Page 2 of Rogue Games

The fight intensifies, their snarling getting louder and attracting more attention. Instead of using his dominance to put everyone back in their place and quashing the dispute with an alpha command, Dean looks to the heavens. His dark hair brushes the back of his collar, and his eyes squeeze shut like he’s praying for patience.

Or is it control?

“Stop.” Dean orders firmly, stepping between the two men. While one wolf stands down, the other isn't clever enough to heed his warning. When he tries to rush Dean, focused only on getting to the man behind him, Dean growls, low and deadly. With a sickening crack, an uppercut to the jaw sends the contestant to the floor, out cold.

I barely saw Dean’s hands move. The man never stood a chance.

I watch, slack jawed, as Dean merely steps over him, like he’s a fallen branch and not a person, before the man's friends rush forward to help him, eyeing the unbothered alpha warily.

Raising his beer to his lips, Dean takes a long swallow and glares at the other wolf who delights at his enemy's downfall. Instead of offering him a hand up, or simply staying quiet, he appears to taunt him, jabbing a finger in the dazed man’s face.

With a weary sigh, Dean reaches out and tugs the number off the jeering competitor’s shirt, tearing it in two and dropping it into the dirt.

It looks like both shifter’s chances to win the pack are over before they've even begun.

The disqualified shifter growls, furious at his elimination, but his protests are cut off by a mere raised eyebrow from Dean. Instead of continuing to argue, and risking a fight he’ll definitely lose, he storms off, cursing about how unfair it is.

Dean's expression remains completely neutral.

He ignores the wary looks he's getting from all around him, as he gestures for the next participants to get ready to race like nothing just happened.

So, the rumours are true. He really is a cold-hearted bastard, just like his father.

This is going to make things more challenging, but we’re out of options. Homeless yet again, and with no prospect of being taken in by anyone, getting our own pack might be our last hope.

The only trace of humanity I see is when his sister greets him with a warm smile, slipping her arm around his waist. Dipping his head to whisper in her ear, his black hair falls forward across his forehead. Even as he speaks to her, he continues to scan the party over her shoulder, never relaxing. As his steely gaze drifts past my hiding spot, it seems to pause, just for a millisecond, before continuing around the crowd.

My heart pounds wildly in my chest. He can’t see me. There’s no way. And with so many scents in the air, mine couldn’t have caught his attention. I was so careful. And yet somehow, he’s aware of my presence.

Seemingly unconcerned, he continues to look around, scanning the trees closer and closer to my hiding spot. Whatever he says to his sister elicits an exasperated sigh from her before she shakes her head, but his attention isn't on her anymore.

It's laser-focused on me.

My nerves tingle in a mixture of excitement and fear. I need to leave right now. I’m about to risk breaking cover and running when a commotion catches everyone’s attention.

From the side door of the bar, next to the obstacle course, a man emerges, carrying a writhing dark-haired woman in his arms into the car park. The door bangs off the wall as he charges outside, teeth bared, his mate clutched to his chest.

I’d know that sweaty, flushed look anywhere. She’s in heat.

As her scent is caught by the already amped up males around, one by one, they turn and take chase.

Terrifying is the only word for the scene I’m watching unfold. It's chaos, as shifters come from everywhere, some fighting to get to the woman, others blocking their way and taking down as many as they can.

Yet Dean Reynolds ignores the riot starting in front of him, and keeps his eyes locked on my position.

I hold my breath, waiting to see what he does next. Except he does nothing but wait. Teeth and claws fly, vicious snarls and the sound of fists hitting flesh fill the air, as friends and packmates tear each other apart to get at the female who’s ripe for breeding.

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back to loosen the tension. He looks like he’s stretching before a fight.

I hold my breath, expecting him to enter the fray. Most of these young pups would be no match for an alpha like him. But instead of reacting like everyone else, the scent driving them into a frenzy, once again, he shocks me by simply turning on his heel and walking to a dark SUV that’s parked near the entrance. On the way, he calmly recycles his beer bottle, like there isn’t a riot going on around him.

Without a word to anyone, he climbs behind the wheel, starts the engine and drives off, completely uninterested in the carnage happening behind him. Is he mated? Is that why he’s not affected by the powerful biological urge to breed that consumes the others?

The idea doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve never heard of any woman connected to the mysterious alpha, but with access to his pack so limited, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that he’s kept her hidden.

Totally thrown by his actions, I melt further into the shadows and shift, relishing the idea of a hard run back to our make-shift camp and some time to think. The games are going to be in full swing shortly, and if Dean Reynolds rules his pack the way he dealt with those people today, I’m going to need to rethink my strategy.

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