1. Earth Pack Rules: Her Alpha Lovers Part One

  Earth Pack Rules:

  Her Alpha Lovers

  Part One

  By Michele Bardsley

  Jack Harrison and Grantham Wells are co-alphas of the Earth Pack, and they're on the hunt for a suitable female mate. In the Earth Pack, the triad relationship between two alphas and their mate is sacred. It not only ensures the next generation of leadership, but also facilitates continuous harmony within the pack.

  Curvaceous Roxi Calabrese is werewolf without a pack. On purpose. As the only daughter of the Blood Pack alpha, she's expected to be the prize in the Suitor's Brawl. All eligible males battle each other until only one remains standing--and takes the prize, literally, right in front of the pack. Roxi's response to that bout of idiocy is to ditch her pack and take a job at the Drift Resort. Unfortunately, the heinous Sara, her mother's right-hand bitch, finds her and tries to convince Roxi to return—by blunt force.

  Then the very hot alpha werewolves Jack and Grant rescue her.

  The threesome's attraction is darn near combustible. But after the bed sheets are shredded and the furniture broken, one question remains: Can two Earth Pack alphas convince a feisty Blood Pack female to be their mate, in both body and soul?

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  PART ONE.

  MORE SHIFTER ROMANCES

  MICHELE BARDSLEY

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  You are about to embark on Part One of the four-part serialized paranormal romance titled Earth Pack Rules: Her Alpha Lovers.

  If you're new to the serial concept, it's a lot like watching your favorite TV show. You get an episode every 2 weeks, and each episode has a cliffhanger ending, until the story concludes.

  Serials offer a unique way to tell stories filled with romantic scenarios, supernatural adventures, sexy thrills, heart-pounding heroes, and empowered heroines.

  I hope you enjoy Earth Pack Rules Her Alpha Lovers.

  Copyright 2014 by Michele Bardsley

  Cover Art by Renee George

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement from the author of this work.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. All incidents are pure invention. This story is meant for mature audiences who are eighteen years and older.

  PART ONE.

  JACK HARRISON INHALED the salty scent of ocean air as he readjusted his position. His rear end throbbed from sitting too long on the sand. Grit had crept inside his wet swim trunks and abraded his skin.

  Fake.

  The whole damned thing was fake.

  The earliness of the house was too much for most guests staying at the Drift Resort, so the Waves of Love attraction was pretty much deserted.

  It blew his mind that the Drift Resort had gone to so much trouble to recreate a beach, complete with “ocean” AKA “the wave pool” and an artificial sunrise. Actually, the sunrise was pretty good. He watched the light move across the far wall, which had been painted to look like endless ocean waves. The golden shimmer mimicked the sun rising, spreading orange and yellow filaments across the tapestry of topaz water.

  He loved being outdoors just before the day started—ah, the smell of crisp air, freshly turned earth, and dewy grass. The sun rose, and the blue sky kissed the dark earth. Yes. Beauty everywhere, and in that beauty, soul-deep peace. Jack eyed the fakeness around him, and sighed. He supposed this man-made contraption was as close as it got to nature’s beauty in June in Las Vegas. The skin-melting heat made wise people stay inside—tromping from hotel to hotel through connected walkways, zippy trams, and if one wanted to brave the blistering outside, zippier cabs.

  He should be in Oregon at the Earth Pack’s farm, doing his morning run, checking on the animals, helping with the harvesting, and taking care of the endless tasks that besieged the Earth Pack alphas on a daily basis. His co-alpha, Grantham Wells, enjoyed nature, too, but preferred the rigorous training of an outdoorsman preparing for a zombie apocalypse. In fact, the man who was supposed to be helping Jack track down their mate was too busy right now conquering Drift Resort’s spectacular gymnasium.

  Jack was fit, but didn’t have Grant’s ardent devotion to muscle building and punching things. Most people thought of Jack as the brains and Grant as the brawn of their pack, but the truth was that Grant had brains—and Jack had brawn.

