Harder in Heels Read online

  “He’s a dancer in a club, for fucks sake and wolves can identify their mates by scent. You know that. Don’t give me any bullshit.”

  “Have you ever met an omega?” Bronson asked as he swung the car around the huge curved driveway and parked in front of Asaph’s pride and joy. “Haven’t you heard the tales about alphas and their omega mates?”

  “They’re a myth, for fucks sake. A myth told by mothers who did their best to stop alpha wolves like you and me running amuck and impregnating every woman in sight. Then condoms were invented and the stories died out.” Asaph got out of the car, and headed up the huge stone steps that led to his front door. A palm-print later and the big double doors opened. Not even bothering to take off his jacket and shoes, Asaph headed for the bar in his living room. He needed a drink if he was going to listen to any more of Bronson’s nonsense.

  “My mother told me all about it, alpha and omega matings that is,” Bronson said, when both men claimed an easy chair, and were holding large glasses half-filled with Asaph’s favorite scotch. “She knew I was alpha born before I could even shift and she’d always hoped I’d meet my true mate one day.”

  “Every shifter in existence dreams of meeting their true mate, but considering there’s over 7 billion people in the world; the chances of that happening are slim to none. To our knowledge there’re no other shifters around here. I haven’t met one since we moved to Orlando, and that was ten freaking years ago.” It wasn’t that Asaph didn’t believe in true mates, he did. But dreams were for romantics; he was more pragmatic.

  “It’s the Fates that make that decision for us, not you or me,” Bronson said easily. “I know my mate’s out there somewhere, and I figure eventually we’ll cross paths.”

  “Fair enough, and I’m willing to admit that it might happen to me, maybe one day. But the Fates know how hard I’ve worked and if I met my mate, she’d be someone that fits into the life I’ve built for myself. She’d be intelligent, know which fork to use at a formal dinner, and know how to dress as the wife of a successful businessman.”

  “You’d never even considered that your mate might be male?” Bronson didn’t sound like he was being picky, just curious.

  Asaph shook his head. “I have business interests all over the world. Orlando might be gay friendly, but a lot of the places I travel to aren’t. If the Fates are all seeing and all knowing, like so many shifters claim, then they’d know sending me a male mate would be a dumb idea.”

  Bronson laughed. “I hope you’re right, for your sake, as well as that delectable little morsel we drooled over this evening. If he’s an omega, as I suspect, then you’re fucked and not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “I haven’t taken in his scent; I’ve never talked to him; I watched him on a stage at least ten feet away. Our eyes met for a split second and he looked away, not me. Even if he was my mate, provided I don’t bump into him again it won’t be a problem. I’ll have a new girlfriend in no time; hopefully one my wolf will tolerate for longer than six months.”

  “Unless Ronan’s an omega. If he is then you won’t be going out with anyone again, except as friends.” Bronson leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “My mother told me that in an Alpha-Omega pairing, the two people involved only have to see each other for the bond to start forming. It’s something to do with our animal spirits. But there’s nothing spiritual about your human response. Your cock gets hard, your wolf wants out, you’ll do anything to be with that person even if it’s for one minute; from that moment you might just as well have claimed him. There’ll be no one else for you again unless you can find Ronan.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Asaph scoffed. “Why would the Fates, seeing as they’re who you’re claiming responsible for all this, put any alpha wolf in a position where they didn’t have a choice in mates? Every other wolf has the choice to walk away, even if they do scent their true mate. It’s not easy, from what I’ve heard, but it can be done, and those wolves can go on to have perfectly normal relationships with other people. Until the claiming bite is given, there’s no harm done.”

  “Because, my intelligent but clueless friend, omegas are meant to be protected by their alphas and the Fates make sure that happens. There’re no second chances with an Alpha Omega mating, and no chance to walk away, unless you want to spend the rest of your life sexless.”

