Bear Shifter Billionaire: Four Book Alpha Romance Bundle E-Book

AJ Tipton

• Herausgeber: AJ Tipton
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Bear billionaires fight for their true mates. This action-packed series features strong men, confident women, and smoldering love scenes in a magical, multidimensional world that tantalizes the senses. Alpha’s Heir: Orson is running from commitment. Casey just wants to cook amazing food. When their paths collide, the effect is delicious. This novella includes drool-worthy cooking, harrowing shifter battles, and a love so hot it sizzles. Alpha’s Mates: Cleo is an Alpha and CEO of her own wildly successful company. Titus and Connor own a ranch sanctuary for supernatural creatures. When Cleo is stranded at their ranch, the sparks literally fly. This sizzling novella for mature readers involves a literal roll in the hay, wet and wild firefighting, and a love that's magical to the power of three. Alpha’s Domain: Sally has just discovered she’s a witch. Ben is trying to avenge his clan’s murder. Will these two be too distracted to notice they’re falling in love? This paranormal romance for adults includes sexy shifters, explosive magic, and a workplace romance so hot it will melt even the coldest heart. Alpha's Christmas Flame: Dean's a firefighter down on his luck. Donna's a brilliant billionaire trying to prove herself. Their adventures towards love include brave pixies, shouldering strip-poker, and a firefighting romance that’s too hot to handle. Set in the same world as AJ Tipton's "Her Elemental Viking" series, the "Bear Shifter Billionaire" series includes such memorable characters as Lola (the mysterious, supernatural bartender who knows more than she'll ever tell), Audrey (a witch with a skill at matchmaking) and a whole cast of lovable, supernatural creatures. These STANDALONE novellas can be read in any order. There are no cliffhangers, and each short ends as it should: happily ever after.

Leseprobe

Bear Shifter Billionaire

A Four Book Alpha Romance Bundle

AJ Tipton

Contents

Alpha’s Heir

Alpha’s Mates

Alpha’s Domain

Alpha’s Christmas Flame

About AJ Tipton

Alpha’s Heir

The mahogany desk smashed through the window in a rain of glass shards.

I just got that window fixed, Orson thought, clenching his fists around the sheet wrapped around his waist. Cold air from the broken window blew across his bare pecs and his nipples pebbled to hard points.

"Calm down, Dad," he said through gritted teeth.

His inner bear stirred in his chest, trying to force itself to the surface in response to the growing threat. Not now, not yet. Not here, he told the bear, pushing it back down again. Not while she's in danger.

"How dare you disobey me! You are a disgrace to your clan!" Nikolai bellowed, grabbing Orson's favorite armchair and throwing it against a bookshelf. The shelves rattled and broke, sending Orson's books on various programming languages cascading to the floor. The globe-shaped award Orson won for outstanding achievement in innovative software rolled across the hardwood floor.

"Please, I didn't know." The source of today's trouble whimpered in the corner. Sarah was shakily putting on her clothes, her delicious curves disappearing under her voluminous sweater.

They'd been dating a few days and Orson had known it wouldn't last--the bear inside had never liked her--but only a few hours ago he'd finally coaxed her to take off all her clothes when they had sex. When she'd finally realized how much he needed the sight of her large breasts heaving as he roughly plunged into her folds, the rush was exquisite. The awed look on her face in that moment didn't make up for the terrified expression etched there now. He'd barely had time to finish before his father smashed his front door to kindling.

"You are my son!" Nikolai roared. "I am the Alpha. You will do what is good for your clan, or I will kill you." He stopped pacing for a second. "Or, better yet, I will send for Cleo. She will put a stop to this ridiculous behavior."

Because I need another reminder that you think Cleo will be a better Alpha for our clan than your own son, Orson thought, taking deep breaths. He ran his hand through his short black hair and reminded himself, again, that he must respect his father.

Nikolai's flannel shirt was beginning to tear as his inner bear stretched beneath his skin, layers of fur and sinew ripping the red and black-checked fabric to pieces. Through the tearing shirt, Orson could see his father's overlapping scars criss-crossing his chest, each one a reminder of how differently they viewed what was "right for the clan."

"Cleo has her own business to worry about," Orson said.

Moving slowly, he picked Sarah's purse off the floor and walked it over to her, keeping his body protectively between her and his stalking father.

"Cleo has no business more important than making sure her fiancé stays faithful," Nikolai said. He picked up the rolling globe and smashed it through the next unbroken window.

