Torn Between Two Alphas: Howls Romance Read online

  Torn

  Between Two

  Alphas

  Marianne Morea

  Coventry Press Ltd.

  Coventry Press Ltd.

  Somers, New York

  http://www.coventrypressltd.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Marianne Morea

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions of thereof in any form whatsoever without written permission.

  ASIN:

  First Edition: Coventry Press Ltd. 2019

  Printed in the USA

  “Everything in the world is about sex…except sex.

  Sex is about power.”

  Oscar Wilde

  Chapter One

  “Our tickets arrived this morning. I can’t wait! This time next week we’ll be in Costa Rica.” Jillian squealed. “I can’t wait to get out of the dreary cold and into some real sunshine. My tan is fading as we speak.”

  “What tan? It’s winter,” Nick Stanton replied, scrolling absently through his phone.

  Jillian looked at him. “Uhm, from the tanning beds at the club. They only go so far.”

  “Hmmm,” he muttered.

  She chucked a crumpled bar napkin at him. “Nicolas, are you listening to me?”

  “Costa Rica and your tan. I heard every word, Jillian.” He glanced up, locking his phone.

  “Well?” She picked up her martini glass, giving its bright pink contents a swirl.

  He shrugged. “Well what?”

  “You’ve been inattentive one too many times this past month, Nicky. What is going on with you?” She pouted. “And don’t tell me Marcus, again. For all the time you spend with him these days, I swear that lawyer of yours might as well be your girlfriend.”

  He exhaled, his gaze taking in the pretty brunette and her pseudo-permanent sulk. Jillian Morell was gorgeous. At least by Fashion Avenue standards. In truth, she was too slender. Bony even. The kind of model-thin that looks good in photographs, but only because camera angles and padding made it seem like they had a shape.

  Jillian was good for business. She played the game well, and since he spent the better part of five years working the society set to grow Red Oak’s portfolio of assets, he used her as much as she used him.

  “Marcus is not only my personal attorney, Jillian. He also represents Red Oak and all our properties. You know this. There are matters being dealt with you haven’t a clue about, so please, back off.”

  Nick exhaled. Superficial. That was the perfect word to describe their relationship. Artificial. The perfect word to describe her. Even sex was about show, at least on her part. Jillian was human. No matter how dramatically she faked climax, his shifter nose knew better.

  Early on he tried to discover what lay beneath her powdered and polished exterior only to find Jillian was about as deep as a puddle. Shallow and materialistic, and happy to be so.

  His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the number on the screen. “I have to take this. Excuse me.”

  Nicolas got up from the table, gesturing to the server for the check before turning for the relative quiet of an alcove near the bar’s entrance.

  “I’m on my way, Marcus. I need to drop Jillian home…or in the river…whichever tempts me first.” Nick smirked.

  “I’ve warned you about her, Nicky. You may be a wolf, but that one’s a she-devil. I’ll wait for you in the downstairs lobby of my building. Don’t take too long. We have a lot to discuss. Clock’s ticking.”

  His lawyer hung up and Nicolas stuffed his phone into his pocket with an exhale. Like he needed another reminder of the axe hanging over his head courtesy of his father’s final attempt at controlling an errant son.

  He walked back to the table, watching Jillian check her lipstick in a blinged out compact. She smiled into the small, round mirror, angling her head as if interested and concerned. Half the expressions she used on him and everyone else were as practiced and perfected as her makeup.

  Clock’s ticking.

  He exhaled again. He had no one to blame but himself for the choke hold his late father held on his life. He had to meet Marcus tonight. There was no getting away from the facts and no putting it off.

  The bar was suddenly claustrophobic. He got to the table and slipped his coat from the back of the chair. “Something came up, Jillian. It can’t be helped.” He fished in his wallet to pay the check. “Do you want me to drop you home or are you okay taking a cab?”

  Lips tight, she put down her drink. “You’re always rushing off. We barely see each other anymore. We need to talk about the trip.”

