When an Alpha Purrs (2 page)

“Why not?” He could have blinked in astonishment when the query emerged from his mouth. However, a curious kitty needed to know. Women just didn’t say no. It wasn’t arrogant of him to claim it, not when it was fact.

Rejection was not something he encountered. Until now.

“Are you seriously having to ask why I won’t date you?” She sounded so incredulous. “Would you like me to recite the list alphabetically?”

Actually, he did. “Let’s hear it.”

Not even a pause. “Asshat. Braggart. Cocky tied with chauvinist. Dumbass. Egotistical. Do I really need to go on?” 

A chuckle rumbled forth from him—again. What was it about this woman that delighted him? She kept arguing and defying him at every turn, and yet he couldn’t help but find her amusing. She utterly intrigued him, especially as he tried to guess what she’d say next. How refreshing to come across a female that wasn’t related to him, or impressed by him, who dared to treat him as a man.

One she considered beneath her standards.

“I think your list needs tweaking.” He launched a defense of his character.

“Oh really? And just how do you see yourself? I’m sure this will be good.”

“Let me see. Attractive, bold, courageous, daring, elegant, ferocious, especially as a lover,” he admitted with a wink. “Gallant.”

With a derisive snort, she interrupted. “Ha. I highly doubt that.”

“And yet you don’t really know me. My lady friends would tell you that I am a gentleman.” When it came to opening doors and picking up the check. Other than that, there was nothing gentle about him. Just ask those who crossed him.

Kings didn’t let anyone question their authority.

“I wouldn’t know, though, about this supposed gallantry, because I’m not your lady friend.”

“You could be.” He gave her another chance. She truly did draw him in with the roundness of her figure, hugged by faded denim and topped with a baggy sweatshirt that drooped enticingly off a shoulder, baring a black strap.

Lace or cotton? A feline mind wanted to know.

But apparently he wouldn’t know today, as she, yet again, managed to resist him.

“Date you? Not likely.”

Again words emerged from him without volition. “Why not?”

“Oh please. I’ve seen enough to know you’re not my type.”

Such a liar. Apparently he wasn’t the only one aroused by their repartee. The musky scent of her arousal tickled his senses. It made him bolder. “I guarantee when I’m between your thighs and you’re clawing my back, you’ll be screaming a different tune.”

So he might have come on a tad strong with that last statement. That was still no excuse for what happened next.

“Pig.” However it wasn’t the animal insult that was her most grievous crime. It was the gigantic hunk of hair she snipped off!

An irreplaceable, thick chunk of his hair permanently removed. Accidental or intentional, it didn’t matter.

Ack! My mane. My beautiful, precious mane.

He couldn’t help a low rumbling growl. His eyes glinted in the mirror, the gold catching the light and reflecting it, along with his fury.

“You. Did. Not. Just. Do. That.” And yes, he might have growled the last bit.

“Oops? Did I do that? Sorry.” Said with no repentance at all. With a smirk and a blown kiss, she let her crime rain down over him in a golden, threaded shower.

And then, she ran.

“You. Did. Not. Just. Do. That.” The client who’d blatantly sexually propositioned her sounded more beast than man. His evident rage and disbelief had her eyeing the clump of hair she had just hacked off.

Oh hell. I did not just do that.
But she had. She’d cut the big guy’s precious hair.

It’s his own fault.
Off balance since she’d met him, she blamed her raging hormones—which hadn’t stopped turning giddy somersaults in her lower belly since she’d met him.

He’d walked in, and she’d gotten slammed with awareness. He spoke, and all her nerve endings tingled.

He also riled her like no man. She should hate him. Yet, instead, she wet her panties as she could so easily picture what he said.

Clawing, sweaty, hot sex.

With a guy who annoyed her and kept needling her until she snapped—and retaliated.

Treat me like a sex object indeed.

Later, she’d blame her hands for momentarily taking on a mind of their own and snipping.

