Alpha's Gamble (Haven City Series # 7) First Chapter Sneak Peek!!!
Alpha's Gamble (Haven City Series # 7) comes out in one week! Next Monday, March 2, 2015, the book will be live on all channels, barring some sort of unforeseen delay.
Until then, I'll be working on more of Lost Wolves Book Four. I haven't titled that one yet. I know. Bad writer. But at least I'm working on the right book now.
Oh, and obvs, fangirling over Destiel. Who doesn't?!?!
Until then, I'll be working on more of Lost Wolves Book Four. I haven't titled that one yet. I know. Bad writer. But at least I'm working on the right book now.
Oh, and obvs, fangirling over Destiel. Who doesn't?!?!
And now for the first chapter of Alpha's Gamble. Davis Harrison returns home, but he doesn't get the welcome he expects. And Ken drinks wine because wine is delicious. Also, angst. Glorious angst!
1
Davis
Harrison ruined things. His life. His
pack. His future.
In this
case, he ruined Ken Isben’s chance of getting a good night’s sleep. At least,
that’s how Ken saw it.
The evening
started well enough. Ken got off work on time, for once. Sure, his brain felt
numb from staring at a computer screen all day. Spreadsheets and numbers
fumbled through his mind, but that was normal. Accounting had that effect.
Carolyn,
Ken’s best office friend, threw her scarf around her neck and winked. “You
going to meet Sam?”
Ken
struggled not to smile. “At the bar. It’s not a big deal.”
“You never
know. It could be true love,” she said and made a kissy face.
He flicked
her in the shoulder to get her to quit.
Ken’s chest ached
at that suggestion. Sam wasn’t true
love. That title belonged to someone else—someone who didn’t love Ken the way
Ken loved him. But he didn’t say that to Carolyn. He shrugged and convinced
himself it was possible.
Just as he
got off the elevator he realized he’d left his favorite pen on his desk. That
meant Gemma, the office klepto, would end up with it the next morning. Damn!
But it was just a pen, and he wasn’t about to go back up and tuck it into his
desk. Not when he had a sort of second date with Sam from marketing. Well, Ken
thought it was a second date. Maybe it was just drinks and making out behind a
bar again.
Ugh. A bar.
He’d really
prefer a restaurant and a glass of merlot. Oh, and a large medium rare steak.
But that was the wolf shifter talking, and Sam from marketing was only human.
He wasn’t even one of the humans with magic – a member of the shadow folk.
Nope. Just
plain old human, which meant his appetite didn’t approach Ken’s even if Ken was
a mere omega. But his rank didn’t matter when he didn’t have a proper pack. Not
since. . . well, he didn’t want to think about that. About Davis and the pack
that might have been (which was overly melodramatic, but also mostly true). Because thinking about
Davis caused Problems with a capital P.
Thinking
about Davis led to a whole bottle of wine down his throat and a delightfully
light head that turned into a slight hangover the next morning. Thinking about
Davis led to pulling out the high school yearbook and reminiscing about prom.
How Davis said they should both go stag. Pick up chicks inside. Only they
didn’t do that.
Once there,
with all the other students dressed in cheap gowns and rented tuxedos and the
cheesy streamers fluttering over their heads with the breeze from the air
conditioning unit, Davis yanked Ken toward the line for pictures.
“As a joke!”
he said, with that smile on his face – that charming grin that fell lopsided on
the left and curved up a bit more on the right. It danced in his eyes, and Ken
couldn't do anything but say yes.
He always said yes.
Yes hurt more than he knew at the time. Yes
felt good.
But, fuck.
Yes didn’t last.
So, thinking
about Davis Harrison was strictly off limits, but Ken already went there as he
walked toward the bar attached to one of the many local breweries in Haven
City.
His steps
slowed, and he took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. The trees were almost
bare. Their colored leaves littered the sidewalk, pressed into the cement with
rain.
Yeah, Davis
ruined things because he made Sam from marketing seem like a poor consolation
prize in comparison. But Ken couldn’t ever have Davis (with his charming smile
and those soulful brown eyes). And not just because Davis left Haven City years
ago.