I'm sure Cleo's Fortune 500 company would disagree with you there, Orson bit his tongue to stop himself from saying. Orson eyed the destroyed living room. So long as his father kept his rage vented on his furniture and awards, Sarah would stay breathing.

"Who's Cleo?" Sarah whispered, as she took the purse from him and held it close to her chest.

"Arranged marriage. Trust me, it doesn't mean anything," he told her. He could smell her, the cologne she'd dumped on her skin not quite hiding the acrid fear wafting off her skin. "I'll call you tomorrow." He kept an eye on his father, but put down a hand to help her to her feet.

"No, he will not!" Nikolai yelled, kicking at the scattered books so they sailed through the air. "My son will not have associations with any human scum!"

Sarah leaned away from Orson's hand and used the wall to haul herself to her feet. "I'm sorry, Orson. You've been great, but I really don't have time to deal with…" she looked between him and his father, "All of this."

Orson nodded, keeping his face carefully still. He hadn't loved her, but her rejection still stung. He'd made her come three times; surely she wasn't going to give up on him that fast.

Sarah scrambled to her feet, clutching her purse in front of her.

Apparently she really is going to give up that fast. He nodded that he'd understood her, and turned back to his father.

He focused on the feeling of the sheet's soft fibers between his fingers as he heard Sarah's boots click on the marble all the way out the door. His keen shifter hearing heard her car door slam, followed by the loud revving of an engine, fading as it sped down his long driveway. Orson focused on his slow, even breathing until he heard her car disappear down his private road through the woods.

Then he let go.

His inner bear exploded out of him, filling him up and transforming him into a giant grizzly, his massive furred head brushing against the wooden rafters of his ten-foot tall ceiling.

In one breath, Orson felt right for the first time in hours, his human and bear selves melded into his true form of muscle, claws, and jaws. He roared and the walls shook, paintings and mirrors smashing to the floor around him.

"You're weak, boy," Nikolai growled as he shifted to his full bear shape, his head coming up to Orson's shoulder. His lengthened jaw distorted his voice into a low growl, but his words and disdain were clear. "I'd already defeated the Alpha by the time I was your age, and what have you done? Played on your computer!"

"I provided for our clan!" Orson roared. His Alpha instincts pushed at him to prove to his father he deserved respect. Only his father would see developing software worth billions of dollars as disgraceful.

In his bear form, it was harder to fight his instincts to challenge his father for dominance. He's the Alpha, he repeated over and over. It is my duty to respect the Alpha.

"And what will your money matter if your actions bring dishonor to our clan and my name? You were fucking a human, Orson, a filthy human."

Orson forced himself back onto all fours, bowing his head. He wanted to point out that fucking a human didn't disrespect his clan. Bear clans were too few and too scattered to follow the old ways of only mating with other bear shifters. Only the handful of remaining Old World minded Alphas like his father clung to that narrow way of life. Long ago, forged truces ended the wars between the clans and put a stop to the ancient traditions of violent challenges for rank. Nikolai's world was gone before Orson was even born.

The old rivalries were still there, of course; ancient feuds didn't just disappear. But they now played out in the most powerful symbol of the modern age: money. Any other Alpha leader would have been proud of Orson's achievements, selling his software and making billions of dollars for the clan's accounts. He'd proven to his people that he could provide for them in a way that brought power and honor.

How had his father reacted when he made his first billion? Ridiculed him for not having enough scars.

Orson clenched his jaw and concentrated on shifting, making his form shrink back down to his human size. His inner bear roared and fought, but Orson forced it down. As much as his father frustrated him, Nikolai was the Alpha, and Orson had to respect that.

He picked up the upended arm chair and righted it back on the floor. The hard wooden frame was barely damaged. Orson didn't bother wrapping the sheet back around his naked body before settling down in the chair. He’d only bothered with the sheet for Sarah's delicate human sensibilities. Now he wondered why he'd bothered with her at all.

Orson noticed with wry amusement that his father stayed in bear form as he paced on all fours. Even with Orson in his weaker human form, Nikolai's bear recognized the threat of a young Alpha in the room.

"If you will not listen to me as your father, listen to your Alpha. You will respect the alliance I made between you and Cleo, or I will renounce you as my heir."

