Alpha’s Claim (Bad Boy Bears #1)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

P aloma

I expect to find myself locked in my bedroom all day while so many guests are in the mansion, but the deadbolt slides open at six a.m.–the same time it does every morning. I assume I’m free to follow my normal Saturday routine.

Thom probably figures he instilled enough fear in me to keep me in line.

He’d be right.

After my escape attempt the night before last, Thom told me point blank that if I didn’t fall into line and do everything he told me to do, Wren would meet a horrible accident. A horrible accident like our parents’.

I wasn’t sure until then that he’d been the one responsible for their death. That it hadn’t been a random car accident. Now I know for certain–he orchestrated it to get me under his roof.

He’s as horrible a man as I suspected.

The first few years under his guardianship hadn’t been bad. Wren and I were grieving, but he provided us with every luxury, including a therapist to help us cope.

A therapist I now realize brainwashed us to be his little robots.

I rebelled when he pulled me out of school to work long hours. That’s when he sent Wren away to a Catholic boarding school where she’s not allowed a cell phone or unsupervised internet. He made my contact with her a punishment or reward. I misbehaved, Thom revoked my privilege of my weekly video call with her. If I wanted her to come home for Christmas, I’d better keep my quotas up.

What he doesn’t know is that Wren has a special knack for psychic linking. Sometimes when I’m falling asleep at night, she appears in my dream state, checking in on me. Telling me a joke. Acting like a goofy seventeen-year-old. If I didn’t have those moments with her, I would go nuts.

I have to be careful he never finds out, though, or he’ll think of some devious way to put her gift to use as well.

I pull on my khaki riding jodhpurs and a fitted red top, don my boots and hat, and head to the stables to see Starlight. Riding her is the only pleasure I have here. Starlight and Sunday video calls with Wren.

My mare whinnies softly when I open the door.

“Hey, sweetness. I missed you yesterday.” I look over my shoulder at the two bodyguards trailing me. “They wouldn’t let me out to see you.” I stroke her forehead and lean forward. “ Pendejos ,” I murmur in her silky ear.

I still swear in Spanish–despite Thom’s disgust of it–because it reminds me of my dad–my real dad–who spoke English at home except when he swore. I'm sure that it was to protect our delicate ears, but instead, he just taught us to swear in his native tongue.

Cas, the Dutch groom, appears at my back, carrying her saddle. “I’ll get her ready for you, Miss Paloma,” he murmurs, avoiding my eyes.

I like Cas, but I have to be honest. He’s not my friend. Everyone who works at this mansion knows I’m a prisoner, and no one has lifted a finger to help me.

Then again, Thom probably holds something over each of their heads. A pressure point he pushes on to ensure their ongoing cooperation.

Had he done that with my mom when she worked for him? Had he pressured her to do things she didn’t want to do? Did he kill her because she wouldn’t give him access to exploit me?

I fasten the chin strap on my helmet as Cas leads Starlight out of her stall.

“All set, Miss Paloma. I’ll bring her out for you.”

“Thank you, Cas.” I follow them outside then climb the stair to mount.

I throw my leg over Starlight and take the reins. In the early days of Thom’s guardianship, Wren and I got exposure to all the rich kid extracurriculars. Archery, yachting, fencing, and of course riding lessons. We even had an English riding instructor come out to train us. I learned dressage and even had dreams of competing with Starlight. But Thom decided that would take away from my “studies.”

Of course, my studies had completely become stock market related. The tutor didn’t even come anymore for a pretense of home school. Every waking moment was focused on studying the numbers and making trades.

I’ve always been able to sense a company's future success or failure. Which markets were ready to flourish and which were withering on the vine. It was easy.

My mother noticed my ability first. She called it a gift. She never lived to see it become a curse that’s turned my life into a nightmare.

Over the years, I’ve made Thom billions. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Thom owns me. If he has his way, he’ll control me for the rest of his life, and now he plans to make me work for his friends, too.

There’s nothing I can do about it.

