To Ride an Alpha (Full Moon MC): Paranormal Werewolf Romance Page 3

  Liam brought Sharon into his lap, looking into her eyes. “This... is why I have no respect for the kids these days. None of them have balls to do anything themselves. Always goin' over people's heads...”

  Better over than through. Her heart lurched at the thought of losing him, though she'd only known him for little more than a day. Sharon's fingers dug into his back, clinging to him out of reflex. “Now, if he knew his history, he'd know pack leadership has never changed by spilling ink. It's blood. Always blood.”

  “I don't give a fuck what the coot says,” spat James, his fists balling up, “I sure as shit ain't following Carlos, don't care how official it is.” A chorus of agreement sounded out in the room.

  Liam looked ahead in silence and backed away from his stool, straightening his back to his full height. “I've got a plan.”

  ***

  As Liam's cadre of Full Moon bikers pulled into the hotel's parking lot, they found other pack mates had already beaten them to the spot. Carlos and his own band of followers sat in the evening shadows, the steel off their bikes gleaming like dusky orange rods in the light of the waning sun.

  Sharon caught other bikers at the furthest ends of the lot. Packed in tight clusters and atop bikes so black they seemed to drink in the light. “Who are they?” she whispered by Liam's ear.

  “The Old Wolf's backup. Don't look 'em in the eyes. Lots of them sample their own product... leaves 'em jittery with itchy knife fingers.”

  Liam pulled up front and center. As he dismounted his bike, Carlos came off of his. Sharon followed behind while the two met in the middle of the lot. “Hey boss, if the old man chooses me, I just want to say... you were a good man. And you can rest easy. The club and pack would be in good hands.” said Carlos, his eyes flicking to the assembled Full Moon gang and then to Frankie and James. Sharon felt safe with them right behind her.

  The Full Moon president could not hide the disdain on his face as the two walked to the hotel entrance. “You're a lying cocksucker. Lying cocksuckers don't get to be alphas.” His tone was cold and clipped, his gait stoic.

  Carlos chuckled as the two came to the front doors and walked into the lobby. Sharon, James and Frankie followed behind. She held her hands behind her back to hide her shaking. Calm down, Sharon. If anything bad happens Liam's got more men outside. They're just going to talk.

  “Well, uh, Liam... you don't have a say in that. The Old Wolf does. And he's got the muscle to back it up.” On cue they turned from the main lobby and into the lounge, and there sat the Old Wolf, surrounded by ten Blackclaw bikers.

  Liam stopped and took in the sight, with James and Frankie right behind him. Sharon clutched Liam's hands tightly. They look tough. Really tough. Tougher up close than they did on the bikes. Every single Blackclaw had some sort of ink on their skin, teardrop tattoos, oaths of fellowship, watches with no hands and black fingernails that were more like claws. First werewolf bikers, now werewolf serial killers... what have you walked into Sharon?

  Liam leaned over to Carlos. “Kid, you ever heard of not putting all your eggs in one basket?”

  “No.”

  “Well you'll have plenty of time to learn what it means where you're going.”

  Carlos shrugged and walked forward, taking a seat opposite the Old Wolf while Liam did the same, adjacent to Carlos. “Liam... Withers...” said the old man, his wrinkled hands folded. His voice was kindly, his eyes soft. He sounds so wise... “You dumb son of a bitch.” Oh.

  “I didn't think some young pup could bend the ear of the Old Wolf. You traveled all this way for nothing.” Liam gestured to Sharon, his eyes catching hers. “We're mated now.”

  The Old Wolf hacked blood and wiped it away with a dirty rag. Gross. “You always thought you were just so fuckin' slick. You know as well as I do, I ain't here for what you've patched up, I'm here for what you broke.” His unkempt earthy brown locks shook to his twitches and hand gestures. It was the first werewolf Sharon had seen with hints of gray in his hair. “All pack matings go through me. The Silverfangs are not exempt from this.”

