Bad Boy Alphas Series Book 10: Alpha's Secret
著者
Renee Rose
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SHE BELONGS TO MY ENEMY. I WON’T STOP UNTIL SHE’S MINE.
I’m the ultimate predator. I live by a code. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed.
Then I meet her. The second I catch her scent, I know she was meant for me. She was born to wear my mark, and I was born to protect her.
She belonged to my enemy until I took her. He wants her back. He’ll wage war to get her, but no one’s taking her from me.
She’s mine, and I’m not letting her go.
Chapter 1
Grizz
Fucking twisted vampires.
Toxic, the vampires’ BDSM club, is half lounge, half medieval dungeon: all heavy wooden furniture, red velvet, and dark corners a guy can get lost in. At one end, a small bar serves only top shelf liquor and rare wine. Glasses clink, a civilized sound that will soon be drowned out by the darker ones coming from the dungeon.
Above our heads, music starts to pulse, throbbing through the ceiling. Not long now before couples start to descend from the nightclub on the first floor.
I thread my way through the stations, careful not to touch any of the implements of torture, the custom-built furniture that looms like nightmarish monsters in the dim light. The sight of spanking benches and St. Andrew’s crosses is enough to make a submissive quake. Pant with desire. Makes no damn sense to me, but I watch it happen every night.
I wait in the shadows as the first of them enter, pairs of people slipping down the stairs. Some head straight for their favorite area or private alcove, others freeze at the foot of the stairs, staring into the dungeon with a mixture of fear and desire.
The vampires keep it dark down here, maybe to hide what they are. That might work on frail human senses, but I smell ‘em at every turn. Here’s one tying a lovely blonde to the wall. There’s another seated in the lounge with a slender man on his lap. The vampire whispers in his submissive’s ear and the man’s eyes grow wide, locked on a lighted display of implements. Torture tools, I call them, even though the submissives seem to love them. Hell, arousal pours off the male sub as his vampire master tugs him to a spanking bench. The human can’t wait to get his ass smacked.
I don’t get it. It’s a mystery to me, a mating ritual that makes no sense.
The vampire snaps his fingers and a lovely redheaded woman joins the male couple. She goes to the wall and selects a black flogger before returning to the vampire who’s making a big show of tying his partner down. The redhead is a little slip of a thing wearing a skimpy white robe, her white thong clearly visible under the thin fabric. A white leather collar is buckled around her neck. Head bowed, she offers the flogger to her master, holding a serving pose for as long as it takes for him to grab it. At his dismissive gesture, she retreats to wait for his next order. A few people gather to watch the vampire flog his male sub, but I only want to watch the redhead. A breeze stirs in the club, cool air blowing from the air conditioning vents. The little redhead’s skin breaks out in goosebumps and her nipples harden. She’s cold, dammit. I don’t know why I care, but I do.
I don’t get the point of all this pomp and ceremony. It’s the worst sort of foreplay, unnecessary and complicated. No wonder the vampires love it. Half of these fuckers grew up in the Victorian era.
Now the redhead, I get the appeal of her. She’s got a delicate spray of freckles across her face, and bare feet. She stands on the edge of the scene, quiet and unobtrusive as her master scenes with another. If I was her master, I wouldn’t ignore her. I sure as hell wouldn’t scene with another. I’d keep her close, tie her up until she knew she belonged to me. Train her to greet me, tug me to the couch with eager hands, get on her knees between my feet and give me a proper welcome.
And now my dick is hard. I turn away from the redhead. Watching her riles up my bear, and I need a cool head tonight. I took this gig because it’s low key, but more importantly, it gets me closer to my ultimate prey.
My heavy boots beat a familiar rhythm as I make my rounds of the club. I can move silently, but better that they see a big lumbering oaf, a bear employed by vampires, a shifter servant of the king. Most couples ignore me. This vampire BDSM club takes some getting used to, but it’s quiet, unlike the shifter Fight Club where I used to work. Here, most patrons are polite and do their thing.