I guide Starlight to trot the familiar path to the beach. Once we’re there, overlooking the wild, choppy sea, I loosen the reins and prompt her into a canter, then a gallop. Spray flies, spattering my perfect outfit. Starlight thunders over the sand, racing the wind. My hair streams behind me like a flag.

It’s not freedom, but it’s the closest thing to it I can get. I savor every second.

I’m halfway down the long stretch of surf when Starlight shies and startles. I slow us down, so I can coax her to quiet. She’s nervous, prancing, but I don’t know why. We’re far from the guard posts that mark the end of Thom’s land, and she’s used to the security teams patrolling the dunes with their guns, making sure I don’t run.

Then I see the swimmer in the water. It’s too cold to be in the ocean–as I know only too well from the night before last. Only an idiot would jump into these waters for pleasure without a wetsuit, but there he is, big and bare-chested, shaking his dark blond hair out of his face, striding out of the waves. Water streams down the epic muscles of his shoulders and chest. I’m instantly reminded of the hundreds of historical romance novels Ellie has slipped me over the years. He could easily be on the cover of one.

He looks like a Viking, striding onshore to kill and plunder. And he’s headed straight toward me.

I instantly recognize him–he’s the man who sat beside me last night at dinner. The one who told that asshole Chip to stop force-feeding me. I was drawn to him immediately, despite the fact that if he was at that dinner, then he must be here to bid on me.

The wind chafes my face, and my fingers are frozen, but the rest of my body heats. I try to look away from his glistening wet chest, but I can’t.

He’s…incredible. Light glistens over his great pectoral muscles, where rivulets of water stream down to the narrowed “V” of his waist.

Seeing him stokes a fire in my lower belly, which grows to an all-consuming blaze. I’ve probably been around too many milquetoast boys of good breeding because I’ve never been attracted to a man like this. Maybe that’s the difference. They were boys, and this is a man, wild, with eyes like the stormy sea.

“Good morning.” He lifts his hand to wave and starts toward the shore. His voice is a deep rumble. It only increases the jump of excitement in my belly. My inner thighs squeeze against Starlight.

She doesn’t like him. She dances backward, shaking her head. Only years of riding keep me in my saddle. It doesn’t help that my legs have gone weak.

“Is it?” I call back as Starlight whirls in a circle.

The Viking halts waist-deep in the water, studying me as he rubs the golden stubble on his chin. His hair looks longer than it did last night. Despite the decidedly masculine lines of a rugged jaw and bushy brows, his lips are full and perfect. What would it be like to kiss a man with a beard?

Why am I staring at this man’s lips? And why am I wondering what it would be like if he won the bid for me? But I do wonder. Of course, my engagement will be fake. Thom is just lending me out for my “gift.” This man wouldn’t be a real fiance. He wouldn’t expect any kind of marital rights.

But what if he did?

What if he tossed me over his shoulder, carried me out to the beach, and ravished me right here on the sand? I’d get away and run like I did the other night. He wouldn’t send my bodyguards after me; he’d chase me himself. And when he caught me…

Oh damn. I have definitely read far too many of the Viking, Regency, and Highlander romance novels Ellie got me hooked on.

I try to shake off the fizzy excitement that thought brings. I must be nuts if I’m fantasizing about how Thom’s plans to loan me out like a work slave to a fictitious fiance will play out for me. This isn’t a sexy Viking come to carry me off to a foreign land. He wants to buy me and use me like Thom uses me to increase his coffers.

I touch my heels to Starlight’s side and let her have her head, so she can get us away. As I ride, I sense his gaze on my straight back, and it takes everything I have not to look back.

Darius

I watch Paloma race her horse away from me like the hounds of hell are following. For a moment, our gaze connected, and I felt lightning sizzle between us. I almost shifted again.

My bear is apparently in love.

But a moment later, she was gone.

My blood pumps, and not just from my brisk swim. Seeing Paloma revs my heartbeat. Her lovely face, her rosebud pout. My dick is hard and ready, even while the rest of me is numb from the freezing water.

