Alpha Ascending Page 3

  “Of course, Mr. Creed,” she said, her eyes looking at him invitingly. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he replied and gave her a wink.

  “Do you sleep with anything that moves, Creed?” he asked wryly.

  Bastian shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like I promise them commitment or any of that shit. There’s so many women and so little time.” It was well known that the playboy billionaire changed his bed partners more often than his shirts. “Not all of us can live like monks.”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not celibate,” Lucas said. “I’m just choosy.”

  “You prefer Lycan women.” Bastian raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not knocking your preference. We all have our likes and dislikes.” He nodded at a group of women on the other side of the room, then towards three females dancing by themselves on the dance floor, “Don’t you love that human women come in all shapes and sizes? But, you gotta live a little, right? Why not sample the endless buffet humankind has to offer?”

  Because humans are despicable. But Lucas didn’t vocalize that out loud. Bastian wouldn’t understand. No one did, not even Adrianna. Humans had hurt him and Adrianna. And they hurt their kind.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a human before?” Bastian asked.

  “Of course I have.” A few times, in fact. Human women were good for fucking and nothing else. His wolf barely tolerated them, and he always left after the act was completed. Besides, it wasn’t like he could ever marry a human, so why bother forming any relationship? He would need a strong mate, someone who could handle being Lupa of the largest Lycan clan in the world. But he was only thirty-one, and there was time yet to think of mates and producing heirs.

  Thankfully, the waitress came back with their drinks. He took a sip, watching as Bastian whispered in the young woman’s ear and her face lit up.

  Lucas downed the whiskey in one motion. “Thanks for the drink.” He placed the glass on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Hey.” Bastian placed a hand on his arm. “If you need to talk, you have my number.”

  Though he appreciated the thought, he wasn’t about to pour his heart out to Bastian. An Alpha had to be strong and show no weakness. “I will,” he lied, then let himself out of the VIP area.

  He was already taking his phone out of his pocket to call Reyes when he stopped. His wolf on the other hand perked up.

  Orange blossoms and olives.

  Before he could stop it, his wolf’s head swung around, nose in the air. Searching for the source of the faint scent. His wolf scratched at him in desperation, willing him to follow the trail before it went cold. It was strange how in the sea of scents inside the club, he could pick out that one singular smell. He crossed the dance floor, pushing bodies aside so he could follow it. When he reached the bar, he ran smack into what seemed like a wall of orange blossoms and olives.

  Hair like a mahogany waterfall flipped around and he found himself staring into slate-colored eyes. Against pale skin and framed with dark hair, they looked hauntingly luminous. They flashed with something—recognition?—before settling on his face. He knew she was staring at his eyes; most people did. The heterochromia he inherited from his mother made one blue and one green, and it startled many who saw it for the first time.

  “Oh.” Lush, pink lips pursed together, and he had to pull back the urge to sink his teeth into them.

  “Have we met?” He cocked his head, breathing in more of her delicious scent. Yes, that definitely was her. Lycan scents were unique, and he was sure he would have remembered smelling her before.

  A frown crossed her pretty face, and she narrowed her gaze at him as if waiting for something. When all he did was stare back, she straightened her shoulders. “I have to say, I’ve heard lots of lines, but that’s a new one.” She grinned. “Why don’t you just buy me a drink and we can skip the bullshit?”

  His wolf growled in appreciation. That was certainly new. Normally quiet around females, this one had his wolf’s complete attention. “What would you like?”

  She turned to the bartender and raised her hand. The man nodded, finished up an order, then walked over to them. “What’ll it be, Sof?” His grin was a mile wide. “The usual?”

  “You bet, Hal.” She nodded at Lucas. “He’s buying.”

  Lucas did not like how the bartender spoke to her with such familiarity, and neither did his wolf.

  “And what are you having—” Hal’s eyes widened in recognition. Though Lucas had never met him before, the bartender obviously knew who he was. “Mr. Anderson,” he said, lowering his gaze. “What can I get you?”

  “Whiskey. Neat.”

  “Right away, sir.” He backed away slowly, putting a good distance between them before he turned around to get their drinks.

  Satisfied the other man was far away enough, he turned to her. “Sof, was it?”

  She neither admitted nor denied anything. “And you are?”

  “Lucas.” He sidled closer to her, wanting to take in more of that scent. “You seem to come here often enough.”

  “More often than most.”

  Her non-answers were driving him crazy. She seemed direct enough earlier, asking him for a drink, but ignored his questions about her. “The bartender recognized you.”

  “Hal seemed to know you, too. He called you Mr. Anderson. And acted like he was scared of you or something.”

  It seemed nothing escaped her. “I’m not a regular here, but the staff know me.” He eyed her again, trying to think of where they’d met before. He didn’t know every single Lycan in New York and New Jersey, and he would have remembered if they’d met at some function. He would never forget that face, or that body. She was on the slender, athletic side, but that conservative black dress she wore gave the promise of sensuous curves underneath.

  “Ah, I see.”