That was an
obstacle, but one Ken would’ve been willing to cross if Davis were gay.
He wasn’t.
Yeah. Davis
the Ruiner, for fucking sure.
So Ken went
into the bar and met Sam from marketing for a drink. Beer. Not his thing, but
Sam swore it was the best new place. They talked about work, and it was fine.
Normal. Everything a second date should be.
It was
supposed to be a cold winter, Sam said.
Ken
pretended to shiver.
Sam
chuckled, but his smile wasn’t lopsided. His features were all too even. No
spark lit in Ken’s gut when he looked at Sam. But what the hell did he expect?
At least the guy was here. And available.
Good enough,
overall. Though a fellow shifter would’ve been even better.
Davis would be the best, his asshole of a brain reminded him. He
shoved that thought aside.
Then, as
they parted ways, Sam said they should do it again sometime. He stood very
close so his arm brushed Ken’s. Their shoulders touched. He smelled like beer, sweat
and his own bland human scent.
Ken smiled
and nodded.
Then Sam
from marketing kissed him. It was wet and warm and passable in most ways.
Not
passionate.
But Ken
kissed Sam back. He almost invited Sam over. Why the fuck not? What was he
waiting for?
Well,
someone who abandoned him a long time ago, for one.
Ken didn’t
ask. Instead, he turned and started toward his condo on the lower north side of
town, about twelve blocks from downtown and just over the river. The
neighborhood was lively at this time of night. The puddles shimmered in the
streetlights, reflecting the moon that was nearly full.
Ken sighed,
and his stomach grumbled. He stopped at a local steak joint and ordered a meal
to go since he was too tired to cook. His brain felt even number after that
‘date,’ and his mouth tasted unpleasantly sour. Was it the kiss or the beer? He
blamed both.
When he got to
his apartment he ate alone at the table. He needed that wine now. Please and
thank you.
Chew.
Sip.
And whatever
you do, don’t think about Davis.
Then his
cell rang, and he jumped. Ken wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin and answered
it.
“Mr. Isben?
We have a Mr. Harrison down here at the station. Would you like to pick him up
or let him stay in a holding cell overnight?” The voice on the other end was
familiar. All too familiar, really. Tasha, the local booking officer at the
police station.
Just what
Ken needed tonight.
The breath
hitched in his throat. Mr. Harrison.
But it was the wrong Mr. Harrison. Not Davis, but his younger brother Tyler. “What
did he do this time?”
“Shoplifting.
They’re not pressing charges since he returned the items,” Tasha said and
sounded as tired as Ken felt.
“Yeah. I’ll
be down in a few minutes.”
Good thing
he’d only had one glass of wine. Still. He decided against driving and set out
back into the night.
Ken and Tasha
had this routine down. When Ken arrived, he flashed his ID, and she led Tyler
out of the holding cell and gave him back his things.
Tyler’s
tongue flicked over his lip ring, and he wouldn’t meet Ken’s eyes as he tucked
his wallet and cell phone back into his jeans.
Typical.
Neither of
them said anything until they stepped outside. “You want to talk about it?” Ken
asked and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Nope,”
Tyler said and his nose wrinkled. He didn’t look exactly like his older
brother, but there were similarities. Striking ones if Ken looked for them. Tyler’s
brown eyes held the same kind of warmth, but they were sharper around the
edges. Tighter.
Ken’s breath
puffed in the cold air. “Are you using again?”
Tyler
snorted and brushed a hand over his hair. It was black this week. Who knew what
color it’d be next. It suited his tattoos better than plain old brown did,
however. “I’m clean. I go to meetings every day. Ask my sponsor if you want.”
The thing
about addicts was you couldn’t take them at their word. Only, Ken didn’t have
any proof otherwise. Tyler looked the same as always. Haunted. Tight-lipped.
But he wasn’t skinny and slight as he’d been at the height of his addiction. He’d
put on muscle over the last two years of sobriety. That was a good sign.
“Okay. I
trust you, but what were you doing in that store?” Ken asked and nudged Tyler’s
shoulder.