Her. Now, my bear says. He wants to go after her. Her horse was panicking at my strange bear shifter smell, and getting closer might mean the horse would spook and throw Paloma off. I want to get close to Paloma to get to know her when she’s relaxed and free of her guards, where she feels safe enough to tell me how she got the ugly bruises on her arms.

Last night, I spent interminable hours choking on cigar smoke and bland conversation with the rest of the guests. I learned Paloma was born to a couple who worked as traders in Thom’s firm. They died in a car crash when she was fourteen, and Thom became her guardian. She’s adopted, like me. But if there was ever any love between her and the man who calls himself her father, it’s gone now.

I tried to dig more, to figure out what mergers Thom might be planning, so I can learn more about the bidding I heard whispers about, but nobody said anything.

I didn’t get to poke around the way I wanted. Today, I’ll use my heightened sense of smell and hearing to do some sleuthing, starting with finding out more about the tragic and enigmatic beauty surrounded by bodyguards.

After dressing in my room, I stroll through the halls like I own the place. This is how rich people behave. They push and shoulder their way into whatever place they desire, with the sheer belief that they belong anywhere they choose to go. It’s like the animal world with a show of dominance, except you never know what they have for teeth and claws.

My nose tells me that Thom’s rooms are in the west wing. I head that way, poking my head into random rooms, trying door handles. I’m looking for an office.

A heavy door stymies my way to the west wing. It’s locked, and there’s a black keypad beside it. Thom has taken the precaution of extra security, which is a good sign I’m in the right place.

I open a window. I’m on the second story, and it only takes a moment to leap from one windowsill to a small balcony. An impossible feat for a human, but no problem for a werebear who spent his childhood climbing trees. No one’s on the grounds, but I duck down anyway, and use my sharp claws to carve into the glass. No alarms sound, and I can reach a hand through the hole to open the French door.

Just like that, I’m past security and in the wing that holds Thom’s private offices. If I’m lucky, I’ll uncover some secrets.

I slip out of the first room and head down the wide hall. I have to tread more carefully here. I catch the scent of guards–stale cigarettes and the faint smell of gunpowder–and a whiff of Thom’s cologne.

Ten doors down, I hit the jackpot. Someone murmurs behind the closed door, and they sound a lot like Thom.

I lean my shoulder against a wall, half obscured by a marble plinth holding a rearing bull statue.

It’s definitely Thom, speaking in his reedy voice. “Drink?” There’s the clink of glass.

Then someone else says, “We could avoid all this business. Just make the deal now.”

“Who would she be marrying?” Thom asks. “You?” He scoffs. “I want to avoid suspicion, not stoke it.”

“Not me–my son. Chad will play the part of a suitable fiance. You get your money, I’ll get access to her for three years–”

Access? What kind of sick transaction are they discussing ?

“One. The deal is one. It’s more than enough time for her to increase your holdings.”

Oh. Not sex, then. Something else.

Let me out! My chest rumbles as my bear thrashes to get free, responding to this disgusting conversation. They’re talking about selling Paloma off into a brief marriage so she can…what? Increase their wealth somehow?

“Very well. One year, and then Chad will call the engagement off. You’ll be free to sell her again.” Thom murmurs something I don’t catch because someone brushes against the other side of the wall.

I wait.

“No,” Thom barks. “I promised I wouldn’t accept any preemptive bids. You and Chad can join the auction tonight. Midnight.”

The other man protests, but Thom talks over him. “I’m being more than generous.” Footsteps approach the door. “Now, let’s be off. I’m late for my tee time.”

The door handle scrapes, and I saunter off, turning casually into a small hallway before Thom and his conspirator exit the office. I catch the cigar fumes and scent of rare whiskey.

I listen, hoping Thom heads the opposite way. Instead, the footsteps get closer. The hall behind me leads to a small flight of stairs, and I trot down them to hide. Thom and his friend pass the door, still chatting about golf. They head off without noticing me.

