. Lindon rubs his temples like he’s getting a migraine. I don’t blame him. They’re all gorgeous, but I wasn’t expecting such an array of odd personalities. I guess I should have known, based on meeting Rowan and Lindon and what characters they are.

  Matthew has blue eyes and dark blond hair and elven features that look more like a goblin when he’s attacking or spitting mad. His nose is slightly upturned and his lower lip is pouty. His eyes are large and almost feminine.

  “Matthew just has good genes,” Lindon cuts in from his place at the door. “He only looks like a kid. And he’s lying if he says he’s here for any reason other than to spy for his father.”

  “That’s exactly what I was about to say. I’m here to make sure none of you nitwits break any ru—”

  Thor makes a loud yawn and makes a big show of covering it with his hands and little titters of laughter come from the other guys. Matthew gives me a resentful stare, as if this is my fault, and then removes his jacket to reveal a sweater underneath not unlike what Lindon often likes to
wear.

  A smaller, girlier, meaner Lindon. Fun.

  I try to ignore his resentful gaze until the doorbell rings, rescuing me from the stares of everyone in the room.

  The men are talking amongst themselves, catching up, throwing me glances, leering at me with promises in their eyes that make me squirm in my chair as Lindon lets the next guy in.

  He’s tall, maybe the tallest so far, with hair below his shoulders that’s shiny and blond and something from a Pantene commercial. He sweeps it back as he glides into the room. He’s wearing a thin white tee shirt that compliments his lean figure and designer jeans that flare out slightly at the bottom. He looks like an androgynous runway model.

  He comes over and takes a knee gracefully in front of me, bows over my hand, and then looks up through that veil of hair with shimmering, purple eyes. His face is pale, nearly colorless, but beautiful.

  I look down at him, in shock at what I’m seeing. I guess with all of the selective breeding with shifters some really beautiful, weird things have happened.

  He kisses my hand, sending a tingle through me. His scent is like lavender. Like having sex on lavender.

  He studies my face with earnest eyes. “I’m beautiful, aren’t I?”

  Lindon bursts out laughing and I nearly fall off my chair. The new guy stands, sweeping his hair back again and walking into the kitchen to get a chair, presumably so he doesn’t have to sit with the others.

  “I’m Fifi,” he says, looking off into the distance like we’re all irrelevant. “And unfortunately, I’m probably too beautiful for you.”

  Thor leans forward, face in hands, and mutters something about not knowing that nut job would be here.

  Lock laughs out loud, and Bradley and Asher trade glances and then slump in their spots as if they just want to get this over with and get up to their rooms.

  The doorbell rings again, this time it’s Jack. He flashes a smile at me. Dark hair curling over his forehead, jade eyes just as beautiful as I remember. A darker, rougher version of Lindon’s genes. Like his features were carved with a little blunter tool. Tall and built and confident.