Alpha Unleashed Read online

  Her womb pulsed at the thought, then he inhaled again. God, she’d never tire of watching his chest broaden like that. And then he began to wash. Face first as he leaned back out of the spray. He covered his head in lather, including his hair. With it cut so short, he didn’t really need shampoo. She watched the play of his muscles as he moved. Who had biceps that large? Or an abdomen so flat?

  Then he tilted forward, and the white foam slid off him like melted ice cream washed away. She wanted to lick it and him, though she told herself sternly that was gross. Didn’t seem to matter to her libido. And damn it, with the shower curtain wide open, he was getting water all over the floor—and her pants—but she didn’t care. Couldn’t move. Not as he started soaping up his arms and chest next.

  She watched, her mouth dry, her eyes unblinking. She didn’t want to miss a second of this display. When he rubbed the soap over his chest, her nipples tightened unbearably. And that was nothing compared to when he lifted his legs—one by one—to lather every sweet inch.

  She even watched when he cleaned his dick. He didn’t take any special time with it; was efficient as he rubbed and pulled. But God, what she wouldn’t give to do that for him. And extra slow. Especially when he soaped up his ass.

  He couldn’t reach his back. He tried anyway, rubbing across his shoulders, stretching up behind. And when he turned around to face away from the spray, she got splashed from the movement. Droplets on her face and arms. She might have gasped. She might not. Either way, he abruptly stilled while the water pelted his back.

  She froze, her breath trapped in her lungs. Hell, what if he knew she was there? She’d be mortified! But she couldn’t turn tail and run now. He’d hear her and know for sure. So she had to remain still and pray, pray, pray that he didn’t look her way. It was a losing gambit. Eventually he was going to finish, and she had no idea what she’d do then. But for now, she was frozen in indecision and lust.

  Fortunately, he didn’t look her way. He stood there while the soapsuds slicked down his body. And together, they breathed deep the misty scent of Irish Spring. Then, three breaths later, she saw his erection. Oh wow.

  Right there in profile, his dick thickened until it was high and proud.

  Her gaze shot to his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady and even. And while she was looking at his face, his hand moved. Oh God. He was touching himself. More than touching, he’d begun a slow, steady stroke.

  Seriously? He was jerking off now? She was appalled and intrigued, and a thousand other things. But mostly she was panicked. She couldn’t watch. It was depraved.

  And yet, she did. She watched as he stroked himself, fisting his impressive penis in a large, soapy hand. His tempo was steady, his breathing barely discernible, but growing faster. She watched as his ass tightened with tiny thrusts. Flex, flex, flex—all as he punched into his fist.

  This was exactly how she’d imagined he made love, how she’d fantasized his thrusts inside her would be. Steady and thick. Her belly began to contract in time with him. Her heart beat faster and faster as her breath grew short. And she stared transfixed at the curl of his fist as she imagined herself spread wide as he did that to her.

  The head of his penis peaked out above his fist. It grew darker, a reddish purple that fascinated her. But no more so than the rhythmic way that he worked himself. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Like a metronome.

  His nostrils flared and his breath grew louder. Hers caught as her body flushed hot.

  His jaw clenched and his belly seemed to ripple. Hers did, too, a perfect mirror.

  Faster. A little faster.

  Her toes curled into her shoes and she ached, wanting the finish.

  A grunt. Guttural and yet still triumphant.

  White shot from his tip. It mixed with the shower spray and the wet on the tiles.

  She wanted it, too. She wanted that finish, but it didn’t come. Not for her. Not from watching.

  He opened his hand and his penis bobbed before him, dark red and still proudly erect.

  And he stood there while the water washed the evidence away while she throbbed from nipples to core. She’d never seen anything so raw before. Or so beautiful. A perfect body erupting in the most primal of ways. There’d been power and steady determination in the act. No wild jerks, no exultant crowing like a horny boy.

  He was all man and she would remember the sight until the day she died.

  And then he turned his head. He turned with his green eyes open and looked straight at her.

  She stood, pinned in place. What did she say? What could she do?

  He smiled. A slow curve that was arrogant and all male. That look told her he’d known she was there the whole time. He’d been aware of her from the very first moment and that show—that gorgeous erotic display—had been all for her.

  That thought rocked her like nothing else. It made her core spasm once hard in the only near-orgasm she would get from this. She was embarrassed, and yet she was also flushed with hunger. She remained poised on her tiptoes, wondering if she could strip down now? Did she dare live out her fantasy? If she asked, would he put her against the wall like she imagined and do that again inside her?

  “Closet in the hall,” he said. His voice was thick, but the words were clear. The meaning anything but.

  “What?”

  “The towels,” he said. “Closet in the hall.”

  Oh. Right.

  So no enacting the fantasy.

  She spun on her heel and fled.

  Chapter 3

  Simon smirked as he cut off the shower and stood to drip dry. Normally he’d have ordered her out of the bathroom the moment he’d stepped into the tub. But the animal inside him was too close to the surface. It had reveled in the lust that had scented the air. It had smelled her attraction the moment she’d stepped into his home. Why else would he stand buck naked in the middle of his kitchen while arguing with her?

