Aly Sloan Novels & Stories

“Okay, fine. Since we’re spilling all the secrets tonight… I’ve got one of my own.” Aria arches a brow, lifting her glass. “Oh? This sounds promising.” Sloane gives her a pointed look, cheeks flushed from the wine. “I have a massive crush on my boss.” Aria nearly chokes. “Wait—what?! Sloane Dorsey, Miss ‘I don’t mix work with thirst’? That boss?” “Yep,” Sloane groans, dragging a pillow over her face. “And he’s stupid hot. Like, tie-loosened, sleeves-rolled-up, devil-may-care swagger kind of hot. And he smells like cedar and control issues.”

It’s inside seemed way bigger than it’s outside. While admiring the wide living room and its insanely beautiful big chandelier, the pack members gathered in front of us again. “Welcome once again, Miss Jessica.” They greeted me in harmony, and I slightly bowed, letting out a smile. “Thank you,” I answered and turned to look at Alpha Kilhan. “So, I’ll start the introduction. This…” he pointed to the young, good-looking man who offered me his hand at the car door. “This is Drex, and he’s one of my Betas.”

River snakes an arm around her shoulders and bumps her playfully with his hip. “You would blend in better if you didn’t look like a rainbow exploded,” he grins, “what’s with you and tie-dye anyway?” I can see my mate fighting a smile and losing the battle, “Shut it. It’s a phase I’m going through. What’s with you and having hair like a mermaid anyway?” He laughs, “Touché. Luna Tawny, this brat here is Sloane. And that tall, gentlemen is Alpha Orion.”

“And your name is?” “Rosalyn Vale.” Her voice carried a quiet confidence, not arrogance, but the kind of assurance that didn’t need to be proven. She extended a folder across the desk, and when I took it, her hand was steady. Inside were credentials that were surprisingly thorough, project management, operations, and coordination under several different pack-owned businesses. All clean. Too clean, maybe.

But i still picked the call anyways. "Hi, please are you by anyways, Miss Selene Woods?" - A feminine voice came from the other end, soft, polite and yet, straight to the point. "Yes, i am she!!. How may i be of help to you?" - I replied in a wary tone. "Great!!. My name is Anne Moreau, i'm a manager at Livelia entertainment and also a friend of the professor." - She introduced herself briefly, her tone filled with strict professionalism. " Oh..." - I gasped.

Mary implied, a negative one. “He’s cute though, would wash all the hearts of California with just a blink,” Phoebe winked. “Well we need his money, not his beauty,” Sloane shrugged, “maybe he’s our destiny boy, I’m back in California after ten years and it’s just for a reason; to make coins. My mother is out of this, okay?” “Sure!” Mary nodded, she felt so bad for Sloane and felt good at the same time. “So our next catch is” – she winked- “ Fred Manchester.”

As if reading my thoughts, Benedict continues as if he didn’t just render me speechless. “It seems that everyone has forgotten that Sloane descends from an Alpha line as pure as mine, possibly even more so,” he says, looking around the room again. “Some of you were reminded of that power in school not so long ago, but it seems that you still don’t recognize that Sloane is one of the strongest Alphas of our time. If there ever comes a time when she decides she’s tired of giving all of you the respect that you should be giving her, I have no doubt that she’ll make you regret that memory lapse. Everyone in this room would be wise to remember that.”

"You look like you're waiting for your chance to fight back." She had not cried since she left Chicago. She had been very deliberate about that. She was not going to cry now, in a bar at midnight, in front of a man she had known for four days, over the fact that he had just described her with more accuracy than anyone had managed in four years. "My name is Sloane," she said. "Sloane Vega. I'm a witness in a federal case against the man you just turned away from. The same man whose lawyers are apparently the financial engine of the people who have been pressuring you."

Even though they both knew: in Madrid, she wouldn't be standing between them anymore. A few minutes later, Sloane appeared too. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, she wore a black coat over dark, sleek, athletic clothing. Her left arm was still immobilized—but she didn't look weak. Her eyes were a little shadowed—too many screens, notes, logistics had left their mark. But she was present. Clear. Firm. Unshakeable.

Roman scoops him up easily, coming over to kiss me and Aria before taking Slade to get breakfast. “Sloane?” I ask. “Still out running,” he says. Rather than get food, I decide to drop Aria off at daycare and then go wait for Sloane. I’ve just returned to the dining hall when she comes in, pouring in sweat and panting like she’s about to pass out. “How far today, Sloane?” Roman asks her. “Twelve miles,” she pants. “She’s not exaggerating Alpha. I was on patrol this morning and we saw the young Alpha pushing herself hard,” one of our warriors says.