Alphas on the Prowl (5 page)

He sighed, nuzzling her neck, kissing a slow path from her nape to her ear, his breath like warm silk against her skin. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. And from today on, you’ll never have to.”

Isabella rolled over and stretched her body over his. “Good. Because I’ve got an incredibly gorgeous wolf in my bed, and I have no plans of letting him go.” She nipped his bottom lip and ran her hands down his back, smiling as he shivered from her gentle touch. “Now, shut up and kiss me.”

His large hands came around to grip her hips, and he pulled her against him possessively. “As you wish.”

About The Author

Catherine Vale has been writing fiction for as long as she can remember, but it wasn't until she wrote her very first paranormal romance story that she found herself hooked on the raw, edgy love affair of shifters, vampires and other dominant alpha males, and the captivating women that love them. 

Catherine Vale writes both contemporary and paranormal romance for readers who are willing to take a walk on the wild side of love. Her stories always include powerful alpha males, smart and sassy heroines and a happily-ever-after (even if she often puts her characters through hell to get there!)

Do you want to know when there's a new release? Special offers, giveaways, free books and more! Find out more at
http://www.CatherineVale.com
and subscribe to her newsletter to receive notifications whenever a new book is released!

Looking to connect?
Like Catherine’s Facebook Page at
http://www.Facebook.com/CatherineValeBooks

Gina Kincade

Gay Male Shifter Erotic Romance

Micah gazed out at the sienna, sun-baked rocks surrounding the deep canyon. The rich green-gold of the vegetation edging the topmost crust where he stood belied the arid climate. The morning air was still a touch damp, but it was dissipating even as he stood and breathed deeply, meticulously filling his lungs to capacity each time.

He sighed, mentally chastising himself once again for the failure to realize his own feelings, what it would mean for him to be without the life to which he'd grown quite accustomed. He'd not imagined the piercing ache that would burn deep within his chest, stealing his very breath away each time he thought about where he'd been and what he'd tossed away. He'd been such a fool, waited too long. He hesitated, and he had lost too much.

He moved closer to the edge, cautious as he balanced on the precipice, his feet now absorbing the scorching heat from the sandstone. He swayed gently from side to side, his hips dancing in an unknown rhythm as he attempted to lessen the sizzling of the softened skin that webbed between his toes.

He refused to hesitate any longer. He was done with self-doubt and its repercussions. His eyes swept the flat-bottomed surface over a hundred meters below, stretching across the gorge in almost the same distance to the other side. It was more than perfect.

Spreading his arms out from his side, heart thumping beneath his rib cage so hard his chest moved in time with its beating, his body arced as he turned, making the final decision, and nose-dived off the cliff.

* * * * * *

Jason had been watching from the cover of the trees as his ex-lover grappled with some unknown internal conflict. He'd wanted to go to him, to tell Micah it would all be okay, they could work out whatever it was together, but he'd forced himself to stay back, out of sight.

Micah didn't want him there. He'd made that clear the day he'd left, and Jason wasn't about to intrude on the man's solitude.

He knew Micah would come here, just as he did every morning as the sun began its ascent into the sky and the mist of the night's dew had begun to lift from the trees. It was beautiful to watch the opening of the morning, the shadows of light that played on the trees, the moisture that clung to their branches looking as if it were being lifted by some invisible hand and pulled into the sky above, sparkling crystals rising to the Gods. The glory of the morning affected the great feline within him, but Jason resisted its pull.

Jason often came to watch Micah's daily cleansing ritual in the past. He always stayed back in the hiding spot he'd found one day, tucked amidst the tall trees and outcropping of rocks on the canyon's edge. He would rather Micah never know he'd been there, observing him. Today, Micah seemed different somehow. Jason wasn't sure why, or what that difference could be, but his gut told him there was something odd in the other man's behavior. Something was off, but what?

Heaving a sigh, Jason stepped sideways, his view of Micah obscured for the moment, and leaned forward to peer over the edge of the chasm just as a strangled cry rang out. A high-pitched screech followed moments later.

Jason was momentarily startled by the sudden noises, but quickly forgot about them as his attention was drawn over the gorge, the cause of the racket becoming clear. He watched as a huge shadow crawled up the side of the rocky walls across from where he stood. The sound of airborne, beating wings met his ears and he recognized the flight-bidden harmony of the bird now moving across the cloud-dotted sky.