At least for once, it wasn’t her mouth getting her into trouble. However, instigating it didn’t mean she’d stay to face the consequences. Not when the big guy looked fit to kill.

Listening to her sense of preservation, which screamed, “Run, you idiot!”, Kira dropped her scissors and bolted.

Out the front door of the barbershop she streaked, barely noting the gaped mouths of the other patrons, as well as those of her uncle and cousin who also worked there.

The street noise proved varied and chaotic—engines humming, brakes screeching, voices chattering, the city teeming with life—but in spite of all this, she still heard the slam of a door hitting a wall, the chime of the bells strung on it, ringing in warning.

Even more worrisome was a bellowed, “Get your ass back here, woman!”

The imp in her, which apparently harbored a death wish, flashed him a finger.

Was that a roar? People around her didn’t stumble or react, and yet she could have sworn she heard the echo of a lion in the phantom sound.

It only spurred her to run and dodge faster. By only the narrowest of margins did she manage to dart across the road just before a sluggish bus, with a stream of cars behind it, passed.

She used its bulky girth to cover her dash into the alley. Straight down, then through an open door, into a kitchen she knew well. Aunt Theona’s pizza parlor.

It smelled so damned good. The yeast of freshly made dough, mixed with the tantalizing aroma of breadsticks cooking. If she wasn’t in such a hurry, she would have stopped for a bite.

However, self-preservation kept her moving, leaping over the bucket on wheels full of sudsy water. She spun around the edge of the stainless steel counter and streaked past the hot ovens.

“Kira! What are you doing?” bellowed her aunt, elbow deep in dough.

“Can’t stop to talk. Running from an angry client,” she shouted as she skipped through the swinging kitchen doors, weaved through the white Formica tables, and popped out onto another street, the market one. The throng of milling shoppers served as not only an effective ‘Where’s Kira?’ camouflage, but meant too many witnesses for Mr. Big Shot to kill her.

Skipping through the people, Kira kept to the busiest spots until she hit the fish mart, owned by her uncle, Vince. In she popped, waving hi to him where he stood behind the counter. She headed straight to the storage room at the back. Inside the room, she took the stairs that led to the second floor and the apartment Uncle Vince had rented her when she moved out here a few weeks ago.

The perfect hideout.

A part of her couldn’t help but mock her own cowardice in fleeing the irate businessman. However, she feared more by remaining and… what? Having him put her over his knee for a spanking?

Hmm. That might have been fun, especially if a kinky paddling led to something else.

Wrong.

So wrong.

How could she even be thinking such erotic things about the most arrogant jerk she’d ever had the misfortune to meet?

Probably because he was stupidly handsome.

Despite the fact his personality left a lot to be desired, she couldn’t seem to stop an attraction to him. The asshole syndrome at work.

What was it about her that couldn’t help craving the wrong guy?

Wasn’t her last boyfriend lesson enough? He was, after all, the reason she’d come out here. To escape.

When will I ever learn?

With a sigh, she flopped onto her borrowed couch, the mismatched cushions a reminder of her messed-up life. The phone rang.

One glance at the call display and she grimaced. The hair shop. Probably her uncle calling to ask what the hell was going on. Kira didn’t know what to tell him, so she didn’t answer.

She knew her uncle wouldn’t fire her, especially not once she told them what the big guy—
Arik, a name fit for a Viking in a romance novel—
had said to her. Heck, her cousins would probably form a lynch mob to confront him. Her family had an abundance of boys, and they tended to get rather protective of their sparse female cousins. A pity none of them lived in the Midwest close to her old home. She could have used them when she was having her problem.

But Arik hadn’t yet done anything that merited their attention, and Kira had already handled the pompous businessman. No, she couldn’t tell them what had happened, but she needed to talk to someone to cool her riled emotions, and she knew just who to call.

Number one on her speed dial. As the phone rang, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“Kira, baby, what are you doing calling at this time? Shouldn’t you be working?” Her mother answered, her voice immediately concerned. Who could blame her, given the events of the past few weeks?

