Keeper of the Alphas - Complete (15 page)

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said. He reached down then, yanking his pants back up, and tugged a condom out of his wallet.

“How many do you keep stashed in there?” she asked.

“Got a pocket just for you,” he said as he reached down to put it on. He was too turned on, dick pulsing, and it took him a couple tries before he rolled it on, sheathing his length.

He pressed against her, body heat practically radiating from him, and she felt him ease inside her. She felt sensitive, still sore from this morning, but his movements were fluid and smooth. Marcus was sharp, jagged rocks, Jayce was waves and salt and sea glass, and Cami felt a sudden urge to be pounded against both of them.

The thought almost pushed her over the edge right there. But Jayce wouldn’t let her get off that easily. He slowed his pace, nibbled her neck, and caught her hair in his fingers. “Look at me,” he said.

She did, crushed against him, wide-eyed and desperate. She gasped, savoring every thrust, every time he hit that spot deep inside of her, needing it again and again and again…

Those brown eyes, those deep, soulful brown eyes that looked at her with nothing but adoration and love. Little freckle beside his left eye. His gaze unmoving, even as his body rolled over hers. That’s what she saw when she came, hard, her thighs wrapped around his hips.

She grabbed his ass and held him against her, tight, so he was as deep as he could possibly be as she rode out her orgasm. Her body arched up to meet his again and again and she thought she might fall off the desk if it wasn’t for his body up against hers. She heard his own loud groan at her lips and felt his hips jerk against hers as he emptied himself.

She was still spinning, panting, when he kissed her. Hungry, but sweet. Quiet, savoring. The only sound in the room was the soft break of their lips when they pulled apart.

Which was about when Cami noticed the big, open windows at the store front. “You think anyone saw us?” she asked.

“Probably not.” Then a grin. “Hopefully not.”

She laughed into his shoulder, giddy and lightheaded (ever reliant Dr. O). They stayed there for a second longer, sharing body heat, when he finally said, “I should clean up.”

“Yeah, okay.” She released him from her arms and legs and winced when he pulled out from her.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically and snapped off the condom, tossing it in a trashcan.

“Can’t stay in there all day, can you?”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” He grinned, then lifted up their clothes and a hair dryer. “I’m gonna try to dry these.”

“You want help?” she asked.

“Just stay there and look pretty.” He winked and moved to the corner of the room, plugging in the hair dryer.

Cami lowered herself into the cushiony leather seat and closed her thighs. Felt warm and wet all over. Felt good. She dropped her head back, examining the space. Great mirrors. Not a lot of light, though. She’d love something old-fashioned, Hollywood era, like little round bulbs around every mirror. Definitely a pastel pink paint job on the walls. It was big enough to fit about four people at a time, with two extra chairs to swap out the washing stations. Could be cute, a real home-style place. Walk in to a flurry of scissors, tinfoil, and small town gossip. Not like Seth’s place, that was dentist-office chic, impersonal, like everyone was just too hip to care.

Why was she going back again?

In her pile of clothes, Jayce had left her phone on the floor. Cami swiped it up and dialed Seth’s number.

“Cami,” he said, picking up on the first ring. Sounded flustered, relieved. “Tell me you’re on a plane.”

“No.”

“You’re on my very last nerve, sweetheart.”

“I’m not coming back. So.”

A pregnant pause. “Cami. I—”

“Need me, no, you don’t. You want me to shove around.”

“I need at least two weeks. This is absurd and unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional? Like slamming your secretary every morning before work? Why don’t you just write me a glowing reference and we’ll call it even.”

She could practically hear him grinding his teeth on the other end. “You’ll regret this. You’re having one of your crazy fits. You’ll come crawling back.”

“No. Well, maybe. But that’s my business. So…I don’t know. See you.”

“Cami—”

She hung up and dropped the phone on the desk.

“I hope you’re serious about that job offer, because I just quit my old one. So. Looks like I’ll be here for a bit.”

Jayce’s smile looked like it could light up a pumpkin. But then something dark fell over his expression.

“What?” Cami asked. “Oh God, you were joking, weren’t you? I should call him back, grovel, say I’m off my meds or something—”

She opened her phone and started through her recent calls.

“No—no.” Jayce plucked her phone from her fingers and shut it off. “I’m happy. Really happy. This place isn’t going to know what happened to it.” Then he offered her a smile. The sadness around the edges of his eyes melted away and he was playful again, bright and charming. He swiveled her chair around and dipped in, closing his mouth over hers in a firm, lingering kiss. She felt her anxiety unwind under his lips, even as he sealed off the kiss and nibbled her bottom lip. “I should take you home.”

Home
. Marcus. There was a thud of guilt in her chest. She nodded, tried to smile. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”
Might as well figure out what was waiting for her.

