The Captain of the Guard: Alpha Werewolf Erotica (Smut-Shorties Book 6) by Mina Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t me. It’s over.”
    He whipped around, his eyes burning with fury, and grabbed her arm. She yelped in pain, the plate dropping from her fingers to splatter over the floor as he pushed her backward. Her shoulders and the back of her head hit a side door hard, sparks flying over her vision and then they were through it and into the quietness and solitude of a side-corridor.
    “You will do as I say,” Jacob snarled, his hand closing around her throat to pin her against the opposite wall. “If you know what’s good for you.”
    His face twisted with rage, half-human and half wolf. Fear lanced her heart. Jacob’s rages were legendary in the pack, most avoided angering him. However, most could get away, had places to hide.
    Not her. With nowhere to run, she was always first in the firing line. She let emotion leech away from her, calmed the wolf within.
    “And you know what’s good for you, don’t you, Vanessa?” He let go of her throat and stroked gentle fingers across her cheek. She turned her head away, sickened by the touch and the darkness in his eyes. There was something wrong with Jacob. Very wrong.
    “The ball tonight. I’ll do my best,” she said, sickened by the fact she was prepared to do anything to avoid Jacob’s anger.
    What kind of wolf was she, that she couldn’t even stand up for herself?
    *
    Veyr was not at the ball.
    “Shit.”
    Vanessa kept her panic to herself and turned in a circle, her movement slow and graceful, hoping to spot Veyr’s unmistakable figure amongst the guests. Although not the tallest wolf, he had an aura about him that was hard to miss. One that oozed power and reeked virility; he set the hearts of all red-blooded women aflutter.
    Apart from hers. While she admired Veyr for dragging lycan society out of the dark ages and into the modern world, he wasn’t the one who made her heart pound and her pussy clench.
    Her gaze snuck sideward to a tall figure at the edge of the room.
    Jace Trenton. The Captain of the Guard, appointed by Veyr himself. The stories said they were both wolves from the pits, the barely-legal fight clubs in the lower city. That they’d fought together, and Jace had accompanied Veyr to court after the challenge-fight that had killed the previous Master of the City, allowing Veyr to take his place.
    She lifted her champagne glass to her lips, using the motion to conceal her appraisal of Jace. She didn’t usually drink, but she needed some kind of prop to keep her hands busy. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. What did it matter that the lack of amber ring around his eyes meant that somewhere in his family tree was a non-shifter? She didn’t care. He was a wolf, an alpha just like Veyr.
    She emptied her glass without thinking and switched it for another from the tray of a passing waiter. Using the ever-shifting crowd for cover, she watched Jace from across the room. He leant against a wall, the dark silk shirt he wore clung to broad shoulders and a heavily muscled chest. Black dress pants completed the look, the fabric pulled taut across one massive thigh where he had his foot propped against the wall. Long, strong fingers were delicate on a glass as he lifted it to his lips and met her eyes.
    Then winked.
    Shit . She choked on her drink, ducking behind the portly figure of an older wolf so Jace wouldn’t see her spitting champagne all over herself, and managed to swallow.
    “That’s it gal, get it down ‘yer.” The wolf in front of her turned. Older, with graying hair and a handlebar mustache, he grinned in amusement. “You should try some brandy, puts skin on ‘yer bones that stuff does!”
    Blinking, she nodded and added a little smile she hoped indicated agreement. She hoped he didn’t actually offer her any brandy. Not a big drinker at the best of times, the champagne was already making her knees feel fuzzy. Thankfully, a sharp, feminine voice some way off in the crowd