“I was. But something happened.” As she relayed to her mother the events, a gush of words that ended with, “the nerve of that man,” she expected commiseration.

Instead she got…laughter? “Oh my, but he sounds fascinating.”

“Fascinating? You did hear the part where he sexually harassed me, right? Or what about the fact he’s got caveman ideas? I mean come on, Mom. He claimed I wasn’t good enough to cut his hair because I’m a girl.”

“Oh please. As if that’s something new. We both know that many men feel that way. Look at most of your cousins. And what about you? I know a certain young lady who insists on having only a certain aunt trim and color her hair.”

Kira fidgeted. “That’s different. Aunt Fiona is a master when it comes to highlights.”

“Now who’s being sexist?”

“You know I called you because you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. Which is why I’m pointing out the obvious. You don’t like this guy because he’s assertive.”

“Arrogant.”

“Whatever. Yet we both know you need someone strong willed or you’ll become bored.”

“I’d say there’s a lot to be said for boring. Especially since Gregory.”

Eep. She’d said it aloud. He-who-should-not-be-named. A shiver went through her—as her ex probably walked over the grave he had planned for her—and she resisted an urge to yank the curtains to the apartment shut and check the lock on the door.

Her mother made a noise. “Grr. Don’t talk to me about that man. He fooled us all, baby. But that doesn’t mean every man is like him. There are good ones out there. Just look at your father and his brothers. Even your cousins. They would never hurt or disrespect a woman like that.”

No, they wouldn’t, but once punched, literally, often threatened, and her hair salon burned down in suspicious circumstances meant Kira was more than twice shy. She was mad, and scared, mostly because she feared the violence from her ex-boyfriend would spill over onto the ones she loved. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Even if the big guy was flirting and hinting at a date, I’m pretty sure he’s changed his mind now after what I did to his precious hair.”

After exchanging a few more tidbits of news, Kira hung up with her mother and let out a sigh. Here not even a week and already in trouble. With a man.

Could things get any worse?

Things couldn’t be any worse. Not only was a huge hunk of his hair missing from his precious mane, but Arik had lost her trail.

Him, a master hunter, evaded by a human.

His lion hung his head in shame.

It occurred to him, as he trudged back to the barbershop—with its striped spinning pole that always made him want to stop so his kitty could paw at it—that he should demand the folks working there cough up her address.

He could probably intimidate them into conceding. It didn’t take much to have humans spill their guts, especially when he used his voice and stare on them. However, while he could easily snare her location, he’d lose his element of surprise, as they’d probably warn her.

He much preferred a sneak attack.

His steps bypassed the turn to the shop and, instead, headed to the rental parking lot that held his car.

Best to pretend he wouldn’t retaliate. There was no benefit in rattling any cages for info, as it meant she would realize she’d gotten to him, that she’d managed to ruffle his fur.

Unacceptable.

Nothing fazed Arik. He was known as unflappable.

He was also wily. There were other ways to hunt a hiding mouse. Of course, before he could track her down via electronic methods, first he had to run the gauntlet at his office.

Did anyone dare say a word when he entered in his costly, Armani three-piece suit sporting a ball cap he bought from a street vendor, he who never wore a hat of any kind?

Curious gazes might have followed his path, but not a titter followed him. No one had big enough balls.

Except for Hayder, his second-in-command—the smartass—who trailed him into his office.

“Dude, what is up with the hat? When did you suddenly become a baseball fan?”

“I’d rather not discuss it,” Arik said through tight lips and gritted teeth as his fingers tapped away, logging onto Facebook and doing a search on Dominic. Surely if the man had an account, it would be linked to his family members, including one feisty woman he needed to find.

To eat.

No. Angry or not, one didn’t eat their enemy. It was uncivilized. And, yes, he intentionally misinterpreted his lion. He didn’t even want to start thinking about the certain eating his other side had in mind.

There would be no cream lapping for her.

Or him.

Meowr
. Such a disappointed sound.

A throat cleared. “Earth to Arik. Come in, boss.”

