ALPHA BIKER WHO CLAIMED HIS BROTHER'S MATE

4

MAYA’S POV:

I didn’t need to be told twice. I hit the sand hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands clamped over my head as the quiet night was shredded by the deafening roar of gunfire.

This is it. They’re going to kill me. Jalen sent them to finish the job!

But then another sound rose above the gunshots, one that made the hair on my arms stand up. It was a fierce, ground-shaking roar of pure rage. An Alpha’s roar. I would know that sound anywhere.

It was Rafe in his wolf form.

The gunfire became rapid, mixed with shouts of panic that were quickly cut short. I heard the sickening, wet sounds of a fight. A brutal crack that could only be a bone snapping, and a guttural cry that ended in a choked gurgle.

I pressed my face harder into the sand, trying to block it out, but my wolf hearing picked up every horrible detail. I trembled, utterly terrified, waiting for a stray bullet to find me or for a set of claws to tear into my back.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually the violence stopped. The night went quiet again, the only sounds the distant lap of waves and my own ragged, terrified breathing. I did not dare move. What if it was not over?

A touch on my shoulder made me scream, flinching away violently.

“Bloody hell, woman, it’s just me. Get up. You’re not dead yet.”

I slowly, shakily lifted my head to see Rafe.

He was crouched beside me, his expression one of mild impatience.

“You planning on making sand angels all night, or are we getting the f**k out of here?”

I pushed myself up onto my knees, my whole body shaking, and then I saw the bodies. Five, six, maybe more were strewn across the sand in various states.

My stomach lurched, and then my brain completely short-circuited.

Rafe was standing there, shirtless.

Where his shirt went was a complete mystery, but the result was… devastating.

The moonlight carved out every defined muscle of his abs and chest, glinting off the dark tattoos that snaked across his skin. He was all powerful, lethal grace, and for a horrifying, embarrassing second, I was not scared anymore. Heat pooled low in my belly, shameful and wrong, but undeniable.

My face flushed beet red, and I quickly averted my eyes, staring very hard at a nearby rock.

Rafe let out a gravelly laugh.

“See something you like? Don’t worry, love. Shifting strips you bare, and you will have to get used to it.”

“Jalen,” I blurted out, desperate to change the subject from my apparent newfound fascination with shirtless, murderous Alphas. “These men, he sent them, didn’t he?”

Rafe walked over to one of the bodies, toeing it over with his boot. He rifled through the man’s jacket and pulled out a wallet.

“Nah. My brother’s a right cunt, no doubt about that. But these wankers?” He tossed the wallet back onto the corpse’s chest. “They are not Jalen’s dogs. These belong to Axel Rourke.”

“Who?” I asked, completely bewildered.

He did not answer.

Instead, he walked over to a motorcycle that one of the attackers must have arrived on. He righted it and gave it an appraising pat.

“Well, at least we’ve got a ride now.” He swung a leg over the seat, and the engine growled to life. He looked back at me, expectant. “You comin’ or what? I promised to keep you alive, didn’t I?”

What else could I do? It was either get on the death machine with the shirtless Alpha or stay on a beach with a bunch of dead guys. Not exactly a great set of options.

I took a deep breath and climbed on behind him. Before I could even think about where to put my hands, he gunned the engine and we shot off into the night.

Holding on for dear life was a fantastic distraction from… everything else. My arms were wrapped tightly around his bare torso, my body pressed flush against his back. The solid warmth of him, the feel of his muscles moving under his skin as he controlled the bike… it was doing things to me. Things a rejected, freshly minted concubine probably should not be feeling.

I focused on the streetlights whizzing by as we rode through Louisiana streets, trying to think of eggnog and carolers instead of Rafe’s shoulders.

After a while, we slowed and turned into a gated driveway, stopping before a large, clean-looking estate house.

“Home sweet f*****g home,” Rafe said, killing the engine.

He led me inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he grumbled, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a plain black T-shirt. He tugged it on over his head. Finally, a f*****g shirt. Now maybe I could form a clear thought.

“Why?” The word came out before I could stop it. I was tired, scared, and emotionally whiplashed. “Why are you doing all this? Why go against your own brother? Why drag me into it?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and he looked… tired.

“Right. The briefing.” He leaned against the kitchen counter. “Jalen’s not just a cheating bastard, Maya. He’s a treacherous one. He’s been working against the Iron Fang Pack, making deals with our enemies, skimming funds, the whole nine. You see, our little… hatred… started when our old man croaked. Jalen got the shiny title of Alpha and the pack. I got stuck with leadership of the Iron Fang biker club. He wanted it all for himself, see? Thinks the club’s a bunch of thugs, but we’re the ones who actually get s**t done.”

He looked at me intensely.

“I do not know all the details of his little scheme yet, but I am going to find out. And I thought, given the whole public humiliation, you might want in on the fun. Help me get back at the bastard.”

I studied him calmly. The blunt words, the casual violence, the gruff exterior, but there was something more simmering underneath.

“That is not all of it for you, though… is it?” I said quietly. “It is not just about the pack.”

The air in the room shifted as he suddenly pushed off the counter and took a step toward me. Then another, until we were too close.

His eyes searched mine, and for a second, I saw something that was not just anger or smug jokes.

This was a bad idea. A terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

He leaned in slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. I should have. I really, really should have, but I did not.

His lips met mine, and it was not soft or sweet. It was demanding, possessive, and oh, moon above, it was hot.

A greedy need shot straight through me, settling into a dizzying, throbbing ache low in my belly. I melted into him for a second, my hands coming up to rest on his chest.

Then sanity, or what little I had left, came crashing back.

I shoved against his chest, breaking the kiss.

“No. This… this is not what we agreed to. This is wrong!”

He did not look angry. He looked stunned. His eyes had gone wide, his pupils dilated like he had just realized something. He jerked back as if my lips had burned him.

“What the f**k?” he exclaimed, staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

He took another step back, a look of utter shock on his face as he pointed a finger at me, his brow furrowed in complete disbelief.

“You’re not an Omega.”

He said it with a kind of awed confusion.

“You’re a f*****g hybrid!”