Alpha Unleashed Read online

  “I don’t know how to help Vic,” he said, and even he heard the plaintive note in his voice. He wanted to help. He wanted to because then she might touch him again. She’d withdrawn her hand the moment he snapped at her and he cursed his temper and the frustration that lay beneath it. “I am at sea in the human world right now.”

  “So let me help.”

  And here they were full circle. He was lost and she was not a reliable guide. He stared at her a long moment, wondering what he should say. And then he saw it. It was a small tic. Something he would never have noticed except that he was watching her so closely. But the more he looked, the larger the thing seemed.

  She was breathing in quick tight pants. Like a rabbit on alert, her entire body was still, but her nostrils flared and contracted in quick succession, and it spoke of panic kept barely at bay. Her gaze might be steady, her chin lifted in defiance, but her breath told the true story.

  And oddly, the knowledge that she was frightened reassured him. So he relaxed against her car and smiled. Her brows narrowed.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “I understand now and that makes me feel more in control.”

  “You understand what? My brother?” She couldn’t disguise the note of hope in her voice.

  “No,” he said gently. “That you are afraid, though you hide it. And that tells me that you are used to being in charge, used to hiding your fear as you tell others what to do.” He dipped his chin at her. “It is the mark of a good leader.”

  “Awesome. Now—”

  “But there is a danger, too.”

  She sighed, then arched a brow. “Do tell.”

  “You act like a lieutenant in a war zone without the time off to rest. I think you are always on guard, always issuing orders, always under siege.”

  “So? This is Detroit. It’s not so bad in this neighborhood, but it’s not so great either.”

  “So how long have you fought to control everyone and everything? How long before you break?” He gestured back toward the basement without looking at it. “Things are very bad, Alyssa. You cannot manage as you always have. I think you know that.”

  “And what would you suggest I do instead?” Her voice held a heavy layer of disdain, but he ignored it.

  “I think you should act as normal people would.”

  Her laugh came out short and derisive. “I don’t do hysterics.”

  “Then what else would be normal?”

  “Booze,” she said as she slugged the last of her beer. “Brownies,” she said when she was done.

  “And babes,” he finished for her, only now realizing that she was echoing Vic’s favorite saying. He could remember dozens of times when his best friend had said just those words, just that way. And when he locked eyes with Alyssa, he felt her memory of it, too. How many times had she heard it? How many times had she harassed Vic about having no ambition in his life, no drive beyond those three things? She’d certainly done it a lot when he’d visited so long ago.

  And now they’d said it to each other and the echo of the old Vic was her undoing. Her eyes abruptly teared up, her breath that had been short, now choked off with a sob. And her shoulders that had been so strong beneath a lifted chin suddenly caved in.

  She slammed a fist against her mouth as she tried to hold back her emotions. He reacted on instinct, his grizzly surging forward before his mind even processed what was happening. A grizzly nuzzled his distressed mate. A grizzly licked her face and petted her fur. And a grizzly pressed his face to hers and purred in a gruff kind of way.

  So he did that to her. He pulled her close and stroked her hair. It was still in that tight bun, so he tugged it free and burrowed his fingers into the mass. He pressed his cheek to hers and chuffed as if the sound were perfectly normal. And he held her while she clutched his shirt and cried as if her world were crumbling.

  Her sobs came from the gut, pulled from deep inside and harsh to hear. There were no cries in those guttural sounds. No feminine keening or delicate snuffles. This was pain held deep. It was a hard knot that seemed to tear out of her and to fall on his shirt as she clutched him.

  It lasted a long time, but his grizzly was always patient. It didn’t measure time the way a man did. It only knew that the female was in pain, so he kept nuzzling and petting until the pain was gone. Until the sobs eased and her body shuddered against him.