  “Yeah, about that. We’re going to have to postpone Costa Rica,” he replied.

  “What?” She slammed a hand on the table. “For heaven’s sake, why?”

  He looked at the angry frown pulling at her perfectly lined lips. “Because I have a deadline, Jillian. I thought it could be pushed back, but it’s impossible. Not that you care or would even try to understand.” Dropping the money for their drinks on the table, he shrugged. “Like I said. It can’t be helped.”

  She straightened her shoulders and then stood from her chair. “Well, at least you said postponed, not cancelled. Can you give me an idea of when we might be able to go? I’ll have to call the travel agent.”

  He inhaled, shaking his head. Jillian didn’t even pretend interest why. “After my birthday, I guess. One way or the other.”

  “So…a month, then?” she reiterated.

  He didn’t answer, just held out his hand to help her with her coat. “I’ll drop you home before I head to my meeting.”

  Shoving an arm into one sleeve, she pushed his hand away. “I’m not going home.”

  “C’mon, Jillian. I told you it can’t be helped. Why don’t we do something tomorrow just for fun? Meet me at the Central Park Zoo.” He flashed a cajoling grin. “I’ll buy you a balloon.”

  She made a face. “I’d rather have my teeth drilled than walk around the zoo in this weather. Or any weather for that matter. For the life of me, I will never understand why you like that smelly place so much.”

  “Animals, Jillian. Their beauty is uncomplicated. Simple. Unlike their two-legged counterparts,” he replied.

  Snorting, she picked up her purse and stuffed it under her arm. “Simple? Maybe once they’re turned into a fur coat.”

  “Wow,” he said, walking behind her as she stormed past. “I’d change hairdressers if I were you, Jilly. Unless you were aiming for a stark two-toned look.”

  Jillian stopped short. Her hand flew to her head, before she jerked to check her look in the bar’s mirrored wall. “What the hell are you talking about, Nicky?”

  “Nothing you’d appreciate, Cruella. Then again, that nasty streak is you to a tee. He walked out, ignoring her dagger eyes as he left.

  Chapter Two

  “Nicolas, are you listening to me?” Marcus Styles frowned, closing the folder on his lap. “This situation isn’t going away simply because you choose to ignore it.”

  Traffic crawled along Fifth Avenue. Horns blared in the bottleneck, but Nick kept his gaze on the falling snow from his window at the back of the limousine.

  Lacy flakes seemed silver in the twilight, giving the city an almost magical appearance as the car inched toward midtown.

  He pressed the button on the privacy panel and lowered the divider between front and back. “Go through the park, Dave…and take your time.”
/>
  The driver answered with a nod and clicked the car’s turn signal to merge into the lane for Central Park.

  “Time.” Marcus sniffed. “Ironic, considering time is the one luxury you don’t have. You do realize your thirtieth birthday is in a month’s time?”

  Nicolas sat back with a sigh. “So you keep telling me. Are you my attorney or the town crier?”

  “I’m your friend, Nick, but I’ll be whatever is necessary to keep your butt in gear and your eye on the prize. You’re about to lose everything. Your inheritance. Your position as Alpha of Red Oak.”

  “I know,” Nick replied with a sigh.

  Marcus ignored him. “Your father was very explicit. You need to be mated by the time you turn thirty or you forfeit everything. Not only the money, but your status, too.”

  “Status.” Nick snorted. “You make it sound regal. The truth is my great-grandfather won our status in a blood challenge. A fight. Something certain members of the Red Oak clan still won’t accept.”

  Styles looked at him. “That’s because EJ Hart’s claim is just as strong as yours. Or so some think. The blood challenge your great grandfather fought with EJ’s great-grandfather wasn’t sanctioned by the elders at the time, but your great-grandfather had good reason. That’s why no one challenged the outcome.”

  “If none of the elders disputed the outcome, then why is Hart acting as if he’s already Alpha?” Nicolas shot back. “Rumor has it he’s even chosen his council.”

