Alpha’s Claim (Bad Boy Bears #1)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

D arius

Thom’s masquerade ball isn’t just for the house guests. He invited an extended list of friends and acquaintances to join the party tonight. Starting at dusk, a never-ending line of Lamborghinis, Bugattis, and Rolls Royces convenes on the mansion. I pick up the flimsy black mask a staff member delivered a few minutes ago. It’ll go well with my black on black tux. I look like James Bond, but I can’t shake my apprehension.

Tonight, I intend to find out what’s going on with Paloma. There’s something wrong here. I don’t have proof, but I know it in my gut.

My bear wants to rampage. After years of keeping the upper hand, I’m tested now by his uprising. When I glance in the mirror, my eyes are golden. I have to fight to get my bear under control, so my eyes return to their human color. Only threatening to stay in my room gets him to recede. He wants to see Paloma. If it were up to him, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.

But I’m not an uncivilized Neanderthal. When I was young, I was a wild child, almost feral. I’ve spent years building up my control, and I’m not about to lose my head.

I shaved my face clean earlier, but when I exit my bedroom, I have a beard. My bear’s way of rebelling. I’ll allow it, as long as he knows his place.

I saunter into the ballroom, accepting a glass of champagne. Thom must have hired a whole agency of models to attend because there are tall and attractive women everywhere I look. The models tower over the frat boys, who all look like Christmas has come early. The rest of the crowd is the bored, rich set who live in the Hamptons. I float through them, nodding at people I know through business. I keep it moving, waiting to catch the gardenia scent.

Paloma enters the room surrounded by a flock of bodyguards. They keep multiplying. Soon she’ll have better security than a president.

I move closer to get a better glimpse of her. She’s in white again, her lush breasts pushed up and framed in a strapless top. The color makes her glow like a goddess. Even with the mask hiding those big expressive eyes, it’s clear she’s the loveliest woman in the room.

There’s a queue of country club types forming a line beside her. The band strikes up, and I don’t need my shifter hearing to know that she’s being induced to dance. A man twice her age leads her out to the dance floor. She dances with him, and halfway through the song, the next man cuts in and claims her. Then the next. There’s no surprise on her face when each new partner arrives. There’s no pretense of enjoyment, either. She doesn’t make much conversation with any of them. It’s almost as if it’s prearranged—who she will dance with and when. As if this is Paloma’s coming out party, and she’s now available on the marriage market.

Was that the merger Thompson was referring to ?

I pass a white-haired man scolding his son. “Focus. We need to win the auction.”

The son protests and gets rapped by his father’s cane.

“–Tonight, midnight. After that, you can do as you like.” The father prods the son forward, and he reluctantly heads across the room towards Paloma.

“–Sample the merchandise,” another man in the apparent queue mutters.

My bear nearly forces his way out. I want to smash my champagne glass on the ground, tear off my suit, and destroy anyone who dares touch her.

Instead, I get a giant glass of merlot and stroll to the center of the floor, where a thirty-year-old guy with a seventy thousand dollar watch and a receding hairline is attempting to steer Paloma through the other dancers. Without bothering to pretend to trip, I toss my drink on him. The dark liquid spatters all over his front and soaks into the expensive Italian cotton.

“Oops,” I say.

The man curses. Paloma steps back. Her white jumper escaped any stains.

Her dance partner starts to bluster, and I catch his gaze, holding it until he sees the ferocity of my bear and drops his eyes. “You’d better go change.” I arch my brow. “I’ll take over from here.” I step in front of him and take Paloma’s hand, then tug her into my arms.

Her sweet scent surrounds me, and for a moment, I’m dizzy. The bitter tang has receded, and I can smell only her delectable skin, along with a light scent of ginger. I want to lick up her neck and taste her properly.

“May I have this dance?” I give her my most dazzling smile and maneuver us into the waltz my mother Winnie taught us when we were gangly teens .

“Oh, now he asks.”

I can’t tell if she’s flirting or annoyed.

I’m not the grouchy and stand-offish bear type like my brother, Teddy. I learned to schmooze and charm humans to win on this cut-throat playing field. But, for the first time, I’m unsure of myself. For the first time, I actually care whether my charm lands or not.

Paloma matches me step for step, leaning on me and responding to the slightest pressure. We twist and turn together, dancing like we were born to do it.

“Don’t tell me you preferred your old partner.”

“Chinless Chad? No.”

I bark a laugh, but she lifts a shoulder. “I prefer to be left alone.” Despite her words, her gaze roams my face with what I hope is interest.

“Yes. It looks like you have a long line of suitors.” I glance over to see her former dance partner’s father angrily speaking to her retinue of guards.

She mutters something in Spanish.

“I’m sorry?”

She lifts her chin. “Underneath all that muscle you must actually be a very small man.”

Wow. Okay, now it’s getting personal. I’m not sure what I did to inspire this attack, but my bear likes that she can give it back. Last night I imagined her to be cowed by her foster father and his men.

“I don’t know, most women find me to be more than adequate in, ah, that department.” I flick my brows above the mask.

