Anger Management for Alphas

Anger Management for Alphas

A Lone Wolf Ripples
Short Story

Copyright 2015 Anya Byrne

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All Romance Edition January 2015

All Romance Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
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This book is a work of fiction, not to be confused with fact,
advice or suggestion. The characters are products of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is purely coincidental.
Cover art is for illustration purposes only.

Blurb:

The courage of the Lone Wolf Pack changed more lives and
affected more destinies than they'd ever thought. The ripples echoing through
their entire world brought together countless lovers.

Landon Boone is angry. His pack insists on him taking an
official female mate, but all he wants is to wait for his other half. An
outburst of temper—in a human bar, no less—forces him into anger management
classes. It is yet another irritant for a werewolf Alpha with too many problems
to count.

He does not expect his mate to walk through the same door
Landon dragged himself through.

Angel is everything Landon had wanted, and more—so beautiful
he truly deserves his name. Against all odds, anger management classes—the
werewolf Alpha edition—actually have a result.

But Angel also
carries the burden of a painful past, and it is up to Landon to help his mate
start over. Yet if there is one thing the Lone Wolf Pack taught Landon, it is
that mate bonds are stronger than anything. He has every intention of proving
that to Angel, and to himself.

Warning: Gay erotic romance. The material in this
document contains explicit sexual content that is intended for mature audiences
only. All characters involved are adults capable of consent, are over the age
of twenty-one, and are willing participants.

10,321 words

Table of Contents

Anger Management for Alphas

About the Author

Other titles by Anya Byrne

Coming Soon

Anger Management for Alphas

A Lone Wolf Ripples Short Story

Anya Byrne

Copyright 2015

Chapter One

"This is ridiculous. I don't belong here." Landon
grimaced as he stared at the building in front of him. "I don't need anger
management classes."

"Alpha, with all due respect, I'm not sure that is the
case." Landon's beta, Jason shot him a sheepish smile.
"Unfortunately, you did destroy that bar. We're lucky the patrons were too
drunk to notice anything wrong with your hands and eyes, but the judge insisted
on this."

Landon sighed heavily and struggled to control the fury
already roiling in his gut. It wasn't that he didn't know Jason was right.
Displays of anger like Landon's most recent ones were completely unacceptable.
Landon could have easily breached the Secrecy Accords if Jason hadn't been
there to contain the situation before anything happened.

The human authorities hadn't been impressed by his behavior,
but thankfully, he'd gotten away with a slap on the wrist—one that included
anger management classes. Unfortunately, Landon didn't think any of it would
help. "A human couldn't possibly understand. You know that, Jase."

A human would never be able to grasp what it meant for a
werewolf of Landon's age to be completely unable to find his mate. The stress
of his pack pressuring him to choose a female for reproducing didn't help—and
they didn't let up, even when Landon had adamantly refused to accept anyone
except his other half.

Jason's eyes held so much understanding it hurt. "Yes, I
do know, but that doesn't change the situation," he answered.

Once more, Jason had a point, and procrastinating wasn't
doing Landon any favors. He was an Alpha, damn it all. He refused to be scared
of some little human who wanted him to stand in a circle and talk about his
feelings.

With a disgruntled huff, Landon slid out of the car, leaving
his beta behind. He stalked to the door of the building, only managing to
temper his stride half-way there. Allowing his anger to get the better of him
before the class had even started would be counterproductive at best.

He opened the door and stepped inside, immediately making a
beeline for the assistant behind the front desk. "Hi," he greeted
her. "I'm here for the anger management class. Could you direct me to the
right room?"

She lifted her gaze from her computer and smiled at him.
"Of course. Name, please?"

"Landon Boone."

Landon tapped his fingers against the desk as he waited for
her to look the information up in the database. He knew some people were
irritated by the habit, but it was the mildest way he'd ever expressed his
annoyance. Thankfully, the assistant didn't seem to mind. "Room 202, on
the second floor," she instructed him. "Take the stairs to the
left."

Landon thanked her and headed up the stairs like she had told
him. He found the room with ease, and knocked on the door. A female voice
invited him in and he took a deep breath, resigning himself to the unavoidable.

Most of the chairs—situated in a circle, of course—were
already occupied when he entered the room. "Hi," he said. "I'm
Landon Boone. I apologize for the tardiness."

"That's all right, Mr. Boone," the woman replied
with a smile. "We're still waiting for another member. If you'll take a seat,
we'll use this chance to make all the introductions until our errant friend
shows up."