Ken was
shorter than Tyler by nearly a head. But it didn’t feel like Tyler was much
bigger than him. Hell, he remembered when Tyler was the annoying little brother
who wouldn’t leave him and Davis alone while they tried to play video games.
Now he got into the habit of bailing Tyler out of jail because Davis wasn’t
around to do it.
Things sure
as fuck changed.
Tyler
shrugged. “I was bored. Fuck, Ken. I got away clean. Then, I realized it was
stupid and went back. They called the cops because I returned the shit.”
Ken fought
the urge to smile and lost. “Wait. You almost got away clean and you went back?
Am I rubbing off on you?”
“Shut up. I
even told Tasha not to call you. The only reason they brought me in was because
of my record,” Tyler said and kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. It skidded and
landed in a puddle. “Oh, and you reek like booze and humans, by the way.”
Ken’s cheeks
heated. “Booze and humans? Well. I had one glass of wine and one glass of beer
– grudgingly.”
Tyler didn’t
press for answers, but he raised an eyebrow. “Are you fucking a human?”
“No!” Ken
said and thanked whatever possessed him not to invite Sam over to his place
that night. If he had – shit – he
didn’t want to think about it. “I went on a date with one. No big deal. Guy
from my work.”
Tyler
nodded. “You hear from Davis lately?” he asked and pulled out a cigarette. He
didn’t light it, because Ken told Tyler often enough how he felt about smoking.
Tyler tucked it into his lips and held it there. Ready.
“Few months
ago. Did you give him your new number?”
Tyler shrugged,
which could mean anything, as they reached the cross streets that led them in
different directions.
“Do you need
a place to stay tonight?” Ken asked. Because he always asked. Even if he knew the answer.
Tyler shook
his head. “No. I’ll take the tram the rest of the way. It’s still running. See
you around. And, uh, thanks.”
Ken nodded
tightly and watched Tyler walk away.
When he got
to his condo for the second time that night, Ken needed to finish that bottle
of wine. His eyes stung, and he picked up his cell phone three times. Brought
up Davis’s number and almost (almost!)
pressed the call button before he thought better of it.
What was he
going to say?
The same
damn thing he said each time they talked. “Oh. Hey. Your little brother needs
you. I’m doing everything I can to deal with it, like we would if we were a proper
pack, but we’re not because you ran off and skirted your responsibility to us.
How are you?”
Ken set the
phone down and drank straight from the bottle. He took two long swallows and
shoved it back into the fridge. If he didn’t, he’d finish the damn thing.
Then his night
returned to normal.
He showered.
Brushed his teeth. Collapsed into his fluffy, expensive mattress with eight
hundred thread count sheets and fell asleep.
But no one
on Earth, not even Tyler Harrison, could ruin a night like Davis.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Ken bolted
upright in bed and blinked at the digital clock on his nightstand.
Two a.m.
Someone was
knocking at his door at two a.m.?
What the
hell?
He threw off
the comforter, slipped on his slippers and shuffled to the door. His brain
wasn’t awake enough to tell him not to open it. Ken undid the lock. Swung open
the door. And –
“Hey, Ken.
Long time. You gonna let me in or not?” Davis Harrison said and smiled.
Lopsided and charming.
Ken’s heart
jumped into his throat. Any cloud of sleep that still clung to his mind
dissipated with that voice. That scent. The sight of Davis. There!
Not a
million miles away.
Not in Los
Angeles or New York or Miami but on his doorstep.
So Ken did
the only thing he could do. He slammed the door in Davis’s face.
Or, he tried to do that.
However,
Davis was still an alpha. Strong and fast, no matter what his other (many)
shortcomings may be. He caught it with his forearm and pushed. “Oh, come on.
It’s been years! I haven’t seen you since Vegas.”
Vegas. Why did he have to remind Ken of
Vegas?
“No!” Ken
said and pushed against the door with his back. “I need to get to sleep. Go see
Tyler. He’s got a place.”
Typical
Davis. He wouldn’t take a hint even if someone clobbered him with it. “Ken.