A blonde slinks by, naked but for a tiny red lace thong and black collar. There’s a leash hanging from her collar, between her bare breasts. She smiles as she passes me, flicking the leash over her shoulder so it hangs between the reddened globes of her perfect ass.
Yep, bouncing at the vampire BDSM club is a nice gig if you can get it. Some nights are nicer than others.
I round the corner and there she is—the little redhead—naked with her arms stretched over her head. The vampire demonstrates some sort of rope bondage thing, using the redhead sub as his model. Her white robe pooled at her feet, she obeys with a calm, almost blissed out expression. There’s a smattering of freckles on her arms and shoulders. Her chest rises and falls with deep even breaths as the rope constricts her chest. Her eyelashes flutter.
The vampire finishes the demonstration and unties the girl, directing her to put away the rope and sending her off with a smack on her ass. A growl lodges in my throat. Fuck, I’ve been standing here staring for far too long.
“Like what you see, shifter?” a vampire lisps at my side. “Maybe you should try it.”
I wait until the redhead disappears into a private alcove before murmuring to my unwanted conversation partner, “Sure, Benny. How ‘bout on your dead body?”
The vampire Benny draws his teeth back, showing fangs. “The name’s Benedict.”
“I know.” I tilt my head to the side, already bored. Benedict is one of the younger vampires, turned only a century ago, pale and thin like he’s dying of fucking consumption. Maybe he was when he was turned. “I gave you a nickname. If I was unfortunate enough to be named Benedict, I’d fucking embrace an alternative.”
Benny’s eyebrows shoot up. I’m careful not to look in his eyes, but I can tell he’s upset by the way his chest rises and falls like bellows.
“Careful, bear. You may have the king’s favor, but you’re no match for a vampire.”
“That’s what you think,” I mutter, and shake my head when he snarls. “Get outta here, fangs.”
“Why you—” he huffs.
I curl my lip and give him my back for a solid second before walking away. The worst insult to a vampire: turning your back like he’s not a threat. Most shifters would never do it.
I’m not most shifters. The vampires have no idea. They talk down and taunt me, completely clueless. They don’t know what I am, what I’m capable of. And when the time comes for me to hunt them, they won’t understand what’s happening. Not until too late.
I head back towards the bar.
“The king wants you,” the bartender tells me and nods to the throne in the middle of the room. So Frangelico has decided to grace us with his presence. I pivot and trudge back to see the boss.
The throne is on a raised platform. It’s an actual medieval throne, imported from Italy or some shit. Frangelico’s old stomping ground. You can take the vampire outta the Middle Ages but you can’t take the Middle Ages outta the vampire.
A slender young waiter in black tuxedo pants, red cumberbund, a black velvet choker and nothing else, beats me to the throne. He bows at the waist to offer up his tray of beverages. Frangelico extends his hand beyond the throne and browses among the glasses, selecting one and motioning the waiter to move on. The waiter backs away, still bowing.
Oh for fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes. So much pomp and circumstance. I guess if you’re practically immortal you have time to indulge in all the ceremony you like.
The waiter turns and leaps out of his skin at the sight of me. His face pales, his Adam’s apple bobbing under his collar. The black velvet chokers are part of the uniform here, but I’d kill any vampire who made me wear one. I’m a bouncer for contract, not a fucking slave. Maybe it’s time to remind the king of that.
I saunter around the giant wooden chair and meet Frangelico’s amused glance. No sneaking up on the king.
“Grizz. So nice of you to join us.” He waves a hand and two men in chokers arrive with another ornate chair for me—smaller than the throne, of course. Sitting in it would put my head a full two feet lower than the vampire king. So I don’t sit. Instead, I prop my boot on the seat. Frangelico sighs.
“Must you put your feet on the furniture? I’m sure we can find you a footstool if you like.” Frangelico snaps his fingers and motions to one of the servants. I catch the man’s shoulder before he kneels down on all fours in front of my chair.
