Jaxson (River Pack Wolves 1) - New Adult Paranormal Romance (2 page)

Her heart thudded. The groan turned into a grunt, then the sound of something hitting the pavement… and then a soul-breaking whimper. Her legs were locked in place—the sound was coming from the alley just ahead, a darkened space between the shelter and the next concrete building.

Something very bad was happening there.

Her legs shook, but she managed to make them move. She edged forward until she was just at the corner of the alley. The crackling continued, and her stomach jumped with it like it was filled with a hundred electrified butterflies. But she forced herself into the open so she could see down the long, shadowed alley.

What she saw made ice run through her veins.

There were two men at the end, dressed in black fatigues and boots, holding long metal sticks with blue electric arcs at the tip—and they were torturing an animal. It whimpered and writhed on the grimy pavement, just beyond an overflowing dumpster and before a boarded-up chain-link fence. They kept jabbing and jabbing it, darting in close then backing up as the animal snapped at them.

It was a wolf.

She froze. This was no ordinary wolf—if such a thing could even manage to wander into downtown Seattle. It was massive, easily the size of a man, with shiny black fur bristled out and fangs larger than her hand. It had to be a shifter—and the men were torturing it with their cattle prods.

Olivia swallowed down her fear, edged farther into the alley, and fumbled to get her phone out of the pocket of her skirt. Shifters were dangerous—they were just one of the magical creatures that lived in the shadows of Seattle, and she knew exactly how deadly the supernatural could be. But no matter how dangerous shifters might be, she knew there was a human being inside. And anyone torturing a shifter in an alley was probably worse than the shifter itself.

Besides, she couldn’t stand by and let them kill someone in front of her.

Her hand was shaking, but she managed to swipe her phone on and start recording. Somehow the small ding of the video caught the men’s attention, even over the sparking of their torture sticks and the growling of the beast. They whipped their heads to look at her, then at each other.

Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest, but she mustered up a strong voice anyway. “I’ve called the police!” she lied. “And I’ve got you on camera. Just put the sticks down, and they’ll go easy on you.”
God, what was she doing?

The attackers seemed to think the same thing. But in their distraction, the shifter leaped up and snapped at one of them. The beefier man jabbed the shifter in the face with the prod, while the more slender one turned toward her and started sprinting down the alley, stick in hand.

Oh shit.

Olivia stood her ground. “I’m recording this!” Her voice squeaked—that didn’t do anything to slow the man down. She should run… she
wanted
to run… but her legs were turning to jelly underneath her. Just as the man reached out a hand to grab her still-extended phone, a blur of fur and snapping jaws flashed between them. The man and wolf both slammed against the brick wall and bounced back off again. The man screamed as the wolf clamped its jaws onto him. Olivia skittered out of the path of the rolling, fighting, clawing ball of man and beast. She plastered herself against the cool brick wall, out of the way.

It was quickly over—the shifter had the man pinned with his throat in its jaws. Blood was smeared on his arm, but not at his neck. The second man, the bigger one, had raced down the alley to help his partner, but the shifter let loose a growl that raised all the hairs on the back of Olivia’s neck… and that sound stopped the second man in his tracks. With one bite, the shifter could snap the downed man's neck. But instead, it growled a second warning. The man who was standing finally got it—he dropped his torture stick and held up his hands. The shifter slowly released its grip on the first man’s throat. Then it let loose one of those bone-chilling growls right in the man’s face, spittle and foam dropping onto his terrified, pale cheeks. He didn’t move a muscle until the shifter slowly backed away. Then both men scrambled to run from the alleyway. When they were gone, the wolf loped back toward the dumpster and disappeared behind it.

Olivia’s heart was pounding in her chest, her phone was still gripped in her hand. She tapped it to stop recording and tried to catch her breath, which was raging out of control. She should leave—hustle her stupid-stupid self right out of the alley while she could—but she didn’t trust her legs. She was quivering head-to-toe, and only managed to stay upright because the brick wall was holding her up. Just as her heaving breaths started to calm, the sound of rapid footsteps scraping the pavement drew her attention back down the alley.