Another long-winded screech echoed, bouncing off the high walls as the brown-winged vision rose on the imperceptible breeze, its wingspan just shy of four feet across. The graceful beauty of the American eagle was pronounced as it soared across the mouth of the canyon and skirted the trees on the opposite side. The bird climbed higher into the rising of the bright yellow globe moving slowly upward in the white-blue sky.

His earlier thoughts of Micah were forgotten for the moment. The negativity he'd felt seemed to disappear with the presence of the beautiful feathered creature. Jason stood and stared. He would never tire of the vision, watching the ritual of a bird in flight. Something about them just caught his eye. It pierced into his heart and out poured feelings of peace and serenity he'd never found with any other animal, even his own kind.

* * * * * *

The August heat and humidity were getting to him, making him agitated, edgy. But then, so was his loneliness. Micah threw on a T-shirt and grabbed his running shoes, then closed the sliding door behind him. Starting down the familiar pathway, he admired the reddening of the evening sky, its hues laced with lighter and darker shades by the sun as it began to disappear on the horizon.

He loved his evening walks. Taking the same route every night didn't bother him. In fact, he enjoyed the routine. Now, however, he walked alone. It was his choice. He was the one who had decided to call it off. To "take a break and think things through," he'd said. Micah didn't entirely regret the decision. It had helped him realize what he was missing in his life, what it was that he really wanted: a commitment. A life with that one person who made him feel whole, who loved him faults and all, regardless of what he was, forever.

Micah felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as a pang of guilt burned through his chest like wildfire. He feared he had taken too long to make his decision, now. It was driving him crazy watching them together.

At least, he assumed they were together. The subtle touching seen through the large bay window while Micah stood by the tree the other night seemed to indicate they were. He'd stood just out of sight, in the shadows where the light from the back door that fell upon the yard didn't quite reach. When he'd seen them sipping a glass of wine, laughing and having a very obvious good time, he'd figured it meant he had lost out on his one true love, the one he wanted as his life partner.

Not knowing what to do about it, and being quite naturally shy, Micah had done nothing up until now. He just continued this same nightly routine of walking through the woods, down the path past the glittering pond where they had shared so much. So many memories had come to mind when he'd sat for a while and stared into the water, watched the way it rippled silently as the gentle flow from the river beyond it leisurely fed the pool.

Memories washed over him of the night they'd lain in that very spot and made love in the moonlight, on the thick, soft grass by the side of the bed of water, watching the cattails swaying in the gentle breeze of the spring winds as they gathered for that one last storm before summer. That night when panther and great bird had traversed the packed earth and the sky above in perfect synchronicity, aligned on the ground as in the air. That was the last time they were together as lovers, too.

They'd spoken a few times over the last few months, about items left at the other's house they needed. About certain concerts they had agreed to go to but were not now, so what Micah should do with the extra ticket. They'd discussed giving the trip to Hawaii to Micah's older sister and her husband as an anniversary gift, and agreed perhaps it was best. The two men wouldn't be enjoying that trip, either.

Micah let a loud sigh escape his lips as he came to the large tree where he'd stood every night since he'd made his little announcement. He resumed his position of previous evenings, the grass at the base beginning to show deep depressions where his feet rested each night, flattening the lush vegetation.
God, I miss him. What the hell am I going to do now?

He leaned against the nodular bark of the aged timber and lit a cigarette, praying Jason wouldn't see the ember in the darkness beyond the house. Micah took a long drag and stared at the big picture window of the cottage where his ex-partner lived. Thick wooden logs made up the sides and the roof. Last summer, they had built the wrap-around porch and it still shone with the stain they'd applied to the wood. The glow from the windows falling upon the well-kept grounds made it a picturesque sight.

He stood, his back to the rough bark, remembering the night they'd met up again at Modene's Roadhouse three years ago, gotten drunk, and laughed at all the things they reminisced about doing when they were younger; the stupid things mostly. The two of them had grabbed a cab to Jason's place, figuring Micah could walk the distance to his place from there, but instead they had ended up in the living room of the newly built cottage.

They'd been intimate once before that night, as teens fresh out of high school, but never really had a relationship. That first night in the cottage, with Jason kissing his neck from behind as he pressed his hardness into the fleshy part of Micah's ass through his jeans, sucking his ear lobe and breathing the heat of his body into Micah's hair, was the beginning for them.