“No,” I growl. “Stop it. You know I’m not into this shit.”
“Of course.” A flick of the king’s fingers and the men disappear. Frangelico leans forward. “I forgot how much you dislike our little power games. But what is sex about if not power?”
I shake my head. I don’t have time for this. “You wanted to see me?”
Frangelico sits back and studies me. Even with him seated and me standing, he’s still slightly taller. The vampire is bigger than you’d expect, and for all his fancy talk, he’s not stupid. Power isn’t a little game to him. It’s the only game, and he plays to win.
“I did, my friend.”
I flinch at that. Fuck, are we friends? I contracted with him to watch his club at night and keep an eye on a few of his operations. In exchange, he gives me what I need to do what I gotta do.
“You take offense at me calling you friend?” the king asks. Can’t hide a thing from a fucking vampire.
“I’m not here to braid your hair and wear bead bracelets or some shit. You and I have a contract.”
“We do,” the king confirms. “But surely we can renegotiate. There must be other needs you wish filled. Desires. And surely we can fill them here, in this pleasure paradise.” He spreads his hands to encompass the whole club, then motions. The blonde I saw earlier slinks by me, heading toward the master vampire. At his invitation, she sits on the arm of the throne, angling her body to best show off her breasts and thighs. Frangelico slides a hand up her supple calf. “Surrounded by such delights, surely you have been tempted.”
I ignore the blonde smiling at me. Creeps me out the way Frangelico handles her like a slab of meat. I guess to him, all humans are food. “You know what I want. You’ve known from the beginning.”
“Ah, yes.” The vampire’s long finger taps the submissive woman’s knee, as if she was a part of the furniture. “Are you any closer to getting what you want?”
“I play the long game.” Frangelico is the best chance I got at getting what I want. If it takes the rest of my life, fuck, so be it.
“So you do play games?” The finger stops tapping.
I sigh. “What the fuck is this about?”
Frangelico releases the blonde and waves her away. “I’m wondering what happens if neither of us get what we want.”
I shrug. “We go our separate ways.” Not like there’s anything keeping me in Tucson.
“And if I don’t want you to go?”
“That would be unfortunate.”
I don’t look the vampire in the eye—I’m not a fucking idiot—but I do level a glare at his chin. I haven’t challenged or threatened the king—yet—but he gets the message and sighs, settling back in the throne. His velvet dressing robe flops off one shoulder, revealing powerful muscles. He may act like a lazy playboy, but he’d be no slouch in a fight. Even if he didn’t have super vampire reflexes and powers.
“So you see why I called you here. I wish to explore alternatives to our arrangement.”
Fuck. “There’s only one thing I want.” And if Frangelico can’t give it to me, I don’t know how I’m going to get it.
“Surely there’s something else you want. Or, perhaps, someone.”
The redhead. The image of her pops into my head before I can squelch it. The sweet freckled face greeting me when I come home, angling up for a kiss.
I force the fantasy away. “No. Nothing. I told you in the beginning. It’s all or nothing.” My course was set long ago.
A woman shrieks. I stiffen, but don’t turn. I don’t like that sounds of people’s pain have become routine. Then the auburn color catches my eye and I whirl.
Benny has the redhead—my redhead—strung up on a rope dangling from the ceiling. He’s painting her back with a heavy flogger, each snap of the leather leaving marks. She’s naked, dancing on tiptoes, twisting away from the blows. The leather strands wrap around her hip and flick her breasts. She screams and I hear fear in the pitch, not the lower notes of pleasure.
Before I know it, I’m across the room and in the vampire’s face. The flogger’s on the floor between us, in two pieces.
Benedict registers surprise before stuffing it down and sneering at me. He turns back to the trembling redhead, and I clamp a hand on his arm.
“No. You don’t get to hurt her.”
“I have permission,” he snarls. I snarl back and he blurs away, ending up across the club. Fucking coward.
I turn back to the redhead only to find another vampire has taken Benny’s place. A tall, patrician-faced vampire who was giving the redhead orders earlier. There’s no sign of his male sub.