Her bodyguards surround the dance floor. Two of them shoulder their way through the dancers on the floor toward us.

What in the ever-loving fuck is going on here? Does Thom not realize what spectacle his men are making in front of his Hampton guests? Does he not care?

A flush appears on her cheeks and throat from my innuendo. She attempts to pull away, but I keep her against my body, loving the feel of her soft curves. I turn our bodies, dancing away from the approaching guards.

“You disgust me.” Her nostrils flare. “Any man who bids on a woman’s virginity must have deep inadequacies.”

Her words hit me like a blast of concrete to the chest. I stop dancing, releasing her abruptly.

Bid on her virginity ?

That’s what’s going on here this weekend? Oh, hell no. Not on my watch.

My shock distracts me momentarily from the approaching guards. Before I can reply, they’re upon us.

“Time to go, Paloma.” The asshole who was making her eat last night takes her elbow.

“She’s not going anywhere,” I snarl before I remember to hide my aggression.

Paloma disengages from me, though. “Watch it. I’m not your property yet.”

Thom drops a hand on my shoulder. “Looks like my daughter doesn’t care to dance, Darius.”

I grind my teeth as the guards hustle her away, not just out of my grasp but out of the room. The concrete that hit my chest has traveled down to my gut now. I want to pummel Thom to a pulp. My bear wants to rampage, but I contain myself.

I’ve spent the last fifteen years learning to control my impulses.

Every action must be well-thought out when you live among vultures. Especially when you’re not the same species as them .

I won’t win a hand-to-hand fight against the nearly forty security guards I’ve clocked around the premises. I need to bide my time, find where they took Paloma, and bust her out of the horror that appears to be her life.

I force myself to turn and give Thom a bland smile. “Fantastic party. Too bad your security team keeps making a spectacle.”

“I suppose I am overprotective of the ones in my care. It’s my biggest flaw.” He drops his tone like he’s confiding in me. I need to get away from him before I punch his throat. Paloma’s scent is fading, and my bear is urging me to follow her before I lose the trail. But then he says something that makes me and my bear focus. “Paloma is…not well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” That might explain the bitter quality to her scent. A medicine perhaps? “Can anything be done?”

“Already handled, my boy. It’s nothing the doctors can’t deal with.” He pats my shoulder again, looking past me. “Ah, I see I’m needed elsewhere.”

At the opposite end of the room, a bunch of geriatric billionaires are exiting the ballroom, along with their sons. Thom walks to join them.

I fall into step beside him. “Is there a meeting?”

“Just a bit of personal business. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” He waves a hand, and two burly bodyguards block my way. “Enjoy the party.” He leaves the room with his friends.

I step forward but stop when the guards don’t move. “Private party?” I ask, pointing. The last remaining Chinless Chad gets roped by his father and disappears behind closed double doors.

“Invite only. You’re not invited.”

I could crack these goons’ heads together and chase down Thom, but I don’t need to. I already know what’s happening behind those closed doors. The auction. Thom’s selling off his foster daughter like she’s a medieval princess.

I hope the bidding takes a long time. I’ll need it to get to Paloma.

I shrug like the bodyguards have won and drift back across the ballroom in the direction that the security team took Paloma. I clock a few more thugs in suits standing at that exit, barring the way. Two of them glare at me, and I resist the urge to give them a cheeky salute.

I grab another glass of champagne and sip it. A few models stand around in a circle, looking bored, and I saunter over to them.

“You ladies ever been here before?”

Two of them shake their heads.

“Would you like a tour?”

Ten minutes later, I traipse around the garden with a group of giggling party-goers. A bunch of normal guests followed me and the models. Everyone’s a bit more raucous than usual, probably because I invited them to take shots before we went on the ‘tour’.

“This way.” I step up to a door that’s near the west wing of the house and block everyone’s view with my body, so I can break the lock. “The best paintings are in here.” I lead the group inside.

“Is that a Picasso?” a few people cluster around a cubist painting of a woman.

“Indeed,” I say. “It’s probably worth close to one hundred million dollars.”

Since there’s no sign or scent of Paloma, I stay near the door as the others crowd in.

I catch her scent .

Go, my bear urges. I clamp down on my urge to go roaring down the hall.

“Are you on something?” A model close to me frowns, peering at my face. “Your eyes are…weird.”

“Jaundice,” I tell her, and she looks at me askance. She’s too smart to buy my lie. I wink to make her think it’s all a joke. “I’ve got eye drops in my room. I’ll be right back. I think there’s a Monet further down and around the corner,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk out, prompting squeals of delight.

I follow Paloma’s scent down the corridor. I’m trailed by a dozen party-goers who still see me as their pied piper.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?” a guard shouts as we round a corner. He’s caught the back of the group. “You’re not supposed to be back here.” I’m out of sight, but from the sound of it, he and the other guards are trying to herd guests back to the ballroom. The entitled, inebriated guests turn belligerent, talking back, leaving me free to continue my search.

I follow Paloma’s fresh scent down the hall. I’m deep in the west wing now. I haven’t seen any guards, but I can hear them murmuring to each other somewhere up ahead.