  “Crossing state lines with your merry band of professional hobos just for a broken rule? I'm flattered.” The Blackclaw men all fixed Liam with murderous glares. The alpha wolf continued smirking at the Old Wolf.

  The Old Wolf cleared his throat again and stamped his cane like a judge's gavel. “Rules are rules. Customs... are customs. Past tonight, the new Silverfang alpha might not be Carlos, but it sure as hell won't be you.”

  Liam leaned forward, a grin upon his face. Please, please don't do anything stupid. Sharon sensed aggression soaked pheromones waft over from the Blackclaw crowd. The scent provoked a widening of Frankie and James' stances. “Well then, since customs are customs... I'm gonna bet that fancy suitcase you got there is my severance package?”

  The Old Wolf looked at the red traveling suitcase next to him with scorn and had one of the Blackclaws bring it forward. The old man prodded the thing from his seat with his cane. “There's 500k's worth in there. This buys your silence. You will speak no lies, no truths, lead no packs, sire no wolves, any children you father are forbidden from membership in all packs—”

  “And I'm not allowed to travel in groups of more than three of our kind on pain of death. Blah, blah, blah, yes, I know.” Liam inclined his ear to the side, as did some of the Blackclaws. Sharon heard just the slightest of rings at the edge of her hearing. Sounds like footsteps... lots of footsteps. Dark images of a Blackclaw ambush and slaughter flashed through her mind. No. It won't be like that. He's just gonna take his case and go.

  “The thing is, old man, I'm not taking a single penny from you.” Liam continued. Carlos chuckled and the Blackclaw men bristled. “What I will be taking back from you, is my place as head of the pack.”

  The Old Wolf was unperturbed. He laughed and threw up his hands. “Alright, humor me. How do you imagine that's going to happen? Maybe you didn't notice, but I brought a lot more friends than you did.”

  Liam reclined into his chair, savoring the moment as much as possible. Sharon took a step back, sensing the waves of hate emanating from the Blackclaws and the near silent clicking of firearms from Frankie and James. What is he doing? Just take the money! “Did you ever wonder... why? Why my gang got so big but hasn't had a major crackdown since '95? Why other packs trying to peddle the same shit in the same streets as ours got rubbed out?” He pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. “You're right. I don't have many friends. But I do have the right friends.”

  Just as he lit the end with a click of his lighter the lounge's panoramic windows exploded in a shower of glass. Oh my God! Sharon screamed as a thick haze and flash burst in the room. Dark shapes flew through the openings. Flashes of light and wails from the hotel staff ripped into existence. The cacophony of weapons discharging deafened her ears, while warm sprays of blood dampened her blouse.

  She hit the ground and bawled as chaos reigned. Bullets whizzed by, the sound of bodies hitting the floor formed its own twisted drum beat. The sound of gunshots and brutal metal crashes resounded from the parking lot outside. Through it all, she picked out shouts and howls, their resonance like a torturous combination of man and beast.

  When she opened her eyes, it was over. Her ears still rang. She coughed to the acrid haze of firearm discharge. Blue and red light strobed through the room from the outside. Frankie and James still stood, only leaning against the lounge walls as they nursed their wounds.

  “Clear.” said a new voice.

  “Clear!” said another, his announcement punctuated with his boots crunching over broken glass.

  Sharon rose off the ground, her heart leaping for joy when she saw Liam's silhouette through the smoke. Others moved past him as if he was invisible, their rifles out and their movements tactical as they stepped through the carnage. Are those... SWAT officers?

  “'Bout time you boys showed up.” said Liam and gave a man a hand. Sharon's eyes struggled to pierce the clearing fog. Panic froze her b
ody once she did.

  “Detective Johnson!?” she blurted out. Oh crap.

  “Hello, miss.” he said and gave her a curt nod before turning back to Liam. “I see you've got your new flavor of the month.”

