Lycan Alpha Claim (#1): (BBW Shifter Romance) (Brief-Bites Novelette) Read Free Page A

inside my
body.
    I need a doctor. There's no
denying that. Maybe this is early
menopause? The thought makes me want to cry.
    I don't.
    I do the most unhealthy thing I can. The one
thing I caution my patients to never do.
    I stuff it.
    That stupid emotion of
helplessness will not defeat
me.
    I bite my lip, drawing blood. I suck on
it.
    The overwhelming feelings of sexual need,
mixed with burning alive begin to subside while I stand naked and
dripping cold water into a puddle at my feet.
    Finally, I grab my second cheap towel and
cover my body. With slow deliberation I walk to my gear bag and
carefully pull new clothes out of the soft duffle.
    I don't tremble as I dry off then put on my
clothing or stuff my dirties inside a plastic grocery sack.
    I turn off the water with a guilty twist.
The sound of water dripping follows me as I leave the gym.
    When the night air hits me, tears begin to
pour out of my eyes.
    I don't know what to do . Even trying to turn the tables, and intellectualize how I'd
handle this from a client's perspective doesn't help.
    Because I've never had these symptoms
present in my room. My world.
    My face rises, tears of frustration tremble
on my chin as I look at the crystals of brightening stars,
sprinkled like chunks of raw sugar in the deep twilight blanket of
the sky.
    I wipe away my wet anger with a hasty
stroke. I'll get to a doctor. Figure out what my stupid problem
is.
    I forget about the blue eyes. The lame
come-on from the guy in my gym.
    I walk the mile back to my car alone, lost
in my thoughts—buried in my uncertainty.
    Two sets of eyes follow me.
    One as protector, one as predator.
    If I'd been more aware, and less caught up
in my emotions, I'd have forgotten all about what was to come—and
rather, what was already happening.

5
    Merck
     
    I feel the knot form between my brows.
    I'm not emotional. You can't
be a Changer and get all buried in superfluous bullshit. Lycans are
an economical group. We don't take time to feel .
    But I'm feeling Talyn. When she exits the
gym and just stands there by herself, looking so—lost—I have to
smother my instinct to go to her.
    She's not ready.
    If she were, all this restraint would be a
moot point. I'd introduce myself, tell her she's a human-werewolf
hybrid, and guess what? You've won the jackpot of becoming a Lycan.
Congrats.
    Wrong.
    Every change is different, but I've never
had a female I couldn't subdue. I've always been Alpha.
    I hold still while silent sobs fall out of
Talyn like pieces of a broken heart.
    Moon dammit .
    My fingers tense, my talons making
crescent-shaped marks inside my palms.
    Talyn puts herself back together piece by
piece. Her efforts at resurrecting her aloof exterior are hard to
witness.
    But I do.
    A branch groans. I drop to my haunches,
surveying the immediate environment. Nothing.
    My eyes swing back to Talyn. She's already
making her way back to her office.
    I follow, and though I can't scent anything
threatening. My instincts are blaring an alarm.
    Something's out there.
    But I'd sure-as-fuck like to know what could
be out there in silence and without me scenting it.
     
    *
     
    I love the challenge of my wolfen form.
Half-lycan, half-wolf, I lope after Talyn, using the forest's
border as a sort of superficial cover.
    If humans knew what to look for, they'd see
us.
    But they don't. They only see what their
mind will allow them to easily explain.
    My pants are of the stretchy, black athletic
variety. A zippered pocket at the side of my thigh keeps my pulse
at-the-ready for contact with my superior. Charles keeps tabs on
all his Changers. Or he's more like our warden.
    It's a fact in my life that I don't
like.
    But I love what I do. There's nothing more
rewarding than saving a hybrid from a mundane existence, and
inevitable early death.
    I had been tasked with Talyn Phisher because
she's considered a complicated change.
    She might be more complex because she is a
full fifteen years older than our average change. But she's