Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

“We tracked him to Paris but lost him there. We’re monitoring the situation. There’s no word of any deals, so he’s probably headed to another hideyhole.”

“Any new intel on how he knew to use silver bullets?”

“No.”

“Colonel, I–”

“Your orders are to stand down,” Johnson barks. His tone softens. “I know you want to go after him, son. I’m asking you to follow orders until we know more.”

“Yes sir.” There’s a pop and a splash of liquid over my hand, but I don’t look down. I broke another pen.

“Keep your pack close,” he orders and hangs up.

My pack. Right. They’re the most important thing in the world to me. Deke and Channing are on patrol. Lance is in town, safe with his mate. I need to focus on them.

My parents, lying cold and still on the cabin floor. Blood pooled under their heads…

No! It won’t happen again. I will keep control, keep my pack safe.

I have no time for Adele. She doesn’t fit into my life, and that’s the way things are. That’s the way things gotta be.

5

Rafe

“Dinner is served.” It’s shift two of Adele’s job, and she’s back at the lodge, waving all of us to the table. This time Sadie joined us. I invited her so we’d be on our best behavior.

“Adele, this looks great,” Sadie gushes. And it does. Huge silver domes cover our plates. We lift them together. I brace myself, expecting hotdogs. But no, it’s steak. About six of them, stacked high on my plate. Giant, thick cuts of meat.

My wolf is officially in love.

“Aww, yeah,” Deke mutters. Next to him, his mate Sadie shoots him a grin.

“Meat. As ordered,” Adele announces. “All different cuts. There’s ribeye, tenderloin and Porterhouse. And filet mignon for the ladies.”

“Thanks for that.” Sadie’s voice holds laughter. Her plate has a much smaller cut of meat and what looks like some roasted asparagus on the side.

“Oh, I love filet mignon,” Channing says around a mouthful of meat.

“There are a few little ones left over. You can have them for breakfast,” Adele says. She’s leaning against the kitchen island, watching us eat.

I hook the chair next to me with my foot and pull it out. “Sit,” I order.

She lifts a slim brown brow. I arch one of mine in return. A little smile flits over her face and away. There’s a little pink in her cheeks, and my cock stirs. We’re both thinking of our last, brief meeting in the office.

A few more seconds—she always hesitates before obeying, and I love it—and she clops over in her high heels. As soon as she’s seated, I cut my ribeye in half and serve her some steak.

The guys side-eye me. When an alpha gives up some of his meat, his kill, to someone, it’s a big deal. It means that they're special in his life.

And of course, Adele’s special. She's my chef. My employee. Friend of my pack brother’s mate.

My wolf rumbles in my chest, disagreeing. We both know she means more than that. He thinks I’m an idiot.

I think I’m an idiot too. Why in the hell am I subjecting myself to this torture?

Then Adele’s arm brushes mine, and she leans close. “Your stomach is rumbling, Rafe,” she murmurs, and fuck if I don’t get hard at the mere sound of my name on her tongue.

Adele

“Do you have indigestion already?” I tease gently. I’ve promised myself I’d behave around Rafe from now on. But I can’t help poking him a little. “Your stomach sounds like an angry bear.”

“More like a wolf,” Channing mumbles around a mouthful of food. I didn’t realize he could hear my lowered voice.

Rafe frowns in Channing’s direction, and I lean a bit closer. I don’t know why Rafe gets so edgy when I pay attention to Channing, but I promised myself tonight would be a truce. “Well?” I ask Rafe, ignoring Channing. “Is the poison I put in your portion kicking in?”

Rafe snorts. “Nah. Just need more meat in me.” He saws off a huge portion of ribeye, but instead of ripping into it, he slaps it onto my plate.

“You need to eat,'' he grunts. Once again ordering me around.

“You need to eat,” I return sweetly. “You didn’t eat much at dinner yesterday. You’ll start losing muscle mass unless you finish all your meat.” I tap his biceps. His hard, outrageously swole bicep. If he lost some muscle mass, he’d still be buffer than most of the fitness models in a Men’s Health magazine.

He slants me a look, and I realize I’m still resting my palm on his arm. “You done?”

I pretend it’s on purpose and give it a little squeeze. Hot damn, his muscle is huge. Hard and honed by his work as a badass, protecting people from bad guys. I allow myself one more squeeze, and then I drop my hand.