  Liam took a puff from his cigarette. “It's actually for life.” Johnson gave him a bemused look. “Long story. Anyway, take any one of those Blackclaw boys and there's the fall guy for your street rape case. Then tack accessory to selling or whatever the hell you call it for ol' Carlos.” The traitorous biker was still in his seat, coughing up blood while his wounds smoked from silver laced rounds. “Since it's coke in the brief, I'd wager the Feds can ratchet up the sentence more than a few times.”

  Sharon barged through two SWAT officers to Liam and grabbed him by the coat. “Wait! You work for the cops!?”

  “With the cops.” He smiled and kissed her on the lips.

  Detective Johnson pulled out his notebook and unscrewed his pen. “We have an understanding, miss. An understanding that some of these wolves are worse than others. So we keep our pretty lies up for the sheep, and our own wolf well fed so that he's...” He turned around and saw the corpse of the Old Wolf, smoking and drenched in blood. “a big fuckin' wolf... Jesus Christ what's up with that guy!?”

  The Old Wolf was caught in between his forms, the skin along his hands darkened, his nails like black daggers, while his face remained human, his eyes dead but golden slits of lupine majesty.

  Liam gave Johnson a pat on the shoulder. “Unlucky. Lucky for you though. If he went all the way, I'm not sure those 10mm silver specials would have done much good.”

  The detective snorted. “Great.”

  Liam took Sharon's hand and led her out over the glass, stepping through the shattered window.

  Johnson spun around. “Hey now I'm gonna need a statement from both of you!”

  Liam drew Sharon close and looked at the detective. “Get it from my brother.” He looked up into darkening sky, the last rays of light dipping below the lip of the horizon. He swooped Sharon up into his arms as if she were nothing, his bright and wild eyes staring deep into hers. “We've got a moon to catch.”

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  ***

  Time heals all wounds. A saying that Becky Hanson wishes was true.

  For ten years she has tried to recover from her heartbreak at the hands of her high school love Kyle Robbins. Yet, even as she continues to feel the sting, the reason behind it fades from memory with every passing year.

  Kyle Robbins was a high school troublemaker and involved with the White Rhinos MC.

  Arrested for possession and sentenced to jail, he lost his girlfriend, his freedom, and his future all in one go. The worst part is that he never had the balls to tell her, instead choosing to let her believe he abandoned her.

  Upon release, Kyle rejoins the Sons and tries to get on with his life even as memories of Rebecca continue to haunt him.

  When an accidental encounter brings the two of them face to face with each other again, both of them come to the same realization: The spark is still there, but so is the gaping wound of heart break.

  ***

  Book 1 of the Vipers Motorcycle Club series.

  Sick of everyone around her assuming she's a meek little goody-two shoes, Abby Warner endeavors to do the most daring thing she can think of: get a tattoo.

  Brett McTavish thought he was in for another day of tattooing flash onto underage teenagers and drunken tourists at his biker family's parlor. But when the wide-eyed beauty comes slipping into his shop, his day starts to look infinitely more interesting.

  Despite their vastly different backgrounds, Abby and Brett can't seem to keep away from each other. And before they know it, the tattooed bad boy and the shy photographer are falling for each other. Hard.

  But when Abby is forced to confront the dangerous and illicit nature of the family business, will she stick around or watch Brett ride off into the dust?

  ***

  The language of love is universal but what about when you don't even speak the local language?

  Bianca has been travelling for several months, enjoying her newfound freedom since graduating college, but she's starting to feel a little lonely. Europeans are more suspicious of shifters and whilst she's not overt about her nature, the young were-bear is missing the company of her own.

  In a remote township she is stunned to meet Marco, a bear shifter living amongst humans. Their connection is instantaneous and Bianca's short stay soon becomes more permanent. This wolf amongst the sheep has captured not only her interest but also her heart. A mixture of primal lusts and a soulful bond transcends the obstacles of their differing cultures and Bianca has never felt anything so perfect, so right.

  Someone has found out her secret, however, and this will throw the young lovers into a fight for their lives and their love.