  The lawyer lifted a hand. “Your father’s will and what it stipulates is no secret, Nicky. EJ is simply strategizing. He’s doing what anyone in his position would do.”

  Marcus paused at the indignant flash in the young man’s eyes. “Look, I’ve known you since you were born, Nicky. You’re a good leader. Red Oak has prospered under your guidance, but you’re reckless.”

  “Reckless?” Nicolas balked. “Wouldn’t you be if you faced hostility every time you tried to steer your clan into the modern world?” Jaw set, he looked out the window again. “Decisions had to be made and I made them. It’s called progress.”

  A smirk pulled at the corner of Marcus’s mouth. “And I suppose Jillian qualifies as progress?”

  Nicolas shot him a dirty look and the lawyer chuckled. “Don’t be so defensive. Perhaps saying you’re reckless was a bit unfair, but you do have a devil may care disregard for tradition and protocol, and I guarantee that’s what makes clan members question your ability. Especially the older ones who remember Darnell Hart and why your great-grandfather Milo did what he did. Darnell was more bully than alpha.”

  “I am not a bully,” Nick ground back.

  Marcus shook his head. “No, but you don’t pay attention to the finer points of governing a pack the size of Red Oak. The unspoken rules. Your father knew you’d leave tradition in the dust in order to shake things up, your way. That’s why he put the five-year stipulation in his will. He thought a mate would ground you.”

  “Ground me?” Nick huffed. “More like shackle me. I don’t have time to be mated, Marcus. There’s too much to do. There has to be a way around this.”

  Shaking his head, the lawyer tapped the file on his lap. “Sorry, Nicky. Like I’ve said, the contract with the council is ironclad. If you don’t mate and EJ does—” he shrugged, letting his words trail off but not his meaning.

  “Fuck. So, what do I do now?” Nicolas raked a hand through his hair.

  Before Marcus could answer, the limo driver jumped on his brakes, skidding on the wet snow as they turned into the park. Jostled, both men pitched to the side, the sudden lurch spilling the file from Marcus’s lap to the floor.

  “Sorry about that,” the driver’s intercom chirped. “New York City pedestrians are the worst. They love to dart between cars.”

  Nicolas bent to pick up the scattered folio, stopping when he came to a grainy, black and white photo of a girl stapled to one of the detail sheets.

  Her image was in profile. A surveillance shot taken unawares from a distance. She was attractive, with a messy bun at the top of her head held in place by a pencil. A full sensuous mouth spread in a warm smile as she poked the glasses at the end of her nose. Not to mention the pretty line of her jaw, and the subtle tease of cleavage beneath her cardigan.

  Nicolas stared for a moment more and his inner wolf perked up. She had real curves. Not layers of clothing creating a lush illusion. He was intrigued.

  There was something in the woman’s eyes that held his interest. Even in black and white he noted the telltale dual-natured ring circling her irises. If the photo had been color, he had no doubt that ring would have showed flecks of shifter gold.

  “You know,” Marcus began. “Henry Tudor seized the crown of England in the battle of Bosworth in 1485, and his line is still on the throne of England.”

  Nicolas glanced from the photograph. “What?”

  “I’m talking about lines of succession, Nicky. You could learn something from history.” Marcus sniffed.

  Nick handed the detail sheet and the rest of the papers to Marcus’s waiting hand, the picture of the girl included. “Leave it to you to quote some obscure historic fact before landing your plane. Make your point, professor. I’m all ears.”

  “Professor, indeed.” Marcus chuckled. “It’s what I should have been, but we aren’t all lucky enough to have a trust fund following us.” He shrugged. “C’est la vie. Still, I can’t complain. Lawyers make bank.”

  Nick smirked. “In this family they do, and lord knows you’ve earned every penny. Your counsel has been indispensable over the years. Even if you have to bang a gavel on my thick skull from time to time.” He exhaled. “Still, I’m tired of defending myself and my line.”