  So he had let her watch while the water had brought his human body back online. Heat, wet, the feel of the lather on skin without fur. It had taken a while, but he had touched every inch of his body to remember his own dimensions.

  And while his mind reacquainted itself with his body, the animal had smelled Alyssa’s spicy scent and gloried in showing off his sexual prowess. His loins had thickened and her musk mixed with the steam while he proved his fitness to mate. He’d stroked himself and imagined it was her hand, her lips, her honey that slicked his penis. The orgasm that shot through him had been blindingly intense. His vision had whited out while his body consumed itself with his fantasy of seeding his child in her belly.

  When it was done, the man in him had been shocked. The animal had preened. And both had wanted to see Alyssa’s reaction.

  Flushed cheeks, taut nipples, and eyes that were half dazed, half terrified. That was the sight of a female considering a mate. But then she’d gasped and fled the room. The animal had wanted to leap after her because she was slow and he could overpower her. But the man in him knew human females were different and such a thing was wrong.

  So he stood still and let the squabble between animal and man continue in his mind. He knew in this body the man would always win though, damn, it was taking a while.

  Suddenly a dark blue towel flew into the room to land drunkenly on the covered toilet.

  “Ten minutes,” Alyssa snapped in a crisp, authoritarian tone. “We’ll get burgers on the way.”

  Years ago, he’d jumped whenever a sergeant had barked in that tone of voice. Coming from Alyssa, the sound only made him smile.

  No point in arguing with her. She couldn’t force him to do what she wanted. And he had a system when coming back from weeks as a bear. A process developed as a teen when he’d spent summers in the UP. The return-to-human protocol eased him back safely. And though he’d never been bear for months at a time before, he hoped that the reintegration process would be the same.

  He grabbed the towel and began to once again log the sensations of his human bo
dy. Fabric rough on skin. The prickle of cold air on wet hair. The flex and strain of remaining upright and balanced on two feet without claws. All these things were being revisited and cataloged in his mind. He was human. He was a man.

  The animal slunk back into a corner of his consciousness, sat down with a humph, and sulked. He could even feel the heavy thump of the creature’s rear end on the floor of his mind. In time, it would drop its head down onto front paws and snuffle in a pouting doze. It was the way of things with his bear, and he mentally tried to shut the door on the bear’s cage.

  It didn’t close. Not yet. The grizzly was too large to be tucked away so easily. Especially since he had so brazenly demonstrated his prowess to the female just a moment ago. But it would happen in time. Assuming he strictly followed the protocol.

  So he hung up his towel to dry and walked upright to his bedroom to get dressed. He went straight to his dresser and opened the first drawer. Tight briefs because humans wore underwear. He pulled them on. Jeans in the next drawer. Loose as he dragged them up over his hips. He had to think how to zip and button, but his fingers found the pattern. Then he stopped to remember what next.

  Footwear? Jacket?

  His hands opened the third drawer and pulled on an army tee, olive drab. Drawer four had socks. He had to sit down to pull them on, so he bent his knees and dropped onto his bed. A puff of dust blew up from the comforter, and he wrinkled his nose at the odor. He would have to remember to clean the bedding, but that wasn’t next on his list. He pulled on his socks. Then when he looked up, he saw his boots set almost exactly in his eye line.

  He grabbed them, then jerked them on. Now it was time to tie laces. This, too, he mastered with alacrity, but it was still a reminder that he had to move steadily through his system or find himself hopelessly lost later on.

  He was staring at his boots and trying to remember the next step when Alyssa appeared in his bedroom door. “You’re dressed. Good. We need to leave now. It’s already going to be late when we arrive.”

  He turned his head, his gaze now able to see details that his animal mind could not. His bear had labeled her beautiful in that she had sturdy bones and smelled healthy. Now he saw that in human terms she had curves that were functional rather than fashionable. Breasts restrained under an athletic bra, jeans that were loose enough to be comfortable and hide what was likely to be strong, shapely legs. Her mocha skin was creamy like a perfect cup of coffee with milk. Her face had nice eyes and full lips, both without makeup. And her ears held tiny gold studs as her only nod to female vanity because her hair was downright severe in the way it was pulled back from her face in a tight bun. This woman didn’t even allow a ponytail.

  He liked that kind of efficiency, he realized. It spoke of an ordered mind. Except when she spoke, her voice held all the temper of his long-ago sergeant.

  “Stand up. Walk to my car. We’re leaving.”

  “You remember me from when I visited with Vic two years ago.” A statement, not a question.

  Her brows narrowed slightly. “Yes. Why?”

  “You tried to order me around then. Did it work?”

  Her mouth tightened. “No.”

  “But you think it will now.”

  She grimaced. “It did for a moment there. Back in the kitchen.”

  “When I was vulnerable.”

  “When you were confused after just being shot. And turning back into…into…”

  “A man.”

  “Yes.”

  He narrowed his eyes until he saw just her eyes. “It will not work now.”

  She winced. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

  “I control this territory. As a bear or a man, I control it. You cannot win here.”

