Alphas of Red Moon Ranch - Complete Series (22 page)

Hungover or not, Brent was a morning person. Up with the sun. Like clockwork. Even when he
wanted
to sleep in, his body didn’t seem to let him. And now, with what felt like a skull full of nails and a pounding, swollen left eye, Brent could’ve used the extra hour of rest and relaxation. Instead, he folded up the sheets and extra blankets Cassidy had covered her couch with, threw his jacket over his shoulders, and (quietly) opened up the front door and slipped out before he woke anyone up.

Morning sun turned everything orange outside and his boots crunched gravel. He made a point to keep his gaze straight ahead.
Don’t look left
. Hurt too much. Firstly, his eye was sore. Secondly, his old home sat that way, abandoned. That was a threshold he couldn’t cross anymore. And it was
all his fault
.

Forget it. Swallow it back
. Brent walked around the burnt black embers of the fire pit and kicked around it. His Stetson hat had fallen off somewhere in the scuffle and he’d gotten so drunk afterwards he’d completely forgot about it until now. “Know you’re here somewhere, you sonuvabitch,” he muttered to himself as he crouched over, hunting for the hat.

“Looking for this?” Brent looked up and, sure enough, there was his hat. A little bent out of shape, but not a complete lost cause. Only he went still when he realized it was perched in Jacob Westmore’s hand. Jacob wore loose pants, his button-up shirt undone, all dark hair, muscle, and dominance.

Brent stood, though he kept his gaze lowered. He’d acted out last night, but here, now, he remembered his place. He was a clan-less bear, lowest of the low, and he’d show some respect face-to-face with the Alpha of Red Moon Ranch. Tradition. That was always important to Brent. Couldn’t figure out now how he’d gotten so sidetracked, so twisted up in the cougar to forget that.

“Thanks,” he said and swiped the hat, took a couple steps backwards, and hid his head underneath its wide brim. “Don’t worry—I’ll be on my way out. It was wrong of me t’ come here, I know that now,” Brent’s voice drawled, low and slow.

“I didn’t come here to chase you off,” Jacob said. “I want you back in the clan, brother.”

Now
Brent looked up, surprise making his jaw hang open. But there was no lie in Jacob’s eyes, no taunting—just steady, open truth.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Jacob said after they’d languished a couple seconds in silence.

“I…yeah. Yes, boss. Of course.” Brent couldn’t contain the desperation in his voice now, and it all came tumbling out in a flood of emotion. “There ain’t nothing I want more than to be a part of the clan again.”

“If I let you back, that means no going behind my back,” Jacob said smoothly. “Ever. Again.” He hesitated, then relented and added, “I know I’ve been…hard to work with in the past. I haven’t been all that easy to talk to. I know half the reason you lashed out is because of me. But that’s going to change. You’ve got a problem with something I do, you come to me. And I’ll listen. You don’t go outside the clan. Understood?”

Brent nodded like a bobblehead. He swallowed, hard, on a knot in his throat. “Yeah…you got it.”

Jacob’s cold demeanor shifted then. He exhaled and the fight went out of him. Instead, he clasped the back of Brent’s neck and gave a squeeze. “I can’t do this without you, brother,” he said firmly.

Brent nodded and—dammit to hell—it cost everything in him to keep strong. So he pulled a crooked grin and said, “Thank God for that, ’cause the only people who responded to my ad looking for a bear roommate were a bunch a’ queers.”

They laughed, dry chuckles that broke the tension.

“Listen,” Jacob said finally. “There’s something I’m gonna need you to do for me before you come back, though. Call it proof of change.”

Brent nodded. “Lay it on me.”

“You still talking to Miranda?”

“No…I mean, not really.” Brent scuffled his feet on the ground. “Guess I can’t really look her in the eyes after everything that went down.” He looked up and squinted. “Why d’you ask?”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“I rarely do, with you.”

The doorbell was too small under Brent’s large hands and he had to jam his finger against it a couple times before it made any sound. He could hear the melodic ring echo throughout the caverns of the white old-world mansion on Stoneridge Cliffs.

Damn,
he thought, more puzzled than impressed by the architectural snobbery of the place. Who needed a house that big? Ever? Could fit a family of twenty, easily. He preferred doors without doorbells. Small, cozy doors with well-worn hinges that were left unlocked night and day, open, inviting.

When Miranda finally opened the door, she did so with a frown, like he was interrupting something important. She was dressed all in white (
girl must hate Labor Day
, Brent thought), with a soft camisole draped over her and a low-cut top.

“What do you want?” she said curtly. She pulled her camisole a little tighter over her shoulders (as though he hadn’t already seen
everything
underneath).