Come on. I’m here to see you. I’ll see Ty tomorrow. We need to talk.”
Davis sounded
so serious Ken forgot what he was doing. He stopped pushing, and Davis slipped
inside with his duffel bag, and loomed over him. “Better lock up. Don’t want
any weirdoes to break in.”
Ken widened
his eyes and balled his hand into a fist. The fist met the solid wall of
Davis’s chest. The alpha stumbled back a step. Hell, it was better than before
when Davis didn’t move an inch if Ken slugged him. Not that Ken liked hitting Davis, but sometimes the
bastard deserved it. Like now!
“What the
hell? It’s two in the morning. You could’ve waited until a decent hour. Also, what
are you doing here?” Ken hissed and brushed his hands through his hair.
Davis moved
toward the kitchen, his eyes slipping over everything in the room. The neat
modern furniture and the art on the walls. “That’s not the tone of voice of
someone who’s happy to see me. Lighten up, Ken! I know it’s late, but my bus
just arrived, so I thought I’d head over. Why did you give me your address if
you didn’t want me to use it? I couldn’t call Ty because I don’t have his new
number. Now, you got something to eat?”
Ken crossed
his arms and watched, helplessly, as Davis opened the refrigerator and pulled
out a package of salami, mustard and bread. He held up the bottle of wine and
raised an eyebrow, as if he were offering it.
“Yes. Wine.
I think I’ll need the rest of it now,” Ken grumbled and grabbed the bottle out
of Davis’s hands.
“You want a
sandwich? You look thin. Are you eating enough?” Davis asked as he threw the
meat and bread together in a way that should’ve looked sloppy but managed being
presentable instead.
“Yes, and I
eat plenty. You sound like my mother,” Ken said and pried the cork from the
bottle. How had he even managed to push it back in so far? No idea. He yanked
with his teeth and got it free.
Davis pushed
the first sandwich across the countertop and made a second. His brown eyes
stayed glued to the task, and Ken watched Davis’s hands as he worked. They were
rougher than before. Tanned and calloused, but they were the same hands he
remembered.
He swallowed.
Hard. Then took a long sip of the wine.
“Easy there.
You need a glass?” Davis asked and placed the top slice of bread on his
sandwich.
“No,” Ken
said and wiped his lips. “Not tonight I don’t. Tell me why you’re here.”
“You don’t
even want to sit?” Davis asked and pointed at the kitchen table.
Ken gritted
his teeth and bit back the urge to scream. Because screaming at Davis didn’t do
any good. It never did any good. And he knew that, but it didn’t stop the
impulse from filling his bones. He shoved the sandwich in his mouth instead and
stared at Davis as if his gaze could will his best friend into telling him
everything.
Davis
shrugged and leaned against the counter. As Ken chewed, he noticed Davis’s
hands weren’t the only things about him to change. It’d been fifteen years
since Davis left Haven, and nearly ten since they’d last seen each other.
The Davis he
remembered best was still slightly gawky – too tall and growing into his build.
Davis grew well enough. His shoulders were broad and strong. A fitted T-shirt
stretched over his muscular chest, tucked into his jeans. His brown leather
jacket had seen better days, but it suited him.
Ken’s mouth
dried out, and he took another swig of wine.
“So. Nice
pajamas,” Davis said and brushed the crumbs from his lips.
Ken scowled.
“Talk or I kick you out. I thought you said you could never come back. Now here
you are! What the fuck?”
Davis opened
his mouth and closed it twice. Then he yanked a glass out of the cupboard,
filled it with water, and drank the whole damn thing before he answered. “Well,
it turns out I can come back, so I did.”
Ken narrowed
his eyes. “Just like that. Fifteen fucking years of running away and now you can come back? Lucky us!”
Davis
shrugged. “Look. I told you I didn’t want you to get involved. But the trouble
I was in got cleaned up. You know that gang war that went down last summer?
Well, that took care of my problem. So, here I am. I thought you’d be happy to
see me. You said you wanted me to come back, and then you practically leave me
on the street. Hungry. Alone. Is that what friends do?”
