Alpha’s Obsession: An MC Werewolf Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 5)

Sam

Christ, I am one kiss away from marking Layne. I swear, if I get my cock anywhere near that female, I will fuck her senseless and sink my teeth right into her neck.

It’s that bad.

I literally couldn’t keep my hands off her, even when my brain tried to pull back. Just like when I nearly lost my humanity, my wolf has too much power over me. I can’t let him take the goddamn lead or I won’t be able to finish Smyth and Data-X.

It’s not just about revenge. I need to end this madness so no one else suffers. Christ, the Tucson pack’s only female shifter was grabbed in Mexico by harvesters that link back to the guy Smyth was with at the lab this morning—Santiago.

I turn the water all the way to cold and step back in the shower. It does nothing to tamp down my erection. I swear, steam comes off me as the water hits.

Maybe we could just offer each other a little pleasure.

Did she actually suggest that? How in the fuck did I get so lucky? I’m definitely not worthy of Layne Zhao, a bright woman with an even brighter future.

When she said she couldn’t be in a relationship my wolf wanted to shred the walls. But it can’t be because there’s another male, or she wouldn’t have suggested we fool around.

A snarl leaves my throat. Fuck, I want her.

But I can’t. The second I get my cock in her, my wolf will mark her. I can tell because my eyes change every time I get too close. My teeth elongate, preparing to deliver the mating bite.

Why in the fuck would my wolf want a human?

He’s confused. Probably there’s some underlying biology at work. I’m fully prepared to die bringing down Smyth. Some instinctive part of me wants to make sure I reproduce before that happens.

That can be the only explanation.

I’m tempted to jack off again to take the edge off, but what if it makes it worse? Touching myself last time I was in the shower did nothing to calm the mating frenzy.

I leave my cock alone, other than dousing him in cold water. When it’s plain the water isn’t helping, I shut it off and get out.

I towel off, pull on my jeans and examine the gunshot wounds in the mirror. They are already closed, the flesh knitting back together, cells regenerating. The shirt is too bloody to put on, so I walk out without one.

The scent of some kind of food hits me. Good, Layne helped herself in the kitchen. There isn’t much fresh food, but I stocked the cabinets with canned goods when I rented the place last week.

I walk in to find Layne stirring a pot of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. She turns and her gaze falls to my bare chest. Her eyelids droop.

Fates, the chemistry between us is off the charts. At least I know she feels it too.

She clears her throat. “Hungry?”

“Always,” I answer, which is true. Ever since I almost starved roaming the mountains as a wolf all winter, I eat at every opportunity. Too bad I’m still scrawny for my kind.

“I’ll, ah, go find a shirt and be right back.”

Because, yeah. If she keeps looking at me that way, I’m gonna tape her hands to this countertop for round two.

When I return, she’s split the soup between two bowls, which she sets at the small table by the window. I spend a few seconds looking in every direction out the window before I concede we’re safe and sit.

I pick up the bowl and down the soup in three gulps.

Layne stares at me like I have five heads and jumps up. “Want some more? I can heat another—”

“Please.” I grab her wrist to stop her. “Don’t serve me.” Because the fates know if she keeps it up I’m going to pull her onto my lap and show her how much I like it. “Sit down. I have some questions for you.”

A guarded expression clouds her face. “Like what?”

“Why do you work at Data-X?”

“They offered me the best opportunity to pursue my research.”

“Which is?”

She looks away. “I study genetic diseases. That was the focus of my post doc research. Data-X offered me a chance to continue the course of study. They said—claimed—it was ancillary to one of their other projects, where they created super cells that were self-regenerating and disease resistant.”

“And you believed them?”

“Not at first. But what I’ve been seeing—the super cells stand up to the test. Smyth was right.”

“Tell me about him.”

“I don’t know much about him. He hired me. I was surprised that they’d appoint me head of the Omega project, but he said he’d been following my work, and knew I was driven. That I’d be a good fit for the project. That we’d help a lot of people, including—” her breath hitches and she looks down, studying her hands. “He knew just what to say.”

“Why are you so driven?”

“My mom died of Barrington’s.”

“What’s that?”

“A rare disease. An immune disorder where the body attacks its own cells. There’s no cure.” She takes a deep breath. “Not yet. ”

That’s why she’s so dedicated to her research.

“What can you tell me about Santiago?”

“Señor Creepy?” She sighs, rubbing her eyes. She’s got to be running on fumes. “He just showed up today. Smyth introduced him to me. He had a bunch of bodyguards. They wanted to know my progress. That’s all I can tell you. That’s all I know.”

Shit. She’s not giving me anything.

“The cells you’re working on. The super cells. Where did you get them?”

“Something called the Alpha Program. Smyth won’t tell me the real source. He doesn’t want the research biased.”

“No, Layne.” Her eyes snap to mine when I say her name. “He doesn’t want you to know how he got them.”

“How did he get them?”

“Illegal harvesting. He takes people captive, and forces them into his experiments. That’s what Project Alpha is.”