  In time, he realized she was speaking words. Two of them repeated over and over.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  That made no sense to either man or bear, so Simon simply nuzzled her some more and let the grizzly continue chuffing as he stroked her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said one last time as her clenched body finally eased. She still gripped his shirt in two fists, but her body wasn’t jerking against him. So he stopped petting her and simply waited with her head cupped in one hand and the other resting against her back.

  Then she eased back. Barely an inch, but it was enough for her to exhale another sentence. “I’ve made a mess of your shirt.”

  “I have others.”

  She pulled back farther and her fists eased. Then she wiped her eyes with the palms of her hand. “Um, hold on.”

  She didn’t look up at him, but shoved a hand into her jeans pocket. Then she came up with her car fob. The locks clicked open and then a second later, the trunk unlatched. He moved the pan of brownies to the roof of the car before they could topple while she grabbed tissues from the backseat.

  “Your go bag,” she said from behind the Kleenex. “It’s in the trunk.”

  Right. So he could change his shirt.

  He stripped out of the wet tee, folded it into a small square, then unzipped his bag. He moved by rote, his attention fully centered on her though he did not look directly at her. She was blowing her nose and throwing the tissues away. Then she did something else in the backseat of her car, though he had no idea what.

  It was busywork. Something to do so that she would not have to look at him. He gave her the privacy to settle herself while he pulled out another T-shirt and pushed the dirty one into its place in the bag. A moment later, he straightened and pulled on the new shirt.

  But when his head emerged, it was to see her looking at him with a steady, liquid brown gaze. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, but her expression was wistful and she extended to him a bottle of water. He took it gratefully, opening it with a swift twist, and slugging half the contents. When he finished, she was still watching him. Then she lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.

  “I used to imagine what it would be like for you to hold me,” she said.

  He frowned. That was not what he’d expected her to say.

  “Surely you knew,” she continued. “I had the most horrible crush on you. Back when you visited.”

  “You are Vic’s sister. I was staying in your house. I could never make a move on you.”

  She sighed. “I know. And you have no idea how much that pissed me off.”

  He looked at her and saw nostalgia in her face. It was in the tilt of her head and the swollen fullness of her lips. “I would go to bed and imagine you kissing me. And then I’d pretend all sorts of other things until we finally fell asleep in each other’s arms. Some nights, I would just skip to that part. Others…” She flashed him a quick grin. “Well, other nights, sleep wasn’t the featured activity.”

  “I always thought you were beautiful.”

  She snorted and brushed a hand across her face. “You never thought that. I heard you talking. You guys were all about big boobs and big butts.” She gestured gruffly to her body. “I’m average at best.”

  “That was Vic, and I wasn’t talking about your body.”

  She grimaced. “Thanks,” she drawled, clearly not feeling complimented.

  “You never let Vic get away with his bullshit. Your mother, our CO, even the cop who pulled him over for speeding—they all let Vic get away with nonsense. I never understood it. But you nailed him fo
r it every time.”

  “That’s being smart. It had nothing to do with beauty.”

  “In my world, smart is beautiful. The best kind of beauty. But if you want more, I can tell you that I find your body perfect in every way. It’s strong with muscles that know how to work. Your skin is creamy smooth and your breasts are just the right size. I dreamed about you, too. But as with anything I can’t have, I put away those dreams and refused to think about them again.”

  She jerked at his words, obviously surprised. “Why can’t you have me? Because I’m Vic’s sister?”

  “Because I am a beast.”

  He turned away from her then. Zipped up his go bag and pulled it from the trunk. He reached up to close it, but she was there before him, pushing the metal down with a loud slam.

  “A beast as in brutal to women? Or a beast like what I saw in the UP?”

  “I am a grizzly bear–shifter, and you have no idea what that means.”

  She shook her head. “But you guys have wives, right? You had parents, a family.”

  “Many shifters mate, and my parents were raised in the shifter community, so they knew the risks.” Then he touched her cheek, turning her to look directly into his eyes. “Why do you think I went to the UP? To a place where there are miles without people.”

  “You like the cold?”