  It was strange how people needed to label—to put things and people into neat boxes so they could comprehend purpose. He knew some things, some ideas, didn’t fit perfectly into anywhere. Take this hunt for their mate as an example: He and Grant had journeyed to Las Vegas because the pack’s psychic Elsa had been adamant.

  Well, according to her, dearly departed Matchmaking Matilda was the one who’d insisted. And this is what they got for listening to a woman twenty years dead.

  You’ll find your mate, drifting in the desert, her fiery heart the sign she belongs to you both.

  Somehow, Elsa had figured out—this time with the help of her crystals—that the Drift Resort in Las Vegas was the “drifting in the desert.” The rest she’d been unable to interpret, but all the same, he and Grant had booked the trip and spent a lot of time looking around for women who might display fiery hearts.

  The Earth Pack werewolves were peace-makers. Some liked think they were lovers, not fighters, but those people were wrong. The Earth Pack members worked hard in every aspect of their lives, including training in self-defense and martial arts. The policy was mediate first, and if that didn’t work, then kick ass. Grant was mostly in charge of kicking ass because he liked the physical aspects of the alpha job. The data computation, chart-marking, and number-crunching were Jack’s specialties.

  They needed a mate who could balance reason and logic with empathy and action.

  Matchmaking Matilda might’ve gotten this one wrong. Maybe being dead had messed with her mojo. Three days had passed and they hadn’t made any progress. He hadn’t connected with any female, shifter or human, who stirred his loins or infiltrated his thoughts. Grant had dismissed every female they met because “Insert Stupid Grant Reason Here.” Too thin. Too blonde. Too young. Too brainless. Okay, okay. So Jack felt stupid for being here, too, but he was less vocal about it. He knew Grant was ready to go home. Damn it. They were getting desperate enough to sign-up on a shifter dating website.

  Jack shuddered.

  Enough thinking, already. He rose and dusted sand off his legs. The swim he’d taken earlier had stretched his muscles and burned off the beer calories earned the night before. Man, he was starving. He started down the empty, fake beach, heading toward the exit. He’d get some breakfast and find Grant. They’d agreed to one more day of looking for their fiery-hearted woman. Then…hello shifter dating sites.

  “Excuse me!” cried a female voice. “Hey, you!”

  Jack looked around, trying to determine where the voice hailed from and if, in fact, she was speaking to him. He spotted the woman in a small grove of fake palm trees. When he got closer he realized:

  She wore a black bikini.

  She was tied up.

  She was gorgeous.

  And she had a tattoo just beneath her collarbone: a small red heart pierced by a sword of flames.

  Whoa.

  A fiery h
eart.

  Her breasts were spilling out of the bikini top and, for a moment, he was mesmerized by all that soft, beautiful flesh. She had the reddest hair he’d ever seen, and there was lots of it, wavy and long. She was all lush curves and radiated pure sex. He wanted to fill his hands with her, take her into his mouth, part her thighs, and slide into her.

  He wanted to feast on her.

  Defiant green eyes stared him down. “Can you untie me?”

  “Who did this?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not unless you count wounded pride. I shouldn’t have been caught off-guard so easily.”

  “That sounds like a story.” Jack worked out the knots and the rope fell away. As she stepped from the tree, she rubbed at the lines in her wrists. She flashed him a grateful smile that revealed dimples. He felt as though he’d been knocked on his ass. His pulse stuttered, and his libido revved into high gear.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate the rescue.”

  “Believe me, it was my pleasure. I’m Jack.”

  “Roxie.”

  Even her name was beautiful. He wanted to … to … to lick her.

  “Thanks again, Jack. See you around.”

  “Wait! You’re leaving?”

  “Tied to a tree, remember? I don’t want to be here when my abductor shows up with her cohorts.”

  “You’re in trouble.”

  “My name should be trouble,” she said. “Trust me, Jack. You don’t want any of my drama.”