  Asaph leaned in his chair and let out a long breath. He rarely yelled at his closest friend, but after the events of his evening, he was sorely tempted. “This is all circumstantial,” he said firmly. “We don’t even know if Ronan’s a shifter, let alone a wolf, or an omega wolf. You know how rare they are, especially males. There’s no way an omega wolf would be on his own in a city, dancing in a freaking club. No pack would allow it. Besides, I wasn’t the only one there with a hard-on tonight. You had one, so did just about every other male in the room.” He rubbed his chest and took a couple of deep breaths, in and out. Fucking wolf didn’t like that idea at all.

  “Asaph, you offered to spend over one hundred thousand dollars for a fifteen-minute dance. One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. You, who doesn’t like to shout a round of drinks at Christmas. Why would you do something so out of character?”

  “I pay for the Christmas staff party every year, and provide presents for everyone,” Asaph said, stung that his best friend would think he was tight-fisted.

  “One hundred thousand dollars, for a fifteen minute drool on a beautiful dancer.”

  There’s no need to rub it in. Maybe…nah. Probably something in the drinks. Should probably get that investigated. But what if…nah. It can’t be….

  Chapter Five

  “Will you stop banging my door!” Ronan yelled, climbing over his mismatched furniture to reach the door in question. Wanting to try out a new routine, the only place large enough was the living room after the furniture was shoved out of the way. He flung open the door, and scowled at Jeff, Marcos and Enzo standing there with matching goofy grins.

  “I’m working out,” he said, heading back into his living room. There was no point in trying to get his friends to leave. They were persistence personified; probably why their friendship lasted as long as it had. Ronan fled to Orlando after his mother’s death five years ago, and he’d met Jeff and Marcos within days of arrival. Enzo was the newest addition to their little group, but they were all as stubborn as each other when they wanted to be.

  “We bring pleas from the boss man; pizzas from Daydreams, and one has your favorite toppings,” Jeff said, looking around. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s bigger than I thought.”

  “I’m not going to stop dancing just because I’m not working anymore,” Ronan said, leading them to his small kitchen and then searching for cutlery, plates and napkins. He didn’t have a clue where they were going to sit; his table was in the spare bedroom. Oh well, it wouldn’t kill them to sit on the floor.

  Crossing his legs lotus style, Ronan grabbed the towel Enzo threw and quickly mopped his face and chest. Scenting which pizza was his, he pulled the box towards him; only after he’d taken his first mouthful did he look at his friends.

  “So, not that it’s not great to see you, but what do you want? Jeff, Marcos, you’re dancing tonight. You have the routine down pat; you don’t need my help with it.”

  “Yeah, about last night, I’m really sorry…we’re sorry,” Marcos said quietly. “We should have been with you man; we wouldn’t have let you quit and we’d have taken care of that arrogant prick who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Ronan nodded as expected. Jeff and Marcos were bigger in height and build than he was, and surprisingly agile dancers. But they were human, just like Enzo, and Ronan would never have allowed his friends to get hurt on his behalf.

  “Don’t worry about it. He wasn’t threatening me; I left because he threatened Angel and the club; I didn’t want you guys to lose your jobs.”

  “Angel said the guy offered you over a hundred grand just for a private dance. You could’ve done a lot
with the money,” Jeff said, looking around Ronan’s apartment. Okay, it wasn’t a swanky place, but Ronan fixed it up; put mirrors on the living room wall so he could use the space to practice his moves, and he was happy in his own space.

  “It wasn’t the money; it’s the principle of the thing. You know that.”

  “Still.” Enzo shrugged. “With that sort of money you could take a lease on your own dance studio.”

  “That would break a promise, a promise I made to my dead mother not to let strange men touch me. Now leave it, guys.” Ronan threw down his pizza slice, his hunger gone. After five years his mother’s death still hurt and he wouldn’t tarnish the memory by becoming a plaything to the one specific type of man his mother warned him about.

  “You mean you haven’t…you don’t ever…you’re a virgin?” Enzo whispered the last word as if it were a curse. Ronan felt his face heat up and he glared at the sexy man.

