The Artist And His Alpha Read online

  The Artist And His Alpha

  Alpha and Omega Series #3

  (Standalone novella)

  Lisa Oliver

  The Artist And His Alpha (Alpha And Omega Book 3)

  Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2016

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cover Design by Lisa Oliver

  Image credits

  © Igor Stevanovic | Dreamstime.com - Wooden Easel with Blank Painting Canvas

  © Blueperfume | Dreamstime.com http://www.dreamstime.com/blueperfume_info

  © Jozef Klopacka | Dreamstime.com http://www.dreamstime.com/jozefart_info

  First Edition January 2016

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Lisa Oliver. [email protected]

  No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.

  The Artist And His Alpha is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is a team effort, and I want to thank my brilliant Alpha reader, Phil, who let me nut out plot points, and gave me a myriad of helpful links. Then there are the lovely ladies on my beta reader team – Mary, Rebecca, Brittany, Tiffany, Diane, Cindy, Judy and Kat. You have all added a lovely polish to my story and I couldn’t have finished this without you.

  To all my readers, I hope you enjoy this standalone story - the ingredients that are in all of my stories – hot men, learning to love, no cheating and of course an HEA and no cliffhangers, they are all in here.

  Your support keeps me going every day, and I can never thank you enough for letting me know how much you enjoy the characters that come from my heart.

  Thank you

  Chapter One

  “You’re not ready yet!” Caden ignored his friend Felix, and carried on painting. He had finally managed to mix just the right shade of…

  “Caden, damn it, you are supposed to be at the exhibit tonight. We’re expected in half an hour.”

  Caden tossed a quick look at Felix. The man was certainly dressed to go out. His sharp grey suit and thin red tie made the normally handsome man seem positively drool-worthy and the outfit was in sharp contrast to the jeans and tees that his friend usually wore. But Caden couldn’t remember any pressing appointments, and it’s not as though he hadn’t blown off his friend before. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Felix expected it of him. When Caden got caught up in a project he didn’t like interruptions and his friend was well aware of that. Caden turned back to his painting.

  “You go on without me.” Caden pursed his lips, as he gently ran the mixed blue…damn, he needed the smaller brush. He turned to change brushes and bumped into Felix, who had clearly moved and was now standing right next to him. “What?” he asked, reaching around his friend and picking up the smaller brush. “It’s an exhibit. I’m sure it’s important, and I’ll get there later. You just go on without me. I’ve just got to…”

  Felix grabbed his arm, and Caden swallowed the urge to growl. He didn’t like being manhandled by anybody and Felix knew it.

  “Caden,” Felix said slowly, as though talking to a toddler, “It is your exhibit, remember? Your exhibit opens tonight and you promised you would make an appearance.”

  “Tonight?” Caden frowned. Sure, he vaguely remembered that there was a show of his works coming up, but that wasn’t for weeks. Of course, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what day of the week it was, but that exhibit wasn’t for ages. “You’ve got your dates wrong,” he said quickly, turning his attention back to his painting. That eye needed something, maybe yellow? “It’s not for at least another week. My phone would have told me, my agent would have messaged me, my alarm would have gone off.” He shook his head. “I know I get a bit carried away sometimes, but you’re the one that put these safeguards in place. You’ve got the wrong week.”

  “It’s tonight,” Felix said, tugging on Caden’s arm with more force than a human had a right too. Admittedly Felix was six foot to Caden’s five foot five, but still, Caden’s genetics should have accounted for something. “Your phone has been off for at least two days, which means you probably forgot to charge the battery. Without the phone, Marla couldn’t reach you, and so she phoned me and told me to get my butt down here. I have been threatened with grievous bodily harm if you are not down at the Cooper’s gallery in thirty minutes sharp.”

  “Are you sure it has to be tonight? I could go another night maybe?” Caden looked down at his paint-splattered boxers and threadbare t-shirt. His feet were bare and his skin was splashed with the colors currently gracing his latest work. He ran a mucky hand through his hair, and grimaced as he felt the tell-tale stickiness that indicated his normally white blond hair was probably multi-colored as well.

  “I am damn sure. Marla has got people she wants you to meet, and she promised them you would be there tonight,” Felix said forcefully. “Now get your ass in the shower, there are clothes laid out on the bed. I’ve got food and coffee waiting in the car, so you can eat on the way. Move your butt.”

  Heaving a sigh, which was totally lost on his friend, Caden took one last look at his half-finished painting and then hurried across his bare floors to the small bathroom. His apartment didn’t have a lot in the way of amenities – it was actually a huge converted loft space in the middle of a block of warehouses. Caden got it because it was cheap, large, light and airy and for the most part, people left him alone. What should have been the living area was completely covered in canvases and art supplies, except for one corner, where Caden had set up a half-screen to hide his bed. One old couch and a two-man dining table with one chair completed his furnishings.