  Jack’s gaze landed on the fiery heart tattoo. Well, he couldn’t forsake Matchmaking Matilda’s words now. Roxie was his mate. Grant’s mate. She was the one who could complete their sacred triad and insure harmony for the Earth Pack. His nostrils flared as he scented her, tasting the air around her.

  Werewolf.

  She put her hands on her hips—her lovely, lovely hips—and stared at him. Her breasts jiggled enticingly, giving the impression they might fall out of the top.

  “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Why not? I mean, who are you, but a complete stranger?” She looked him over, her own nostrils flaring. She eyed him, her gaze scraping along his torso in a way that made him want to flex his muscles and show off. He barely resisted the urge. “Werewolf,” she said. “What pack?”

  “Earth,” he said.

  “Earth, huh?” A smile flickered. “I heard you guys are a little kinky.”

  “Kinky?”

  “Yeah. That whole two alphas sharing one mate thing you have going on.”

  “The alpha triad is an integral part of our culture, yes. It creates protection, harmony, harvest, and children.”

  “Wow. No pressure there.”

  She didn’t sound too enamored of the Earth Pack’s governing structure. Well, he’d deal with that later. “Tell me why you were tied up.”

  “Well, Jack, the short version is that I disassociated from my pack, and they weren’t too thrilled with me leaving. Let’s just say their retrieval team is Douchebag City. One of their goons caught me and tied me to the tree.”

  “Why didn’t he just take you with him?”

  “I grabbed his junk so hard, I made him cry. That was after I scratched up his face and bit his hand.”

  “Ah. So, he made the wise decision to tie you up and go get help.”

  “Yep. And that’s why we should vamoose.”

  “Let me take you to breakfast.”

  The idea did not thrill her if the expression on her face was any indication.

  “You can tell me the full story. I’m an Earth Pack mediator. I’ll negotiate your release and get you officially emancipated.”

  She chuckled, but shook her head. “You Earths are adorable.”

  Jack opened his arms in a beseeching gesture, giving her his most soulful look.

  “Oh, you’re good.” She stepped forward, presumably to leave, but then her eyes went wide. She fell forward into Jack’s outstretched arms.

  His hand slid up her thigh as she knocked him down. Jack wrapped his other arm around her waist and felt her hands clutch his shoulders. He smacked into the gritty beach so hard his lungs nearly collapsed.

  Roxie lifted her head and glared at him. “Are you seriously copping a feel?

  He flexed automatically on the nicely rounded flesh. “It appears so.”

  Her green eyes were flecked with gold. She had ivory skin and a full mouth, the kind that begged to be kissed.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said, her lips quivering to prevent her smile.

  “Yeah. I’m lots of other things, too.”

  “Horny must be one of them.”

  Her amused words infiltrated his lust-fogged thoughts. She was referring to the hard-on that pressed against her stomach.

  “I’m very, very, very attracted to you.”

  “Wow.” She rolled off and got to her feet. “Was the breakfast going to be in bed?”

  “Only if you want it to be.” He stood up and touched her elbow. “Why don’t you let me help you?”

  “Take off my clothes?”

  “With your pack problem.”

  “God, you’re cute.” She shook her head. “Fine. You want to know the deal? I’m the daughter of the Blood Pack alpha—the only pup born of my mother’s union with mate number one twenty-two years ago. I didn’t get any siblings because right after I was born, he offed himself in a dare contest. He got on a motorcycle and played chicken with a canyon wall. The wall won.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If you want to be. I didn’t know him, and Mom moved on to mate number two, an asshat named Cody whose only decent skill was keeping my mother’s temper in check. He disappeared, and Mom lost her mind. I took the opportunity to get the hell out. That was a month ago, and I haven’t been back since.” She blew out an aggravated breath. “Being in the Blood Pack is bad enough for women. Being the daughter of an alpha is worse. I’m the prize in the Suitor’s Brawl.”

