Alpha’s Desire: 6 (Bad Boy Alphas)
Alpha’s Desire: Epilogue

SIX MONTHS LATER

Jared

I’m in a suit. Yes, you heard that right. An actual, fucking suit. I’m standing outside the warehouse like a goddamn maître d’. Angelina is somewhere inside right now, flitting all over the place like a mad woman, answering the million questions being fired at her by her company dancers and the pack members I hired to help make her debut run smoothly.

She can invest in real theater tech staff in the future, once we’ve fine tuned the production and know exactly what she needs. Or we can keep it just pack, which Angelina seems to love. Probably because they treat her like a goddamn princess, or they know I’ll smash their faces in.

Trey arrives in Angelina’s car. I sent him on a last minute run to the store to get more refreshments for the post-performance reception, because, well, Angelina didn’t realize how much pack guys eat.

“You gotta see this.” Trey smacks my belly with a folded newspaper.

I unfold the Daily Star to the Tempo section on top—the arts / events weekend section. There, on the cover, is my girl. She’s flying on a rope in a dramatic split, one leg on the rope, the other pointed straight to the floor. The headline reads, Local Dance Troupe Debuts AngelWolf, A Must-See Production.

Trey points at the byline. “That was the reporter Angelina hoped was coming last night.” Angelina’s company had done a live dress rehearsal performance last night for Amber’s foster family group. Angelina had asked us a million times if we’d seen a reporter at the show, but neither of us could say for sure.

I grin like a fool as I read the copy.

Choreographer Angelina Baker takes dance to new heights in her dramatic production AngelWolf. The interactive production combines contemporary dance, performance art, and circus tricks for a thrilling show that will please all ages.

According to the program, the recent University of Arizona graduate put together the performance based on a vision she had of “bringing dance to the masses.”

The quality and creativity of the show rivals the calibre of big-budget performance audiences might find in Las Vegas or New York City, yet Baker created the show on a shoestring budget, largely with volunteer labor.

“My hope is to establish this show as an ongoing performance so I can provide employment to the talented dancers and performers right here in Tucson,” Baker said in an interview prior to the show.

The article goes on to describe some of the performances of the show, naming favorites and praising performers.

“Thanks, man. I can’t wait for Angelina to see this.” I beam at Trey as if it’s my performance receiving the accolades. “I’m going to run and bring it to her before the show. Will you hang here at the door?”

Trey nods and I jog through the performance space. If I weren’t a wolf, it would be difficult to find her in the maze we’ve created out of moveable walls, but I follow her scent and find her standing outside the dressing room, in a group hug / huddle with her dancers.

I clear my throat and they jump apart, giggling. “I want you all to know, the Arizona Daily Star thought you were a big hit last night.” I wave the paper.

The dancers grab for it and huddle around it, but Angelina throws herself at me, wrapping her long legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. She kisses my ear. “Thank you,” she breathes.

I shake my head. “Don’t thank me. This is all you, baby. Your dream. Your vision. Your brilliance.”

“You made it happen.” Her voice is clogged.

“No, I just helped it get started. You did all the rest.”

She kisses my ear. “I love you.”

I lower her to the ground. “Baby, I have something for you.” I shove my hand in my pocket. “I was going to wait until after the show, but suddenly it feels like I should give it to you now.” My throat goes dry.

She looks up at me with her big, trusting gaze. “Is it a present?” She bounces on the balls of her slippered feet.

“Yep.” I pull the little ring box out and crack it open. “You’re already mine, according to shifter law. But I thought you might want something to show the parents. You know, so they understand I’m serious about being your man.”

Her eyes widen at the emerald cut pink diamond set in gold.

“I, uh, got it because it reminded me of your ballet slippers. I mean your tights.” Oh fates. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut. Who buys an engagement ring to match ballet tights? I’m a fucking idiot.

But she laughs, tears welling in her eyes. “I absolutely love it!”

My heart starts beating again. “You do?”

She slips it on her finger. “It fits perfectly. Can I start wearing it?”

My throat closes up and all I can do is nod. “I understand if you don’t want to. I don’t want it to give you blisters when you’re on the ropes or anything.”

She slips it on her ring finger and stretches out her hand to admire. I catch her fingers and bring them to my mouth.

“Hey you two lovebirds!” Trey calls down the hallway. “Channel four and nine are here and want to know where they can set up their cameras.”

Angelina and I give each other matching holy shit looks. “I’ll take care of it.” I squeeze her hand. “Good luck. I mean merde.” I love knowing the inside term dancers use to wish each other a good show. I love knowing everything about Angelina’s life.