Brent drew a small, idiot grin. “Y’look nice,” he said.

Miranda’s perfectly groomed eyebrows lifted. “And you look like warmed-over shit. What happened to you?”

“Ah, this just…y’know…” He fumbled for words and took his hat off his head, revealing the black-and-blue bruise over his eye. “Got in a fight. Jacob.”

Miranda let out a breath—a bored half-sigh—but Brent caught the unmistakable flicker in her eye.
The huntress smelled blood and it excited her
. If the two brothers were fighting, vying for the title of Alpha, that was good news for her. Got her closer to whatever castle in the sand her power-hungry brain had conjured up.

She stepped back just enough to let him through the door. “Come in.”

Brent took a step inside. The foyer gave the impression it was
swallowing
its guests whole with tall ceilings, a yawning double winder staircase, and framed landscapes that focused on small, faraway objects in the distance. The place smelled mainly of cleaning products, disinfectant, and Miranda’s Dark Sin perfume, but under all the layers Brent’s acute senses could still taste the
other
animal that lived here—Cayden.

“I ain’t interrupting anything, am I?” he asked.

“Cayden is
out
,” she said with a vague flick of her wrist before she started down the hall, bare feet soundless on the tile. “I was just about to take a shower.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” he said as he started after her.

“Take off your shoes,” Miranda said sharply. Brent glanced down—his muddied boots had already made a mess of her entranceway. Pale grey floor tiles, now that was just
asking
for trouble, in his opinion.

As he kicked off his shoes, she tossed over her shoulder, casually, “You can take off your pants, too, if you plan on staying.”

Miranda’s camisole dropped from her shoulders and puddled in the hallway. Her skirt went next, then her shirt, making a trail into the bathroom.

Mother of God
…

Brent felt an all-too-familiar swell against the seam of his jeans.

No
. Down boy.
This is how we got in this big ol’ mess in the first place.

He heard the hiss of running water as her shower flickered on. Brent lingered outside the bathroom door and called in, “Y’want some wine?”

“Yeah. Please.” Her voice, though muffled by the water, still rang out clear and sharp. “There’s a bottle of Elkborne in the fridge.”

Brent tore himself away and moved down the hall. He was on a
mission
, after all. Miranda’s bedroom stood open between the bathroom and the kitchen and he chanced a glance down the hall—all clear—before taking the opportunity to steal away into her bedroom. Mostly gunmetal grey in here, with accents of deep crimson red. He didn’t have time to waste—five minutes, maybe, before she got suspicious—and he immediately dove at her cabinets. He opened up the drawers and started sifting through her jewelry. She kept it in
basketfuls
, which didn’t make this any easier. Like searching for a needle in a haystack. Or, in his case, searching for a very
specific
talisman, a necklace with a six-pointed star and a gem of some sort stuck in the middle.

Brent rummaged through drawers and baskets. One minute went by. Two. The shower was still running, steadily, uninterrupted. He examined handfuls of necklaces, searching—

His fingers fumbled and he upended a jar of rings. Brent swore under his breath and bent down to hastily scoop them up.

But as soon as he so much as leaned forward, he felt a sharpness dig into his throat. Brent’s bones froze in place when he glanced in the vanity mirror and saw Miranda standing behind him.
Mostly
Miranda. Her arm had snaked around his shoulder and now her long, black cougar claws were pressed against the soft skin of his throat.

“Bad boy,” Miranda hissed in his ear as a vicious smirk curled over her lips.

“Where is it, Miranda?” he growled. He could feel his own bear ready to charge. That is, if he could transform before she slit his throat clean open. He took deep breaths, tried not to let her smell his fear.

“Where’s
what
?”

“Y’know. The…necklace. The one from the hunter. With the star.”

“
Wow
,” she purred. She was dripping on him, still wet from the shower. “Look who suddenly got a brain. So you
finally
realized the charm holds Jacob’s curse. Honestly, I’m impressed. I’ve been holding on to that thing for
years
. I thought you and your
idiot
clan would never figure it out.”

He smelled wet cat and felt her tail snake out and coil around his leg, trapping him in place. “Look,” he said, “just give us the necklace and we’ll be outta your hair.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, sweetie,” Miranda said and her nails flexed little pinpoints against his neck, making his Adam’s apple bob nervously. “I’ve hidden it somewhere they’ll never find it. And you know what?” A purr rumbled through her throat and sent shivers down Brent’s spine. “I think I’m growing to
like
having everything Jacob wants.”