  “And so, you should be,” Marcus replied. “By all accounts, Darnell Hart was a tyrant and your great-grandfather Milo did right by challenging him. It’s unprecedented that an Omega should supplant an Alpha, but not unheard of. Desperate times called for desperate measures.”

  The lawyer made a face. “Good thing shifters have extreme longevity. It gives us an edge, so we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.”

  Nicky snorted. “You would think.”

  “I remember Darnell Hart. That man wouldn’t recognize a selfless notion if it bit him in the balls. I can’t say I know much about his great-grandson, though.” Marcus shrugged. “Maybe EJ is more like his mother’s family. They were honest, hardworking people. Nevertheless, you need to act quickly, or Hart will step in and take what’s yours, and there will be nothing I can do to help. In the meantime, I’ll try and dig up whatever I can on the man.”

  Nick smirked. “Getting your hands dirty yourself this time?”

  “Hey, when it comes to protecting this family, I do what’s necessary.”

  Nick’s grin widened. “Wow, how Mafioso of you, consiglieri. Listen, I know EJ. Not well, but enough to know he’s not a bad guy. Circumstances notwithstanding, I think he’d make a good alpha. If he wasn’t trying to steal what’s mine, we might actually be friends.” He lifted a hand. “Not that I’m ready to hand over my place as alpha or anything.”

  “Good guy or not, your great-grandfather Milo challenged Darnell Hart to a trial by blood and won fair and square. The only ones who took issue with the outcome were parasites on Hart’s payroll. His enforcers and the like. Their meal ticket dried up the moment Milo took over.” Marcus pulled a face. “Your father and grandfather spent their lives building on the new foundation Milo won with his own sweat and blood. Now it’s your turn. It’s time for you to ante up, Nicolas.”

  Nicolas glanced at the thick file on Marcus’s lap. “Something tells me that file isn’t spur of the moment. You’ve been scheming.”

  “Not so much scheming as thinking, which brings me to my earlier point. Your grandfather tried to smooth over old grudges by giving disgruntled pack members a place on his council. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out quite the way he expected.”

  “Spit it out, Marcus. Whenever you get tha
t look on your face it means you’re about to tell me something I’m not going to like. You say ante up like I’ve been a playboy these past five years. I work, too, you know.”

  Marcus’s fingers toyed with the edge of the file, a slow grin spreading across his lips. “Not a playboy, huh? How many times have you appeared on the society page with some skinny model type on your arm? You’re a shifter, Nicky. We like a little meat on the bone.”

  “Gimme a break, Marcus.”

  The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had five years of me cutting you slack so you could sow your wild oats. You might not be a playboy, but you’re enough of a gambler to see the benefit of what I’m about to propose.”

  “What are you up to, old man?” Nick asked as the limo maneuvered through the snow heading toward the east side. “I’m not going to challenge EJ Hart to a blood fight, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Not at all. I’m thinking of you and Henry Tudor. He found a way to unify a divided England after one hundred years of war and you can do the same.”

  Nicolas raised an eyebrow. “Your nose has been too long in the history books, counselor. What the hell does a five-hundred-year-old king have to do with me?”

  The lawyer grinned. “Patience, boy. Your thirtieth birthday is around the corner, and you must mate. We know this. Plus, you want to stop the questions once and for all on the legitimacy of an Omega’s line serving as Alpha.”

  “Stop summing up for jury and just tell me.” Nick exhaled.

  The lawyer looked at him. “You need to marry a Hart.”

  Marcus’s words were so matter-of-fact, Nicolas blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he replied.

  Nick’s mouth went slack. “I heard the words, Marcus. What I’m having trouble with is you actually said them out loud. Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, and if you thought about it for more than half a second, you’d see the genius of my idea. It’ll work, Nick. Trust me. Henry Tudor married the daughter of the slain king York king and unified England. The monarchy was no longer Lancaster or York. Instead they were united, and the Hundred Years War finally came to an end. You can do the same thing. The Harts will no longer question the Stratton line and vice versa. Not when both Stanton and Hart blood run through the veins of the next heir.”