The most gorgeous man she’d ever seen was hurrying toward her.

It had to be the shifter—and he was even more massive as a man than he had been as a wolf. Tall and built like a mountain. Broad shoulders with muscles that flexed as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. Words were tattooed across his chest, but she couldn’t read them before they disappeared under his ragged t-shirt. She could still see his ripped abs through the holes and all the way down to his still-unbuttoned jeans. She yanked her gaze back up. His hair was black-as-midnight, just like his fur coat, and it gleamed in the sunshine finally pushing back the shadows of the alley.

He was undeniably hot, but he was
rushing
at her, and he was still a
shifter.
Olivia unlocked her quivering body and scrambled to grab one of the cattle-prod sticks the men had left behind. She held it in front of her to ward off the shifter and shrunk back against the wall.

He jogged to a stop just out of her reach. “Whoa! Hey…” He raised both hands into the air. “I’m not going to hurt you. Promise.” He gave her a lopsided smile that sent flutters through her lady parts, but she kept the stick trained on him.

“You’re a
shifter,”
she said, stating the obvious because her brain was blurry from everything that had happened.

“And you’re a
human,”
he said with a laugh in his voice. “I figured that out on account of an electric prod being your weapon of choice.”

Damn.
Even his voice was drenched in hotness. And he was only partly right about her being human, but she certainly wasn’t going to point that out. Her hand was shaking, but she managed to keep him at a distance with the stick.

He relaxed his hands-up position. “Come on, now. You’re not going to hurt me with that thing.” He extended one hand toward her, palm up. “How about you just give it to me, we put it down, and we can call this whole thing done?” He edged a little closer, slowly reaching for the cattle prod like she was a skittish but heavily-armed deer, all while holding her gaze with gorgeous clear blue eyes as bright as the Seattle sky.

Her hand wavered, but who was she kidding? This man wasn’t going to hurt her. She let out a shuddering breath and handed the torture stick over to him. His face lit with a smile, and he tossed the cattle prod behind him, sending it clattering on the pavement. Hands now free, he dropped them to work at the buttons on his pants. He was standing far too close, and it was clear he was going commando underneath his tattered jeans. She swallowed and tried to look anywhere else other than the gorgeous man dressing in front of her.

Her desperate attempt didn’t go unnoticed. “Sorry,” he said, drawing her back. “Nudity is an occupational hazard.” His smile had morphed into a full smirk. “And you’ve got to be kidding me, trying to stop those guys with a phone.” He nodded to the device in her hand, which was now hanging limp at her side.

 “I… um…” God, why wouldn’t her mouth work? Oh right. Because a Greek God was standing in front of her and…
was he checking her out?
His gaze was roaming her body, scouring and scrutinizing every inch.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his gaze finally reaching hers again.

Her cheeks flamed. He was just
concerned
about her, not hot for her too-plump body.
Obviously.
She was embarrassed she’d even conjured that thought. Had to be leftover tremors still rattling her brain.

She swallowed and managed to find her voice. “I’m fine.” But her voice squeaked, and he frowned in response. 

He looked her over again, and then slowly leaned in to plant his hands on either side of her head, surrounding her with a mountain of muscles. She sucked in a breath and pressed harder against the wall. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel the warmth radiating from his muscular arms. The scent of pine, warm earth, and the heat of the fight was on him. She should be terrified, struggling to get away, but instead she was overwhelmed by the raw sex-appeal rolling off him in waves.

“You’re not all right,” he said softly, peering into her eyes. “You’re in shock. You just witnessed a violent attack in an alley with dangerous men you don’t know. I’m sorry you had to see that, but it’s over now. You’re safe. And I promise I won’t let any harm come to you.” He dipped his head, leaning even closer. “Do you believe me?”

She nodded, somewhat erratically. But she actually
did
believe him—he could obviously kill her if he wanted, but instead, he was reassuring her. With his words. And his body. And his ridiculously sexy voice.

 His smile returned, and he eased back a little, but still stayed close enough to make her chest hurt with how hard her heart was pounding.