Ken reached
for the final swallow of wine, but Davis lifted the bottle from the counter
before he had the chance. Then, that bastard alpha, slipped his mouth over the edge,
and he drank it. A drop landed on Davis’s bottom lip, and he swept it away with
the enticing tip of his tongue.
Shit.
Ken wiped
his sweaty palms on his pajama pants. “That was years ago. But you’re right. I
don’t want to know what the trouble was. I don’t want anything to do with your
messed up life, because you left me here to deal with one fucked up member of
the Harrison household and that’s enough for me, thanks.”
The words
stung, and he didn’t really mean them. Not entirely. Tyler was like a brother
to him more than anything else. And Davis was, well, Davis.
“Yeah. I—how
is he?” Davis asked and set the wine bottle down with a clink that sounded louder
than it should have.
“Fine. He
was arrested for shoplifting again. No biggie,” Ken said.
Davis’s jaw clenched,
and he nodded. “Look. I’ll talk to him. Okay? That’s all I can do. I can’t
promise he’ll listen to me.”
Ken laughed.
Short and bitter. “Oh, he won’t! But he’s better. Clean for two years. You know
things were bad after your dad died, but when your mom went it just got worse.
He needed you.”
Davis
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I know. Is this going to turn into a
lecture because I don’t need another one of those. If you don’t want me here,
I’ll go. It’s just. . . I get back into Haven and you’re the first person I
wanted to see. Don’t tell Ty. I want to see him too, but I thought you’d be
glad I was back.”
Ken squeezed
his eyes shut and let out a slow breath through his nose. Davis Harrison
everyone. Guilt tripper extraordinaire. And it worked. Ken’s stomach did a
stupid juvenile backflip at those words. If Davis told Ken that in high school,
he’d have convinced himself it was true love. That they really were mates and
years of a fruitless crush finally meant something.
Now, Ken shoved the sensation aside. “I – I’m just tired. It was a long day,
and I have work tomorrow. You surprised me. I wish you called.”
“Maybe I
wanted to surprise you,” Davis said with a smile.
Ken shook his
head and glanced at the duffel bag next to the front door. It was as beat up as
Davis’s jacket. “Do you have someplace to stay?”
“Nope. Is
this a two bedroom? It’s really nice. But I always thought you’d want a house
in the suburbs.”
“Well, maybe
you don’t know me as well as you think. It’s a one bedroom, but you can take
the couch. Let me get you a blanket,” Ken said, voice as sharp as he could make
it.
Davis
flinched, and it should’ve felt more satisfying than it did.
Ken flitted
through his cupboards, gathered a few things and set the bundle on the couch.
“Put the sheet down before you sleep. I don’t want your musk ruining the
leather. Here’s a towel if you want to shower. Bathroom is down the hall.
There’s an extra toothbrush, brand new, in the cupboard. Please use that.”
Davis
nodded. “Thanks.”
Then, as Ken
turned to leave, a strong hand snagged his shoulder. He tensed under the grip.
It’d been so long. And the last time – oh fuck! The last time he made such a
fool of himself. He took a breath through his nose. “Tell me one thing. Are you
staying for good or not?”
“I’m not
leaving this time. I promise,” Davis said, his voice gruff and rich. It seeped
into Ken’s skin, and he felt like he could drink it.
Ken nodded
tightly and slipped out of Davis’s grasp. He stepped into his room and shut the
door, leaned against it, and balled his hands into fists so tight his nails bit
into his palms. He wanted to believe Davis, but after everything that happened Ken
knew the painful truth.
That alpha
abandoned the wolves who were supposed to be his pack. His promises meant nothing.
Ken trudged
to the bed and climbed under the covers. His mouth tasted like salami and wine,
but he wouldn’t have gone back out there for anything. Well, maybe Davis naked
in his bed – no!
He shook
that thought away, and put a pillow over his head as the shower burst to life.
Which meant Davis was naked and wet.
Damn.
Ken squeezed
his eyes shut and tried to sleep.
Don’t think
about Davis Harrison?
Now it
really was impossible.
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