I hover on the stairs, listening to their receding footfalls, when I get a whiff of something floral. Paloma’s gardenia scent wafts up the stairs, and I can’t help following it to the subterranean floor where it leads. The scent is thick and sweet but with that same bitter tang that alarmed me this morning and last night. The further I descend, the more the bitterness overtakes the sweetness until a metallic flavor coats my tongue.

The stairs lead to another hallway. There’s a hum behind the walls and the air is cooler. I’m probably near a server room or something.

Paloma’s scent leads me to an open door. The room beyond is filled with massive screens. There’s a small desk and chair where her scent is concentrated.

Paloma spends a lot of time here, and I think I know what she’s doing. I bet if I flip the wall switch, the screens will light up with familiar numbers from the stock exchanges around the world. Thom said she works for his investment firm. I bet she uses this room to do her trading.

That’s how she increases Thom’s wealth. Thom and whoever he auctions her off to.

But why? He must have hundreds of traders available. What need would he have to use or sell his foster daughter? What’s so special about what she does? Something illegal, perhaps?

Whatever it is, I feel sick.

I’m certain Paloma is a captive, held against her will by the billionaire who made himself her parent.

That explains why the door locks from the outside. I can smell the places her guards stand.

Has she tried to escape? Fought back? That could be how she got the bruises.

My bear is ready to rampage and rip this entire room apart. It’s all I can do not to shift right there.

Instead, I make myself exit and shut the door. I have nothing to gain by losing control. I need to learn more, so I can decide if and how I can help Paloma.

Paloma

Ellie finishes curling my hair and stands back to survey her work. “Beautiful, as always.”

Ellie is my–what do I call her? If we are staying with the fairytale nomenclature, she’d be my chambermaid or servant. I guess she’s a combination jailer/personal assistant. She brings me food on a tray when Thom or his henchman Chip lock me in my chambers. She orders my clothing, trims my hair, and makes sure I have a fresh toothbrush. Last night she did my make up and hair, and she’s going all out for tonight’s masquerade ball. Thom invited seventy-five additional guests in for tonight’s fête–another chance to show off, I guess.

I’m wearing a white strapless chiffon and silk jumper. I suspect it’s supposed to evoke both “sweet innocence” and “bad-ass trader” at the same time.

The corset-like bustier top is heart-shaped to frame my breasts, and it connects in front to the matching wide-legged pants. A sheer fabric covers the shell and gives it an ethereal quality. A filmy wrap hangs over my arms to cover the bruises. Ellie smears a ginger-scented lotion over all of my exposed skin that leaves a shimmer.

I look at my reflection in the mirror, but I hardly recognize the young woman looking back at me. I’ve been locked in a tower for ten years now. Most of the time, I still feel like the grieving fourteen-year-old who first came here. The girl who’d rather curl up in her room and hide than interact with the world.

Carajo, I made it so easy for him.

“It’s going to be all right,” Ellie murmurs although it most certainly will not be.

I try to swallow and nod. “Sure.”

Whatever awaits me tomorrow, I find it impossible to believe it will be any better than what I have here. I won’t just be changing one jailer for another. I’ll be bred .

At least Thom has never had an interest in me sexually. I work for him–he keeps Wren safe and out of it. That’s our agreement.

I glance at the picture of Wren stuck in the border of the mirror. I have photos of her everywhere to remind me why I must persevere. She’s safe, for now. She’s at a Catholic boarding school in Connecticut. One that doesn’t allow cell phones or internet unless strictly supervised. It’s the modern-day version of a medieval convent. I’m allowed a video call with her on Sundays unless my trades haven’t been as profitable as Thom wants, in which case my sister is told I’m working late, and I’m locked in my room for the weekend.

The market took a dump Friday, but I managed to meet my quotas. I should be allowed a call with her tomorrow unless my new husband takes me before then.

Until this morning, he was a faceless replica of Thom.

Now, though, I find myself picturing the Viking from the beach.

A man who could probably snap my neck with one squeeze of those giant ham-hands. What if Thom sells me to him? What if he wanted… more than my stock trades?