Claimed by the Claws

(Part 5)

He kissed her like he wanted to rip her head off. His lips tasted practiced and experienced and the tip of his tongue flicked against hers in
just
the right way that sent shivers down her spine. Still, she felt him holding back, each move deliberate. He was, after all, an animal all too used to playing with
humans
.

“You’re not going to break me, you know,” Trish said when she took a small break to catch her breath.

Cayden smiled against her lips. A cat’s smirk. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m tougher than what you’re used to.” He dipped his head and his tongue traced patterns along the crook of her neck. Trish gasped lightly as the sensation hummed through her. Necking on a bench on campus grounds should have felt
wrong
, but between her legs was a throbbing battle cry for more, more,
more.
“Nothing can break me,” she told him as her head dropped back to give him better access,
loving
the way his lips butterflied.

“
Almost
nothing,” he reminded.

“You mean the necklace?”

“No,” he smirked and she felt it against her neck. “I meant my cock.”

“But the necklace too, right?”

He lifted his head and she could see his pressed his lips together, a thin line of frustration. “It’s a
talisman
, not something you find at
Tiffany’s
. And, yes. It could rip your sanity right out from your paws. Curses are a bitch like that.” His head dropped again and she felt his fingers toy with her shirt, thumb unsheathing one button, then another.

Never say Cayden wasn’t a man who knew exactly what he wanted
. The touch of his deliberate fingers sent an ache through her core. Her heart fluttered; she was suddenly
very aware
of the fact that he was about to be the only non-family member who had ever seen her tits. “How bad are they? Curses? I mean…can they be…broken?” she asked, breathless, and her fingers caught onto her shirt, keeping it closed protectively.

Finally, Cayden pulled back. His eyebrows hiked up his forehead. “Is this a game of twenty questions?”

Trish curled her legs up and made herself vertical. “I’m sorry,” she said and tucked her frizzy hair behind her ear. “I’ve just got…a lot on my mind.”

She must have looked pretty hangdog, because Cayden seemed to deflate at that. He sank back into his bones, looked like he was rolling his next words carefully around in his mouth, and then said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You don’t want to hear it.” She shrugged. Cayden wasn’t interested in empathizing and handholding. His attentions were very singular—Trish got it. More than any of his other playthings, no doubt. They were young adults budding into their own, sure, but they were also animal, and those instincts were constantly whispering in her ear:
eat, sleep, mate
.

But the way Cayden was looking at her, blue eyes piercing…he looked very human. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” he said.

Cautiously, Trish nodded and said, “It’s just…everything Jacob’s going through. It’s tearing the clan apart. We used to be this real…family. You know? But lately, it’s just…falling to pieces.”

She looked up and expected to find Cayden picking dirt out of his nails. Instead, his eyes remained locked on her.
Listening.
“Must be hard,” he said.

Trish gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m terrified of being left alone.”

“I can’t tell you where the talisman is,” he said. He also sounded
guilty
about it.

Time to play hardball. “Are you…
sure
you can’t tell me?” she asked. She bit her bottom lip, smiled, and edged the neckline of her shirt
down
. She saw eyes hook on the path of her fingers as she bared the purple fabric of her bra, and then further down. She stopped, however, right before exposing the pink of her nipple and blushed. She was trying to be coy—like some sexy secret agent or something—but she just felt
stupid
now, silly. Because Cayden had—obviously—seen
plenty
of perky girl-tits, plenty that were way better than hers, proud college girls who would snap off their tops at a moment’s notice. And she was still too chaste with her body to even give a little nip-slip.

“I, um…didn’t think this all the way through,” she admitted, finally.

Something warmed in his face, a very
human
reaction in the face of the young girl’s vulnerability. He took her shirt between his fingers and slid the top button back into place. “You care a lot about your family,” he said.

“They’re all I have.”

Cayden looked tense. He raked his fingers through his hair, eyes stuck on the ground. “I don’t know where it is,” he finally confessed. “Her cougar buried it somewhere…probably in the woods.”

“That could be anywhere,” Trish said, her shoulders dropping.

He nodded, but then he added, “All I know is that it can’t be destroyed easily. You can try to burn it, smash it, run it over with a truck, but there’s nothing that’s going to break that gem. You have to…
find the man in the Beast
. Whatever that means—”

Trish grabbed him and kissed him. Hard. He let out a muffled, startled noise in her mouth. He was just starting to lean into it when she sealed it off and pulled back, giddy, a grin stuck on her lips.

“You’re a good guy underneath all those claws.”

He bared his teeth. “Don’t count on it.”

But when Trish kissed him once more before dashing off to the ranch, she swore she could hear him purr.