(Like a Band-Aid, dear.)

They spread their clothes out and Cami helped him blow them dry with the hair dryer. Her dress felt blanket warm by time she got it back on, but the air between Cami and Jayce had dried up and gone stale in the meantime. Was it something she said? This felt like a bad habit. Weren’t men supposed to be happier after sex?

Whatever it was, she could at least see Jayce trying to lift it when they drove to his car. He kissed her, hard. “I’ll see you later?” she asked, still thrown by his attitude.

Cue charming smile. “Hopefully sooner than that. You sure you can make it back in that truck?”

“I’ll survive.”

There it was again. That faltering smile. “Cami…” he said, and then added, his tone measured, “I know about Marcus.”

Alarm bells. Loud, unnerving alarm bells. Cami felt like the rug had been yanked out from under her and now she was flat on the floor, ass smarting. “What about him?” she asked cautiously.

“That he lives with you. And he’s dangerous. Whatever he’s saying to get close to you, don’t trust it—”

“Close to me?” Cami’s eyes flashed.

“Yeah,” Jayce said, head bowing a little guiltily. “When I dropped you off the other night…I saw you and him…well…”

“Wow.” Cami grabbed her bag of (spoiled) groceries and pushed her way out of Jayce’s car. “Just wow.”

“Cami—”

“Don’t
Cami
me,” she snapped and shut the door behind her, hard.

He followed and leaned over the top of his car to watch her. “This is what I do,” he said, his voice dropping to something softer. “I’m a hunter. I take down dangerous creatures. Like Marcus.” He lifted both palms in a shrug. “There. Now you know everything.”

Silence from Cami. Cold, taut silence.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I don’t know
what
the hell to think.” She got in Marcus’s truck and plucked the keys from her purse, revving up the engine.

“Cami.” His voice was strained now as he followed her to her truck, ducking into the open passenger window. “Please. Come back with me. You’ll be safe there.”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Cami laughed. “Some crazy little plaything.”

“I don’t think that.” Desperately earnest.

“Move aside, Jayce. Unless you want to become road kill.”

“I’m—”

The car jolted forward as she threw it into gear and Jayce smartly took a step back. Cami took off, wheels screeching as she tore down the road.

(If you thought more with your head and less with what goes on between your legs, dear, you wouldn’t be in this position.)

Cami did a fifteen-minute drive in half that time. Parked the car and got out, stepping over the threshold.

The second she stepped inside, she could tell the energy of the house had gone south. It felt darker, like he hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights despite the pending sunset. The only real light came from the dining room, a muddied yellow, where he had newspapers spread out over the table. A half-finished wood carving sat on the table, sawdust covering the floor.

“Marcus?” she said, almost timidly.

The humming of the wood saw came to a stop. His eyes turned up to look at her, dark and angry. “Do you know what time it is?”

She shrugged. “I got sidetracked.”

“You’ve been gone all day,” he snapped. “I thought you were dead!”

“Well, maybe if you had a phone instead of living like a damn caveman I could’ve called you and told you I’d be late.”

“Aldric could have—”

“Come on, Marcus! I’m tired of living in fear.” She slipped her hands to his shirt, clinging. “For the first time in forever, I feel free. Like I can do anything. I quit my job.”

“You what?” His jaw went slack. “Have you lost your mind?”

Now it was her turn to snap, “No! I haven’t! For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m finally thinking clearly!”

Marcus grabbed her then to stop her, his grip hard. A recognition passed over his face. “Where were you?” he asked. His voice cold, black ice.

“Out,” she said like a stubborn teenager.

He pulled her closer in and practically bared his teeth. “Who were you with?”

Her heart sped up suddenly, a real fear leaking into her bones now. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” It was a roar now,
animal
, inhuman. “I can smell him on you!”

His anger was deafening and Cami felt her confidence shrink. She felt suddenly very, very small under the black cloud of his very, very large anger. Before she knew it, her eyes were stinging and she was sniffling. “I’m sorry…I…I wasn’t thinking…”

The shadows in his expression lifted and he softened. “Cami…it’s not you…” His hands moved to her shoulders. She flinched.

He retracted his hand as though burned. She hiccupped. She couldn’t look at him. She could still see his body as he turned, his back to her, and braced himself on the couch. She heard his growl, thunder deep, animal still, “Why did you let me
smell
him on you?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered under her breath, so quiet she wasn’t sure he heard it.

He whipped around like a flurry of black, a tempest large enough lift Dorothy straight out of Kansas. “Stay here,” he snarled and flew out the door. It slammed shut behind him. The frame shuddered in his wake.

