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Salem rounded a corner into an alley, turned around, and was waiting for her would-be attacker as he did the same. He stopped short upon seeing her waiting, giving her a moment to study his appearance. There was something not quite right about him. He was big, but almost cadaverous, and his eyes all but glowed red in the dark.
She shook the fanciful thought away and announced herself properly. “Salem Hubbard, FBI.”
“Bitch,” he snarled, opening his mouth to reveal elongated canine teeth.
No fucking way. For a flash of a moment, Salem was frozen as she pulled Mr. Pointy from her pocket. A vampire? A vampire? She’d only had a single beer, so she had to believe what she saw in front of her. It was a freaking vampire, and it appeared to be coming for her.
Behind her, someone dropped to the street from a fire escape, and she spared a glance in her peripheral vision to see another dark form. A hysterical laugh bubbled up, and she sternly suppressed it, taking a firmer grip on Mr. Pointy.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
CHAPTER 2
CULLEN
Kenai Gentlemen’s Club
Kenai, Alaska
Cullen Manchester, the reigning Alpha of the Ghost Moon Pack, sat back in the luxurious leather wingback chair in front of the fire in a private room at the Kenai Gentlemen’s Club. He was indulging an itch that had needed scratching for far too long. But being alpha meant being careful about who you had scratch that itch, and the she-wolves in his pack were—as far as he was concerned—off limits.
The city of Kodiak was closer to Otter Cove and the Aleutian Range than Kenai, but he liked the vibe of Kenai better. Besides, Kodiak didn’t have a gentlemen’s club where he could indulge his more prurient interests. True, he couldn’t bite any of the females who serviced him or drive his knot up into them, but for the most part, the girls who worked in the club were accommodating.
He raised a bottle of Alaskan Smoked Porter to his lips and drank deeply. The dark, robust body and prominent smoky flavor of the limited-production beer was a particular favorite of his. It was produced in limited annual vintages and the club kept enough on hand to accommodate its members. Some likened it to fine wine as it aged in each bottle. Cullen liked it for its pitch-black color. There were those who said it matched the color of his heart.
Maybe it did.
But after piloting a long flight in his Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet, what he needed more than anything was a cold beer, a good cigar, and the release only a female with a talented mouth or tight pussy could provide. As he wanted to sip his brew and enjoy his puro cigar, he’d opted for a blowjob instead of a good fuck. The beer he could get back at his home nestled in the foothills of the Aleutian Range, but neither the cigar nor the female was something he could get at the manor. He had to come to the club to indulge in those two, and he had thought to himself, ‘why not make it three out of three?’
Cullen had longish blonde hair and pale golden eyes. He was an investment analyst by trade—one of the most sought after, highly paid, and secretive in the world—but no one would ever guess it if they passed him on the street. He rarely left his home, Ghost Moon Manor, and never ventured to the Lower 48. He didn’t own a business suit and could most often be found in button-fly jeans and boots with a hoodie, sweater, or flannel shirt. He had a goatee and a permanent five o’clock stubble covering the rest of his lower cheeks under his high, pronounced cheekbones.
For Cullen the best distraction from the burden of being alpha and ensuring his pack did not get drawn into the Resistance was to kick back, settle his tall, muscular frame into one of the club’s comfortable chairs in front of the fire, and let a submissive woman enjoy herself taking care of his needs. It was a mutual exchange, but not for money. He got the release he needed, and whatever woman was servicing him found pleasure and satisfaction in doing so.
The girl kneeling before him was pretty enough, although she didn’t match the beauty of the woman who haunted his dreams. The blonde licked his cock in long swipes, swirling her tongue around the broad head of his staff before enveloping it with her mouth. Cullen groaned. She was good and seemed to be enjoying herself. Still, he placed his hand on the back of her head.
“Deeper,” he rumbled, liking how he could scent an uptick in her arousal. She liked being dominated, which was good as dominant was his default setting.
Taking a deep breath, she sucked his hard length down. Cullen didn’t know who’d taught her to suck cock, but she had obviously applied herself to learning, and whoever it was had done a damn fine job. He closed his eyes and let her go to town on him, running her tongue down the sensitive underside of his cock. He fisted her hair, deepening the connection between them and directing her to give him the rhythm and pace he desired. She moaned, sending the vibrations all along his length, and he could feel his cock swelling.
As the pressure for release began to increase, he stilled her head, watching his cock as it disappeared in and out of her mouth as he used it for his pleasure. He pressed deep, working his way down to the soft, velvety place at the back of her throat. As he did, she swallowed, and he began pouring his cum into her belly. Heaven, or as damn close as he was likely to get this evening.
What he really wanted was to be able to truly rut with a woman, to form a knot and breach a pussy with it, hearing her cry out and the cry turn to moans of ecstasy. It had been far too long. If an alpha had to be careful with whom he fucked, he had to be even more careful about any woman he knotted and tied to him.
The problem was that only she-wolves were really capable of taking an alpha wolf’s knot. Humans couldn’t seem to handle it and neither could other species. There was a rumor that had been around as long as he could remember that female vampires enjoyed the sensation and could withstand the rigors involved, but for the most part, Cullen neither liked nor trusted the vampire species. He’d never known one he could trust. And while arctic wolves could withstand the bite of a vampire—both male and female—it didn’t really seem worth the risk.
When he finished, he leaned back, enjoying the sensation as she licked him clean before placing his cock back in his jeans and buttoning them up.
“That was lovely,” he said.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sir; I know I did,” she said, a blush staining her cheeks.
That was the thing about human females: so many of them didn’t indulge their deeply sensual nature and need for someone to give them direction to follow their inclination to submit and serve a dominant male. And while no one would guess he worked in international finance, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Cullen was an alpha male.
Ghost Moon Manor
Somewhere Between the
Aleutian Range and Otter Cove