“Thank you!” she calls over her shoulder as we split, departing swiftly in opposite directions.

The parking lot outside has transformed. Tank, one of my packmates, and his mate Foxfire have jumped in to help direct the parking, because cars are streaming in from all directions. The lot is full, as is the street in front of the warehouse.

Television crews are unpacking their cameras from vans, double parked behind our vehicles.

Jackson, Kylie, Kylie’s cat shifter grandmother, and their toddler arrive with other pack friends Sam and Layne. Jackson greets Angelina’s parents in the parking lot. I stand a little taller as they approach, as if it might help me measure up to her parents, but they’re all smiles tonight.

“Did you see the article in the paper?” her dad says to me, like we’re old buddies. We’ve definitely been trying to get along over these past few months. I’ve joined their family’s Sunday dinners. Once I fanagled them an invitation to a barbecue at Jackson King’s place last month, I seemed to have proven my worth. Especially because afterward, Jackson agreed to invest heavily in Angelina’s dad’s company.

I smile and nod. “Yes, what Angelina’s doing here is going to be a real money maker.” I speak in the terms that matter to him. “And prove her creative worth to the world, as well.” That part is for her mother.

They both beam.

“Come on in, I saved you a front row position for the first performance. I lead them in with the others, allowing them to skip the growing line of ticket buyers.

“We’re going to sell out,” Trey murmurs to me.

I love that he said we. I’m in total gratitude for all the support the pack has given this show. Garrett closed Eclipse for the night so all the staff and patrons would come here tonight instead. He’s opening it later for a post-performance party—invite only.

“Your girl is blowing it out of the water,” Garrett says with a huge grin as he walks by. Once I marked Angelina, he accepted her into the pack, no questions asked. Even though she’s a human.

I’m truly humbled by the support of my alpha and long-time friend.

Hell, I’m humbled by the glory of every day spent as Angelina’s mate. It just gets better and better.

Angelina

Istand on the stage for a standing ovation, a bouquet of white roses tucked into my elbow, trying not to cry. Over to the right, I spy my college professors. I can’t believe they came! One of them’s even smiling at me.

But the truth? I don’t even care what they think. I wouldn’t have cared if they hated it, or even if my parents hated it—which I know they didn’t because they were the first to stand up.

All that matters to me is that I fulfilled my vision. Something I wanted to create—for me. For my friends.

And I did it all with the support of the most wonderful wolf in the universe.

All the rest? Gravy.

And there’s a lot to brag about. We performed to a full house. Tickets sold out through next weekend. Television coverage, newspaper reviews. Opening night already covered the majority of our expenses, other than what Jared put into this, which he refuses to allow me to repay.

I take a bow and turn on the mic. “Thank you all so much for coming to our debut performance. We hope you enjoyed the show.”

The cheering picks up again. Whistles, hollers. Those are from the shifters.

“We’re honored to have our friends, family, and former teachers here to support us. I’m especially honored to have the support of one special person in my life who helped make this happen.” My voice wobbles, but I push forward. I need to say this in public, in front of God and everyone. I will never, ever be ashamed of Jared and I don’t want him to ever believe such a thing again.

“The man who gave me this ring tonight and asked me to make it official.” I hold up my hand and the huge ring winks in the spotlights.

My mother’s mouth drops open.

My friends and Jared’s pack start cheering and the rest of the audience claps politely.

“Jared, will you come up here?” I blink into the lights, not sure where he is, but then I see his big form moving through the crowd. He climbs the stairs to the stage and walks forward, his cocky swagger firmly in place, the way it was the day I met him. I grab his lapel. “This man let us use his warehouse, and he transformed this space for the show. He’s encouraged me every step of the way, and he’s always cheering us on. Thank you.”

Jared hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me up against him for a kiss.

The audience whoops and cheers and I laugh when he holds me a moment too long.

Jared grabs the mic. “If you liked the show, tell your friends! These dancers are going to make it a permanent thing.”

I lean over to speak again. “Thanks for coming. Good night!”

Right on cue, the house lights come up, everyone’s talking. Bodies start moving.

I don’t notice any of it, because Jared’s gone back to our kiss, melding his mouth over mine, licking into my lips.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs when he finally lets me up for air. He leans his forehead against mine. “You’re a goddamn inspiration.”

“And you’re a hero,” I tell him, looping my arms around his neck, offering up my lips for more kissing. Because, yeah. I just got engaged.

To the wolf of my dreams.

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