The Alpha's Play Toy

Chapter Three

Screw. That.

She’d almost been killed, Rex had bitten her and apparently turned her into a werewolf, a defective one since she didn’t feel much different, and to add insult to injury, he hadn’t even come to see her when she was lying at death’s door.

That Asshole needed a lesson in manners.

Her hand hit the painted wood hard, shoving the door inward so hard, it hit the plaster with a crash. The crack of splintering wood said she’d broken either the frame or the door, but she didn’t care, already storming across the room.

Rex sat behind the desk, looking up as she slammed her hands down on the surface in front of him.

“Some pack f*****g alpha you are,” she snarled, trying to hide the hurt she felt inside at him abandoning her when she needed him the most. “I thought you were supposed to care for all the wolves in your pack, not leave them high and dry when they’re mortally ill.”

Rex didn’t move, gaze locked with hers. As she watched, amber flared in his eyes, shooting out from the central ring like solar flares until just a thin circle of blue remained at the edges. His nostrils flared, features tight. He was pissed at her accusation, but she didn’t care.

“And just who brought you here?” he asked, his voice tight with control. “Who made sure you got medical attention… The right medical attention, not some damn human hospital who haven’t a clue how to deal with a werewolf? Do you know how many people survive a lycan bite?”

He rose, movements controlled. An aura of danger surrounded him, one she’d seen before and been attracted to, but now was ramped up to the max. The veneer of the civilized billionaire businessman cracked more than she’d ever seen, revealing the maelstrom beneath. Rex Greenwood was the poster boy for what a lycan could be; handsome, sophisticated elegance dressed in designer suits with a ruthless streak humans couldn’t help but be attracted to.

But that ruthless streak was wider, more than just a streak or personality attribute. It was part of his very core, part of the very feral and primal nature that drove him.

The scales fell from her eyes. Rex Greenwood wasn’t a good man with a ruthless streak. He was a ruthless predator who wore the man like a suit. And that made a shiver go down her spine.

“No, how the hell should I know how many can take a bite?” she admitted. And she didn’t have a clue. She knew lycans carefully controlled who they bit, that they had to have permission from the pack alpha.

Her mother, wanting to sink her claws deeper into the Greenwood fortune, had petitioned David to turn them. All of them. She hadn’t even thought to ask her children whether they wanted to be lycan or not. All she’d seen was a way to ensure she kept her place and access to the money she liked so much.

Bella would have; she knew that without thinking. Anything to learn more about lycans, and perhaps get closer to Rex. But the request had been denied by his father. Repeatedly. Eventually even Annie had gotten the message. They weren’t good enough to be lycan. A message which had been driven home hard and fast, and she still felt the sting of today.

If she wasn’t good enough, why had Rex turned her?

“Why?”

Even standing on the other side of the desk, he towered over her. He hadn’t shifted, even a little… But seeing all that anger contained in his human form made her stomach quiver with instinctive fear. Which was ridiculous. She knew Rex, he would never hurt… When she had been human.

Now she wasn’t and the tension between them had changed.

“Why what? Why don’t some people survive a lycan bite?” He rounded the desk as he spoke, gaze latched onto hers. It wasn’t a walk; it was far more dangerous. Always before, she’d seen Rex playing human, now she realized it was just that, playing. A mask to conceal the creature within. The beast she poked with a stick.

Shit, she’d never been very good at self-preservation.

Even though her instincts clamored at her to run, she held her ground. Something deep within wouldn’t give ground, wouldn’t let her back even a half step. If she did, then she’d lose somehow. Instead, she held his gaze, a challenge in itself, but she didn’t care.

“The infection overwhelms them. It rips into the body, into each cell, tearing it apart to change to something else.” His voice was mesmerizing, deep and low, the rich tones sliding over her senses like thick chocolate sauce over hot cake. “Taking them, cell by cell, from plain old human to something far more dangerous. Some people can’t take it. Their bodies give out, or worse, fight the infection… which fights back, creating an ever escalating feud on the cellular level until the body gives up. End game.”

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

She tilted her head as he came to a stop in front of her, so close she felt the heat of his body through his shirt and her dress. Layers of fabric separated them, but all she wanted was to tear them away and rub herself against him. Skin to skin.

Heat flared. Crawled through her veins, and shivered along her skin. Unbidden, unwanted, her core ached and her p***y clenched. Liquid heat dampened her panties and his nostrils flared a response.

Her cheeks burned but she held his gaze, daring him to mention it. He’d always been able to make her react, sometimes just with a look, but she’d be damned if she was going to be a slave to her own responses.

His eyebrow quirked, just a little, in curiosity. “What did you mean then?”

“Why did you do what you did? Why did you bite me? What happened? Was this some kind of accident?” Soon as her mouth was open, and she’d started, the questions tumbled out over each other in a hurried jumble.

“What kind of accident would be so bad that you need to bite me? Make me into a werewolf… Whatever the hell kind of werewolf I am. Because, I don’t know about you,” she motioned to herself, “but I’m not seeing a whole lot of furry s**t going on here.”

“You were dying. What would you expect I do… Leave you there?” His expression was hard, like a whip. “Give me some credit, Bella. I wouldn’t let you die. Not while you’re in my care.”

He hadn’t answered her question. His expression said he wasn’t going to. Anger flared and a snarl rumbled in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a human sound; that made no sense, but she was too pissed off to care.

“Dammit, Rex.” She slammed her hands into his broad chest and shoved. It was like trying to shove a cliff but he rocked back on his feet, surprise in his eyes. “Just give me a straight f*****g answer.”

He grabbed her wrists, yanked her up against him as he turned, pinning her between him and broad desk. The heat simmering through her veins turned volcanic, supercharged, and shot through her veins. Her body went pliant in his grasp, her curves against the hard muscled planes of his larger form. Damn traitorous thing.

“Answer?” His voice was no less a snarl than hers had been. “I’ll give you an answer.”

His lips crashed down on hers. Hard. Demanding. Ruthless.

The dominating manner had always done it for her, sending her up in flames in his arms, but that had been before. This was something else. The same as she realized he wore his human appearance like a mask, she tasted the true depth of his feral masculinity.