Alpha Lion: BBW Lion Shifter Paranormal Romance (9 page)

“...that’s not quite what I meant,” Sam said, but she was smiling too, and she let him pull her into his arms and kiss that smile until they were both breathless.

She just tasted so good, Dale thought, cupping her cheek in one hand as he kissed her deeply.

His other hand slid down her body to her hip, and then around to the generous curve of her behind. He loved how she felt under his hands.

She moaned sweetly into his mouth, and he murmured, “Up for round two?”

She pulled back and blinked up at him. “Already? Are you...up for it?” She glanced down.

“Believe me,” he said, “that’s not going to be a problem.” He was half-hard already. “And even if it were too soon, I can do a lot with my fingers and my tongue.”

“I remember,” she said, shivering. “But I don’t want to be selfish.”

“Letting me give you an orgasm or three is the
opposite
of selfish,” he assured her, sliding his other hand down to join the first. “Ready?”

“For what?” she asked, and then squeaked as he easily lifted her up.

“I could get used to this, wow,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom.

“I hope you will,” he said, and laid her down on the bed.

* * *

Sam went to work on Friday night with the lightest heart she’d had since she was laid off.

She’d stayed at Dale’s until nearly three in the morning—he’d drifted off after they’d made love the second time, and she’d enjoyed lying together with him in his bed while he slept, the dim light from the hall illuminating his gorgeous face and the long planes of his muscled body.

But eventually she’d had to get up and clean herself up a bit, and when she’d come back he’d been sitting up in bed, blinking sleepily. His hair had been wildly mussed, and he’d reminded her so much of a lion in that moment that she’d almost giggled.

Not that it was funny, it was just...charming.

He’d wanted to stay up with her until he had to leave for work and she had to go to bed, but she’d insisted on going home and letting him sleep. He’d gotten up anyway, to drive her, which she hoped hadn’t defeated the purpose.

She’d promised to meet him for breakfast-slash-dinner after she got off of work this morning, and she’d gone to bed with a smile on her face—after practicing all the moves Lynn and Dale had taught her about a hundred times.

And now she was at work, and it was still cold and lonely standing out here all night, but it was so, so much better than it had been a few days ago. And she had thoughts of Dale (and his hands, and his mouth, and his...
ahem
) to keep her warm.

She was still a little nervous about her shift, but it went just fine—a couple of times people passed by her station, but no one gave her more than a glance or a nod, and she clocked off at six with a sense of relief.

Dale had offered to come meet her when he was finished his run and walk her to breakfast, but she’d pointed out that he’d be all sweaty from running, and she’d be in her security guard’s uniform. She was going to go home and change, and call him when she was ready, and they’d go out on their first actual date.

She was excited to get dressed up for him. He’d only seen her in her awful uniform, and in the sweats she’d worn to the self-defense class.

And in his shirt, and in nothing at all...she blushed a little, even though there was no one there to see it.

The point was, she had clothes at home that actually flattered her, clothes that showed off her curves instead of fighting them.

She couldn’t wait to see Dale’s face when she came out to meet him in a dress. Maybe the crimson one with the plunging neckline and the skirt that flared around her hips...it was definitely too much for breakfast, but for her it was a dinner date.

Did she care if the waitress thought she was wearing the same clothes from last night? She did not.

She hurried to get home, wondering where Dale was going to take her—the last time she’d been out for breakfast, it had been Sunday at noon with the girls from work, months ago.

Summertime. They’d been sitting outside, eating waffles and sipping mimosas. It seemed like another world.

But for the first time in a long time, she was happier with what she had.

“Hi.”

Sam stopped short on the sidewalk. She was almost to her doorstep, and her way was blocked by a young, tall man. He had rumpled dirty-blond hair and a stooped posture, and he had his arms out a bit, so he took up the whole sidewalk.

“Hi,” Sam said warily, wondering if he was about to ask her for money.

“You’re Samantha,” the young man said.

Sam took a step back. “How do you know my name?” Was this guy a part of the pride? He didn’t look like he was related to Dale, but neither did Lynn.

The young man smiled. “You’re Dale’s mate.”

How could he know that? Had Dale spent yesterday telling everyone he knew? Sam wished he’d have waited to talk to her, if so.

Also, “How do you know where I live?”

“I read it in your registration form,” the guy said, still smiling. It was not a pleasant smile. “You should really be more careful.”

Sam put her hand on her nightstick. “Please let me past.”

She was going to run up into her building, lock the door, and call Dale. Just as soon as he—

“No.” He smiled wider, showing a lot of teeth.

“What do you want?” Sam took a step backward, and another. She’d draw her nightstick and get in one good swing, and then—

She bumped into something behind her, and jumped.

“It’s not about what he wants,” said a deep voice, and she stifled a shriek and spun around. There was a big, tall man in an expensive suit standing behind her. “It’s about what
I
want.”

“Who are you?” Sam asked in as steady a voice as she could manage, although she was pretty sure she knew.

