My Boyfriend Is An Alpha Werewolf Mafia Boss

A/N: Hello readers, I'm just letting you know not to get turned off by the Jamaican Creole in the first few chapters, I just wanted the dialogues to feel authentic, but after the female lead moves to America, there won’t be too many patios. And I did leave translations for the ones that have a heavier accent. I hope you enjoy this book. One love and God bless you all.

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JULY 1st, 2020

"Come on, baby girl. Make a wish," Tasha's mother said gently. The light from the sixteen candles flickered against her cocoa-brown skin.

Tasha stared at the flame sitting on top of the rum cake. She could hear Debby, her loudmouth cousin, already whispering bets about what Tasha might wish for this year.

"She probably wishin' for that boy from church wid di pretty eye dem," Debby snorted. "Yeah, Rupert, di pastor's son."

Tasha didn't even respond. She kept her eyes on the candles.

And like every year since she could remember, her wish was the same.

'I wish my father were here.'

She blew them out in one breath, and the crowd of friends, family, and half the church congregation erupted into claps and cheers.

Soon, the sound of Buju Banton's "Blessed" blasted through the speakers, and the yard transformed instantly. Auntie Cheryl started 'brukking out' near the grill, and even Pastor Myrie shuffled a little to the rhythm before acting like he had dropped something and straightening up again.

Laughter echoed under the string lights hanging across the backyard. It was the kind of night that made Jamaica feel magical and warm.

The air was sweet as curry goat bubbled in a big pot on the woodfire next to the side table, plus the scent of rum punch and fresh-cut cane in the breeze made the atmosphere smell even more divine. It should have felt perfect, but it didn't. Not only was Tasha missing her father's presence, she wished Rupert were there as well, but for some reason, he wasn't.

Tasha had never admitted to Debby that she had a little crush on the pastor's son. But somehow, her inquisitive cousin knew.

Rupert, however, had never even spoken to Tasha other than the occasional greetings at church. He was older than her by four years, so his eyes were usually on the older, more shapely girls who sat in the front row at church just so Rupert could get a glimpse of their bloomers while they sat wide-legged.

Tasha's mind wandered back to her father. Though she hadn't seen him since she was ten, her instincts told her something was wrong since she hadn't heard from him in around six months. No letters, no emails, and no phone calls.

Something strange tugged at Tasha's chest. A familiar ache that no amount of sweet cake or reggae could quiet.

She smiled, kissed her mum's cheek, and slipped away from the crowd, stepping past the food tables and out through the side gate. The breeze outside felt cooler, softer. She inhaled deeply, leaning against the gate and watching the street lamps cast orange halos over the quiet road.

That's when she saw him.

At first, just the outline of a tall figure standing at the edge of the sidewalk. He was leaning against a sleek red BMW, one of those cars that looked like it belonged in a rap video, not parked on a quiet residential street in Havendale.

His presence was... strange. Not in a bad way. Just unexpected. He wasn't dressed flashy. He was wearing a black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans hugged his healthy thighs generously. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail, and his skin had the kind of pale smoothness that didn't come from sunscreen. It came from being born somewhere far from this island.

Tasha hesitated. Curiosity pulled her forward.

“Goodnight," she said softly.

The man's head jerked up, startled. His eyes locked on hers, and for a second, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

His sharp eyes were a shade of icy blue. But not cold. They glimmered under the streetlamp, like the sea at night when the moon hit it just right.

“Hello," he said, recovering quickly. His voice was low and smooth. He had an accent. American, definitely. "You should go back to your party, Tasha."

She blinked.

“Huh?" she asked, cocking her head. "How do you know my name?"

His lips spread in a slow grin. Like he had a secret only he was allowed to enjoy.

His teeth were too perfect. His smile was too calm. It should have been creepy.

But it wasn't.

Something about him felt... safe. Dangerous, yes—like maybe he could tear a man's throat out if he wanted to. But not dangerous to her.

“Happy birthday, Tasha," he said, his voice dropping into something like a whisper, though she heard it as clear as a bell. He opened the door to the BMW, slid into the driver's seat like a shadow slipping underwater, and revved the engine.

Tasha stood frozen as he drove off down the hill, the red taillights disappearing like embers into the night.

She hadn't even asked his name.

“Tasha!" a loud voice yelled from the yard. "TASHA! Yuh missin di cake fight!"

Debby.

Tasha turned just in time to see Debby jogging toward her with one shoe on, her other foot bare and cake on her cheek.

“You ever see a girl get lick inna her face with a slice of Black Forest?" she huffed, eyes wide. "I nearly dead wid laugh. Come nuh man!" she pulled on Tasha’s forearm.

Tasha laughed despite herself. "Why you only wearing one shoe?"

"I tek it off fi beat Blacker 'cause him fling icing pon me blouse. I cyan believe— But wait," Debby paused, narrowing her eyes. "Why yuh look so... dazed?"

Tasha opened her mouth, then closed it again. What was she gonna say? That a strange man knew her name and wished her happy birthday like some kind of fairy godfather from a gangster movie?

"Nothin'," she muttered. "Just needed some air."

Debby squinted at her, then grinned. "You saw him, didn't you? The white man. The one from the mansion dung di road. Lawd, that man fine like sugar cane fresh outta field. You know him?"

"No," Tasha lied, though she didn't know if it was technically lying. They only spoke that one time for only one second.

"Well, him always comin' in and outta Jamaica like him hiding from immigration. Or the feds. But one ting me know, him real rich, and him look like he could break hearts and backs," Debby said, wiggling her eyebrows. "In that order."

“Stop," Tasha said, laughing now. "You're so stupid."

They walked back into the yard, the music still pumping and laughter filling the night air. But Tasha couldn't shake the way his voice had sounded when he said her name. Like he'd been saying it for years in his mind. Like he was waiting for the right moment to finally say it out loud.

And those eyes... They were like diamonds.

No. Ice.

No. Stars.

She wasn't sure. But they were unforgettable.

As the night wore on and the music died down and the guests began to leave, Tasha stood at her window, looking out toward the road. The red BMW didn't return.

But something had changed.

She felt it deep in her belly. A pull she couldn't explain. Like a door had creaked open inside her, and behind it was a shadow she wasn't sure she should step into.