  Jack absorbed her information, sifting through the various pieces until a picture emerged. “The Suitor’s Brawl,” he said. “Those events are quite … er, legendary among the other packs.”

  “Barbaric and idiotic are better descriptions.”

  “You came of age at eighteen … but you’re twenty-two now?”

  “I avoided the brawl then because I went to college. It was a hard sell because the Bloods aren’t really thinkers. Beating the crap out of someone gives you a lot more cred than engaging in a reasoned argument. But I managed to sway my Mom. I promised to come back and be a good little pack member after I graduated.” She scrunched her nose. “The Bloods were violent, crazy thugs before I left—and when I returned, they had devolved into worse.”

  “You evolved into someone better,” said Jack. “It must’ve been difficult growing up in such wild place.”

  “It wasn’t completely awful. Autonomy is big there, and one of the reasons the pack isn’t particularly cohesive,” she said. “But it’s not the life I wanted. Still isn’t. And that’s why Sara and company are here no doubt—to ensure I stick around to be the prize.”

  The Suitor’s Brawl was problematic. It was as important to the Blood Pack as the Choosing ceremony was to the Shadows and the Winters. The Earth Pack had a more organic approach to mating, thus the consultation with crystals and dead matchmakers. All the same, negotiating Roxie’s freedom would not be possible. Her mother, Karen, was well-known for being a cut-first-beat-questions-out-of-you-later type of alpha.

  It was time for bold action.

  “Mating would remove your viability as the Suitor’s Brawl prize.”

  Roxie stared at him. “Mating. Um … with you?”

  And Grant. “It solves your problem.”

  “No offense, but you’d be Blood chow before you even scented me.”

  “I don’t think so, Roxie. I’m the alpha.”

  “You’re the alpha?” She hesitated. “You mean you’re one of the alphas.” She considered him once more,
and if he wasn’t mistaken, her gaze lingered seconds too long on his swim trunks. “Where’s the other one?”

  “Making his muscles bigger,” said Jack dolefully. “Grant likes to work out.”

  “You don’t exactly look like a slouch in that department.”

  Her compliment pleased Jack. “Thank you.”

  “Look, why the hell would you and muscle-man even think about mating with me? I bet they’re lined up at your door with the preacher in tow.”

  “Actually, they’re not. In my pack, there aren’t any females of suitable age who are not already promised or married.” He reached out and stroked her tattoo. “Our pack psychic consulted with Matchmaking Matilda. She said we needed to come here, and that our mate would be a woman with a fiery heart.”

  “Uh, yeah. Matilda sounds nutballs.”

  “She was—and even more so since she died. But when it comes to mate choosing, she’s never been wrong.”

  “Let me get this straight. A crazy dead lady told the Earth Pack alphas to come to Vegas and marry a woman with a fiery heart.”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh. And you think that’s me?”

  “Roxanne!”

  The strident female voice had them both turning. A blonde dressed like she was an extra from a Mad Max movie—along with three bigger, broader males who seemed to collectively agree wearing black leather in summertime Vegas was a good idea—hurried toward them.

  “Don’t you dare move, you bitch!” screamed the blonde.

  “We should probably run,” said Roxanne. She turned and hauled ass. Jack wasn’t about to lose her, even if it meant fending off Blood Pack members. He followed her across the fake beach toward an Exit door that blended into the fake ocean wall.

  Shit. What had he gotten himself—and by default, Grant—into with the curvy, tattooed beauty?

  GRANT WELLS INSERTED the key card to the hotel suite. He was hot, sweaty, and wanted a shower. He’d taken his T-shirt off and wore it slung over his shoulder. He’d gotten some interest in the gym from females and, if he were honest, a couple dudes, too. Not one of ’em had a fiery heart. Of any kind. He looked. On clothing. On skin. On iPods. He even tried to take it to a symbolic level with maybe someone acting fiery-hearted (whatever the hell that meant). Nothing. Nada. Zip.