  Turning on his shower, Caden gave thanks for his copious water pressure. The one luxury he’d allowed himself, when he sold out his first show, was a remodeled bathroom. He had a tub, which admittedly he barely used, a separate shower, his and his bathroom sinks, and heated towel rails. Most of the stuff he’d been talked into by a super-buffed plumbing salesman. Caden had a weakness for muscles, even if he preferred to look rather than touch. But the recommended plumber had definitely known his way around a pipe or two. Caden groaned as the surging water hit his head and drenched him instantly. Oh, that man knew his pipes. The water pressure was the perfect de-kink tool.

  Washing quickly, Caden ran a handful of conditioner through his hair, hoping it would be enough to dislodge any paint. Not that he was worried about what he looked like, but Marla was always going on about the importance of him projecting the right image. He was an artist who worked with paints – what was wrong with a bit of color in his hair – wouldn’t that show he had solid work ethics? He knew Marla’s idea of image, and his, were totally different.

  “Five minutes,” Felix warned from just outside of the bathroom door. “Pushy bastard,” Caden muttered. Not for the first time, C
aden wondered why Felix put up with him. Caden did not do people. He did not like people, and was barely civil to anyone he did have to interact with. But for some reason, since the day Felix had found him scribbling caricatures for money outside of the old post office, the big man had stuck by him – encouraged his art, and even bought him his first set of paints. When Caden proved he could produce sellable pieces, Felix had introduced Caden to Marla. With an agent who seriously loved his work, Caden’s life suddenly had some financial security. The loft, subsequent shows, and even showing up once a week to take Caden out for dinner – probably because he often forgot to eat and shower – were all part of a friendship that had endured for more than three years.

  The unexpected pang of gratefulness Caden felt towards Felix, for giving him a chance at a life with a future, had him drying off quickly and dressing in record time. The black pants Felix left out for him felt new, as did the crisp white shirt. Caden was fairly sure that he hadn’t owned anything quite so fine or bland in his life. Shrugging off a feeling of unease in the unfamiliar clothes, Caden battled with the pencil-thin black tie that had been laid out with the clothes, before giving up. He slipped on his boots, which were familiar at least, and went back out into the studio space.

  “You know people are going to think I’m a waiter, don’t you?” He said, holding up the tie. “And how am I supposed to get this on without strangling myself?”

  Felix shook his head, and smirked as he crossed the floor, taking the tie Caden held out. His own bright red tie was flawlessly knotted and provided a hint of color against the dark grey suit that Felix seemed to wear effortlessly. If Felix wasn’t human, Caden might have been attracted, but he’d stopped trusting people a long time ago, and appreciated the strings-free friendship Felix offered above all else.

  “You have a wonderful new coat to go with those clothes. No one will mistake you for a waiter in that,” Felix said, pointing to where a black, long leather duster was hanging by the door. From what Caden could see it was buttery, gleaming in the light and Caden didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so masculine, yet pretty in all his life. His fingers itched to touch it.

  “Since when could I afford clothes like this?” Caden asked, even as he moved out from where Felix was knotting his tie, anxious to see if the leather was as soft as it looked.

  “Since your very first show,” Felix said, tugging him back and finishing his tie with a flourish. “You still have plenty of money in investments,” he added, when Caden threw him a worried look. “A coat like this will last a lifetime, so it’s worth every cent.”

  “As long as no one steals it from me first.” Caden muttered. He worked long and hard for every stitch of clothing he owned, every bite of food he ate, and every inch of his living space. He’d grown up in a harsh world where he knew better than to take anything for granted, even ownership of a beautifully soft coat. His insistence on having half of everything he earned tucked away in low risk investments was yet another part of the safety net Caden sought to protect himself with. His life might be lonely sometimes, but he was determined to stay safe – financially, physically and emotionally.

  The coat fit perfectly, just as Caden knew it would. Felix was good with details like that. While most might think that his slight build and short stature would make wearing such a long coat a little ridiculous, Caden loved how the garment made him feel – ten-foot-tall and bullet proof. The hem of the coat kissed his mid-calf, the fit was perfect over his shoulders and the deep pockets on each side were in the natural spot for Caden to keep his hands hidden. It wasn’t easy getting paint off of his fingernails.

  “You look amazing,” Felix said, coming over and giving him a quick hug. “Now come on, you can eat on the way. Let’s get this appearance over and done with.”

  “Only an hour, right?” Caden asked as he followed Felix from his living space, his boots clattering down the steel staircase. “I told Marla I wouldn’t be there for more than an hour, and no interviews with the press at all, or pictures.”

  “You can’t remember the date of the exhibit, or to charge your phone, but you remember your conditions? Marla is not impressed with your press embargo, but she has agreed, as usual,” Felix teased as he ran down the stairs. “Meet, greet, a drink, once around the room, and then a cab will take you home, already arranged and paid for.”

