Filed to story: The Alpha’s Pen Pal Book
Fists fly and hits are blocked, neither of us yielding or getting a hit in. Or not physical hits, anyway.
“Maybe you should put in extra hours at the gym instead of trying to get laid so much,” he says, lips twitching.
“Maybe you should try to get laid instead of making ridiculous bets with everyone all the time.”
His jaw ticks and he frowns, and I take my shot, shouldering him in the gut and tackling him to the floor. It’s a cheap move, but in recent years, the mention of his self-imposed virginity pledge bothers him more than it used to. He doesn’t attempt to get out of my hold, though; he just taps the mat, surrendering right away.
We both jump to our feet and square off for our third round. This time, he doesn’t let me get the jump on him. He goes straight for the knockout. His fists meet my body in precise strikes, hitting specific spots on my body he knows will weaken me. I have no time to react or defend myself because he’s too damn fast, and in a blink, I’m on the mat again, pinned in another chokehold.
“Fuck it, you win!” I say, gasping and wheezing, and he releases me.
I stay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, panting and cursing in my head.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Sebastian coos, squatting next to me and patting my cheek.
I swat his hand away and turn onto my side, rolling my eyes.
“Now, if I recall correctly, our last remaining bet was if you broke one of your ‘rules,’ then I got to set you up on a date. An actual date, where you take her to dinner and talk to her and get to know her. A date with no sex at the end of it.”
“Hmph.” I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees, avoiding his eyes.
“Is that correct or not?” he pushes.
“It’s correct,” I grind out through my clenched teeth.
“Great!” He jumps up and jogs to our phones. “Here,” he says as he comes back, messing around on mine and tossing it to me before going to the water station.
I snatch it out of the air and find he’s downloaded the Date-To-Mate app to my phone. The account name is “CookieMonsterBeta,” and my entire profile is already filled out with likes and dislikes and everything else the app asks for when you sign up.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, turning the screen to him.
“Your profile,” he replies, cool as a cucumber, sipping water from his cup as I glare at him.
My jaw drops open to the floor of the gym. “You made it for me?” He nods. “When?”
“Five years ago, when we made the original bet. I’ve been managing the account on my phone, updating the profile every so often, and finding matches for you, anxiously waiting for this day to arrive.” I glare at him, jaw clenched, my hand in a fist to keep from punching him. “What’s the matter? Did I answer the questions wrong?” he asks.
“No, they’re all fucking correct!”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“They’re all correct!” I repeat, and he laughs. “Am I really that much of an open book? And come on, did you have to include that Rapunzel is my favorite Disney princess?”
“Girls love that shit.” He shrugs. “You have several recent matches, but I think TearinItUp is the one.”
I tap on the profile he mentions as he walks into the locker room. I don’t bother to look at any of it, instead typing out a message to ask her on a date.
“I’m so going to regret this.” I sigh, closing my eyes and hitting send before I can change my mind.
TARYNEvergreen trees sprinkled with snow rush by me as my feet carry me through their midst. The sharp, cold air stings my face. The scent of pine and snow and early morning sun is refreshing and invigorating, encouraging me to keep my pace as I finish this last leg of my morning run.
My thighs burn, but it is a good burn, a burn you get from a solid workout, from an energizing run. I’ve started my day this way for years now—since the day of my first shift—and on the days I skip it, I can tell the difference in not just my physical energy but my mental energy too.
I crest over the final hill and the large, luxurious craftsman-style packhouse comes into view, the sprawling lawn holding a fresh dusting of snow, resembling a powdered donut. I pick up my pace, the finish line of my personal race in sight, and let out a tiny “whoop!” as I reach the front steps.
I slow to a jog, and the image fades, the virtual reality program sending a signal to the treadmill that the workout preset is complete. I detach the VR headset from my face, turn off the clip-on fan, and hop down from the machine, grabbing my towel and dabbing my sweat-soaked face as I look at the view from the enormous windows in the packhouse’s gym.
It is the same view I had during my run, but I enjoy it much more from the inside than I do from the outside. That’s why I use the VR workouts instead of running through the forest in the mountains—it’s too damn cold out there for my taste, and I prefer the warmth of the indoors, thank you very much.
I am a Southern California girl at heart. I’d take the beach and sometimes sweltering heat over the snow and frigid temperatures any day of the week. But family is important to me, which is why I moved to Silver Ridge after my parents passed away. So I could be with my aunt—my mom’s sister—instead of alone and without any family in the pack I grew up in.
The other pack members here think it’s odd I rarely run in the forest with them; most of them do a run out there at least once a week. I don’t mind it in the spring and summer or early fall. But this is only my second winter living here, and with Silver Ridge being at a higher elevation than any other pack in the state, my ass is always frozen during the snowy months.
And my toes.
“Time?”
I glance at the treadmill, checking the timer. “Fifty minutes,” I say, turning to my best friend Blake as she crosses the room. “You?”
The crisp air outside tinted her pale cheeks with pink, clear evidence of her morning run. She never shies away from running in the forest. I think she’d run out there in a blizzard if Alpha Dominic let her. The white stripe in her otherwise black hair comes loose from her ponytail, falling into her dark gray eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the window, smiling.
“Forty-nine minutes and one second,” she says.
I sigh and roll my eyes, but walk to the whiteboard and add a tally mark under her name. “We’re tied now.”
She unfolds her arms and stands up straight. “What? No way. I should be in the lead,” she says as she walks to the board.
I chuckle and shake my head. Not that it matters. There is no prize, no end goal. It’s all for fun, a game she and I have played for the last six years, both of us challenging and pushing the other to be better, to show those who thought we couldn’t do it that they’re wrong.
“The board never lies, Shrimpy,” I say.
Her sharp elbow jabs me in the gut, and I grunt, knocked to the side by her hit. Her strength still surprises me since she’s so much smaller than most female werewolves in her human form. But then again, her wolf is huge, which is part of why she’s so strong.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?