  She didn’t seem to recognize him. Usually, when eligible Lycan women realized who he was, they were all over him. Maybe she wasn’t eligible. The thought rankled him, but he didn’t know why. No ring on her finger, so not engaged or married. A boyfriend? That usually didn’t stop some from trying. Who was this woman?

  “Here you go.” Hal placed two glasses in front of them. “On the house.”

  “Thank you.” Lucas handed the glass to her, but not before giving it a sniff. “Bourbon, huh?”

  She took it from him. “Of course. I hope you don’t think I’m one of those froo-froo drinkers.”

  “Froo-froo?”

  “You know, mixed drinks with lots of sugar and cream and umbrellas?” Her eyes closed as she put the glass to her lips, took a sniff, then sipped.

  His eyes followed the way her lips wrapped around the rim of the glass. “No, you definitely don’t seem like a froo-froo drinker.”

  Slowly, she opened her eyes then gazed up at him. Their color seemed to shift, now more lighter blue than gray. “It’s getting really hot and crowded around here.”

  “I know a place where we can get some air.”

  She cocked her head slightly. “Let’s go then.”

  Anticipation crawled up his veins. His wolf was eager to get her alone too, away from all these people, especially the males around them. Sliding a hand to the small of her back, he guided her away from the bar, using just the lightest touch. She allowed him to lead her to the back of the club, toward the private elevator that would lead them to the outdoor deck. It wasn’t very high up, but it had a great view of the lights in Times Square.

  The snow had stopped, but it was still chilly. She walked ahead, stopping by the ledge and placing her glass on it. “Wow, this is amazing. You’d never know this place existed from the street.”

  He followed her, leaning his forearms on the ledge, his own glass gripped in his fingers. “Yeah, it’s positioned perfectly so you can’t see it from the street, but it still has a view.” But he wasn’t really looking at the view. Instead, he found himself staring at her face. Out here, he
could really see her. Her skin was like alabaster, and some might say her features were too strong, but he liked them. The high cheekbones, strong jaw and chin, those plush lips. And those huge eyes, framed by dark, sooty lashes. He could get lost just looking at her.

  She shivered, and he found himself removing his jacket and wrapping it around her. “Better?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her lashes. “Thank you.”

  Unable to take another moment of torture, he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. It was an excuse to touch her, and a shock of electricity jolted up his fingertips when it made contact with her skin, but he didn’t jerk back. He traced his finger down to her chin and their gazes clashed. Her eyes seemed to flash to a light blue for a moment, and he wondered if she had felt it too.

  “Are you visiting New York? Which clan are you from?” he asked.

  His words must have broken the spell between them because she frowned at his question. “Visiting? I’m from New York. And what do you mean, clan?”

  He double-blinked, letting her words sink into him. Glancing down at his coat around her, he realized that her body didn’t adjust to the cold like his did. And when he tried to reach out to her and search for her wolf … he found none.

  Human.

  He was so sure she was a Lycan. She smelled like one, for God’s sake. Maybe she had a parent who was a Lycan. But no, she didn’t even recognize him or known what a clan was. If she was from the New York clan, she would know who the Alpha was, and who Lucas was.

  “Lucas? Is something the matter?”

  Her voice jolted him back. “No.” Yes. You’re human. Still, that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t going to get down on one knee and propose to her. He could always take a page from Bastian’s book. She was obviously interested in him, or else she wouldn’t have come up here. “So, you’re from New York?”

  “Queens, born and bred.” She took a sip of her bourbon, her eyes never leaving his. “And you? Where did you grow up?”

  “Manhattan.”

  “Ah, true city boy.” Her laugh was like tinkling bells, and her smile—it made her entire face light up.

  “Guilty,” he replied. He wanted to shuffle away from her, but he found himself doing the opposite, moving closer so their forearms touched. His wolf whined happiness as her scent tickled his nose, now mingled with his own because she was wearing his coat. What the heck was wrong with his animal?

  She wrinkled her nose. “You’re not one of those snooty Manhattanites who think the boroughs aren’t New York, are you?” Despite her serious tone, there was a slight tugging at the corner of her lips.

  “Hey, I’ve gone as far as Brooklyn.”

  “Ah, hipster, then are you?”

  “Please,” he said. “Do I look like a hipster?”

  “This suit jacket that probably cost more than I make in a month says no.” She rubbed her cheek against the lapel. “And your shirt.”

  “What about it?”

  “Tailor-made?”

  “Guilty,” he chuckled. “Specially made just for me. I like shirts that fit well.”

  Her gaze lingered on his shoulders and his chest. “You’re probably one of those hedge fund guys, aren’t you? Or lawyer?”

  He shook his head. “Far from it. I’m not that ruthless.”

  “Then what do you do?”

  “I’m in business,” he said. “Family corporation.”

  “Interesting. Which one?”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Somehow, this human woman got him to drop his defenses. Why did this feel like an interrogation?

  “Why don’t you answer some of my questions first?” He leaned down closer to her. “Like what’s your full name?”

  She turned her head to him, tilting her chin up slightly. “Does it matter? You didn’t invite me up here for my name.”