  “Because even among shifters, I’m considered too dangerous to mate. The bear is very, very strong in me.” He let those words hang in the air. Saw the meaning hit her in her widened eyes and the sharp intake of her breath. Then she jerked away from his touch, her gaze going back to the apartment complex and her problems there.

  “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this.”

  He didn’t either, but he had never fully understood the subtleties behind human communication.

  “I brought you here so you could help my brother,” she continued.

  “I can’t.”

  “So you keep saying, but you know more than anyone else. You know he’s a…he’s like you. Sort of.”

  He thought about that. Vic had shifted into a partial bear. It had been patchwork and smelly, but there were similarities. Which meant if anyone understood what was happening with Vic, it would be the shifter community.

  “I’ve been out of touch for ten months. Perhaps the Detroit bears know something.”

  “Great. How do I contact them?”

  He looked at her. “You can’t. It must be me. And it must be in person.”

  She frowned at him. “Is this a bear territory thing?”

  He snorted. “It is a gangland Detroit thing.”

  Chapter 8

  Alyssa blinked, her mind too dull and her emotions too wrung out to fully process what he’d just said. Still, she gave it her best, echoing what she thought she’d heard.

  “Bear-shifters are a Detroit gang?”

  “The Griz, I believe.” He rolled his eyes. “Really obvious name, but no one asked me.”

  She wasn’t very familiar with Detroit gangs, but the Griz were near enough to her neighborhood that she was aware of them. They did the usual: drugs, guns, booze, and really loud music. They certainly weren’t the worst gang in Detroit. The idea that bear-shifters could be living that close to her was enough to make her world tilt. Again. And in a day filled with new information and horrible surprises, she really couldn’t handle any more.

  “Steady there.” Simon’s words were barely audible over the rushing in her ears. What penetrated her foggy brain was the sturdy grip of his hand on her elbow and the way he wrapped a strong arm around her waist.

  She sank into him, letting her body sag while she breathed deep of his woodsy scent mixed with Irish Spring. Would that smell always make her knees weak and her head spin?

  “Have you had anything to eat today besides beer and brownies?”

  Honestly, she couldn’t remember.

  “Never mind,” he said, his voice gruff. “I remember that you had a diet cola and a piece of my pizza ten hours ago.”

  And a granola bar she’d picked up at a gas station.

  “That granola doesn’t count,” he said, somehow reading her mind. “It smelled like petrified gravel. Couldn’t have tasted much better.”

  It hadn’t.

  “So where’s your bedroom?” He was walking her back toward the laundromat.

  “Inside.” Apparently forming that answer took all the strength left in her body. While she was busy telling herself to stand up and walk on her own, damn it, the world decided to veer into more dizzying circles. Oh hell. She was going down.

  Except she wasn’t. When her legs gave in, he swung her up in his arms. She tried to resist. She tightened her hands and managed to keep her head from flopping backward. But her vision was crazy fuzzed out and her head felt three times too large. All she ended up doing was dropping herself onto his shoulder while he balanced her in his arms.

  “I got you. Go ahead. Close your eyes. You’ve had a full few days so it’s okay to check out for a bit.”

  Like her body was giving her any choice? She closed her eyes and let his scent fill her thoughts completely. Kind of like dropping back into her fantasies when she’d kept a bar of Irish Spring in her bedside table just to help her remember. Meanwhile, she noticed that he wasn’t even winded as he took steady steps back toward the apartment. She wasn’t a lightweight by any stretch of the imagination, and oh wow, it was awesome to be cradled in his arms as if she were the tiniest Barbie doll.

  And yeah, fantasy land. She felt her core go molten at the feel of living out one of her dreams, and she might have nuzzled a little against his neck.

  He stepped into the laundromat, barely even jostling her as he managed both her and the door. Then she heard Malik gasp in surprise.

  “She’s fine,” Simon said, stopping anything Malik might have asked. “But she needs to sleep for a while. Where’s her bedroom?”

