Page 3 of Alpha's Claim

A needle jabs into the meaty part of my arm before I even see it coming. I stare into the eyes of the man who delivered it and detect a sadistic gleam of pleasure in them right before my vision goes dark, and my legs forget how to hold me.

Darius

Billionaires have a certain sort of smell. Not just clean human skin but the extra bouquet of expensive skin care products, rare perfumes, richer food.

That’s what my bear thinks, anyway. After years living in Manhattan, my poor animal’s nose has attuned to all sorts of city smells. It’s a relief to helicopter to the Hamptons for the weekend, even if it is to rub elbows with the crustiest of Wall Street’s upper crust. I step onto the tarmac and breathe my first clean lungful in months. The air tastes sweet with a tang of salt. Across a half-mile of manicured lawn, sunlight flashes on the wind-whipped sea.

The richer you are, the more land you can afford. My host, Thom Thompson, learned about my successful real estate investment firm, Medvedev Enterprises, and my new hedge fund, Mountain Top Investments, and invited me to this long weekend, so he can introduce me to potential clients. Thom owns a massive estate on the water between wildlife preserves.

Woods, my bear points out. He wants to strip off my human skin and lumber into the wild. Keeping him caged in has been the hardest part about living in Manhattan. Thesewoods are nothing like the wilderness of Bad Bear Mountain where I grew up, but it’s enough to remind me of what I’m missing now that I’ve made New York City my home.

No,I tell him. I can’t release him here. He doesn’t get to go romping around in a pine forest like my brothers and I used to on Bad Bear Mountain. He doesn’t get to run wild at all. Not after what he did. He can’t be trusted.

I check my collar and shoot my cuffs. I’m in my best off-hours blazer, designed to look casual while still perfectly tailored. My loafers are handmade in a small village outside of Milan. I’m groomed head to toe to fit in with the humans I’ll be networking with all weekend, the one percent of the one percent.

My one unruly feature is my thick blond hair. I get it cut every week, but I swear my bear makes it grow faster to spite me. The wind tousles it as I stride from the helicopter.

“This way, sir.” An estate staff member in a navy blue uniform takes my suitcase and guides me towards a mansion that would make Great Gatsby turn green. I brace myself, expecting the place to smell old, like oiled wood and ancient horsehair furniture, but the inside is modern.

The owner and the man who invited me is waiting in the foyer to greet all his guests. “Darius, welcome.”

“Mr. Thompson.” I shake his hand, careful not to use too much pressure. A firm handshake from a bear shifter would crush a human’s bones.

“Please, call me Thom,” he says in a reedy voice. He’s casually dressed in an outfit that costs more than a new car.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course, my boy.” Thom and I have met a handful of times, but he’s the sort who fancies himself a mentor. He makes a show of taking younger men under his wing, giving himself credit for their success, and discarding them thesecond they fall from grace. “I’m sure you’ll find this weekend instructive.” He doesn’t let me get a word in, so I settle for murmuring my appreciation as he continues. “Lockepoint has several pools and tennis courts. And the golf course. I hope we’ll be able to get a few rounds in tomorrow. They tell me it might rain.” He frowns as if the weather is an employee who needs a reprimand. Wealth can insulate a person from any inconvenience, but nature is nature.

“I’m just happy to be out of the city.”

“Yes, I’m so glad you could come to my humble abode.” Thehumble abodehe’s talking about has almost thirty bedrooms. It’s over a hundred thousand square feet, not including the guest and pool houses. “Nester will show you to your room, but don’t linger. Cocktails will be served here until six, and then we will sit down for dinner.”

More guests arrive, so I thank him and move on, following Nester up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway to a room with windows that overlook the ocean.

Let me out.

My bear is still clamoring to get out into the woods.

I placate him by opening the windows to clear the smell of billionaire. I throw each of them open and breathe in the ocean air. A breeze ruffles my hair. I swear it grows another centimeter as I stand there.

My phone buzzes, and I check the screen. It’s Teddy, my twin. “Fuck off,” I mutter and send it to voicemail. We may be identical, but we’re as different as two brothers could be. He joined the military at age eighteen, a special ops unit for shifters, and embraces his base animal nature. I stuffed my bear away and moved to New York.

Someone had to earn the money to support our family on Bad Bear Mountain.

My phone buzzes again. This time it’s Lana, my brother’s human mate. I frown. Maybe something’s wrong. When I answer, though, it’s Teddy’s voice on the other side.

“What the fuck, D-bag. You answer for her but not me?” he accuses me without a greeting.

“Teddy,” Lana admonishes from somewhere close by. She’s the sunshine to his grump. “He might be working.”

“Iamworking, actually.” I would cuss Teddy out, but Lana’s on the call. I like Lana. She’s nice. “What do you want?”

“We’re wondering if you’re coming to the mountain for Thanksgiving.”

“Aww,Medvezhonok,” I use my nickname for my brother. He hates it almost as much as he hates his full name, Theodore. “Miss me?”

“Not at all, asshole. This is about Lana. She’s planning a big family dinner. You need to come home.”

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