Orson stilled. He wanted to believe it was a toothless threat. He had no siblings and the clan had no other potential Alphas. If Nikolai denied him as his heir, the clan would fall apart, leaving Orson a rogue Alpha without family or name. He'd still have the money he'd made of course, but he would lose the clan he’d spent his life protecting.

Was his father really so threatened that his son wasn't his blood-thirsty mirror that he'd deny Orson his birthright?

Orson studied his father's aggressive pacing, the cold set in his father's eyes.

He might.

"Yes, father. I will marry Cleo and stay away from other women." Orson could feel a headache coming on. Marry Cleo?

Nikolai nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Good, see that you do."

I need a drink.

“Shit!” Casey cursed under her breath as she watched the pint glass smash against the floor. She pulled the stained mini broom and dustpan from a shelf under the bar and sighed. Yup, that’s exactly how today is going. Professional disaster, clothing malfunction, and now I'm breaking shit.

AUDREY’S bar was relatively quiet for a Tuesday. The regulars hadn't arrived yet and the vampire in the corner sipping a cocktail of A Positive and vodka was reading a crime novel so intensely Casey was certain he wouldn’t notice if a parade of tiger shifters in plastic body suits danced through. Casey deposited the broken glass shards into the trash can as quietly as possible, pulling at the bottom hem of her shirt as she leaned over. This shirt was a lot shorter than she liked; the last thing she needed today was flashing her muffin top.

“Sorry about that, Audrey, I can totally pay for it,” she called over to the bar’s owner, serving drinks alongside her.

“Oh please, don’t worry about it,” Audrey grinned as she scooped ice into two cocktail shakers. She snapped her fingers and the remaining litter of broken glass on the floor disappeared in a dramatic puff of smoke. “You'll never beat Lola’s record for the most broken glassware in one day. Although that was more ‘throwing’ than ‘dropping’...”

Casey watched in awe as Audrey’s completed cocktails floated in the air above the heads of the patrons, landing softly at one of the nearby wooden tables.

I'm never going to get used to this place.

Casey had known when Audrey hired her to serve drinks at AUDREY’S that it was a bar for supernaturals. Even after more than a year, Casey couldn't stop her jaw from dropping a little whenever Audrey showed off her skills as a witch. Being a human was so boring sometimes.

The doors to the bar burst open with a roar as six mud-covered men entered in various states of undress, singing a drunken anthem so garbled Casey couldn't tell if they were singing about a "winner" or a "fibber."They carried their victor on their bulging shoulders, singing and dripping water all over the floor.

Casey stopped herself from drooling slightly at all the muscled flesh parading past. This was one of the major benefits of being on AUDREY'S staff: the shifters. Everyone has a type, and Casey’s was big, half-naked, and growling.

“Orson is our Shifter Challenge winner!” Lola’s voice rang out through the bar as she walked in behind the men. The bartender's long black braids hovered over her head, swaying of their own accord. Her bright red smile was the same shade as the rose petals on the thorny tattoo circling her neck and dropping low into her ample cleavage. Lola leaped over the bar in a quick effortless motion, grabbed a few empty pitchers as she jumped through the air, and positioned them below the taps in a single graceful movement. “Let’s get our champion a drink!”

Audrey and Casey applauded from behind the bar as the men hollered merrily. Casey concentrated on keeping her facial expression neutral as Orson the bear shifter was lowered to the ground and the group settled at one of the back tables. Guys that gorgeous didn't notice poor, heavy bartender-caterers and it wasn't worth the heartbreak to try.

Lola smiled her normal mysterious smile as she pulled the taps. It was hard to know what Lola was ever truly thinking, but Casey knew Lola was proud of the Tuesday Night Shifter Challenge. Lola set up the obstacles herself, a twisting chaos of logs and ropes for the werewolves, werepanthers, fox shifters and so on to race each other through in their shifted form. At least it kept the tips rolling in on a Tuesday night, which was something Casey desperately needed today.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Audrey was looking at Casey with her head tilted, eyebrow up. Caught. Casey knew there was no way out of a conversation when Audrey looked at her like that.

Casey pulled at a loose lock of her strawberry blonde hair, mentally cursing her inability to keep a poker face. “My catering company had this huge order this week. Everything was perfect until they canceled 20 minutes ago. They’re contractually obligated to pay for half of the food, but I’m still out for the other half and the refrigerated van rental. It was this wealthy family that was supposed to be a great source for referrals , but now I’m just screwed.”