  “So what if I am, it’s not anyone’s business. And besides the money was for a dance, not a free pass to my derriere.”

  “Then why didn’t you…?”

  Sugar sticks. It was at times like this that Ronan hated the fact that his friends didn’t know about the shifter world; didn’t understand that because of his lowly position in that world, that if the arrogant wolf with more money than sense had used his power, then Ronan would have been putty in his hands. He struggled to think of a human explanation that would help his friends understand.

  “He gave me a bad vibe. Made my gut all twitchy and he was intense, you know. Like real intense.” Fudge buckets. Now he was channeling his inner teenager. But…it worked.

  “Hey, if you had any worries about your safety, then you did the right thing. I’m telling you, some of those private dances can get pretty hairy.” Jeff and Marcos shared a look. They were often requested as a pair, but sometimes Jeff, the prettier of the two, was asked to dance alone. Neither Marcos nor Enzo liked it when that happened.

  “So you all set for the show tonight?” Ronan asked, keen to change the subject. “If Angel takes out the middle pole for your part of the show, most people won’t realize anything’s different.”

  “They won’t because you’re going to be dancing too,” Marcos said with a huge grin.

  “Angel didn’t accept your resignation, told that guy Bosch neither you nor the club was for sale, and barred him and his friend from the club for life,” Jeff added.

  Ronan felt a spark of hope, a spark that had died a natural death when he’d walked away from the job he loved. But then he remembered what he was facing – one, possibly two wolves.

  “I’m not sure it’d be safe to go back,” he said hesitantly. “I want to; I never wanted to leave in the first place. But if those guys know I’m still working there….” He trailed off, not sure how to word his objections without his friends thinking he was due a trip to the loony bin.

  “How’re they going to know?” Enzo asked. “They’ve been banned; if any of the bouncers see them hanging around the club then they’re going to call the police.”

  “And besides, pretty as your ass is, at the end of the day they were just two drunk businessmen who got caught up in your performance. They’ve probably forgotten about it by now; or are so freaking embarrassed they wouldn’t dare show their faces near the club again,” Marcos added.

  Oh, Ronan knew those two wouldn’t be forgetting him in a hurry, but his friends were right. Mr. Bosch had a position and a reputation to maintain. Going to the Albion was a fluke, a sheer fluke and after the way he’d been treated, Ronan was sure the high and mighty wolf shifter was hardly going to risk being kicked out a second time. Ronan smiled and said, “Did you bring your work out gear? You gotta shift some pizza before the performance tonight, boys.”

  He was still laughing as Jeff and Marcos groaned, reaching for their back packs. In the friends’ department, he was truly blessed.

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks later

  “This is fucking ridiculous,” Asaph roared, the instant his inner office door closed. His fingers clenched around his car keys and without thinking about it, he threw them against the far wall, the bang and tinkle not making him feel any better. He could see nothing but red; could hear nothing but the sound of his blood pounding through his veins. His muscles tensed and he wanted to lash out at something…anything.

  “Having trouble?” Bronson and what the fuck…Asaph turned to see a second man sitting next to his friend. A wolf. A strange wolf. Asaph felt his animal stir in response and he growled.

  “I wouldn’t do anything stupid, if I were you,” Bronson said cheerily. “This is Shaman Waters from the Miami pack. He’s come in for just a few days at my request because I’m worried about you.”

  A shaman. Shit. He’d been raised to treat any shaman with utmost respect. Asaph ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Shaman Waters, this is an unexpected pleasure. Bronson didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  “Apparently not.” There was warmth and understanding in Waters’ green eyes. “Take a seat my son, and let’s see what’s going on with that animal of yours.”

  “Here?” Sitting behind his desk, Asaph cast a worried look at his office door. Beatrice could come in at any time.

  “No one will disturb us,” Waters said smoothly. Asaph huffed out another breath. Have to trust a shaman. They could render you impotent if you didn’t, at least that’s what Asaph’s father had told him. Although the way things had been going since he’d seen Ronan, it wasn’t likely to make a lot of difference in his life. His latest lunch date confirmed that horrible fact.