Landon obediently slid into one of the two empty chairs and
focused on the people who were studying him with undisguised interest. The
woman started with her own name. "I'm Flowerchild Jameson, and I'll be
your anger management coach. These are your fellow students. Everyone, please
introduce yourselves."

As he listened to the words of each individual present, it
occurred to Landon that someone with the name "Flowerchild"
definitely needed a lot of anger management skills to go through life. Or maybe
that wasn't even her name? Humans were strange and often made choices Landon
couldn't hope to understand.

In fact, he had no idea how sitting here with these strangers
would help with his problem. Just the idea horrified and humiliated him. But he
had to grit his teeth and endure, so that he could get this entire debacle over
with.

The coach looked at her watch, and then must have decided
they couldn't wait any longer for the missing member of their group. "So,
Mr. Boone. Landon. Can I call you Landon?" When Landon nodded, she beamed
at him. "Want to tell us what brought you here?"

"I was in a bar with a friend of mine when someone
started a homophobic argument." He grinned, an unpleasant expression he
didn't regret in the slightest. "I didn't react well."

"Ah." The teacher hummed thoughtfully. "I can
see how that would anger you. But violence only perpetuates violence, and anger
doesn't help change opinions. Only love does."

It was definitely something a person called Flowerchild would
say, and at a different time, Landon would have scoffed. But he'd recently
found out about something that had shaken him more than he'd have liked to
admit.

A group of Alphas just like him had stood up to the entire
werewolf world to defend their very human, very male lovers. Landon had been
there, at the Gathering where the fate of one of them had been decided. The
courage it had taken to brave such censure had both strengthened him, and burdened
him further.

He was all the more convinced that he could not falter or
yield to his pack's demands, but that wasn't a real solution. "Love only
fixes things when you have it," he mumbled under his breath.

It was a little too much like self-pity, and he hated that
he'd exposed that part of him to the humans. Fortunately, before things could
get awkward, the strangest, most unfamiliar feeling invaded his senses. His
anger and self-deprecation were chased away, replaced by the peculiar
sensation.

The door burst open, revealing the reason for Landon's shift
of focus. The most beautiful young man stepped into the room, panting lightly.
His light blond hair curled around his cheeks, framing his delicate features.
His dark eyes were apprehensive as he took in the gathering and realized he was
the last one to arrive.

He was wearing a T-shirt with the inscription "Keep Calm
and Let It Go", naturally starring that Disney princess from Frozen. What
was her name again? Landon couldn't remember, not when the T-shirt in question
beautifully emphasized the new arrival's slender body. The jeans were a little
looser, but Landon had a pretty good imagination, and he could definitely see
himself sliding them off those long legs.

And then the stranger spoke, and Landon could barely keep
himself from swooning, or coming in his pants. "Sorry for being
late," the young man said, wincing. "I had some car trouble.
Again."

Flowerchild arched a brow. "No incidents, I trust."

"Nothing major," the object of Landon's desire
grumbled under his breath.

Flowerchild tsked and gestured for the young man to sit down.
It must have been Landon's lucky day, because the only free seat was next to
him.

As he crossed the room and headed toward the chair, the
stranger met Landon's gaze. Landon's heart nearly stopped in his chest, and the
other man's eyes widened. Obviously, he felt the pull as well.

Landon had wondered many times what the werewolves of the
Lone Wolf Pack felt for their mates. Of course, he had known the mate bond was
special, and he had craved it more desperately than he needed the freedom to
shift and run in the wild. But knowing all that and wondering about it was
entirely different from actually experiencing it. He definitely hadn't expected
it to happen here, in the middle of a group of confused humans, at an anger
management class he didn't want.

Judging by his mate's reaction, the young man was just as
surprised as Landon. In fact, he was so shocked and distracted that when he was
about halfway to his seat, he stumbled and tripped. Landon was on his feet in
seconds and caught his mate before the man could hit the floor.

The soft skin of the stranger's bare arms burned Landon's
fingertips, and he wanted nothing more than to rip off the T-shirt and explore
every inch of that delicious body. Instead, he asked, "You okay?"

"F-Fine," his mate stammered. A pink tongue came
out to lick the young man's lower lip, and the sight of it hypnotized Landon.
He ached to press his mouth to that of his mate, to take what he'd waited for
his entire life.