With brows drawn, Arik glared at his beta. “What?”

“I was asking what had your boxers in a knot.”

“You know I go commando.”

“Usually, but something obviously has your panties in a twist. Spill.”

Oh, he spilled all right. Arik yanked off the hat and flung it against the wall and then swiveled his chair to get it over with.

Indrawn breath. A snicker. A full-on guffaw.

Arik swirled again and tossed deadly visual daggers at his second. “I fail to see the humor in my butchered mane.”

“Dude. Have you seen it? It is bad. What did you do to piss Dominic off? Seduce one of his daughters?”

“Actually one of his granddaughters did this to me!” He couldn’t help the incredulous note. The effrontery of the act still got to him.

A thump and a shake of the wall as Hayder hit it, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “A girl did that to you?” His beta convulsed with mirth, not at all daunted by Arik’s glower and tapping fingers.

“This is not amusing.”

“Oh, come on, dude. Of all the people to have a hair mishap, you are the worst.”

“I look like an idiot.”

“Only because you didn’t let her finish hacking the rest off.”

His fingers froze as he took his gaze off the screen for a moment to address the travesty. “Cut off my mane?” Was his beta delusional?

“Well, yeah. You know, to even it out so it doesn’t show.”

A growl rumbled forth, more beast than man, his lion not at all on board with any more trimming.

“Okay, if you’re not keen on that, then what about a hair weave? Maybe we could get you a platinum one, or pink for contrast since you’re being such a prissy princess about it.”

That did it. A lion could take only so much. Arik dove over his desk and tackled his beta. Over they went with a thump and a tangle of limbs.

As he was slamming Hayder’s head off the floor, snarling, “Take it back!” to his beta’s chortled, “We’ll get your nails done while they’re weaving,” Leo strode in.

A giant of a man, he didn’t even have to strain as he grabbed them each by a shoulder and yanked them apart. But he didn’t stop there. He slammed their heads together before shoving them down.

Arik and Hayder sat on the carpeted floor, nursing robin’s eggs, united in their glare for the pride’s omega, also known as the peacemaker. Of course, Leo’s version of peace wasn’t always gentle, which was why he was perfect for the pride.

The behemoth with the mellow outlook on life took a seat in a chair, which groaned ominously. “You do know that the staff two floors down can hear the pair of you acting like ill-behaved cubs.”

“He started it!” Arik stabbed a finger at his beta. He had no problem assigning blame. Delegation was something an alpha did well.

Hayder didn’t even deny his guilt. “I did. But can you blame me? He was pissing and moaning about this precious mane. All I did was offer a solution, and he took offense.”

“I assume we’re talking about the missing chunk of hair on our esteemed leader’s head?” Leo shook his neatly trimmed dark crown. “I keep telling you that vanity is your weakness.”

“And chocolate chip ice cream is yours. We all have our vices,” Arik grumbled as he heaved himself off the floor and into his leather-padded seat—with built-in heating pad and massager because a man in his position did enjoy his luxuries.

“My vice is beautiful women,” Hayder announced with a grin, adopting a lounging pose on the floor. Felines were king when it came to acting as if embarrassing positions weren’t accidental at all.

“Don’t talk to me about women right now. I’m still angry at the one who did this.”

“I think I’m missing a key point,” Leo stated.

It didn’t take long to bring Leo up to speed. To his credit, the pride omega didn’t laugh—long. “What are you planning to do?” Leo asked in a deep rumble.

“Do?” Good question. Arik couldn’t beat the hairdresser. She was, after all, a girl. He couldn’t eat her—she’d enjoy it too much—and he doubted he could get her to eat him—even if he would enjoy it very much. But, on the topic of eating, he could make her swallow her words… Wouldn’t that be an awesome revenge?

“Uh-oh. Judging by the smile on his face, he just came up with a devious plan,” Hayder announced. “Count me in if you need help.”

Indeed, Arik had devised a perfect plan for revenge. In the game of cat and mouse, he was about to even the score.