Chapter 5 #2
“She used what she had. He dominated her in size, strength, and speed, and she still won the battle. You might not like it, but you can’t say she didn’t earn it.
” He squeezed, and the other man spat up a wad of blood that hit the sidewalk with a splat.
“If you can’t respect Alpha Lennox, leave town.
Because if I catch you shooting your mouth off around here again, I won’t cuddle on the concrete with you.
I’ll rip off your godsdamned face and feed it to your wolf. ”
Ronan released the man with a violent shove. He still hadn’t looked up, hadn’t noticed Miles or me standing there. The people behind him had seen me, though. One of them, his manager Karen, was trying to signal him.
The wolf staggering to his feet was one I recognized as a Floyd loyalist—Bryant or Blake. Something like that. “I’m not leaving town, and I’m not accepting that bitch as my alpha. If you plan on ripping off my face, do it now.”
“Why challenge him when the bitch is right here?”
Both men slowly swiveled to face me.
The people by the door shuffled a few steps back. The whole thing would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so insulting.
Ronan frowned. “Betty?” He cleared his throat. “Alpha Lennox, when did you get here?”
“Been here the entire time.” I planted my hands on my hips. “So, what’s your problem, Blake?”
“It’s Brock. Brock Greer. My problem is I won’t pay allegiance to a leader I could easily defeat in an alpha battle.” He spat another gob of blood on the sidewalk.
“So go then,” I said. “Leave the pack. I’m not forcing anyone to stay.”
“I’m a contractor—got a construction company here in La Paloma. A wife. Kids. A life. You should leave.” He rolled his neck and shoulders and pointed his index finger at me. “Not apologizing, either.”
“I didn’t expect you to. Admitting you were wrong would take emotional intelligence,” I replied.
One of the men in the crowd spoke up. “She took down those seven gunmen with the silver bullets at the motel. Fried their thinkin’ parts to protect the betas. Sure sounds like a strong alpha to me.”
“She cheated her way into the pack with magic, Marcus. Besides, no female will ever be my alpha—wolf, witch, or whatever the fuck she is. It’s unnatural.”
I cupped my hand around one side of my mouth. “Someone get this guy a podcast. We’ll need a microphone, a couple of dipshits to laugh at his lame jokes, and a tactical gear sponsorship.”
Several people in the crowd snickered.
“I’m more alpha than you.” The wolf continued as if I hadn’t just dunked on him. “I’m more wolf than you. I’m more worthy to lead the pack than you.”
“Well, you’ve got me on the first two. But, sexism aside, who’s to say you’re more worthy to lead the pack than I am?” I looked beyond him at the shifters grouped around the doorway, seemingly captivated by the scene. “Doesn’t the pack deserve a leader who protects them?”
“I can protect this pack,” he snarled.
“Funny, since from what I saw in the previous alpha’s files, you were complicit in the crimes he committed against the pack. Why weren’t you protecting them then, Brent?”
“It’s Brock,” he said with a snarl.
“You didn’t do a single thing to stop him.” I rounded on the wolf, and he took a surprised step back. “I bet you just stood there and watched while he tortured his own people—including Trey Jefferson.”
“He was my alpha. He commanded. I listened.”
“Is this the part where you tell me you were just following orders?” I shook my head. “That’s not what a leader does, Billy Bob.”
“brOCK.” His glowing gold eyes were bloodshot and one of his lids was swollen almost shut. “He was Alpha. What could I do to stop him?”
“Something. Anything.”
“He. Was. Alpha,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Want to know what I did after Alpha Pallás killed Trey?” Again, I looked from him to the crowd of paranormals on the sidewalk.
My words were as much for their benefit as they were his.
“I walked straight into his murder basement and faced him down. Alone. I chased him off and took out eight of his wolves—and you did what, Braydon? Nothing?”
His eyes pinched into angry little slits. “My name’s Brock.”
“You might be more wolf than me, Bodie, but I’m twice the alpha you are. I not only protect my people, I avenge them.”
“Ten times the alpha,” Karen shouted.
A male voice in the crowd yelled, “Twenty times.”
Ronan joined in with: “Fifty times.”
I really wanted to look at him, but I kept my focus zeroed in on the danger in front of me.
