Page 17 of Alpha's Claim

It’s just that she’s wearing the most delectable satin shorts and cami with absolutely nothing else on, and I have the insane idea that I want to mark her right now to keep all these other fuckers off her.

Not that humans would recognize my claim on her.

And Idowant to lay my claim on her.

“Put me down!” Paloma beats on my back with her fists.

“Hold on. I’m going to get you out of here,” I tell her. I dash through the dark forest. The sky overhead is overcast, and I take advantage of the darkness to cut across Thom’s estate to find the road. We’ve outpaced the guards, for now.

I burst out of the trees onto the road. The roar of an engine tells me a car is coming.

Perfect.

A black Lamborghini roars up to us. I can tell by theway the car hugs the shoulder of the road that the driver is inebriated. It’s one of Thompson’s guests exiting the property, not a guard.

The driver doesn’t see me in time to stop, but I throw a leg out and stop it with my foot in the grill. The back tires skid to the side. The grill folds and dents around my foot.

Paloma kicks her legs. I still don’t set her down, not until I reach the passenger’s door, throw it open, and hold out my hand for the passenger inside–one of the plastic models from the party.

“Are you okay?” the drunk driver asks. He’s in a tux, still wearing his mask, which sits askew on his face. A white dust of cocaine around his nose and his date’s remind me that they were part of my tour group.

“Oh, it’s you!” the model giggles. She takes my hand, and I help her out of the car, then gently settle Paloma in her stead.

“What are you doing, man?” the douchebag in the driver seat demands.

“Get out. It’s an emergency. She needs medical attention,” I clip.

It’s not really a lie. Her reactions are slowed, I presume from the medication they gave her. Otherwise, I think she would be harder to manage.

“What? Oh, damn.” The driver’s reactions are slower than Paloma’s.

I’ve already fastened Paloma’s seatbelt and shut her door.

I jog around the car, throw open the driver’s side door, and pull the guy out of the car. He forgot to wear a seatbelt.

His bad.

I toss him to the side and jump behind the wheel beforePaloma can get her door open. She’s fumbling for it, but her reactions are slow.

I slam my foot down on the gas pedal, and we shoot forward, accelerating from zero to ninety in about three seconds.

Damn. This is fun. I keep my foot pressed down, watching the speedometer climb to one hundred. One-ten. One hundred and fifteen miles per hour.

I definitely picked the right car to steal.

Paloma’s hand is still on the door handle, like she’s considering whether she can open the door and jump out.

“Careful, princess. We’re going way too fast to survive a jump,” I warn.

She looks over her shoulder behind us at the black SUVs just now pulling out of the drive. “Yes, I see that. But they’re going to find us, you know.”

“Not if I can help it.”

I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial the number of a wolf shifter I know. Not Brick Blackthroat, the alpha who I box with at the gym, but his enforcer, Sully.

“Sully, hey,” I say when he answers. “Darius Medvedev. The, ah–” I’m trying to think of a code word forbear,but he cuts me off.

“Yeah, of course. I know who you are. What’s up?”

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