Chapter Three #2
The other three men laughed, ignoring the warning.
One made kissing noises. Never! Jules braced to bash his head against the asshole’s.
Painful, but effective. He’d have to be careful.
Articles often appeared online of vicious attacks leaving the victims brutalized.
Those could involve dragons. Whatever he did, he could leave no evidence of his dual nature, if not for himself, then for Moira and Radomir.
He visualized each move in his head, calculating the positions of his targets: a headbutt, a roundhouse right, a well-aimed kick. This time, he wouldn’t stop his foot from connecting like he did with Radomir.
A rumbling growl came from somewhere deep in the alley, followed by a rich baritone. “Let him go.” The sound sent a shiver down Jules’s spine.
The four men all turned toward the sound, as did Jules.
A man stalked from the shadows, clad in a black leather jacket, jeans, and dusty boots.
A dark braid hung over one shoulder, and he sported an impressive five o’clock shadow.
Badass radiated from him. Whether dragon or human, here stood an alpha.
He towered over Jules and the thugs. “You must not have heard me, but I said, ‘Let. Him. Go.’”
“And if we don’t?” Mr. Tattoo asked in a much less impressive growl of his own.
“Then I hand you your asses,” the man replied casually. Tall, Dark, and Brutal took a step closer, a feral grin making him appear far more sinister than any of the hoodie guys. “Who’s first?” The low timbre of his voice alone could make someone tremble in their boots, either from fear or lust.
“Go on, man. This doesn’t concern you,” Mr. Tattoo snarled, tightening his hold on Jules’s neck.
Jules grasped at the man’s hands. The tips of his fingers tingled, a warning of impending claws. “Ackk!” he gasped, still playing the role of helpless. Time to act. The next time Leather Jacket guy stole the asshole’s attention…
“If he’s injured, the cops will be the least of your worries,” the stranger drawled, sounding bored and leaning one shoulder against the brick wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
The thug let go, shoving Jules back. “We’re just having a little fun.”
The stranger arched an eyebrow, shifting his gaze from the leader to Jules and back again. “Well, it didn’t look much fun for him.”
It would’ve been in a few more minutes, once Jules gave in enough to his dragon to teach these assholes a lesson.
Leather Guy continued, “If you don’t leave now, I’m gonna have myself a party with you as a pinata.
Trust me. You won’t enjoy it unless you’re into some really sick shit.
” Jules’s savior stalked like a predatory cat toward the guy who appeared to be the leader.
“When someone is picking on someone else, four to one, it’s my concern.
” He moved closer, calm, unhurried, carrying his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to strike at any moment.
His trajectory would take him between Jules and the brutes.
“I’ve had a long day. You interrupted my search for a beer.
Stress relief, don’cha know? Kicking ass works just about as well. ”
The man closest to the stranger swung. The stranger caught the punch in his fist, grabbed the man’s wrist, and tossed him onto his back onto the filthy pavement as if he weighed less than Jules’s backpack. He landed with a harsh “Ooaf!”
The second bully charged, arms wide to tackle the stranger. Every instinct screamed at Jules to engage. He grabbed his backpack up by the straps and swung with all his might, catching the leader in the face. The backpack sailed down the alley.
Dang it! He’d lost his talisman now! Not that he’d need Radomir’s backup with the stranger around.
The leader stumbled backward, cracking his head against a brick wall.
He slid down until he landed in a puddle of something Jules didn’t want to consider.
What? Did Jules actually take someone out while barely trying?
Radomir would be proud…if Jules even told him.
Actual fights were much different from sparring. Radomir never tried to hurt him.
The fourth attacker looked from his leader to Jules and then at the stranger. He ran.
The leader and the other two scrambled to their feet, darting back the way Jules had come. One cast a frightened glance over his shoulder as the others outran him.
Jules’s dragon wanted to give chase, to rend limb from limb. You’re kind of bloodthirsty for an omega, aren’t you? he asked his alter ego. The impression of smugness answered him.
At last, only Jules and his rescuer remained. The leather-clad badass stood over six feet tall, with dark, piercing eyes, and was maybe a few years older than Jules. What would happen now? Would this man attack, too?
Jules inched toward his backpack and the shiny pebble he carried for emergencies.
Wait. Hadn’t Jules seen that braid peeking out from beneath a hardhat earlier today?
Instead of attacking, the stranger grinned, holding out a hand. “Elouan Aaron.” His voice held a soft lilt, definitely not from around here but with enough traces of Southern not to stand out. Scottish, maybe? What kind of name was Elouan? Was that like Ian?
Jules took the hand, schooling the trembling from his fingers caused by a waning adrenaline rush. “Jules Carter.”
“Nice to meet you, Jules.”
Jules released a pent-up breath. “Nicer than you can ever know to meet you.” He gripped Elouan’s hand and, for some strange reason, didn’t want to let go. Must be the shock of a near miss.
Elouan released the handshake—darn it!—to retrieve the backpack. “You seemed to be taking care of yourself pretty well.”
While Jules often railed against omegas playing helpless to stroke an alpha’s ego, he gave credit where due.
Besides, this wasn’t a dragon alpha, merely a human, though Moira’s spell wouldn’t let Jules detect otherwise.
But an alpha would likely join in the torment, not defend a stranger, right?
“Not against so many. I’d have been in pretty deep shit if you hadn’t shown up.
” Maybe, maybe not. Probably not. Don’t expend more effort than needed. Another lesson from Radomir and Moira.
The stone could have summoned Radomir, but would he have gotten here in time?
“Then I’m glad I ate dinner at a diner down the street. I was just heading to pick up a six-pack and find my ride when I heard something going on.” Elouan regarded Jules, a wrinkle forming between his dark brows. “Did you know any of those guys?”
“I’ve never seen them before and never want to again.” No more staying late or taking shortcuts. Superhuman strength and speed might give away more than Jules intended.
“That’s what I thought. Just a bunch of parasites. Where ya headed?” the stran… no, Elouan asked.
Moira always warned Jules not to let others know where he lived. Which meant he’d been wary his whole life. Though with surveillance and cameras everywhere, why bother? If someone wanted to find him, they would. “Umm…Home. A few blocks away.”
“Want me to walk with you? In case those guys come back? Or we can take my truck.” Elouan gave a nonchalant shrug, but the pulse point in his neck pounded. From adrenaline or uncertainty? Why would this gorgeous god of a man be uncertain about asking to walk Jules home?