Alpha Lion: BBW Lion Shifter Paranormal Romance

Alpha Lion

By Zoe Chant

Copyright Zoe Chant 2015

All Rights Reserved

Samantha Holt was on hour seven of an eight-hour worknight, and she was freezing.

Her new job’s uniform came with a cold-weather jacket, but the November night was already more than it could handle. Even when she paced briskly back and forth, the wind slipped in through the zipper and over the collar and made her shiver.

It would have been easier if there had been some distractions around, or something to
do
. But there was nothing to think about all night except the cold, and how she’d reached a point where she was working night shifts as a security guard to make rent.

Security guard
wasn’t a job Sam had ever thought she’d have—she wasn’t a very intimidating person. Sure, she wasn’t a tiny little girl, but she was definitely more curves than muscle. And she might have held her own in some playground fights when she was a kid, but she was
not
a master in self-defense. Applying had been a last-ditch Hail Mary after she’d applied to thirty-five other jobs in a month—office jobs, retail jobs, food service jobs—and gotten nothing.

Even so, she’d hesitated before accepting it, because she was a little scared about what might happen to her if anyone did actually try and rob E. E. Evans and Associates. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood; police cars cruised by here and there, and she had the walkie-talkie she used to check in at regular intervals all night…but she was here all night, five nights a week, walking around a silent, empty building. She had a nightstick to protect herself with, but that was it.

She shivered and jammed her hands into her pockets. If only she hadn’t been laid off two months ago. If only she’d had more savings. If only she didn’t have to
pay rent
.

She was looking for a roommate or a cheaper place, but apparently November was a bad month for moving; Craigslist had met her with resounding silence. Even if she found something, she still needed
a
job, and this was the only one she had.

This morning, she promised herself, she’d get back on the job-application horse. She got off work at six AM, and she could take a few hours and go through the listings again. Maybe there’d be a project manager position open.

Maybe there’d be a barista position open. She’d take anything with central heating at this point.

Sam jumped as someone shouted something in the parking lot to her right. She put her hand on her nightstick. Probably nothing, but—

Someone else’s voice echoed after the first one. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they were definitely men’s voices.
It’s nothing
, she told herself firmly.
They’re out late having a good time
.
They don’t care about E. E. Evans and Associates. Or you.

Still, she tightened her grip on her nightstick as the voices got closer.

They came around the corner in a group, shoving at each other and talking loudly. There were four of them, all big youngish guys. She tried to look unobtrusive. Just a boring security guard.

The one in the lead, big and tall with a red beard, noticed her anyway. He stopped short, and elbowed one of his friends. “Take a look. Security.”

“Wonder what she’s guarding.” The second guy, shorter and with a crew cut stepped up closer to Sam. He looked her over. “Can’t be that valuable.”

That was insulting, even though it was probably true. Sam mustered up every tiny particle of confidence she had and said, “Move along, guys.”

It came out more authoritative than she was expecting, but they didn’t move. The last two came up behind their buddies and looked Sam up and down.

“So what is it?” Red Beard asked. He looked at the building behind Sam. “This a jewelry store or something?”

Sam wanted to tell him,
It’s stupid corporate stuff, I’m guarding spreadsheets and that’s it
, but it had been made very clear that she would be fired if she said anything about the company to anyone.

“I said, move along,” she repeated.

“Ooh,” said one of the guys. “She thinks she can tell us what to do.”

“We’ll move along whenever the fuck we feel like it,” Red Beard said to Sam. “Meanwhile, you tell us what’s in the building.”

He’d stepped a little closer. Sam didn’t want to provoke these guys into starting a fight, but he was getting too close.

“It’s my job not to tell you what’s in the building,” she said as calmly as she could. She broke the company rules a little to say, “It’s nothing you can steal and sell. Go have fun somewhere else.”

She drew her nightstick, clutching it tight in a sweaty palm.

“Look at
that
,” Crew Cut said, nodding to her nightstick. “She thinks she can beat us up?”

“Nobody’s going to beat anybody up,” Sam said.

She was grateful that she’d always been good at
sounding
calm in a crisis, at least. Her heart was a beating a million times a second, it felt like, and she was going to sweat through her uniform at this rate.

“What’s that for, then?” Crew Cut asked. “Let me see it, hey?”

He grabbed for the nightstick. Sam dodged, panic rising up in her chest. The other three guys were hanging back, and Crew Cut wasn’t serious yet, but anything could happen in the next few minutes.

She grabbed her walkie-talkie and said, “10-70, 10-70, I need assistance please.” 10-70 was actually the only code they’d taught her—it just meant she’d seen someone suspicious.

There was nothing in return. Crew Cut laughed. “No help for you, baby,” he said, and his buddies started laughing too.

This was the first time she’d used the walkie-talkie outside of her regular hourly check-ins. It was starting to look like she’d been right when she’d wondered if the guy on the other end just napped for the rest of the hour.

Crew Cut grabbed for her nightstick again, and she skipped backwards, still not wanting to actually hit him with it, because they were four men and she was one woman and she didn’t stand a chance against them if it came to a real fight.

