7-TRUE ALPHA

Rose stared at Kaelyn, horror locking her in place at the sight of his extended fangs. He turned away from her, breathing heavily.

When he turned back to her, his fangs had retracted, but she could see he was still struggling with himself.

“I don't want you to be scared of me,” he whispered, his voice ragged.

“But your scent…” His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to her face. “It is making this harder than it should be.”

Her throat tightened, though she held his stare.

“You want to drink my blood?”

He did not answer straight away. His jaw flexed, his control slipping just enough for her to see it.

“Yes.”

It came low, rough, pulled from somewhere he did not want to reach.

He lifted a hand and cupped her face, his touch careful, almost deliberate in its restraint, as if he were holding something fragile instead of a woman who had spent half her life fighting.

“I won’t,” he said, voice steadier now. “You have my word.”

His thumb brushed lightly along her cheek, and something in her chest twisted in response, sharp and unwelcome.

“Believe me when I say I can control it.”

She should have stepped back. Every instinct she had should have pushed her away from him, toward distance, toward safety, toward sense.

Instead, she stayed exactly where she was.

“You’re something else, Rose,” he said, studying her as if he were trying to understand something he had never come across before.

That look unsettled her more than the fangs had.

The silence stretched between them, thick and charged, until it became too much to hold.

She huffed a breath, then she broke it.

Her hand came up to his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as she pulled him down toward her, closing the distance in a move that felt reckless even as she did it.

Her lips met his.

For a heartbeat, he did not move.

Then his hand slid from her face to the back of her neck, and the restraint she had seen in him bent, just slightly, just enough to answer her without taking more than she gave.

Heat surged through her, sudden and sharp, catching her off guard.

It had been a long time.

Long enough that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to want something she should not have.

Her grip tightened.

His breath deepened.

Something in her chest shifted, tipping toward something she knew she would not be able to pull back from if she let it go too far.

She broke the kiss first, stepping back, breath uneven.

“I have to get some sleep,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice.

He didn’t move straight away. His gaze lingered on her, dark, searching, as though he were weighing something.

Then, quietly, “When are you free next?”

She blinked at him, caught off guard.

“What? You’re not going to command me to fight someone else?”

A flicker of something almost like amusement touched his mouth.

“No,” he said. “I am going to ask you on a date. A proper one.”

That pulled a small, reluctant smile from her.

“I’m working late shift tonight.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Two.”

“Perfect.” His tone held quiet certainty. “I will be here.”

He reached for her hand, turning it slightly as he pressed a brief kiss to her knuckles, the gesture old-fashioned in a way that didn’t quite match the man standing in front of her.

“I’ll see you tonight, Wild Rose.”

Then he stepped back and was gone.

Just like that.

She stood there for a moment longer, the quiet settling around her again, her pulse still not quite steady.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath as she turned the key in the door. “First kiss in forever, and it’s with something that could kill me without breaking a sweat.”

When she made it inside, Luke was there, leaning in the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, looking like he had been dragged out of sleep and hadn’t quite forgiven the world for it.

“Were you just outside kissing Mr Midnight of the Blackhand Mafia?”

She held his gaze for a second, then walked past him toward the stairs.

“How’d the fight go?” he called after her.

“I won,” she said over her shoulder, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

“I knew you would.” He took a sip of his tea. “How’d it feel to be back in it?”

“Like I never left.”

There was a beat.

“Wish I’d seen it.”

“Why didn’t you come?” she asked, pausing halfway up the stairs.

“Midnight told me not to.” Luke shrugged. “He usually doesn’t go near wolves, but it seems you’ve got his attention.”

She said nothing to that.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” she said instead, continuing up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Luke muttered. “Try not to dream about bloodsuckers.”

She ignored him.

Sleep came quickly, but it wasn’t quiet.

Images threaded through her mind, sharp and vivid. Dark eyes. Controlled violence. The feel of his hand against her skin.

By the time she woke, the impression hadn’t faded.

She dressed quickly, tying her hair back and throwing on a short dress before heading down to the bar.

Dave and Brian were already in their usual spots, leaning into the counter like they had never left it, while Vivian stood between them, laughing at something one of them had said.

“Morning, doll,” Vivian said, straightening when she saw her. “Thanks again for last night. I got to wake up early with the kids, made pancakes, the whole thing.”

“The good life,” Brian muttered.

“Don’t knock it,” Vivian shot back, then winked at Rose. “It’s the little things.”

Rose smiled, moving behind the bar.

“How’s that bike running?” Dave asked. “You been taking her out?”

“Yeah,” she said, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter. “Took a run into Westwood last night.”

“Fast, I bet,” Brian said.

She glanced up, a hint of mischief in her expression.

“Fast enough.”

“Watch Hangman’s Bend,” Dave added. “There’s a cop been sitting out there lately, handing out tickets like he’s getting paid per fine.”

“Guess he’ll have to catch me first,” she said lightly.

The low rumble of engines cut through the air before she could say anything else.

It wasn’t one bike.

It was many.

The sound rolled in like distant thunder, growing louder as it approached, until it filled the space outside.

Vivian grimaced.

“Well,” she said, reaching for a glass. “Looks like we’re about to get busy. Road Wolves are back.”

“How many?” Rose asked.

Vivian leaned to peek out the window.

“Enough to make me wish I’d stayed home.”

The doors opened not long after.

They came in waves, voices loud, presence filling the space until it felt smaller for it.

Rose moved behind the bar, falling into rhythm as she started pouring drinks, sliding glasses across, keeping her attention split between service and the subtle shifts in the room.

Some of them were human, some were not.

She could tell the difference without looking twice.

Luke appeared beside her.

“You want me to pull in extra staff?” he asked quietly.

“Let’s see how it goes,” she replied. “Might just be a stop through.”

He nodded, but didn’t move far.

“Is that her?”

The words drifted from somewhere behind her, low but not quiet enough.

“Don’t look,” Vivian murmured under her breath, already reaching for her lipstick and checking her reflection in the back of a spoon. “But that hot stud from last night is here.”

Rose didn’t turn straight away.

She finished pouring the drink in her hand, slid it across the counter, then slowly looked up.

And found him.

He stood out without trying.

Tall, broad, built like something that had never needed to prove itself because it already knew exactly what it was.

His gaze locked onto hers immediately.

There was nothing soft in it, and something that looked a lot like anger.

She felt it before she fully understood it, the weight of his presence pressing against her instincts, demanding attention.

He was a true Alpha.

She straightened slightly, her gaze locking into his caramel eyes as he approached the bar.

Up close, he was even larger than she had thought; his presence filled the space, shifting the air around him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone even.

His eyes moved over her, slow, assessing, taking in more than most people ever could in a glance.

Then they settled back on hers.

He looked like he wanted to rip her head off.  

She felt dumbstruck as her gaze traveled over this fine specimen of a man. Her own normally quiet wolf had awakened and zeroed in on him, too.

He leaned over the bar and spoke directly to her.

“Are you the one,” he said, voice low and steady, “who threw a pool ball at one of my men’s heads?”