Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

It’s bizarre.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude,” I protest, yet my body is already complying with his request, walking toward the table.

“It is no intrusion.” he declares. “Please. The chef made far too much for one person, as his nonna taught him to do.” He lays a large hand on his chest and bows a little. “Please, madam. You would do me great honor.”

“All right,” I say, my heart skipping. I feel a little lightheaded. Something about this man is magnetic. Powerful. For some reason, I want to gush to my friends about him. Sadie and Charlie are happy in their relationships, but Tabitha is single, and this guy is fine. I could see her with a guy like this. Out of the ordinary, like her.

“Please,” he says again, waving to a chair, and I find myself stepping forward.

“Excellent.” He swoops behind me and pulls out my chair. Before I know it, he’s served the tea and raises his cup to mine in toast. “To neighbors. Ms…”

“Fabre. Adele Fabre. Please, call me Adele.”

“Adele.” His voice is rich and warm as a cognac. He takes my hand and bends over it like we’re in an old-fashioned movie, but instead of kissing my hand, he inhales deeply. When he lifts his head, there’s a slight line between his brows, but he says smoothly, “A pleasure to meet you. I am Gabriel Dieter.”

Rafe

As soon as Teddy touched down, I tore out of the helicopter. Now I’m in the Jeep, zooming up the switchbacks, taking each turn on two wheels.

I can’t reach Adele. She left the house. She disobeyed me.

And deep down, my wolf thinks it’s my fault. I don’t know what game Dieter’s playing, but my wolf instincts tell me to get back to Adele. ASAP.

I never should’ve left.

I try to call her cell and the house, taking the next turn with only one hand on the wheel. Nothing.

Fuck!

My phone buzzes, and I answer. It’s Lance–who’s been texting me since I read the note and raced out of the scene of destruction.

“Did you reach her?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Not yet.”

“I contacted Kylie,” he says. “There are cameras all through that house–she had turned them off for privacy but just did a scan. No heat signatures in the house.”

Fuck!

“The note–we’re pretty sure it is from Gabriel Dieter. But what the fuck is it about? Is he a shifter?” Lance muses. “Does he have a mate?”

“It would make sense.” I round another curve, gritting my teeth like it’ll keep me on the road. “He knew silver bullets would hurt me. He has inside knowledge somehow.”

“What I don't get is how he thinks Adele is his mate. I thought she was yours…” he trails off, and I hate the hesitation in his voice.

“She is mine,” I growl so loudly the cab shakes. My eyes have to be bright green right now.

A pause. “Have you claimed her?”

“No.”

Fuck.

I can’t have a mate.

My wolf howls, and I grip the steering wheel. I need to get in control. It’s reinforced, but I’ve ripped them off before.

“Let us know what you need. Lance out.”

I toss my phone in the seat beside me and focus on the road. I would drive off the side of the mountain and into the snowy forest if I thought it would help me reach her faster.

I told her not to leave the damn house. But it’s my fault for leaving her. Never again.

I’ve got to keep Adele safe.

I’m coming, Adele.

Adele

The winter wind has picked up. It blows a layer of snow off the drifts. The temperature is dropping, but inside the tea house, I’m warm and cozy. “So you live close to here?” I ask my host, Mr. Dieter. Gabriel, as he insists I call him.

“I have a house, yes. A recent acquisition. Everyone said I must have a place in Park City, so…” He waves a casual hand as if to say, so I bought a mansion. No biggie.

Meaning Gabriel is not only model-hot, he’s also rich. I file this away to tell my friends. Tabitha’s weird about rich guys, probably because her mom is always trying to set her up with shystie stock brokers, but this guy is so charming.

He’s removed his gloves and coat but replaced his dark glasses. “Do excuse me,” he says as he does. “My eyes—the light.”

“Of course.” No wonder his glasses look prescriptive, he needs them.

“Park City’s supposed to be really cute,” I say.

“You have not seen the little town?”

“No, I'm under house arrest,” I joke and add quickly, “I'm kidding.” Sorta.

He cocks his head, but he doesn't seem alarmed. “House arrest can be fun,” he says lightly. “Depending on the house.”

“The house is certainly very grand.” Ginormous even. “It’s back that way.” I wave behind me. “The modern style home, with its own watchtower.” And a freaking bowling alley–but that might not be uncommon around here. Maybe all the mansions come with their own bowling alleys.