  He held her gaze until her eyes dipped in submission. And at that moment, he felt both human and bear ease inside his mind. The man knew it was an illusion. Dominance, control, even leadership could be stripped away in a moment. And then where was the animal’s prowess? The man’s control? Gone.

  A memory flickered in his mind: the reason he had run to the UP and become a bear for ten months. It was because of his need for control. The man knew it to be impossible lie. No one controlled everything. But the bear lived in ignorance. And so he had escaped to the only place where he could believe in his own dominance.

  Except now she was here. She forced him back into that uncertain reality where he could not always win. Snowstorms whipped up early. Secrets got out. And commanding officers bounced his ass out of the military.

  His gaze dropped to his boots, both hating and loving the familiar feel. Military-issue boots for a man who no longer commanded.

  “Okay,” Alyssa said, her voice gentle. “What’s next on the protocol?”

  He didn’t have an answer. Not until he looked up from his boots and saw something metal on his dresser. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now it seemed to call him.

  Computer. And beside it, his phone.

  “I need to turn on my computer.”

  “You can do that in the car.”

  He ignored her. But just as he reached for his laptop, a folded brochure slipped to the floor. His gaze followed it.

  A flyer for pizza.

  His stomach rumbled. He was always hungry after a shift. Either from bear to man or the reverse, food was always a need.

  “I should order pizza.” He had no real desire for the food. In fact, the picture on the flyer was unappetizing. But it was the next step on his list. That’s why it had been set there at eye level after he put on his boots.

  “Burgers are faster.” Alyssa said as she stepped farther into the room. “And burgers have more meat.”

  He was holding the flyer trying to make sense of the tiny rows of words. Damn it. It would take him a bit to remember how to read. The knowledge made him impatient and his words curt.

  “That’s not protocol.”

  He was staring at the words, willing them to make sense. Come on. Come on. Read, damn it!

  Then suddenly a brown hand appeared over the text and gently pushed the flyer away. His gaze shot up to hers, anger churning. It was his bear, pouring other resentments into a growl, and her eyes widened at the sound. But she didn’t back away. Though fear spiked in her scent, she held her gaze steady.

  “You’re not in the army anymore. Food isn’t protocol. You’re getting hangry.”

  Hell. Now he wasn’t hearing right. “Hangry” wasn’t a word, was it? And the confusion had his bear rearing up inside him, ready for a fight. He held it back with a mental glare and tried again to slam the cage door. No go. But the beast didn’t surge forward, either.

  Which meant he had to continue his checklist until he had a better handle on his bear.

  “There is a process,” he said slowly, every word distinct. “Wash. Dry. Underwear. Jeans.” He pointed to his drawers in order. “Shirt, socks, boots.” He pulled the flyer from underneath her hand. “Read.” Then he growled, “Read!” as if he could order his brain to assimilate the symbols.

  He was looking at the paper, so he didn’t see the change in her expression. Not until she touched his cheek and forced his gaze up to hers. Her brown eyes were serious as she spoke, the tone without nuances, and for that he was grateful.

  “I can help. I can read it for you.”

  “No.” Didn’t she understand? He needed to come back to human. She couldn’t do that for him. It was a path he had to walk by himself or be trapped as neither one nor the other. Not a bear, and definitely not a whole man.

  He glared back down at the paper. Suddenly, one of the symbols made sense. “Two!” He pointed to the printed digit. “That’s the number two. Seven. Nine.” He was reading. The numbers at least.

  “Yes. That’s part of the phone number.”

  He looked up to the smaller metal thing on his dresser. “My phone.”

  She grabbed it and handed it to him. “Do you want me to dial?”

  “No.” He understood what he was doing. He could match the numbers o
n the paper and on his phone now. His fingers fumbled, but he managed it, and soon a thin female voice came through the device, barely heard because the phone remained in his palm in his lap.

  “Simon! You’re back! Want your usual?”

  He swallowed and nodded. Then he remembered to use his voice. “Yes.”

  “I’ll be out there in a half hour,” the voice answered.

  “No!” Alyssa said loudly. “We’ll pick it up.”

  A pause and then a chuckle. “Got a girl this time? That’s new.”

  It wasn’t protocol and he didn’t like it. But he didn’t have the wherewithal to argue. He never understood why communication was so easy early after a shift back to human but then seemed to abandon him as he brought other functions online. Like reading and manipulating an iPhone. Eventually it would all settle into place. The process usually took anywhere from a day to a week. But right now, he was swimming upstream.

  “I want meat,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. Fifteen minutes.”

  He thumbed off the phone. What was next on the list? His gaze rose to the device on his dresser. He pushed Alyssa aside as he stood up to grab it. She moved easily, her expression in the mirror somber.

  “Laptop is the next step in this protocol?” she asked.

  “Yes. To help with the reading.”

  “Got it. You can do it in the car.”

  He turned to look at her and saw that she arched a brow at him. That look was a challenge, clear as day and the bear in him bristled, wanting to fight because that’s what his bear did. But he was shifting back to human, so he did the opposite. He nodded and echoed her words, “I can do it in the car.”