“What is the meaning of this?” he barks, looking down his nose at me, even though I’m almost his height. “Benedict had my permission.”
“Show’s over. Cut her down. She’s done.”
“She’s mine, and I’ll say when she’s done.” The vampire takes a step towards a table full of implements and I block him.
“Call off your dog,” he says to the king.
Frangelico raises a brow. You don’t give orders to the king.
“I’m not a dog,” I growl. “I’m a bear.” My grizzly’s about to burst from my skin and brawl in the middle of the club. We’ll see how sturdy the furniture actually is.
“Augustine,” Frangelico drawls with mild disapproval. I tense up. I’ve never seen him before, but I know Augustine is one of Frangelico’s lieutenants. “You know as well as I, I do not give him orders. Which is why I hired him. He’s here to make sure you’re following the rules.” And with that, the vampire king turns away, effectively dismissing us.
Augustine’s lip curves up, showing a fang. “I didn’t break the rules.”
“You loaned your girl out to a vampire who was hurting her.” Beside us, the redhead slowly spins from the rope noose around her wrists. Fuck, is that good for her circulation? Welts mar her skin, as numerous as her freckles. Some of them even show spots of blood. Benny really worked her over.
“If she wanted to stop, she’d safe out.” The vampire motions impatiently, and a waiter offers him a drink. Augustine drinks greedily, wiping water from his lips. He doesn’t offer any to his punished submissive.
The redhead is limp, her eyes half closed. I peer into her face, gently raise an eyelid to check her blown pupils. “She’s too far gone to give a safe word.” I may not be into this stuff, but I know how endorphins work. Load after load drops until the submissive is too drugged to even speak.
“She likes it.” The vampire goes to a table and picks up a riding crop. I step between him and the redhead. Between the vampire and his prey. It’s probably the first time anyone’s told this vampire no.
Augustine looks shocked. It’s a good look for him.
“I said stop.”
“Very well. It’s time to eat, anyway.” With a flick of his fingers, he orders another club servant to come forward and loosen the rope around the young woman’s wrists.
She slumps, a cascade of red hair falling over her freckled face. Her head rolls on her neck. She’s totally blissed out from endorphins. Another sweetblood. A submissive, willing vampire victim.
It’s not my business. I shouldn’t get involved. But the redhead’s lips part and she turns toward me and I catch her scent…
And suddenly I know why she caught my interest.
I lean forward. This one is a shifter. Not a wolf or bear, but something close. Fox, maybe. That would match her red hair. I glance between her thighs. She’s mostly shaved but for a small groomed patch. Natural redhead. Definitely a fox.
How did I not notice her animal before? Probably because it’s shy, submissive. Plus all the cloying smells of vampires in the club. Prey animals don’t make themselves known like dominant ones. And this one is sweet as can be. My bear is fighting to burst forth and carry her off to a safe, dark place where he can protect her.
My instincts war a moment. But I have to remember why I’m here. I swallow and step back and act disinterested. A bouncer more concerned with the club’s reputation than protecting a willing sweetblood. “Frangelico know you’re feasting on a shifter?”
“She belongs to me.”
“Shifters don’t belong to vampires.”
“Says the king’s guard bear.”
Technically the vampire king and I have a partnership, but I don’t correct the vampire.
With a wicked smile, Augustine snaps his fingers. A minute later, club servants have provided a seat and handed over Augustine’s submissive. He shifts her in his arms, almost tenderly arranging her limp body as I watch. My fists clench as Augustine’s fingers spear the auburn hair, tugging the woman’s head back to bare her neck. Without ceremony or gentleness, he strikes like a viper, burying his fangs in her neck. Her body convulses but the blissed out look on her face turns to ecstasy.
Fuck this. I pivot and head back to the throne in the center of the room.
“We can make them like it, you know,” Frangelico says. He’s holding a goblet filled with a red liquid. A nice show, but it’s just wine.
