Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

“This is crazy,” I whisper. Because, seriously, what the heck? Why are these guys fighting? Did I miss the memo? It’s it WWE night?

Sadie’s hooded head turns, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “It's a little intense. But this is how they get out their energy.” She doesn't sound worried at all. “Don’t worry, no one gets hurt.”

Deke glances back at us and moves down the path, his big body in direct line between us and the fighters. I get the feeling if the fight came our way, Deke would prevent us from getting hurt.

But he’s not doing anything to stop the vicious pounding Rafe and Channing are giving each other.

Rafe’s right arm flies back, and he throws a punch that Channing blocks somehow. With a blurred movement, Rafe punches with his left fist. The surprise attack breaks through. Channing’s head snaps back, and he staggers. Any normal man would be down on the grass after a hit like that, but Channing bounces right back looking almost cheerful as he spits blood. His dimple flashes, and he rushes Rafe, hitting him in the torso and making them both land hard on the ground. Now they're thrashing around on the ground. Shirtless. In the snow.

“Stop,” I holler, scrambling down the stone steps to the lawn. “What are you doing?”

“Stay back,” Deke orders, holding out a big, cold chapped hand.

“Adele, it’s okay,” Sadie says quickly, coming to stand beside me. Seriously? She’s a kindergarten teacher. Doesn’t she believe in better forms of conflict resolution?

“No, it’s not,” I mutter. I knew these guys were adrenaline and testosterone junkies, but this is over the top.

What’s worse, a flush is working its way up my chest. The sight of Rafe, his epic muscles on display, is making me feel some kind of way. Inside my blouse, my breasts swell.

Who knew watching Rafe fight would be such a turn on? I clench my right hand into a fist to keep from fanning my face.

I need to stop this fight.

In her day, my mémère had to break up a few fights from the rough and tumble men staying at her boarding house. I frantically try to remember those stories now. One time Mémère had a pot of hot coffee, and she threw it in one of the fighter’s faces. The contents of the pot weren't too hot, and according to Mémère, everyone ended up laughing it off.

Maybe that story was a wee bit embellished over the years. Right now, in the tense thick of the moment, I don’t see how it could be true.

I don't have any hot coffee. I don't have anything. I would tip a whole pot of gumbo over them if it would make them stop.

Channing’s on his back in the snowy grass. Next thing I see is Rafe’s body fly back toward the trees. “Ha!” Channing shouts, and with a snap of both legs, he launches himself up and back onto his feet.

Rafe rushes him. In a movement too fast for me to see, Rafe somehow gets Channing in a hold and flips him. Now Channing is the one flying across the lawn.

I'm wringing my hands. “This is nuts,” I snap. I dash back inside the house to see if there's anything I can grab to throw at them. The first thing my eyes light on is the crumpled metal sculpture Rafe made. Someone moved it to a coffee table. I snatch it up and rush back out.

The fight has come closer to the door. Deke has both hands out, blocking Sadie with his whole body. He’s so intent on protecting her, I’m able to slip past him.

“Stop,” I scream and hurl the metal sculpture at Rafe. It falls short, clunking onto the path and rolling a little. Rafe and Channing pause in the midst of trying to punch each other's lights out to stare at it.

“Will you freaking stop?” I charge forward, careful not to get too close.

“Adele, no,” Sadie cries. Before I take another step, Deke catches me around the waist. My feet move, but I’m walking on air.

“Put me down,” I huff.

“Promise you won’t try to break up the fight.” Still holding me, Deke gives me a shake.

Channing and Rafe are already circling each other again, the distraction forgotten.

They don't want me to get involved? Fine. I won't get involved.

“Whatever,” I mutter, and Deke pivots, setting me behind him on the path. He keeps a big hand gripping my arm, over the sleeve of my puffy down jacket. “Let me go.” I start to shake him off.

Out on the lawn, Rafe’s head snaps in our direction. His face contorts. His eyes blaze with a green light.

“Shit,” Deke mutters. He lets me go and holds his hands up in the air like Rafe just pointed a gun. “It’s all right, Sarge. She’s all right. No one’s touching her.”