Audrey wrapped Casey in a hug. “The way you cook? There is no way you aren’t destined for culinary greatness. Bring that food in and we’ll sell it to everyone in here. They won’t be able to resist!”

Casey appreciated the hug, even though Audrey’s thin frame felt small and pointy against her softer, wider body. “There’s some legal rule thingy...” she waved her hand in the air trying to think of the official phrase. “You can’t re-sell the food. I can give it away though.” Casey smiled for the first time in what felt like hours. At least the food would get eaten. Casey loved to feed people. Even if she wasn't going to be able to make any money from it, she would at least get to see the enraptured expressions on the shifters' faces when they bit into her cooking.

“Maybe you can start with our shifter champion?” Lola walked back over and pointed at the table of mud splattered shifters. Orson sprawled on one of the bar stools, making the wood look insubstantial and tiny beneath his enormous frame. Casey shifted her weight, trying not to stare at the impressive amount of skin he was showing. “Bears are shockingly fast runners, not many people know that.” Lola hefted a case of vodka over her shoulder with a wink. “They’ll surprise you in more ways than that.”

Audrey giggled at Lola’s retreating form, snapping a wet bar towel at her ass as she passed. “I’d listen to Lola, Casey. She tends to know what she’s talking about. Although honestly, that guy’s not really my type.”

Casey turned to stare at her boss. Is the woman crazy? Orson was perfect. She had seen him come into the bar a few times, although she never got up the nerve to talk to him. His chest was so strong and broad it eclipsed even her large waistline. His baby blue eyes stood out like jewels against his dark black hair. And the stubble that always seemed to edge his square jaw perfectly accented the little dip in his chin. Whenever he came into the bar, Casey had to stop herself from fanning herself with a cocktail napkin.

"Ummm, he's okay looking to me," she hedged.

Knowing Audrey and Lola, if she admitted how badly she had the hots for the guy, they wouldn't stop until they'd forced her to throw herself into the dip of his perfect thighs. And then she'd have to hear another guy say she was "really funny and cute," but that he liked a woman who "wanted to work out with him." Guy code for "women who don't eat food."

"It doesn't matter, though," Casey said. "I'm going to get this catering business off the ground if it kills me. There’s no way I’ll have time for dating."

Audrey chuckled, pointing a finger at the muddy puddles forming around the bar’s entrance. The water vanished in a magic puff, leaving a clean dry patch of tile behind. “Uh huh. I'll let you get away with that line today, missy. But don't think I believe you. Go grab the food from the van; I’ll make sure those blue eyes don’t go anywhere.”

Casey hummed a little as she unlocked the cold metal doors of the refrigerated van. The smell from the trays of blackened catfish with habanero chutney, buttermilk fried chicken breast with sausage-herb gravy, grilled salmon with Creole shrimp risotto, and bouillabaisse with okra and Tasso ham waffed in the air like they were smiling in welcome at her. Maybe today is turning out okay after all.

“Hi there.” A deep voice rumbled behind her.

“Shit!” Casey yelped as she spun, wielding her keys like a shiv. Orson stood behind her, his very naked chest liberally splattered with mud that only added to the sexiness of the package. She could feel her face turning hot as an embarrassed blush overtook her face.

“Orson Antonov.” He extended his hand. Casey moved to shake it, then realized he was holding out a stack of cash.

Were those all hundreds? She'd never seen that much money in one place before. Casey looked back at him, not sure if she should act on her confusion, curiosity, or excitement first. Maybe I should just kiss him. The stray thought flitted through her mind and she forced it down.

“I think this should cover it.” He pressed the wad of cash into Casey’s hand, then stepped around her to pick up the pallets of food like they weighed nothing at all. “It’s cash so you don’t need to worry about any ‘legal rule thingy’.” He turned and walked away into the dark.

Damned shifter hearing. Shit. What else did I say? She turned around to say something, she didn't know what, but he was already gone.

Orson ignored the catastrophe in his living room. He'd asked the staff not to clean it up; the scattered shards of glass and wood were a reminder of his words to his father. Why did I say I’d honor my engagement to Cleo?

It was all too easy to ignore the reality of his fiancé with the smell of Casey's cooking still lingering in the air.

He'd noticed the bartender before; she was impossible to miss. If he was honest with himself, he probably picked up Sarah at the software expo because she reminded him of Casey. The bartender had incredible curves, and the way her breasts ballooned out when she leaned over the bar was breathtaking to behold. And her smell…it was glorious, a mix of female musk, fresh dough, and Cajun pepper.