But the humans were still there, watching, so Landon was
forced to release his beautiful mate. The young man slid into his seat and took
a deep breath, as if trying to brace himself. Landon didn't know if it
worked—for him, it definitely wouldn't have, since the tantalizing scent of his
mate was already getting to his head. However, the other man wasn't a
werewolf—a shifter, yes, but not a werewolf—so maybe it helped him. In the end,
it didn't matter. Landon's mate turned toward him and offered his hand in
greeting.

"That was an interesting way to meet. I'm Angel Gilmore.
Welcome to the group."

Landon took Angel—and wasn't that a fitting name?—up on his
offer and gripped that soft hand in his own. "Landon Boone. And it's a
true pleasure being here. More than I ever expected."

****

Angel felt like he'd fallen into a dream, or better yet, as
if he was flying in the upper strata of the atmosphere, where shifters his age
were always told not to go. He could not believe this was happening. He could
not believe he'd finally found his mate.

Landon held onto Angel's hand for a little longer than would
have been polite in the case of two human strangers brought together by anger
management classes. Angel's face flamed, but he didn't try to free his palm.
For the first time since he'd been grounded, he felt something else despite
frustration and resentment.

Landon's eyes glowed, green-gold and shining with a predatory
light. It was hard for Angel to identify the exact species of his mate, but if
he had to guess, he'd say... werewolf. There was just something about Landon
that felt wild and free. When Landon had helped him to his chair, Angel had
sensed the barely veiled strength in his mate, the beast straining underneath
the surface. And oh, he wanted nothing more than to release that beast, to
slide his fingers over Landon's skin and trace those magnificent muscles, to
hold onto Landon's dark hair as his mate touched him in turn. But now was not
the time. He had to stay focused. He was in public, and his far too elaborate
fantasies weren't helping either of them.

Mrs. Jameson cleared her throat, and Landon finally released
Angel's hand, albeit with a great deal of reluctance. Angel would have felt
embarrassed, but he knew better than to think the human would begrudge them the
attraction. Indeed, she shot Angel a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Mr. Boone here has a lot of things in common with you, Angel. Perhaps it
would help him if you shared your story."

Quite frankly, Angel doubted that. Whatever had brought a
werewolf here, hearing about Angel's past wouldn't chase away his anger. Then
again, it wasn't like Angel could actually tell the truth.

"I ran into trouble with my parents because of my sexual
orientation. My father tried to pressure me into marrying someone I didn't
want, and it all exploded in our faces. Since then, it's been very hard for me
to come to terms with what happened and start over."

It was a bit vague, but he didn't want to delve into the true
unpleasantness of the story. For the moment, he just felt happy and mellow, and
he wanted nothing more than to curl into Landon's embrace. Patience, he
reminded himself. The class would end soon. He just had to endure for a while
longer.

It took forever. Angel usually liked coming here—he didn't
have to do it anymore, but he enjoyed being around the humans. As a rule, it
distracted him from his glum thoughts. Today, he was anxious, perpetually
hyper-aware of his mate's presence by his side.

The meeting progressed with some other members of the group
talking about their experiences and Mrs. Jameson giving them suggestions. Angel
fidgeted in his seat, knowing he couldn't get closer to Landon without the
humans noticing.

And then, ignoring everything—including the humans—Landon
reached for him and took his hand. He only turned his attention away from the
class for an instant, but that instant seemed to draw into an age when Landon
said, "It's okay.
 
I'll protect
you."

Angel melted in his seat—or he would have, if the chairs had
been conducive to such postures. Instead, he smiled and threaded their fingers
together. Most of the meeting flew past in a blur, but Angel didn't mind, nor
did he particularly care.

He had so many questions. Who was Landon Boone really? Was he
truly a werewolf or something else? Did he have a family? What was his pack
like? What about his likes and dislikes? There were so many things, and Angel
was overcome with the need to know everything that very instant.

It was a great relief when Mrs. Jameson finally declared the
meeting over. Angel had been zoning out so he only realized it because Landon
pulled on his hand slightly and got up. Side by side, they walked up to the
coach. "Thank you for the lesson," Landon said. "It was very
informative."

Miraculously, Angel managed to find his voice. "As
always, I appreciate your help a great deal."

Mrs. Jameson stole a glimpse at their entwined hands, but
made no comment. It was probably weird for a human to see two men holding hands
mere hours after they'd met, but maybe she thought it was romantic. Mrs.
Jameson was sweet like that. "It was my pleasure, Angel," she
replied, kissing his cheek. "Now run along. I'm sure the two of you have a
lot to talk about."