A gasp makes me turn again. The redhead thrashes in her vampire master’s arms, ecstasy turning to anguish. Augustine shoots me a nasty look. He’s making it hurt on purpose. The redhead’s hands beat at his suit. Her blood stains her pale skin, his shirt collar. He’s making a mess.
Her cries sharpen, growing frantic.
“Leave her alone,” I growl.
“Augustine,” Frangelico calls softly before I can stomp back over there. The younger vampire turns with a snarl, but lowers his eyes. “Enough,” orders the king, and Augustine bows his head and motions to a club employee to take her away.
“You can’t save them all from my sired’s sadism,” Frangelico murmurs as I watch the redhead disappear behind a curtain of a private alcove. She’s safe now. For the next hour, she’ll be wrapped in a blanket, given orange juice and chocolate and whatever else she needs to come safely down. For a moment, I toy with the idea of shoving aside the curtain, kicking out the club employee, and caring for her myself. I reject the thought as soon as it surfaces. The redhead is cute, but she’s none of my business.
My bear bellows in protest.
When I turn back, the vampire king is watching me closely. I shake my head. “Not gonna save them. Like you said, they like it.”
The king regards me over steepled fingers. “This club caters to all sorts of desires. Some desire pleasure mixed with pain. We have a word for them. Sweetbloods.”
“Yeah, I know.” The vampires love masochists. The pain releases endorphins that make the blood taste sweeter, or some shit. I’m about to tell Frangelico where he can shove his sadism, when a new scent hits my nose. Wolf.
“Frangelico,” a female voice calls. A leather clad she-wolf strides forward, followed by a huge wolf with a pierced eyebrow. Sheridan and Trey. I give Trey my full attention. He and I don’t get along. I used to be a bouncer at his Fight Club but when he found out I also work here, things went sour. Fast.
As soon as Trey sees me, he shows his teeth. His woman puts a hand on his arm and mutters, “Behave.”
“Ah, my dear Sheridan,” Frangelico purrs. “How nice of you to come with your wolf guard.”
“My mate,” she corrects. Her hand automatically goes to her shoulder, covering where he must have marked her. Shit, she and Trey are mated? I open my mouth to congratulate them. Trey glares at me. After what I did, he won't accept anything from me. I close my mouth.
“What brings you to our little club?” Frangelico asks. “Business or pleasure?”
“Business,” Sheridan answers, though she casts a longing look about the club. I don’t get the attraction of this place, but it’s none of my business.
“Come then,” Frangelico motions for more chairs to be brought close. Waiters appear and offer drinks.
“We’re here because we’ve heard rumors. Shifters are disappearing from this area.”
“Wolves?”
“Not wolves. Other types of shifters. Ones that don’t have the protection of a pack.”
“What sort of shifters might those be? Forgive me, I am not as well versed in the animal kingdom as I should be,” Frangelico says. He’s lying, of course. He makes it his business to know everything.
Sheridan swallows and glances at Trey, who nods at her. “A few loner cats who didn’t have a clan. Leopard, tiger. But also rarer shifters—owls, ravens, eagles.”
“Really? There are shifter birds?” Frangelico bluffs really well. Not even I can smell anything but his interest.
Sheridan nods. “They keep quiet because they’re not as plentiful as wolves or big cats. That, and they’re prey animals.”
“And someone is kidnapping them? Didn’t that happen before, when a company was capturing shifters to experiment on?”
“That company is gone. We destroyed their facilities, rooted out the people who were doing it. But there’s still a black market for kidnapped shifters, and we think the shifter traders have found new customers. Vampires.”
Frangelico’s long fingers steeple. He doesn’t move when Sheridan drops this bombshell. Instead, he waits a moment as if making sure she’s finished talking, then stirs. “And what would vampires want with kidnapped shifters?”
“We don’t know. That’s why we’re here.” Before Sheridan can continue, her mate steps forward, tall, tattooed, and intimidating.