Dropping the tray of fried chicken next to him on the bed, he licked his fingers clean and lay back, taking a deep breath and letting the smell of fresh biscuits and butter saturate all his senses.

He reached down to loosen his belt and slide off his tight pants. He'd been hard as rock all the way home, nearly driving off the road twice. What is it about this woman I can't shake off?

Even his inner bear approved of her, which was a detail he couldn't ignore. Whenever he visited AUDREY'S, his bear would come to attention, drawn to her intoxicating scent. Every time he heard her speak, it enforced that she was clever, competent, loyal, funny, and...again...beautiful... I'm in trouble.

The blackened catfish was just crumbs now in the bottom of the tin after he'd eaten every last piece on the way home, and the buttermilk fried chicken breast was almost gone. He tried to convince himself he should freeze and keep for later the grilled salmon and bouillabaisse currently laying on his bedside table, but the idea of putting those smells away from his face felt as impossible as spending his life with Cleo.

It was a very good thing Casey didn't date. When he'd overheard her in the bar, he'd felt a sharp pang of disappointment, followed immediately by relief. If that woman was on the market, keeping his word to his father was going to be impossible.

But, holy crap, if Casey had admitted she wanted him when Audrey pushed her, nothing would have stopped him from dragging Casey into AUDREY'S famous "rendezvous" back room. Lola had a habit of encouraging patrons she wanted to hook up to take too many shots and then go "sleep it off" in the very close quarters of the back room. At least one child, three marriages, and one peace treaty had been the result, according to the gossip.

He slid off his boxers, picturing the small room he'd only heard about from friends. Grasping his shaft in his greasy fried-chicken covered hand, Orson gently began to pump. If Casey had said she liked him, he wouldn't have been able to wait until he got home, or even to get to his car.

Orson knew he would have tossed her beautiful round ass over his shoulder and carried her straight to the back room. There he would have unwrapped her clothes like peeling off the skin of her perfectly-marinated fried chicken, then lick at the tasty flesh of her breasts like the sweet sauce of her habanero chutney.

He increased the pressure on his dick, picturing her riding him, her breasts bouncing against her flawless chest as she took him hard. She was strong; he knew that from watching her carry trays of glasses and steaks. Her thighs would hold her up as he thrust up into her body.

He wanted to hear her roar his name as her pussy clenched around his shaft, and he wanted the whole bar to echo with the sounds of their passion. And he knew she would roar too. His bear wouldn't want her so badly if it didn't recognize a kindred strength in her.

He pictured her head falling back as his finger rubbed at her clit, biting down on her breast as she came in waves of glorious power. It wasn't fair a woman could be so perfect, her curves so perfectly rounded to rub against his flesh. She said she didn't date, but was it possible she didn't realize her power: a power to bring him to his knees.

The orgasm came so suddenly and unexpectedly he nearly fell off the bed.

His heart hammered so loud it took him almost a minute to realize the banging he was hearing wasn't in his chest, but at the door.

Oh God, if it's Dad, I'm going to have to tell him the alliance with Cleo is off, he thought as he quickly pulled on his pants and adjusted his belt. He rehearsed what he was going to say all the way across the living room and to the front door.

The large oak door flew open with a crash before his hand touched the knob.

Cleo stood on the other side, her fist still raised from crashing the lock.

I need a stronger door.

"Hello, dear. I heard you had a conversation with your father," she said as she stepped around him to walk precisely down the hallway on her five-inch heels.

She was the kind of beautiful they advertised in overly-Photoshopped magazines. Her grey suit perfectly fitted her lean body: her legs beneath her pencil skirt were straight poles of muscle and her brown hair fell against her shoulders in the perfectly regimented layers to make any stylist proud. Orson knew the world of the wealthy well enough to recognize the gold logo on Cleo's purse meant it was probably more expensive than Casey's monthly salary. Cleo's large sunglasses were probably more expensive than Casey's car.

Dad would not be pleased to know I'm already comparing everything about Cleo to Casey, Orson winced as he followed his fiancé back to the living room. He nearly ran into Cleo as she stopped in the middle of the hallway to survey the damage.

"Tell me what happened," she said, turning to raise a perfectly-plucked eyebrow in his direction.

"It doesn't matter," Orson said, walking around her to plop down in the arm chair. He pointed to the mostly-undamaged sofa and gestured for her to sit down.