Heat rolls down my inner thighs. What if he’s rough?

A trembling starts in my legs. It’s fear, not arousal. Definitely not arousal.

“A little more lip gloss.” Ellie grabs a tube and swipes the wand of clear plumping gloss across my lips, even though I thought they were already quite moist. She surveys her work once more. “Perfect.”

I don’t enlist Ellie’s help. I tried once, years ago, and she grew terrified. Tears streaked her face, and she begged me not to speak of it again.

“I can’t help you,” she’d whispered.

I figured Thom had some leverage over her, too. Something to keep her in line, same as he keeps me in line. So to spare her–my only “friend” here now that Wren is gone–I don’t make a fuss.

I glance at the clock. “I still have fifteen minutes. I’m going to read.” I crawl up on my four-poster with no consideration of whether I wrinkle my virgin business woman outfit.

Ellie opens her mouth to argue, but I’ve already picked up The Spymaster’s Lady , the Joanna Bourne romance I’m reading for the seventh time. She closes her mouth again. “Of course. I’ll see you later.” She slips out the door.

Usually on weekends, I spend as much time outside as I can, since my weekdays are spent in a work dungeon with only blue light from the monitors. Today I had no desire to rub elbows with my suitors, though. Suitors is probably not an apt term, even if I am living a fairytale nightmare. My would-be owners? Jailors?

Anyway, after my morning ride, I spent the rest of the day voluntarily locked in my chambers, reading. Escapism is the best I can hope for.

Escapism and…

I’m not hoping for the Viking to be the winner. I definitely don’t want a man like that.

Okay, maybe I do. He’s the least like my foster father of all of them, at least in appearance. He took that giant, muscled body into the cold ocean this morning for fun . And he defended me last night.

But he’s still a horrible human engaging in human trafficking and forced labor. Of course, he might not understand the extent of Thom’s control over me. Maybe he thinks I’m willing. That I profit from the deal, too.

A light tap sounds on my door, and I tense before it opens, knowing who will be there.

I’m already swinging my legs off the bed to stand when Thom walks in.

“Ah. Darling.” He spreads his arms in my direction. “You look magnificent.”

“Not your darling,” I say through clenched teeth.

He drops the fatherly pretense. “Remember what we talked about,” he warns. “I didn’t care for your lifeless act last night.” He cups my chin, and I wrench back, out of his grasp.

“I did everything you asked of me,” I seethe.

He nods. “You did. And you’d better continue to do so, or Wren will suffer the consequences.”

Hot tears spear my eyes. “Leave her out of this. That’s all I ever ask of you.”

He smiles, like he’s pleased he won my tears. “And I have upheld my end of the bargain. You are the one who tried to flee.”

My nose burns. I clench my fists so tightly my nails dig into my palms. “It won’t happen again,” I say stiffly.

“Good.” He beckons to me. “Now, put on your mask. I expect you to make a better impression than you did last night. I’m not just leasing your services to your new fiance.”

Alarm bells go off. The room swoops around me. Cold rushes through my limbs. Somehow, I know that whatever he means, it’s going to be terrible.

“What are you talking about?” I don’t keep the warble out of my voice.

“The highest bidder will also take your virginity, darling. We’ve kept you locked away from men for far too long,” he says as he ties the mask on. “It’s high time I breed you to see if my grandchildren are equally as talented.”

I catch the wall to keep from falling over. Now the cold turns to hot, like hot iron pouring down through the top of my head and into my chest, creating a terrible rushing in my ears.

Thom’s lips twist into a satisfied smile at my reaction. He picks up the masquerade mask and walks around behind me to put it on.

I should run. I should dive out the window and break my neck rather than give him the satisfaction of breeding me.

Except for Wren. I can’t go off half-cocked until I have a plan to get her to safety. I can’t risk him pulling her out of school to do the same horrifying things to her.

The silk of the mask drapes over my eyes, and he ties it in the back. My hairs stand on end at having the devil so close to me.