“It would be wise for you to look into it, unless you want the pack knocking on your door,” Trey says. Sheridan grabs his arm again.
“What my mate means,” she says with a fixed smile, “is that given the Tucson pack’s alliance with you and your vampires, it would be wise to join forces to look into the shifter disappearances. For the sake of keeping the peace.”
“Indeed.” Frangelico flicks a glance at Trey, then turns back to Sheridan. “You do have a flair for diplomacy, my dear,” Frangelico tells her.
“Thank you,” she answers levelly. “But I’m not your dear.”
Frangelico ignores her growl. “We will look into it.” He glances at me. I nod back. By we the king means me. And I’m okay with hunting down vampires who have bought kidnapped shifters. I know just where I’ll start—Augustine and his little redheaded sub.
“That’s settled,” Frangelico announces. “Now that your business is concluded you are welcome to make use of my club. Will you stay and scene tonight?”
Sheridan hesitates, her gaze darting around the dimly lit club with poorly hidden interest.
“Yes.” Trey steps between her and the vampire king. “As long as everyone remains on their best behavior.”
“I’m sure my vampires will,” Frangelico offers with a glint of fang.
“And your pet shifters?” Trey looks at me.
“I have no pets shifters. Only friends and…playmates,” Frangelico says.
“Which one is he?” Trey asks, still staring at me.
“A business partner,” I offer.
“I’m sure Grizz will also respect the rules of the club, and all its members.” Frangelico raises an eyebrow at me.
I hold my hands up. “I got no problems with these wolves.” Last I checked, I didn’t have a problem with the wolves. It’s not my fault the wolves have a problem with me.
“Good,” Frangelico claps his hands and Sheridan jumps. Trey puts his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. He leans in and whispers something in her ear. She flushes. Trey turns her and gives her a gentle push towards a free table. He watches her strut away. I have to admit, if I had a mate as fine as Sheridan, I’d watch her coming and going as long as possible, too.
Trey turns back to me and Frangelico. His eyes narrow on me.
“Hey, Grizz,” his voice drips bitterness. “You still on to fight Friday?”
“Last I checked, I was still on the schedule.” I quit working at the Fight Club as a bouncer a few weeks ago, but fighting is good for my bear.
“Good.” Trey shows his teeth in a macabre grin. “We have a special guest ready to fight you. Be ready.”
I watch him stride away. He’s a big, bad wolf, but not as dangerous as I am. Not alone, anyway. Wolves are never alone. That’s always their advantage. Strength of the pack.
“If that’s all, I’ll head out,” I say to Frangelico.
He nods. “You’re off bouncer duty the rest of the night. Ask Peter to call in a replacement. In the meantime, I’ll make the rounds.”
“Right.” Time to go on the hunt.
I head to the rope where Augustine tied up his shifter sub, where the white robe she wore lies crumpled on the floor. I pick it up and give it a good sniff. The scent is spicy, with a touch of floral. Fox. Definitely. If I can’t track the vampire by his scent, I can at least find the fox.
A few discreet questions later, and I learn the redhead left with Augustine. Her master they called him. Not sure if that means he owns her, or if it’s just a game they play, but I plan to find out. I can get his address from the records Frangelico keeps—I’m one of the few people he gives access to. He knows I’ll never betray him. I need him too much.
Halfway up the stairs to the main floor, I pause and survey the vast club. Trey and Sheridan have already claimed a table under one of the spotlights. Trey has opened a black duffel bag and is laying out implements. Sheridan stands beside him, her bare skin glowing in a fancy leather harness, swaying a little with excitement.
Trey finishes and turns towards her. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees, gazing up at her mate. I don’t need to see her face to know that her eyes are shining. Trey’s face softens as he looks down at her. Another couple stealing a moment before they engage in the complicated mating dance of submission and dominance. I’ve seen it a million times before, but somehow it’s not as grotesque on shifters. That still doesn’t mean I get it.
I climb the rest of the stairs and hit the door with my fist to escape.
