Rise of the Dark Alpha

~ SASHA ~

When the fight broke out just a few feet away, it was reflex to flinch away. But she'd tripped, disappearing into the forest of thick, muscular bodies and headed for the dirt, until her arms were caught by strong male hands, holding her elbow and upper arm until she found her feet again.

It wasn't until she straightened and pushed her hair back off her face with an embarrassed, reflexive "Thank you," that she realized who'd caught her.

Lhars stood over her, his hands still on her arms, his hair falling over his eyes so that he peered through it over the knowing smile on his angular face—a face just as handsome as Zev, she realized, but slightly thinner, slightly harder.

Where Zev was a lion, Lhars was the fox. Though she doubted either of them would appreciate the comparisons.

Then her stomach sank, because she realized she'd thanked him without thinking, and that was probably one of things Zev had meant about not giving them anything.

She straightened quickly and pulled her arms out of his grip. He let her go, but his smile widened.

He seemed completely unconcerned with the snapping, snarling fight that was taking place just feet away, instead tilting his head and holding her gaze.

She couldn't ignore him, she remembered. But she had to be very careful not to smile. Or… invite him closer.

She swallowed.

"Very good, Sasha," Lhars murmured below the level of noise from the crowd. "He's watching."

"They're all watching," she snapped back.

She'd meant it as a warning to him—but a quick scan of the nearby males revealed why Lhars' smile had broadened further.

"That's because they know they don't stand a chance against me," he said, his voice a low, husky growl, softened only by the smile.

"The last time I heard a line like that I was twelve and the boys were fighting over a candy-bar," she sneered.

But far from being put off by her hostility—or offended—Lhars only raised a single eyebrow in a question. "A… candbar? That is… a sweet?" he said good-naturedly.

"Chocolate," she conceded, off-balance because he wasn't responding the way she expected, and she wasn't sure what to do to make her intentions clear.

"The comparison is not flattering to you, Sasha. You should value yourself so much more highly than a simple snack—even a tasty one," he quipped and Sasha wanted to scream. He was supposed to be able to see that she didn't want him… not act like he was volleying flirtation back to her!

He leaned closer, "You have probably observed by now that we males never truly grow up… we simply become more discerning about the treats we're willing to fight for," he said slyly. But then his face turned serious. "Are you certain, Sasha, that my brother is the male you want? The male you need?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, warning him with her eyes. But he didn't let her continue.

"Don't be angry," he said softly. "I stepped in to gain you some breathing room." Then he opened a hand to indicate the crowd.

Sasha blinked and looked around. He was right—all the males that had been closing in on her, whose eyes had gleamed, and their bodies leaned in, had all stopped moving closer. Were giving them space. She stood toe-to-toe with Lhars, but the wall of males around her had edged back to give them room.

She didn't know whether to thank him, or scream in fear. But before she could decide, the guys nearby all turned their heads and, grateful for a reason to look away from Lhars, Sasha turned too.

Adrenalin flooded her veins when she followed their gazes to find Zev, hunched and glaring at a huddle of at least ten men closing in around him.

"No!" she cried. "Don't fight!"

He was braced and cocky, his eyes narrowed and hands held out from his sides.

"Who's first," Zev barked, flexing his hands and sinking his weight lower so he could move quick as lightening.

Sasha's hands flew to cover her mouth—he couldn't do this! They were going to kill him! Even he'd admitted that having too many of them at once was a death sentence, it was why he'd let her walk into this.

She opened her mouth to call to him, to beg him not to fight, when that familiar drawl sounded from right beside her.

"I am," Lhars snapped loudly. "Enough of this hierarchy bullshit, Zev. You want her? You have to get through me."

*****

~ ZEV ~

It was a stunning move from his brother—one Sasha wouldn't understand, he was sure. One that threw Zev into a world of confusion.

As Alpha of the wolf pack, to even speak to Zev was to acknowledge him—which meant that all the wolves had to. It immediately strengthened Zev's position in the pack. And then to challenge him instead of allowing the others to kill Zev off for him?

With that one statement, Lhars had simultaneously declared his interest in Sasha, acknowledged Zev as a contender for her, and stopped any other male stepping between them, and because he'd challenged Zev directly instead of leaving Zev to challenge him, essentially placing himself as the lower wolf on the hierarchy.

Why was his brother helping him?

Zev straightened, gaping at Lhars as the wolves between them all drew back, opening the path between the two Alphas, their pants of desire shifting to bloodlust.

Disappointed thought they might be, they couldn't wait to see who would win, and who might die.

Sadness throbbed in Zev's chest that it had come to this. That his brother's rage and jealousy might force Zev to end his life if he didn't submit. For a moment he almost grieved, almost conceded his gratitude, though it would have strengthened his brother's authority.

But then Lhars smiled and drew a single finger down the outside of Sasha's arm. A gentle touch—and highly possessive.

As Sasha yanked her arm back, rage and power exploded in Zev's chest. He flowed forward snarling, "It's your funeral."

*****

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