She swallows hard. “He did that to you?”

I look away as the dark pulse of horror envelopes me.

I’m in a concrete and silver wire cage, a choke collar is around my neck, the chain hitched up and attached to the ceiling. I’ve been alone, with almost no human interaction for weeks. Still, when Smyth appears in his white lab coat and clipboard, only fear washes over me. My body tightens, bracing for more pain. More endurance testing. More knife wounds to the chest, hot brands on my legs and arms.

Smyth detaches the chain attached to the choke collar and yanks me up against the silver coated bars. Anger burns in his eyes. Hatred.

“Sam?” Layne’s concerned voice comes from across an ocean. The horrible throb of bass drowning out her words drops away the moment she takes my hand.

I draw in a gasp of breath, give my head a shake to clear my vision.

Smyth. Why did he hate me so much? It’s a question I never asked myself back then. Now, it suddenly seems like an important clue—one I’d missed until now.

“Are you all right, Sam?”

I scrub a hand over my face. “I have to stop him.”

~.~

Layne

“What are you going to do with the data?” I ask. I was trying for casual, but I know I failed miserably when Sam’s sympathetic gaze rests on my face.

“Layne,” he says gently. “I understand you were excited about your findings…”

“That research could save lives.” I can’t keep the heat from my voice.

“You can’t go public with any of it, sweetheart. What are you going to tell the scientific community, that you used cells from werewolves? You’ll be laughed out of every circle. Not to mention the fact that even if they would accept that explanation, I can’t allow you to disclose our existence.”

My mouth falls open, the protest on my lips dying as I realize he’s right. Without more of the shifter cells, I won’t be able to replicate the data, and I’ll never be able to explain it.

Tears smart my eyes and I get up from the table to hide them.

Sam surges up, too, and wraps his arms around me from behind. Not capturing me, like he did in the lab this evening, just holding me. “I’m sorry.”

“I need that research.” My voice breaks.

“And I can’t let you keep it.” His voice is quiet, unemotional. It’s a simple statement of fact. He’s taking away the only thing I’ve worked for since the year my mother died, since the day I knew I, too, would die of the same disease.

Hot tears spill down my cheeks. I turn in his arms and smack his chest with my open hand. “What are you going to do with it?” My raised voice is higher in pitch than normal.

“I’m going to use it to find Smyth and then I’m going to destroy it after I destroy him.” The resolve in his expression is deadly, and I have no doubt he’s capable of doing all he promises.

“No. You can’t. I’m so close—”

“You’re not. You haven’t been working with human cells. Your research is all skewed.”

My mind races. “Maybe, maybe not. I need more time and tests to analyze it.”

Sam’s shoulders sag. “Layne—”

“Don’t destroy it,” I beg. “Please. It’s so important.”

He cradles my face with both palms. “We’ll figure something out.”

I hit his hands away. “What does that mean?”

He turns away and shoves his fingers through his blond hair, sending it spiking in new directions. “A compromise. It means I’ll try to find a compromise with you. Okay?” He sounds exhausted.

The fight drains out of me and suddenly I’m bone tired, myself. It’s late—probably past midnight and I’ve had a doozy of a day. “I’m going to hit the shower, and go to bed,” I mumble.

He turns and looks at me with this intense tractor beam. “Yeah. Okay. You can take the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here.” He waves a hand toward the tiny living area.

I nod. Defeat weighs on my shoulders although I’m not sure why. Sam agreed to find a compromise. It’s the best I could hope for, under the circumstances. It’s more like I’m experiencing the weight on his shoulders, but that doesn’t make sense. I am, admittedly, drawn to the tortured young man intent on revenge. But to actually feel his feelings is… impossible.

But then, yesterday I would’ve sworn changing from a wolf into human form was impossible, too.

I brush it off and head to the shower. When I turn off the water, I find a neatly folded t-shirt and boxer briefs on the bathroom counter. Yes, the same one Sam taped me to an hour ago. Knowing he’d been back in the bathroom while I showered shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but it is. So is the thoughtfulness he showed in leaving his clothes for me.

I pull on the soft t-shirt and boxers feeling oddly cared for. I haven’t been doing a decent job of it myself lately and it’s nice. I’ve only known Sam one day, but our connection solidifies more every minute that passes.

When I come out, I find Sam in front of his laptop, zipping through information with quick swipes of his finger.

“Um, thanks for the clothes.”

He turns and then does a double-take, his gaze skittering over my breasts. Without a bra, my nipples protrude through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. They harden under his scrutiny.

He gives a strangled laugh. “Looks different on you.”

My lips twitch. I kind of love it when he gets awkward. Knowing that I caused it. “Goodnight, Sam.”

He nods solemnly. As I start to walk away, he calls after me. “Lock your door.”

I pause. “Why?”

“To keep me out.” His gravelly tone holds dark warning.

A shiver of excitement runs through me.

I’ve had lots of humans, Layne. But none who made me lose control like you do.

I shouldn’t be so flattered by the fact that my life’s in danger.

But I totally am.