  “Um, it’s across the hall. This way.”

  They’d need her key. It was in her jeans pocket, but no way was she going to wiggle around to get it. She was far too content riding in Simon’s arms to change anything. Except that eventually they made it to her apartment door. Simon seemed to tuck his head down against hers. She heard him make a strange sound. Like a chuff of some sort. And then she sighed.

  “You need my key to get in,” she murmured.

  “Yes.”

  “Set me down.”

  “Can you stand on your own?”

  No. Yes. Maybe. She groaned. He was crouching down, gently setting her feet on the floor. “I am not a woman who faints,” she said to no one in particular. She kept an arm wrapped around Simon’s broad shoulders as she dug into her jeans pocket with the other.

  “No,” Simon answered. “You’re a woman who drives without sleep up to the UP and back to save her brother. But even Wonder Woman has limits.”

  It took concentration to bring her key out of her pocket. Even more to shove it toward the lock. She didn’t get close. Malik took it from her and managed to get the door open. Then when she took an unsteady step inside, the world abruptly upended again.

  Simon swept her back into his arms and was walking in his steady, measured pace through her apartment.

  “Where—” he began, but apparently Malik was leading.

  A moment later, Simon had crossed through her apartment and into her bedroom. She flushed when she realized she hadn’t made her bed and that there was dirty laundry—specifically dirty underwear—in full view beside her dresser. Her brother had called in a panic, and she’d rushed out without taking the time for her morning rituals. Ones that included making her bed and drinking a thick mug of coffee.

  But if Simon saw her red lace thong next to the matching push-up bra, he made no comment. Instead, he lay her on her bed. She had to let go of his shoulders. She had to stop drawing his scent deep into her lungs. She had to do a ton of things that she didn’t want to do, like face the fact that she’d just let a virtual stranger carry her t
hrough her place of business and into her apartment. And now he was stripping off her boots.

  “Head for the button of my jeans,” she rumbled, “and I’ll hurt you.”

  “Sure, you will,” Simon said, sarcasm in his tone. Then he turned to Malik. “I’ve got her. You can go back to work.”

  “Yeah. Um, boss?”

  “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Go on.”

  “Okay. Um, just call if you need something.”

  “I will.”

  Her left boot hit the floor, and then he started working on the right. She was lying bonelessly on the bed as she stared at the ceiling. She ought to feel mortified. She did feel mortified. But mostly she felt overwhelmed.

  “I need to face my problems,” she said. It was part of her morning litany and included things like take concrete steps toward her goals and allow no one to distract her from her purpose. “I need—”

  “To give yourself a break.” He dropped her other boot on the floor, then went for the button of her jeans. She gasped and put her hand on his forearm, but she didn’t stop him. “You’ll be more comfortable with these off,” he said.

  Of course she would. She’d be more comfortable naked with him inside her, too. But that wasn’t exactly on the agenda. “I got it,” she said, hoping it was true. She felt like even that small effort took a thousand times more energy than it should. “And no man goes there without my asking.”

  He chuckled. “You forget that I’m a shifter. I can smell things, Alyssa.” He leaned down close to her neck and he rubbed his nose across her skin. And oh my God, did that feel good. “I know you’re aroused. So am I.”

  Her breath caught and she froze. Was he about to seduce her? Now? She was equal parts appalled and excited.

  “But neither of us is in any condition to act on this.” He pressed his lips to her skin and she felt the stroke of his tongue. “Only an animal would take you now when you are too tired to resist.”

  He was half animal though. And he wasn’t moving away from her neck. The edge of his teeth scraped along the underside of her jaw. She shivered and her nipples tightened to unbearable points. And oh did she want to give in. She had the excuse ready-made. She wasn’t in her right mind. She’d had a beer on an empty stomach. She could justify anything if only he pressed her a little further. If his lips went from her neck to her cleavage and to her aching, hungry breasts. Or perhaps to the open wet place between her thighs.