Page 5 of The Alpha’s Hunger (Alpha Doms #1)

5

Zolla’s house was dark and quiet. Ben knocked on the door, but no one answered and his wolf senses didn’t detect anyone inside. He sighed and called the phone number Mark had given him for the omega. An omega was the lowest ranking in a wolf pack, usually because of size or some other weakness.

Zolla answered the phone by saying, “Ben Stone,” with a note of surprise. Obviously he had Ben’s phone number programmed into his phone, which would seem odd, except that the wolf was the kind of guy who was all about information.

“Hey, are you around? I was wondering if I could meet with you tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m not home right now, I’m at El Parador, the salsa club on Speer.”

“I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.” He hung up and ushered Ashley back to her car.

“Now where are we going?” she asked.

“Salsa dancing.”

“Really?”

He didn’t answer.

“Wait… really?” she repeated. “Are you serious?”

“Well, we’re going to a salsa joint.”

“Do you know how to salsa? Well, of course you do, you’re from South America. You probably were born dancing.”

“Pretty much,” he said. In Latin America, every party had dancing, even the most simple get-togethers. He hadn’t meant they would actually be dancing, but she seemed so stunned by it, he found himself asking, “Do you?”

“Um, not exactly, but I’d really like to learn. Will you teach me?”

His skin prickled at the thought of holding her close to him on the dance floor. It would be too much. But he couldn’t make himself say no to her—she looked so cute looking over at him with pleading eyes. “We’ll see,” he said.

They arrived at El Parador and went inside. Ashley tugged at her too short t-shirt, looking embarrassed.

“You look fine,” he said. In fact, she looked smoking hot. Still in her tight little work skirt and high heels, the t-shirt took away the business look of the outfit, leaving pure feminine pizzazz.

A band was playing on the stage and people were out on the dance floor. Tables were scattered around the perimeter and couples sat together, heads inclined toward each other. He didn’t see any sign of Zolla.

He swept the room again, stopping short when he realized the omega was playing conga drums in the band. Zolla lifted his chin in greeting. Ben picked a table and sat down, ordering them drinks in Spanish.

When the song ended, Zolla appeared at their table. He wore a faded t-shirt with what looked like a coffee stain on the front. His hair needed cutting, hanging in his eyes and curling over his ears. He looked from one to the other of them.

Ben waved him into a chair.

“Okay, why are you here?”

“I need your help,” Ben said.

“I’m not in your pack anymore.”

“I don’t have a pack. Someone’s trying to kill me and they kidnapped Ashley’s sister. I’m hoping you can trace a call and a license plate.”

Zolla’s eyes turned to Ashley, naturally dropping to her tight shirt.

He tensed. “Don’t look at her,” he said, trying to keep the menace he felt from his voice.

Zolla’s eyes immediately lowered submissively. He held out his hand. “Gimme the phone.”

Ben nodded to Ashley, who dug it out of her purse and handed it to him.

Zolla started scrolling through the screens. He was an omega because of his size. In human form, he stood at five-eight, tops, and while his body was all lean muscle, he was scrawny. As a wolf, he was the size of a canine, while most shifters stood at least half again as tall as an ordinary wolf. He freelanced as a computer programmer, and specialized in security, which made him an excellent hacker. He had set up the internal security software at Stone under Leon’s direction.

Ben didn’t know Zolla well, but he had a distinct memory of his brother praising him in front of the whole pack for removing the tracking devices from all their phones and providing other technology help to the pack. Leon had been good about signaling out individuals’ achievements, showing his appreciation where all could hear and see it.

A heavy stone sank in his gut as he realized he had done none of that since he’d taken over Leon’s company. No wonder the managers had lost interest in achievement. Had this been what Ashley had been trying to help him do by including people in meetings? Giving them buy-in and empowering them? He stabbed his fingers through his hair. God, he was awful at all of this. Having a dominant personality didn’t make him a decent leader. In fact, he’d been the worst kind. He’d been like his father —a dictator. Well, at least he hadn’t tried to lead the pack, or he would’ve run them into the ground, too.

“This phone was tappable and traceable,” Zolla announced.

“Yeah, I figured. Can you clean it up?”

“Not if you want me to be able to trace calls that come into it.”

“Oh, right. So can you? Trace incoming calls?”

“I can try, yes. Not from here, but from home,” he said, without looking up. “And it depends on if they’ve removed their location software.”

He exhaled. “Great, thanks.” Writing down the license number he’d memorized from the car in the parking lot, he slid the paper across to Zolla. “This is the license plate.”

Zolla nodded. “That will be easy to trace.”

“Thanks.”

Zolla looked at him speculatively. “So what happens to me if it’s Bruce, my new alpha, who’s trying to kill you?”

Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would he want me dead?”

“Come on, Stone. A lone wolf who’s alpha material? Every pack leader around will be thinking you’re angling to steal his pack. Maybe it’s Stanley, have you thought of that?”

“It’s not Stanley. And I’m not interested in stealing any pack.”

“I know that, but what if Bruce thinks you are? What if I’m acting against him by helping you right now? Are you going to have my back?”

Ashley was listening intently. Zolla’s eyes went to her and Ben growled.

The omega dropped his eyes again. “You should really mark her if you’re that territorial.”

“Consider what you just said to me and tell me that’s a good idea,” he said.

Zolla looked thoughtful and then nodded. “I see.”