“Thanks for trying to save me,” he said, voice still soft. “That was a very sweet thing to do. Brave and sweet. Also very stupid.”

She gave a small shrug, as much as she could with him so close. Because what could she do, walk away? “They were going to kill you.” His nearness was making it hard for her to breathe. Hard to speak.

His smile blazed brighter. “Actually, I had just gotten them right where I wanted them.”

That made her eyebrows hike up. “It didn’t quite look that way from this end of the alley.”

“You’ll just have to trust me on that.” The smirk was almost too much, especially this close, but then it faded. He leaned in fast and planted a light kiss on her cheek. “But thank you anyway,” he whispered in her ear.

Her breath hitched, and goosebumps ran races up and down her body.

She expected him to pull away, but instead, he seemed to be drawing in a breath with his lips still near her cheek.
Was he scenting her?
She had heard shifter wolves could do that—smell far more than any normal human. And maybe hear things, too. God, she prayed he didn’t smell the wetness pooling between her legs. When he finally pulled back, he peered at her, frowning. Like he had an unspoken question and was searching for the answer in her eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was soft and wondering.

What?
 “I think you just did.” She really,
really
couldn’t breathe.

His smirk blazed to life again.
“That
wasn’t even close to a kiss.”

Then he closed the few inches between them and pressed his lips to hers. They were strong and soft and hungry for her. His hands cupped her cheeks, lifting her away from the wall and angling her so his lips could demand more. A fire burst to life inside her, a burning heat that traveled straight from her mouth to between her legs. And when his tongue asked permission to taste her, she opened for him without thinking. He plunged in and kissed her so deeply and thoroughly that her legs gave out entirely—only his hand around her waist, pressing her body to his, kept her upright. When he eased back from the kiss, his breath was hot on her face, and his eyes were wide.

She was panting like she’d run a mile. Her body ached with the need for more. The last thing she wanted was for him to let go… but he did. His frown grew like he wasn’t sure what to make of her, or their kiss, or something.

He stepped back and held her at arm’s length, eyeing her shaky legs. “Can you stand?”

“I am quite capable of standing, thank you.” His smirk made her heated skin flame even more. She straightened her blouse, which was rumpled from the kiss. It was obvious how much effect he’d had on her. And that she hadn’t had anywhere near the same effect on him.

But she couldn’t help the thrill that ran through her body when he took her arm to support her. He gently shuffled them toward the street, then slid his hand down, taking her phone and lacing his fingers with hers. He blazed a smile that banished her embarrassment and tilted his head down the street.

“Why don’t you hail us a cab?” he asked.

It seemed a peculiar request—and besides, she couldn’t afford a cab—yet having his hand locked with hers steadied her. And somehow filled her with a sense of safety. So she raised her hand and signaled a distant yellow car. It took a while for it to amble over. When it arrived, the gorgeous man on her arm opened the door and gestured for her to step in. Then he leaned forward and produced a wad of bills from his tattered jeans to give to the driver.

“Take her home. And make sure she’s safely inside before you leave.” His voice was full of authority now. He glanced at the cabby’s license. “Markus Trenton, cab license number 4523974. If anything happens to her, I’ll be tracking you down and holding you personally accountable. Are we clear?”

The cabby’s eyes went wide, but he took the outstretched money. “Sure, man. Whatever you want.”

Then the shifter turned his blazing blue eyes on her and smiled. “Don’t do any more stupid things, camera girl.” He closed the door of the cab before she could protest.

It whisked away from the curb. She sat there, stunned. He had sent her off by herself. And somehow had money for a cab, even though his clothes were full of holes, like the homeless men in the shelter. It wasn’t until a minute or two later that she realized… the shifter still had her phone.

Of course. 
She cursed loud enough that the cabbie glanced in the rear-view mirror at her. Mr. Hot Shifter had wanted her phone. The rest—the soft words, the heated kiss—was all just a diversion. She slumped back against the seat. Now she was out a job
and
a phone.

But that scorching hot kiss…

She gingerly touched her fingers to her lips. They were still swollen.