“My name is Alan Chapman.” The man smiled, and Sam shivered. “It’s nice to meet you, Samantha.”

* * *

Dale had spent the last day alternately stupidly happy and strangely uncertain. He wasn’t used to either feeling, and it had made for a surreal day yesterday.

Lynn had definitely noticed that he was distracted, but she had just smirked and gone about her business, leaving Dale to teach his classes and do his paperwork as best he could before heading home.

He’d spent a long time that night lying awake, wishing Sam were there beside him instead of at a job where she could be in danger at any moment.

But as much as he wanted to tell her to quit, that he’d support her, he wasn’t going to presume to dictate her life.

Today at breakfast, he decided, he would
offer
. He’d say that if she wanted, he’d be happy to have her move in with him. He had plenty of money to pay the bills and support her until she found another job she wanted.

Maybe he could even convince Lynn to offer her the assistant position at the studio.

He knew he wanted her to live with him, though.
He wanted to spent the rest of their lives together. And for the first time in his life, he was even starting to think about having children someday.

He’d always been too conscious of the damage his parents had done to want to risk inflicting that on another human being, but Sam had a strength in her that neither of his parents had had. The thought of making children who had Sam’s integrity, bravery, and inherent sweetness—the thought of giving those children the kind of childhood Sam hadn’t been able to have—

Well, he could see the appeal.

He did wonder about how introducing Sam to the pride was going to go. The older members were very wary of weak leadership—understandably, after his father’s tenure as alpha—and they weren’t going to like that Dale had a human mate.

Some of them might even try to pressure her into volunteering to be turned. It was absolutely forbidden to turn a human against their will, but if they were persuaded to volunteer…

Dale hadn’t even brought up the subject with Sam yet, because he didn’t want her to feel like she had to. Sam was so determined to do a good job as his mate, he could already tell. Telling her that she could be
better
if only she just changed something about herself—

If she did want to, Dale was sure that being a lioness would only make her more
Sam
. But he couldn’t stomach the idea of making her feel like she wasn’t enough just as she was.

* * *

“Get in the car, please, Samantha,” said Alan Chapman. His friend—Freddie, she remembered Dale saying his name was—was holding the back door open for her.

“No, thank you,” she said steadily, hand gripping her nightstick. If she wanted to use it, she knew she’d only get one shot.

“It wasn’t a request,” Chapman said. “Please don’t force me to have Freddie make you get—”

While he was in the middle of his sentence, Sam drew her nightstick in one smooth motion up to her shoulder, like she’d practiced doing over and over last night, and swung it as hard as she could at Freddie.

It connected with a heavy
crack
to the middle of his shoulder. His mouth opened in an O of surprise, and Sam bolted forward—

—and came up short when two huge hands grabbed her upper arms. Chapman was behind her, pulling her back into a strong bear hug.

Sam struggled hard, trying to stomp on his instep with her clunky security guard shoe, but while she was focused on her feet, he grabbed the nightstick from her hand. She took advantage of his loosened grip to twist, but his arms were still too strong around her.

And then she heard a growl behind her, and froze.

“Freddie,” Chapman said into the sudden quiet, “change back, please.”

There was a louder growl.

“Freddie,” said Chapman. “I won’t ask you again. Change back.”

Another minute of quiet, and then Freddie was saying in a sulky voice, “She hurt me.”

“It’s your own fault for not being prepared,” Chapman said silkily. “She had a weapon, and you ignored it. All right, Samantha, I’ll be joining you in the backseat, I think, while Freddie drives us to our destination. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, hating the wobble in her voice. She was sweating and shaky, and her breath was coming in pants.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Chapman said. “Come on.” He hauled her along the sidewalk to the open car door, and pushed her inside, getting in after her. “Childproof locks, I think, Freddie. We don’t want her diving out into traffic.”

“Yes, sir,” Freddie muttered, and Sam heard the
click
of the locks engaging.

She sat miserably as far from Chapman as she could get, pressed up against the opposite door, and thought about Dale telling her to breathe after she’d been attacked the other night.

She drew in a breath, and it was jerky and uneven. She held it for a second, and then let it shakily out, and started again. In. Hold. Out.

She kept breathing, and didn’t think about what Chapman might want her for.

* * *

Dale deliberately avoided Sam’s workplace on his morning run, not wanting to seem too much like a crazed lovesick idiot. They’d agreed to meet after Sam got home, and stopping by all,
Hi, I know we had a plan, but I just couldn’t stay away…
seemed too much like a scene from a cheesy movie.

Instead, he circled around the opposite end of the city, came straight home, showered, and got dressed. In a nice suit, even though he’d be overdressed for breakfast; for Sam, it was a dinner date.

Dale didn’t eat out much, and so he’d had a hard time finding a good place to go—most places that were open for breakfast this early in the morning were diners or Denny’s. But he’d eventually found what looked like a cozy restaurant that specialized in brunch and opened at 7.

He checked his phone. 6:31, no messages. Sam had probably just gotten home.