A wolf didn’t put his mate into danger, and Ben was a walking target. If he even set foot in Venezuela again, he had no doubt he’d be marked for death by Sandoval, the pack leader and drug tycoon who took down his father’s pack. And here in the States, someone had already ordered his death. Whether they were human or shifter didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to tangle Ashley in it any more than she already was.

“Well, we’re back to my original question, then,” Zolla said, levelling him as much of a challenging look as subordinate wolf would dare.

Ben blew out his breath. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone. He could barely handle his own screwed-up life, and now he had Ashley to protect and deliver from evil, too. He definitely didn’t need anyone else on his tab. But what choice did he have?

“Yeah, I’ll protect you.”

Zolla grinned. “Pack of two, then.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re leaving your pack to follow me? You must be nuts.”

“Nah. I’ve always known you were my pack leader. I’ve just been waiting for you to come around.”

A strange sensation ran through Ben’s body—a shudder of something—recognition? Acceptance of his fate? He didn’t know. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Thanks,” he said.

Zolla nodded. “I’ll search the data from the phone and keep tabs on future calls. Do you two want to stay at my place tonight?”

He looked at Ashley. No way was he letting her spend the night anywhere near another wolf. “Nah, I’ll go find a motel nearby. Thanks for your help. You have my cell number, right?”

“Yep. You should stay a while—we’re about to play another set.”

“No,” he said, and then hesitated when he realized Ashley was giving him puppy eyes. He shrugged. “We might stay for a dance or two,” he said, wondering what had come over him.

Zolla grinned, not missing any nuance. “Enjoy.”

Ashley beamed at Zolla as he departed and Ben had to bite back the territorial snarl in his throat.

Her insides melted like hot butter just thinking about dancing with Ben. Somehow she’d never pictured Stone Man as a smooth dancer, but she’d never pictured him as a giant werewolf, either.

Mr. Macho had ordered drinks and tapas from the waiter in Spanish without asking what she’d like, but she hadn’t minded—she enjoyed the sound of the r’s rolling off his tongue, the sexy lilt to his voice in a language foreign to her. And the sangria and little plates of food the waiter brought were delicious.

“Are you going to teach me how to dance?”

His lips twisted into that faint glimmer of humor she’d come to relish. He stood up. “Yeah.”

She rose and he reached for her hand, his eyes skimming over her breasts, which she knew looked huge in the too-tight shirt. She glanced down and realized her erect nipples were poking through her bra and the shirt. Great. She flushed, then lost her breath at the way his eyes devoured her as he led her to the dance floor. Before she could think of anything to say, he spun her to face him, holding their clasped hands high and resting his other hand on the back of her ribs. His touch was light, but he controlled her body, propelling her forward and backward in a series of steps she didn’t know. She looked down, trying to watch his feet to figure out what to do.

“Don’t. Just follow my lead.” He twirled her out, stopped her, brought her back in. He sent her away from him and toward him, then pulled her close and moved his hips against her body. “You don’t need to know anything. Give yourself to me.”

Her knees nearly buckled. Gladly. She loved being moved through space by his confident guidance. She let go of her desire to get it right and trusted in his ability to lead. It was too fast for her to think, even if she’d tried.

He looked even more devastatingly handsome on the dance floor. He had a relaxed demeanor, his upper body appearing at ease as his feet moved swiftly beneath him. Even his face, usually set in such stony lines, relaxed, that hint of amusement in his gaze. Her panties were wet with arousal and for some reason, she had a feeling he knew it.

They danced for three songs, until she grew lightheaded with exhilaration. Then he leaned his head down toward her ear, making every nerve in her body alert with possibility. “We should go,” he said, his breath hot in her ear.

Guilt stabbed her conscience. She shouldn’t be enjoying herself while Melissa’s life was in danger. She nodded and he led her to their table, where he dropped several twenties.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He started to walk away, then turned back. “You may not dance with anyone else,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows, secretly pleased with his possessiveness, but not wanting to show it. “And what if I do?”

Leaning forward so no one would hear, he said, “I will take my belt to that beautiful ass again.”

Her tummy flipped and her eyes shot to his face, trying to determine whether he was serious. His lips had a slight upward angle to them, a smirk of sorts, which probably meant he was serious but would enjoy it.

Why did that excite her so much? It really shouldn’t. Something was definitely off with her. Instead of making her feel weak or cowed, his dominance and possessiveness thrilled her. She relished his attention. If only she could figure out how to lift the darkness that plagued him and crack his stony exterior.

He walked toward the stage and said something to the wolf who had promised to help trace her calls. When he returned, he took her hand—as if he was her boyfriend, not her boss—and led her out to the car. Except he didn’t open the door for her.

Instead, he shoved her up against the body of the car, pressing his cock against her back, wrapping a fist in her hair. And then, he did… nothing. He appeared to be frozen in indecision.

“Grandmother… what a big… cock you have,” she said, hoping to encourage him.

For a long moment he said nothing, his muscles as hard and tense as steel, pressing against her body, his breath a whisper at her neck. “All the better to fuck you with,” he rasped after an eternity. He spun her around and started to yank her t-shirt off.

She held her arms against her sides to prevent it. She wanted him, but not in public, against the car. “Ben,” she protested, struggling against him.

The shock in her tone seemed to change his eye color from gold back to green. He released her and jerked back, creating space between their bodies. Swearing softly, he stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He walked to his side of the car, and she felt the loss of his proximity in every cell of her body.