  His hand snaked up to reach behind her neck, moving so fast she gasped. He played with the soft, delicate skin there, and he heard her heartbeat spike up. Moving his thumb under her ear, he could feel the thrum of her pulse and the tinge of her arousal mixing in with their combined scents.

  Her lips parted invitingly, and he leaned down closer until he was only a hair’s breadth away from her.

  No.

  She was a human. Nothing would change that. Shock. Betrayal. Loathing. All the emotions churned inside him like a maelstrom.

  He pulled away, disgust creeping in him. His wolf protested, snarling at him, but he pushed back. “I should go.”

  Her gasp was sharp, the sound striking him like a knife in his chest. “Of course. You go ahead. I’m enjoying the fresh air here.”

  If he looked at her now, at those eyes, he would never leave. So he avoided her gaze and instead, turned his back to her. “Have a great evening.” He strode toward the exit. Instead of going to the elevators, he went to the staircase. The door hadn’t even closed behind him as he descended the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to get away as quickly as possible.

  His wolf was scratching at him, its claws digging into him, wanting to surface. This time, he wasn’t distracted so he pulled it back. She’s human, he reminded it. Just like those men who hurt us, hurt Adrianna. Like the one who hurt Caroline.

  His wolf quieted down at the mention of the name. The tightness in his chest he didn’t even realize was there eased. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he tore across the club, needing to get out of there as her scent still seemed to linger in the air. He flew out the door and into the street, letting the cold air wash over him and clean his senses.

  He took his phone out of his pants pocket and dialed Reyes’s number. “I’m here,” he said. “Come pick me up. I need to go. Now.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Though he fought with every instinct he had, he couldn’t help but look up. The deck wasn’t visible from here, but he wondered if she was still there. Still standing by the edge, wrapped up in his coat, looking out into the city. He huffed. It didn’t matter. He would never see her again.

  Chapter Two

  “Rough night?” Detective Fleetwood snickered as Sofia passed by the group of detectives hanging around the water cooler.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t mind it rough,” Sergeant Benito stage-whispered. It was followed by more sniggering and chuckles.

  She didn’t say a word nor act like she heard them. A few months ago, she might have told Fleetwood to mind his own Goddamn business, which would have gained her some respect. But now if she had said that, she would be labeled a whiny, sensitive bitch. Of course, ignoring them would make them call her an uppity bitch, so she couldn’t win either way. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. The story of my life.

  Plonking down on her desk, she booted up her computer and stared at the screen as it slowly came to life. Her vision blurred and she found her thoughts drifting to last night.

  She shouldn’t have done it. Her actions could have been misconstrued as police harassment. There were no pending charges, no crime committed. But her instincts were screaming at her. Something was not right in Blood Moon. And so, for the past few weeks, she found herself going to the club every couple of nights. She was hoping to catch something illegal going on. Or maybe find some answers to her questions. Every night, she stood by the bar, waiting. Waiting … for what?

  For him? The man with the mismatched eyes.

  It was a fluke. He hadn’t shown up there in all those weeks and then last night, he was there. Came right up to her. His presence was overwhelming, and it wasn’t just his over six-feet frame and broad shoulders. It was his strange aftershave; she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Ocean sea breeze. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact, it was amazing. She told herself that he might have the answers she was looking for, which is why she kept talking to him. Let him guide her to the rooftop so they could be alone. Allowed him to come close to her.

  And then he pulled away.

  Maybe it was just her imagination. That only she felt the att
raction sizzling in the air, the tension between them. His touch was, for lack of a better word, magical. And she was sure he was going to kiss her. But he drew back, away from her.

  Of course he did. He’s fucking engaged.

  That made her groan and bury her face in her hands. She was a Goddamn idiot, almost kissing a nearly married man. His poor fiancée. Did she know he went to clubs and bought strange women drinks? Maybe it wasn’t a habit. Maybe he was just looking for a one-night fling before the ring, then got cold feet.

  Good, she thought. Though she didn’t know his fiancée, she should be glad he got attacked by his conscience. She wondered how the poor woman was coping. Or who she was. It would be easy enough to find out …

  She shook her head. No way. Sure, she could easily look him up. She even knew his name, though she didn’t dare speak it, even in her mind. One little web search. Or hell, she had police records at her fingertips. But she was not going to go there.

  “You okay, Detective?”

  She shot straight up. “I’m fine, Sergeant.”

  Sergeant Alice Winters cocked her head. “You look pale. Didja sleep at all last night?”

  Of course not. She’d tossed and turned, her mind wide awake, thinking of blue and green eyes and the scent of the ocean. He even left his jacket with her. She told herself that she would toss it away, but it was still in her closet. This morning, when she got up to get dressed, she found herself breathing in that scent. Later, she told herself, later she would throw it out.

  “I got a lot of cases on my mind.” She liked Winters a lot. The young sergeant was spunky and didn’t have that hard edge most cops had. Not yet, anyway. Winters was also one of the few people in the precinct who still spoke to her in public, not caring about her reputation.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you not to bring work home?” she said wryly.

  “Just give yourself a few years. Once you get your detective’s badge, you’ll see how the real world works.”

  Winters chuckled. “Right.” Her face became concerned again. “If you need anything …”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.