I stride, full steam ahead, and pass a door that smells wrong. I stop and turn the handle. Inside is a small, dark room that looks like a medical examination room at a doctor’s office. There’s an exam table and no other furniture besides a white wall cabinet and freezer unit with a glass door.

This is where the medicinal smell is coming from. Thom told me Paloma wasn’t well but hinted that she has the best medical care money can buy. Her illness has to be serious if there’s a room dedicated to a doctor’s visit here.

I take a moment to search the cabinet drawers. Boxes of medical gloves and syringes–everything a doctor or nurse would need to administer a dose of medicine.

The freezer is the sort pharmacists use to keep vaccines at a certain temperature. It holds shelves and shelves of vials filled with blue liquid.

Poison, my bear warns, but that makes sense. Human medicine would smell like poison to an animal. I force myself to open the door and take a sniff, to see if I can detect anything specific. The smell is razor sharp, like tiny blades cutting my nasal passages. Up close, even a human would be able to smell it. I know humans use harsh compounds to save lives–like chemo to target cancer cells–but this smells so wrong.

The sense of urgency to get to Paloma grows. Time is ticking away.

Right now the auction Thom’s running is the perfect distraction. I need to find her before the window of opportunity closes.

I shut the door, and move along. Paloma’s scent still hovers on the air, a siren call to me and my bear. I force myself to pace slowly, keeping an eye out for guards.

Her sweet floral scent grows stronger, and I know I’m close. Then I hear her voice.

“No,” she’s telling someone. “I want to stay in my room.”

I’ve reached the last corner. The hall ends twenty feet from where I stand. Paloma and a group of guards are arguing in front of a huge, round doorway.

These guys aren’t in suits like the bodyguards, but black military-like uniforms. Thom has a private army guarding his precious Paloma. Several of them are packing some serious heat.

“I’ll help you.” The biggest guard goes to take her arm. My eyes flare bright, and I have to fight to keep my bear from erupting.

“I can handle it,” Paloma snaps, and the man drops his hand. The movement saves his life. I’d have killed him if he touched her. “I can walk. Just leave me alone.”

“Go then.” The head guard–the one who tried force-feeding her last night–steps aside and Paloma disappears. The huge door swings shut behind her. It’s round, like the door to a bank vault. There’s a jarring snap when all the locks engage.

Looks like they locked Paloma in tight for the night.

The head guard orders his men to fan out. Some of them head out for patrol, but most of them stay with their backs to the door.

I could run and take most of them out in a surprise attack, but then I’d waste time breaking into that vault door. Plus, I’d alert the entire manse and there are at least thirty-five other guards roaming this property.

I need another way in.

I stroll back the way I came, and out into the garden again. Paloma’s room is at the far end of the west wing, in a literal stone tower. She’s locked away like a princess.

Guards patrol the perimeter, but they’re facing outward, as if expecting an attack from the road.

There’s plenty of footholds in the stone, and a bunch of ivy I can grip if I need. Werebears are great at climbing.

I wait until clouds drift over the moon and begin my ascent.

Paloma

Moonlight streams into my room. The window creaks and strands of ivy dance in the wind. I stand and look out at the night sky. I’d give anything to be able to open the window to the ocean breeze. I smack my hand against the shatter-proof glass in frustration, then plop on my bed, facing the night sky.

I’ve changed into a pink sleep set, so I can relax. My book’s on the nightstand, but I’m too on edge to settle in and finish it.

At least I’m alone. I used to hate being locked in my room, but now it’s a welcome reprieve. It’s my final night of freedom.

I rub my right arm. My biceps is sore from tonight’s injection. I’m woozy from my medicine.

A few years ago, after a normal check up and flu shot, I got so dizzy I had to lie down. Thom has hired doctors from every corner of the earth. They still don’t know what’s wrong, but narrowed it down to some sort of auto-immune disease. Thom restricts my internet access, so I can’t do any research on my own, but the cocktail of meds they inject me with every few days keeps the symptoms at bay.

On my most successful escape attempt, I got off the property, only to collapse within twenty-four hours. Extreme weakness is a side effect of the disease. I’ll need regular injections for the rest of my life to stay mobile. If I don’t get them, the weakness will spread until my organs shut down.

I’m grateful that the disease responds to treatment. But now Thom has several ways to keep me tethered to this life: my sister and the medicine that keeps me alive.

And he intends to breed me. He’ll make my children chattel, just like he did me. I’ll never stop fighting, but I have no idea what to do. Hope is a faint light, disappearing over the horizon .

My head is fuzzy from the medicine, but the churning in my stomach is about the auction.

The window creaks again. The frame shudders and then the shatter-proof glass does the impossible. It cracks, bows inward, and explodes into a million glinting shards.

I’m frozen, unable to react. My thoughts move slowly like I’m underwater, and I can only watch as a dark shape fills the empty space. The intruder pauses a moment before jumping lightly to the floor and standing up straight. The low light gilds his wild blond hair.

“Hello, Rapunzel.”