  “You dating someone tonight?” Caden said, with a smile. “Anyone I know, or is this someone new, hot and exciting?”

  “Neither,” Felix said, opening the passenger door of his smart car, and helping Caden inside. “It’s my monthly trial by dinner with my aunt, remember?”

  “She’s not still trying to marry you off to a woman, is she?” Caden had only met Felix’s aunt once, and it was not a pleasant experience. The woman made Caden feel two inches tall, and barely spoke to him. Apparently art wasn’t a suitable occupation and artists weren’t appropriate friends for her nephew.

  “Once a month, as per our agreement. Until I find someone ‘suitable’ to settle down with, Aunt Gladys insists on these meet and greets. Shit, I’m tempted to marry you just to stop this monthly farce.”

  “Ha, don’t even go there,” Caden said, trying not to feel uneasy. He knew Felix was only teasing, but still… “You’d never be able to stand the mess I live in buddy, not to mention the fact that I am six inches too short and 100 pounds too light for you. Plus, I am lacking the necessary body hair you seem to drool over. Your Aunt would pitch a hissy fit at any hint of the idea.”

  Felix flicked him an assessing stare as though he genuinely was considering him, and then laughed as he focused back on the road. “I know, you’re right, but if I have to smile sweetly one more time for a woman with more silicone than muscle, I swear I am going to scream.”

  “You’re too nice, that’s your problem,” Caden said, finding the coffee Felix had gotten for him, next to a large bacon sandwich. Awesome. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten; might have been yesterday. Damn, that’s right, he needed groceries. That’s why he hadn’t eaten. Caden huffed a sigh around his thick sandwich, dripping with butter and crispy bacon strips just the way he liked it. His life would be so much easier if stuff appeared when he needed it, instead of him having to go out and buy it. He had a real anxiety problem with going out alone, even if it was just to fill his cabinets.

  “What’s got you all huffy?” Felix asked as they neared the gallery. Caden had a show there before, and if he remembered correctly, it had gone really well. While he understood the necessity of putting in the odd appearance to help make sales, his nerves didn’t do well in groups of people he didn’t know. He was terrified someone from his home pack would find him, even though the chances of that happening were next to nil. But his wolf whined in his mind, and he had to focus on his sandwich to stop any negative thoughts. It’s only for an hour, he reminded himself.

  “Groceries,” he said out loud, swallowing around his last mouthful. Damn, he could have eaten half a dozen of those. “They should just magically appear every time you finish something in the cupboard or refrigerator. I don’t have time to mess around at the store.”

  “Bullshit,” Felix said, as he pulled around the back of the gallery and parked. “In fact, double bullshit. You do have time because you honestly don’t have to paint every minute of every hour that you’re awake – you just choose to do it, and secondly, if you hate shopping so much, do it online and get it delivered weekly. You own a laptop, so don’t tell me you don’t have time. That’s your nerves talking.”

  There were a lot of things Caden could have said in response, but he bit his bottom lip and kept quiet. Felix, in his comfortable suit and affluent lifestyle had no idea what it was like to go hungry, to scrounge through dumpsters for food, and then have to fight off others that had tried to take any choice scraps he might have found. It seemed to Caden that every time he stepped outside of his apartment, he was running the risk of losing something – his clothes, his money, his virginity, or his
life. His wolf was a predator, but he’d been treated like prey since birth. It was difficult to break the conditioning of a lifetime.

  Yes, he might be sitting in a nice car now, wearing an expensive coat and new clothes. Yes, the gallery he was heading into was full of his work, half of which had already been pre-sold, but Caden was never going to forget where he came from. It was his time on the streets that kept his heart guarded and his fingers working. In his mind, money was the one thing that could give him some semblance of power over his life. His income came from the sales of his work, so he worked – hard. If he had to choose between finishing another painting and eating, then the painting would win out every time. Caden had a long way to go before he would trust the financial nest egg that Felix and Marla had been creating for him.

  Squaring his shoulders, Caden mentally prepared himself for the hour ahead. One hour, and he could get back to his latest work. The half-empty canvas wasn’t going to paint itself.

  Chapter Two

  “Remind me why we’re here again?” Sean asked his brother as he looked around the gallery, his nose wrinkling at the concentrated smells of cologne, booze, food and a slight trace of something chemical that may have been paint thinners. Admittedly the paintings on the walls were full of color and passion, but art was one of those things Sean had never bothered to learn about, and had even less interest in. His wolf just felt edgy for some reason, and Sean couldn’t pin-point why – usually he had no problem meeting new people.

  “You wanted a free meal and I promised you one if you agreed to come here afterwards. You’ve had your meal, so now you have to suffer for thirty minutes,” his brother Liam said, also looking around. “Marla, this guy’s agent, told me the artist would be making a personal appearance between nine and ten and I want to meet him.”

  “To get him to do a commission at the club, yes I do remember that part,” Sean said. “Isn’t that what phones are for?”