Silence was worse and Cami hugged her arms over her chest tightly as she choked on sobs. How had she fucked things up so
royally
? Everything was fine until she got here. When her mother was alive. And now she’d gone and messed it all up. Some
Keeper
she was. She couldn’t even keep
herself
together. She wanted to back to her hole of an apartment in New York, where she could forget about shifters and Keepers and men who made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe she could just go into her room, pull the covers up, and stay under there until this nightmare was over.

A loud, animal roar broke through her thoughts. Everything in Cami came to a sudden stop—even her tears—as she felt her bones go rigid. Not Aldric. No. she
knew
that roar. But why—

Oh.
Oh
. Shit.

Jayce
. He was going after Jayce.

“Marcus—!” Cami flung the door open and screamed for him, but he was already gone. His clothes were in tatters on the ground. She saw the grizzly bear lunge through the woods, and then nothing.

Cami swore under her breath.
Now what?

She snatched the car keys up and dashed off to the truck.

Time to rein in the animals.

“Hold on! Gimme a goddamn second!” Pam threw open the door of her trailer, disheveled, her short hair askew. When she saw who it was who’d been knocking on her door like a hammer, a smirk curled on her mouth. “You look like shit, sweet pea.”

Jayce looked ashen. Sick. With traces of stubborn determination smeared over his mug. “We need to talk.”

“You’re telling me,” Pam said and propped her hand against her doorframe. “By now, I thought you’d have a new bear rug slung over your shoulders.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not happening.”

Pam’s expression soured instantly. “You choose your next words carefully, Jayce,” she said.

“I’m done.” He looked exhausted, the weight of it adding years to his face. “I can’t lie to Cami.” And then, almost somberly, like a death sentence, “I love her.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Pam rolled her eyes. She stepped down in front of him and hooked her hand over the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin. “Then
don’t
lie to her,” she hissed. “Tell her everything. That you’re a hunter. That you were playing her to get close to Marcus. Oh…” She grinned, then tilted her lips to his ear and murmured, “Tell her about that night she came crying to you because she saw a man-bear in the night and thought she was losing her mind. Poor little girl, so alone, so scared. And you didn’t have the balls to tell her that her nightmares were
real
.”

“Quit it,” he said, shrugging her off. But he didn’t take a swing at her, not like she wanted. No fight left in him. Instead, his eyes looked glassy, like he might cry.
Such
a turnoff.

Pam sighed. “
Fine
,” she said. Then she reached into her belt holster and pulled out her gun. She thumbed silver bullets in, one after the other. “If you won’t tell her, I will.”

Before she could put in the last bullet, Jayce ripped the gun from her hands. “What’re you doing?”

“What
you
were supposed to,” Pam sneered. “I’m putting Marcus down. And whoever gets in my way.”

Jayce shook his head. His jaw set. “I can’t let you do that.”

“What’re you going to do about it?” she said, nose to nose, her eyes piercing through his.

“I’m taking care of this,” Jayce said as he stepped back into his car. “My own way.”

He slammed the door behind him and Pam shouted, “Do it right or don’t you bother coming back here!”

Twigs and leaves crunched under his paws as the Beast dashed through the woods. He landed hard on his legs, muscles spring-loaded, and took off towards the trailer park. Stray branches snapped as he barreled his own path through, golden-brown fur rippling along his strong shoulders, down his back. The wound at his chest—newly opened—wet his fur with dark blood, but that didn’t slow him. Miles vanished under the black pads of his paws in minutes, grunting, panting.
Free
. Unburdened with the thorns and brambles of tricky humanity. No struggle here, no internal debate. Just the crisp taste of the night, the scurrying sound of animals that scurried into the shadows when the bear tore through.

And that smell.
His
smell. The scent of the hunter who claimed
his
mate.

(Maybe not mate, maybe not
yet
, but
his
, surely
his.
)

He broke through the wood and to the clearing of the trailer park. He tumbled to a sudden stop when a sharp, intrusive scent stuck in his nose. The bear sneezed, shook his heavy head, and dropped his snout to the ground. The smell was acidic and it drew a shimmering ring around the park. A
warning
to any shifters that tried to get through. Silver shards, poisonous, twinkled in the blades of grass.

Marcus saw him. The sleek, lean hunter. Arguing with a woman—short, sparky, another hunter, probably—before he got in his car and took off.

Heading to Argonne. To take what was
his
.

He grunted, snorted, and then turned away from the edge of the ring, pushing back. Marcus leapt back through the woods. His Beast knew a shortcut. His muscles burned but he pushed past the ache. All until he broke through the trees and skidded across black, smooth asphalt.

In the middle of the road, the Beast could hear the Camaro’s purring approach before he saw the headlights.

Marcus lifted his head, flattened his ears, and—

Roared.