“You’re a contractor, you say? I’ve been wondering who built Floyd’s torture room. Who put in those cells with the silver-painted walls? Had to be someone skilled in construction.” Our gazes locked, his furious, mine pointed. “Was it you, Brock?”
He lunged at me, but I was ready. As I’d told Dylan earlier, I was filled with power and my patience was gone, as was my tolerance for shifter bullshit.
I didn’t need to call upon my earth magic, didn’t need to summon the demonic darkness roiling in me like a storm. All I had to do was hold up my hand and flick intention from my fingertips into the air between the wolf and me.
“Go home.”
Brock froze, his entire body locking up, every muscle strained to the limit. His neck cracked as he stood up soldier-straight with shoulders back, spun on the ball of one foot, and robot-walked down the sidewalk.
Someone whispered, “Her eyes.”
Another said, “Silver, like the moon.”
We stared after him until he crossed the street and disappeared from sight.
Karen asked, “Should we call his wife? He left his truck here.”
“His truck, his problem.” Ronan wiped the blood from his face with the hem of his pub T-shirt, revealing a flash of muscled abs.
His gaze met mine. “Let’s get back inside before we attract attention.
I’d rather not have to ask Alpha Lennox to spell any human authorities tonight.
” He stepped up to me. “Buy you a beer?”
“Make it whisky. I like a Macallan neat after a good old-fashioned grandstanding.”
Ronan grinned. “If you’re going to stand up for yourself, might as well do it grandly.”
“That’s right. We should probably buy a drink for—” I looked over my shoulder, but Miles was gone. Strange, but no stranger than anything else that had happened to me tonight. “Never mind.” I looped my arm through his. “Let’s go inside.”
Five minutes later, I was perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, a glass of Macallan in my hand. The rest of the pub eyed me with a mix of awe, fear, and respect. It was a nice change of pace.
Ronan had taken his place behind the bar after changing his shirt and washing his face in the restroom.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter, watching me drink.
The shimmery silver betta fish he kept behind the bar in an aquarium swam to the glass and wiggled its fins like an excited puppy.
“I see Edie brought the pub mascot back. How’s Angel doing?” I asked, because it felt like the safest subject to discuss.
“Good. He’s eating well, enjoying the stimulation of the pub. Angel likes Edie’s place, but I think he’s happiest here, people watching. He’s got a new floating log to hide in when it gets to be too much.”
“Is there room for two?” I asked.
Ronan frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little … overwrought.”
His gaze was heated, and slightly glowing. “Who was out there with you tonight? The person you wanted to buy a drink for?”
Should’ve known he wasn’t going to just let it go. “Miles no-last-name.”
He frowned. “The Org’s demon hunter?”
“Not anymore, according to him. He said he came to warn me about them, that they’re pissed at me for blah, blah, blah, et cetera, and so forth.” I took a drink of the whisky, enjoying the smooth bite of it on my tongue. “More of the same.”
“You look tired,” he said. “Beautiful, but tired.”
“Good thing you added in the beautiful part, or you’d be in trouble.”
He sighed, and it was one of those sighs that made the atmosphere heavier once it was done. So, not a good one.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t at least wanted to roll around in the sheets with me. You used to like that sort of thing.” I don’t know why I said it so crassly other than that I was feeling paper thin and my response to any sort of vulnerability tended to involve self-defeating sarcasm.
Ronan straightened, walked one step, and leaned down until he was in my face. I lowered my whisky glass. It clicked against the polished wooden surface of the bar.
“Haven’t wanted to roll around in the sheets with you? Woman, every second I spend worshipping your body with mine is a godsdamned religious experience.”
Warmth spread throughout my body, and it wasn’t from the booze. My eyes clouded, and a yearning so deep it felt like a stab wound drove into my chest.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
He held out a hand. It was only after I put mine in it that I realized how badly it was shaking—his, not mine. “I haven’t slept much lately,” he said.
“Maybe we should do ourselves a favor and both spend the night here. You know … sleeping.”
He gave me a sexy smile and leaned over the bar to thread his fingers through my hair, bringing my face so close to his that our noses touched. In a soft, husky voice, he said, “Hurry up and finish your drink, Alpha Lennox.”