He waited, getting more and more antsy as the clock ticked forward.
Calm down
, he told himself. She was probably showering and putting on makeup. Doing her hair.

He had no idea what Sam did to get herself ready for a date, he realized. He was looking forward to finding out.

But he was also incredibly anxious.
Strangely
anxious, considering it was only 6:45 and he had literally no reason to think Sam would want to cancel. Was this what being a lovesick idiot was like?

He forced himself through some basic breathing exercises, the sort of thing he used to center himself before a training session. They didn’t work very well.

At seven, he gave up and called Sam. If he looked like a lovesick idiot, that was fine.

He couldn’t have said why, but he needed to hear her voice.

The phone was picked up after two rings, and Dale was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard something that made his blood freeze in his veins.

“Dale,” said Alan Chapman’s smooth voice. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

* * *

Freddie drove them to a small house in a bad neighborhood on the outskirts of town.

They pulled into a tiny garage, and Chapman yanked Sam out of the car by her wrist, while she wished bitterly that she’d had time to go to more than one of Lynn’s classes. All she could think to do was to go limp, and Chapman and Freddie together could carry her no problem.

Plus, they were lions.

So she went quietly, although Chapman’s grip on her wrist stayed bruisingly hard.

Inside, there was barely any furniture, just a card table and a few folding chairs set up in the kitchen. Chapman picked up a pair of handcuffs from the table and put one around her wrist.

“Don’t want you getting away," he said, and closed the other around a cabinet door. Sam eyed it, but it looked too strong to break.

“
Why
don’t you want me getting away?” she asked. “I’ve never done anything to you. I can’t give you anything. I don’t have any money.”

“I don’t want anything you have, Samantha.” Sam hated the way he said her name, in a drawn-out, caressing tone of voice. “I want what your lover has. And he’s going to give it to me, or he’ll never get you back.”

“You’re going to fight Dale," Sam realized all of a sudden.

“That’s right." Chapman came up to her, way too close, and Sam backed up until her hand hit the full length of the handcuff. He reached out—

—but he was just going into her pocket. He pulled out her phone. “Let’s see," he said. “Oh, here he is. Just ‘Dale,' Samantha? No cute nicknames? I’m disappointed.”

“Dale won’t give up his pride," Sam snapped, and she realized as she was speaking that she hoped it was true.

As much as she loved Dale and as happy as she was that he loved her back, she wouldn’t want him to sacrifice all of his family and friends to this sadistic asshole just for her.

“Dale’s
pride
has been a problem for me for a while," Chapman said, laughing at his own pun, “but I think I have finally brought it to heel.”

The phone buzzed in his hand. Sam knew who it was. No one else would call her this early in the morning.

Chapman smiled, delighted, and swiped his thumb over the screen. “Dale," he said into the phone. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

* * *

Dale’s entire body had gone cold. “What the hell have you done with Sam?” he snapped.

“Oh, she’s just fine," Chapman said. “Nothing to worry about. And she’ll stay fine, as long as you cooperate.”

“Cooperate with what," Dale said flatly, although he didn’t need to ask. He knew.

“You’ll meet me at the studio when it opens," said Chapman in his smooth, confident voice. “I will issue a formal challenge with witnesses. We will fight today, and you will lose. If you don’t, Samantha dies.”

“How do you know I won’t just show up at your house in five minutes?” Dale stood up and moved for the door.

“Dale," said Chapman, sounding like he was talking to a simple child, “we’re not at my house. We’re at another property, and it’s not even under my name. You have no hope whatsoever of finding me before the day is over.”

Dale stopped halfway to the door, his ears starting to ring. He felt like everything was receding, like the world was just fuzzing out.

And then he heard something that slammed him back to reality: a tinny voice shouting, “Don’t do it, Dale! Don’t give in to this asshole!”

And then something that turned his whole-body chill into a hot rage: a high, sharp smack. The sound of someone being slapped hard across the face.

“Now, Freddie," said Chapman reprovingly. “I’ve already spoken to you once about getting too violent with Samantha. I’d hate to have to do it a third time.”

“I’ll see you at the studio," Dale gritted out, and hung up.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a long second afterward, wondering if hanging up had been a cowardly move. But no—he’d never be able to convince Chapman of anything, and the longer he stayed on the line, the more likely Chapman would try and use Sam to get to him.

Dale had to get to Sam instead. He had to. But how?

Sam would be alone with Freddie when Chapman left.

Dale had never had a chance to get to know Freddie very well, since he’d always been too much under Chapman’s spell. But he didn’t think impulse control was Freddie’s specialty—he had no idea what Freddie might do without Chapman there. If he wanted to hurt Sam…

Suddenly, Dale eyes widened. He grabbed his keys—he had to get to the studio.

* * *

Dawn was already at reception when Dale came in. She wasn’t working, though, just staring down at her desk. When Dale came over, he could see that there wasn’t anything on the desk, and her computer wasn’t on.