Maybe she should just let him take the stick. But then what would he do with it?

Crew Cut came in again, but instead of going for the nightstick, he shoved her shoulder. She stumbled backward, almost tripping over her own feet, and they all laughed again.

Sam caught her balance, swallowed around the metallic taste of fear, and started looking for a direction to run. If she could get far enough away, she could get her phone out and call the police.

Then Red Beard caught her by the arm. “Hey,” he said in her ear.

“Let me
go
!” she shouted, and started to struggle.

The men were all laughing, and the sound filled her ears as she pulled against his grip, which felt like steel.

“Nope.” He held on tight. He had her right arm, which was holding the nightstick, but he wasn’t going for it yet.

She switched it to her left hand and swung it as hard as she could. He made a surprised
oof
noise when it hit him in the stomach, and his grip loosened enough for her to wrench free and start running.

For one long second, she thought she was free—and then she shrieked as she was yanked backward by her
stupid
uniform jacket, and fell right into someone’s hard grip. She struggled and flailed, but he didn’t budge.

“Go ahead,” he said—it sounded like Red Beard. “You think you can threaten us? You think you can—”

“
What the hell is going on here?
”

The new voice was deep and powerful, and silence fell immediately. Sam twisted in Red Beard’s grip to see if this was help or not. Her eyes were watering, and she had to blink hard to focus.

It wasn’t a cop. She’d been
really
hoping for a cop.

But even in plain running clothes, the man who’d spoken was impressive. He was tall—taller than any of her attackers by a few inches at least, and hugely broad in the shoulders. He had blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and was one of those people who was so good-looking he didn’t quite seem real. He was standing confidently and surveying them all like he was in total charge of the situation.

On the other hand, he didn’t have any weapons, and he was alone.

“What’s it to you?” Crew Cut said, after a long moment.

“Yeah,” said Red Beard. “It’s none of your business. We’re just having a little fun.”

The man ignored both of them completely, looking only at Sam. “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding concerned. “Did they hurt you?”

“Uh—” said Sam. Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I’m not hurt. They just won’t let me go.”

The whole security guard thing seemed too complicated to explain. It didn’t matter, anyway, she just wanted to
get away
.

The new guy transferred his gaze to Red Beard. “You heard the lady. Let her go.”

“Or what?” Red Beard asked. “You’re just a dude in a tracksuit. What are you going to do to us if we don’t?”

Sam could feel a tear slip out of one eye. She didn’t want this man to get beaten up on her behalf, but she
really
wanted to get away.

Please let him be a martial arts expert, or just smart enough to call the cops instead of trying to fight—

She heard a growling noise. It sounded like an animal, a
big
animal. But where—

It was coming from the man, she realized. And he was
changing
.

As she watched, eyes going wide, the tracksuit seemed to melt and blur, and golden fur sprouted all over the man’s body. His muscles rippled and grew, his body growing thicker and more powerful.

“Shit, he’s a
shapeshifter
,” one of the guys breathed, as the man shifted and changed, as his hands and feet became paws and his hair became a mane. In just a few seconds, there was a
lion
on the sidewalk in front of him.

Sam couldn’t believe it. Shapeshifters were rare, and most of them lived in remote areas of the country, where they could shift in peace and no one was around to harass them. She’d never seen one in person before, and only a few times on television—they didn’t like publicity.

Red Beard’s grip had gone slack. Sam jerked free and darted away, until the lion was between her and her attackers, then hesitated. Should she just run away?

Then the lion inhaled, its sides expanding, and let out the breath in a roar.

It felt like the loudest thing she’d ever heard. It felt like the air was vibrating with sound. The four guys broke and ran, and by the time the roar had faded from the air, they were gone.

The lion turned to look at her, and a couple of seconds later, it was just a man in a tracksuit again.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Sam couldn’t answer. Her brain felt completely blank, like she’d been focusing so hard on those four men that now they were gone, it had nothing left to do. She was panting like she’d been running a marathon, and she felt too cold and too hot at the same time.

The man took a closer look at her. “Hey,” he said, in a gentler voice, taking a step toward her.

Sam focused on him, and noticed again how impossibly gorgeous he was, how broad his shoulder were, how
big
he was all over…he was talking to her. “Can you do something for me?” he was asking. “Can you breathe with me?”

Sam blinked at him. “What?” she managed.

“Just breathe with me like this.” He demonstrated, inhaling slowly while he lifted a hand, holding it for a few seconds, and then exhaling again and bringing the hand back down.

“Come on, just breathe. In. Hold. Out…”

She breathed in, jerkily, and tried to hold it when he did, but it was hard, like her lungs were stuttering.

“That’s good,” he said, “that’s really good. Again—in,” and she followed his breath in, and held it for a second, and then out. And again.

After several breaths, she realized that her heartbeat was slowing down, and her chest had loosened up some. Her legs still felt like rubber, and there was still cold sweat all over her body, but she felt like she could think again.