Carefully picking her way across the broken glass, Cleo began to sit down on the couch before her head snapped up and she ran--impressive in those heels, he thought, just one of the many ways she's tougher than me, I'm sure--to his bedroom and came back carrying the tray of grilled salmon.

"What is this?" she asked, picking up one of the pieces and taking a big bite. She moaned and clutched the tray tighter to her chest.

"Hey! That's mine!" he cried, jumping out of his chair. She growled at him and danced back, kicking off her heels so she could dodge around him and leap onto the distressed wood of the kitchen table. He wasn't sure, but he thought she partially shifted her jaw to her bear shape so she could take a bigger bite.

"Oh my god, Orson! You seriously have to employ, kidnap, or marry whoever made these!" She held the tray high above her head before grabbing another piece and stuffing it between her lips.

Orson groaned and ran for the bedroom to save the last of the food and get it into the freezer before Cleo tried to grab any more. He knew from childhood all too well how vicious she could get when she wanted something. He still had scars on his hand from when he tried to get his action figures back from her when they were five. Somehow, his father didn't respect those scars.

"Trust me, if Dad gave me the chance, I might marry her," he said.

"Right. Your father, that's why I'm here." Finishing off the last piece of salmon, she elegantly jumped off the table and vaulted over the back of the couch to settle onto the cushion with her legs crossed in front of her. "He’s determined to make this wedding happen. Neither of us wants this. But clearly,” she waved at the debris, “he’s not letting this go."

Orson settled back in his chair. He could smell the salmon on her lips and it was the closest he ever came in his life to wanting to kiss Cleo. "Dad is old school. He threatened to disinherit me. You know that wouldn't just be disastrous to my clan, it would throw off the equilibrium of all the clans in the region."

"Exactly. Which is why we need a plan." Cleo's phone buzzed in her purse and she fished it out, sent a brief text, and rested it on her leg. "Sorry about that, we're in the middle of a deal and it seems like every little detail needs my sign off." She made an exaggerated groaning sigh and leaned back against the couch, but Orson just smiled.

"You know you love it," he said.

She sat back up and returned the smile. "I do, but you know what I do not love?" She looked at him in the eye, hard. "Being considered your father's pawn. He came into my father's room at the hospital and spouted off about bringing you into line with this whole arranged marriage deal."

"Cleo, I'm so sorry. Is your father all right?" He didn't know Cleo's father well, just a vague impression of a strong leader. He would pick Cleo up by the scruff of her neck at the end of their play dates and cart her home. Orson remembered the old man hadn’t even blinked at her screaming protests that she wanted to finish walloping all the other boys in whatever game they were playing. When her dad got cancer, he'd turned over his company--and the family clan--to her leadership. She'd taken his small business and turned it into a company regularly profiled by the Economist as one of the most successful in the country.

"Your father didn't do too much damage; Dad's been good at ignoring Nikolai's misogynist ramblings for a while now. But a few of the other Alphas gathered to visit Dad overheard. When I bought your software for my company, you said the money would give you the clout with your clan to challenge your father. It's been over a year since that deal and your father is still the ruling Alpha. What's going on, Orson?"

Orson shifted in his chair. "He's not a bad Alpha, he really thinks what he does is for the good of the clan."

"This isn't the dark ages anymore. We're not running around in the backwoods of the Old Country living in caves. His antiquated style of ham-fisted bullying is going to destroy your clan eventually." Her phone buzzed again and she picked it up, listening for a long moment and then screamed, "No, you idiot! I told you it’s for the London accounts. Why the hell would we be doing this for Oslo? Fix it or I'll have your head on my desk before noon tomorrow. And that's not a metaphor!" She clicked off the phone and smiled at Orson. "You need to challenge your father and then, as Alpha, you'll be able to officially call off this arranged marriage nonsense."

"You realize you're a bit scary, right?" he said.

Cleo stood up, fitting her feet back into her heels and swaying her narrow hips a little as she strode toward the freezer. "Darling, I'm terrifying and don't you forget it." Her hand was on the freezer's lever when Orson sprinted across the living room and placed a firm hand across the door, holding it shut.

"And don't you forget, I'm scary too," he growled. "And if you take any more of Casey's food out of this house, I will bite off your hand."

Her grin widened. "Oh, Casey is her name, is it? If you won't nut up to save your clan from your father's outdated leadership, then do it so we can get more of this food. You know I would kill family members for less."