Micah recalled everything from that night, despite the fact he'd definitely had way more to drink than his usual three-beer maximum. He brought to mind the feel of Jason's chest under his hands as he'd removed his shirt, and the way it felt to kiss his chest, tracing a path down to where Jason's cock pressed tightly against the zipper, almost bursting out of his jeans. He moaned at the image presented in his memory.

Micah couldn't help thinking of the way Jason's hard shaft had rubbed against his as they'd stood pressed together up against the wall just inside the bedroom, Jason's pre-cum slowly trickling between them, mixing with his own to coat his groin with the clear fluid and making the two of them slippery against each other.

As the light came on in the living room window, Micah snapped out of his reverie and strained to see who was there tonight. He felt an aching pang of jealousy rip through his chest, making the firmness behind his shorts begin to rapidly deflate. Was Jason alone or did he have a guest again tonight? Was it the same guy he'd seen there all week, the one he was sure had stolen Jason's love from him? It was his own fault, he knew, but that didn't make it any easier to him, now.

Micah had finally decided to share what he'd concluded during that time away, and to tell Jason how much he'd missed him. Micah was determined that no matter what, even if Jason had moved on, he had to confess how he felt. Jason deserved to know and Micah couldn't live one more day without telling him, even if it meant he had lost him already.

Micah had to see him. Had to look upon Jason's face with its chiseled cheekbones, the soft, full lips disrupted by the hard-looking chin and well-kept goatee Jason always insisted made him look dignified, rather than the ruffian look that Micah felt was only amplified.

He loved that goatee–now–as much as Jason did. Loved the way it chaffed and tormented him as Jason took his hardness into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive underside, cheeks hollowing with the pressure of his suction. The way its narrowed peak tickled at the puckered, sensitive skin of his ass, the tightness of his balls and scrotum, with each motion of Jason's head.

Not that it was the only reason, of course. Micah loved it mainly because Jason delighted in it so much, took such good care of it, kept it trimmed and tidy. And it really did look good on him, much to Micah's chagrin.

Before Jason, Micah had never been with someone who had facial hair. He just hadn't liked it, didn't like hair anywhere, in fact. Micah preferred his partners clean-shaven, like he kept himself, both on the face and the genital area. Smooth skin just seemed so much more enticing, attractive, and clean to Micah, but Jason loved that damn goatee. He refused to part with it no matter how much Micah begged him, and eventually, it just grew on them both…literally.

Jason had remained insistent about it over the years, but graciously conceded to the removal of hair at the base of his cock and around his balls. Micah figured the latter was probably the best he was going to get, so finally he left it alone, and just appreciated Jason's consideration of even compromising at all to Micah's benefit.

Watching the window closely now, Micah saw Jason walk to his computer desk, stoop to recline into the black leather office chair and begin typing an unknown correspondence. He continued to watch, keeping an eye on the area he could see by the doorway to the living room, hoping to find out if Jason was alone or not. After a short while, Micah decided he was fairly confident no one else was in the cottage tonight. Good.

Sucking in a deep breath, his fingers gripping the bark of the tree to steady himself for a moment, Micah pushed himself away from the cover of the thick forest and stepped out of the shadows into the light spilling from the house, expecting Jason would notice the figure on the lawn right away. When Jason didn't, Micah assumed whatever he was writing had his full attention and certainly must be important if he was so engrossed.

He casually made his way up the flat rock path through the grass, stepping on each stone individually and remembering the day they'd put these in. It had been hot and humid, not unusual for a July day. They'd hopped into Jason's light blue, GMC Sierra pickup truck, after Jason deciding he wanted the flat rocks as part of the landscaping down the yard to the tree line and the path beyond, and gone to the quarry to pick out each piece by hand.

Micah had enjoyed the time with Jason, as he always did, regardless of the hard work it meant he'd had to do. He always reveled in the projects Jason came up with, learned to over the time they'd been together, as it was a great way to burn off the stress and frustrations of his daily life. He truly missed the sometimes hair-brained ideas Jason would develop, some of which he'd often questioned the 'why' of it all until the task had been completed and he'd seen for himself the beauty of the project. Jason always had an uncanny way with design and Micah had a deep respect for the other man's visions, now.