  “Now, I understand your animal side is getting a bit aggressive, and you’re finding him difficult to control,” Waters continued.

  “I’m Alpha born; aggression is understandable and controllable.”

  “In normal circumstances yes. However, your friend tells me you’ve recently sighted someone, a young male dancer I believe, and your condition has worsened since that time.”

  My friend has a big mouth, Asaph thought angrily. “It has gotten worse in the last two weeks, but I recently broke up with my girlfriend and it’s probably because I haven’t found anyone to replace her. You know us wolves and our sex drives.”

  “Hmm,” Waters said, and Asaph was sure the man was fighting a smile. “And how’s that working for you? I mean you’re a handsome man; you have plenty of money, a solid position in the community. I imagine women are falling all over you in an effort to get into your bed.”

  Shit, crap and fucking hell. Asaph knew any lie would be scented in an instant. “I’ve had plenty of offers. But my wolf has become a little…picky.” Fucking near asexual more like it.

  The Shaman shrugged. “Our spirit half doesn’t have to approve of anyone we take to bed, Asaph, you know that. Otherwise all of you men would be virgins until you met your mate. And from what Bronson tells me, you’ve had no problems with your human partners before.”

  “My wolf seems to have done something…to my equipment….” Fuck it. Spit it out. It’s a Shaman you’re talking to. “I haven’t had a hard on for anyone since breaking up with Leticia.”

  The Shaman sat quiet a while, his face still sporting a silly half grin. And then he said, “A lie, how interesting. So who has your equipment worked for after you and this Leticia broke up?”

  Asaph glared at Bronson, who had the commonsense not to look happy at his embarrassment. “No one of any consequence, Shaman; Bronson and I went to a show in town that same evening. One of the dancers was very provocative. Both of us were hard thanks to the experience, but we left shortly afterwards.”

  “You got kicked out of the club because even after offering that delectable young man a whole heap of money, he still refused to share a private dance with you. Your interesting way of twisting facts without lying is no doubt why you are such a good businessman.”

  “Thanks.” I think.

  “And you didn’t scent him, you haven’t spoken to him, and you have
n’t touched him. Just caught his eyes for a split second.”

  “No. Yes.”

  “And your equipment, as you so delightfully call it, isn’t working anymore – at least with other people?”

  How the hell does he know? Asaph got plenty of erections all right, every freaking night. But the only one filling his thoughts when he tugged himself off was Ronan. If he wanted to climax, it was the only fantasy that worked.

  “No.”

  “I see. Well, thank you.” The Shaman stood. He was shorter than Asaph, although he had a healthy set of shoulders. In a suit he looked like any other businessman. It was only his eyes, and a prominent white streak through his black hair that made him look a little different.

  “You’re leaving?” It was Bronson that asked, but Asaph was curious too. He didn’t like being ambushed in his office, but now the Shaman was here, surely he could be cured.

  “There’s nothing I can do for you Asaph. You’ve been hit by the mating pull, which means that this young man is clearly an Omega. A pack-less Omega and that worries me. Your wolf is choosing to be aggressive, with you and everyone you try to get close to. That’ll get worse. Alphas can go either way when they refuse a mating – aggression or pining to death. I’m honor-bound to notify the council because it’ll only be a matter of time before you go feral and will need to be restrained. My biggest concern is the Omega. This bond you’ve already formed will impact him too. He’s going to need a lot of support to ensure he stays strong and healthy. Losing a mate can be tragic and most omegas don’t survive. Since you haven’t been near him, with luck and support from his own kind, he should be able to lead a productive life and even find a partner one day.”

  “Feral? Restrained? Mate? What? How can you possibly know that man is my mate?” Asaph was losing it; he could feel his wolf surging in him, stronger than ever before; determined to be free and as soon as he was free, his fucking animal would head straight to that club trying to track Ronan. Asaph hadn’t dared let himself shift since the night he’d seen Ronan.