Alpha's Moon: A special forces shifter romance by Renee Rose (top novels .txt) 📗

hand so intimately. It feels wild and rebellious and fun. I smile up at him, and his lips kick up a bit at the corners. We walk the rest of the parking lot like that, hand in hand.

Oh God, I hope I haven’t made a mistake. I pick up my pace and trot out a little ahead as we approach my ex.

Scott sees me and pivots. “Sadie.” He touches his headset and loudly tells the caller he has to go, instead of making me wait five minutes for the call to end naturally—like he used to do when we were dating. He gives me his toothpaste commercial smile as if to say See, baby? See how important you are to me? I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Then Scott notices Deke, and his eyes narrow. It’s so obvious what he’s thinking. Another man on my turf.

I brace myself for a pissing contest. Not exactly a proud moment for me, using another man to intimidate my ex. But then Deke squeezes my hand and steps forward to face Scott, and I realize just how small and plastic-looking Scott is. Fake tan and perfect hair. He looks like a Ken doll next to a souped up G.I. Joe.

I’m going to enjoy this.

“Scott,” I say. “I got your texts. All of them.”

“Sadie.” Scott looks down his nose at Deke. An impressive feat, considering Deke is taller than him. “Is this a friend?”

“Nope,” Deke says. “I’m Sadie’s new man.” And he drapes his arm around my shoulders. I step close and lean against his chest. His very firm, muscular chest.

“This is Deke. We just met, and…well, we hit it off.” I smile up at Deke. Our gaze locks for an extra long second, and I forget to breath. Wow, he really is stunning.

I almost forget Scott is standing right in front of us. He clears his throat three times before I return my attention to him. Scott’s nose wrinkles like he smelled something rotten. “Sadie, this isn’t like you.”

I give him a mock innocent expression. “What isn’t?”

“I mean… you just met? You’re holding this guy’s hand?” He gives his head a shake, like he’s trying to erase the whole thing from his mind. “I was hoping we could talk. Alone.”

I stay quiet, and Deke squeezes me gently. I realize my fake biker boyfriend is waiting for my cue. He’s going to let me stand up for myself first.

“That’s not necessary. It’s over, Scott. I’ve moved on.”

“Sadie—” Scott steps forward, and that rumbling sound comes from Deke’s chest again. It’s a growl. A literal growl.

Scott freezes midstep.

“Take a hint, Sears,” Deke uses Scott's last name. Maybe Deke knows Scott better than I thought. “She’s over you. Listen to what Sadie’s telling you and move on.”

Scott starts to sputter, and Deke gently turns me, so our backs are to my ex. “Ready, babe?” Deke asks me.

“Yes,” I say, though I have no idea what he’s talking about. He keeps me nestled in the crook of his arm as he walks me back across the plaza towards his bike. When we reach the giant motorcycle, he releases me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Scott still watching us.

“Here.” Deke hands me something. A black helmet.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

“Your head.” Humor laces his tone. “You want to go for a ride? Just to rile him up?”

My eyes go wide, but I nod. Yes, yes I do.

He takes the helmet and puts it on for me, adjusting it to my head and fastening it carefully. My heart goes tha-thump as he fusses over the strap, his big fingers surprisingly nimble. He unlatches the side saddlebag and motions for me to hand him my big bag with the jackalope. When I do, he sets it in the leather case and threads the belt-like lock. Then he swings onto the bike, kicking up the stand and steadying it. “Hop on.”

Ok, this is happening. He wants me on the bike. I picked a biker for a fake boyfriend, and now I’m about to ride off with him with my ex watching.

Deke turns on the bike and revs it. The air shivers with the engine’s roar.

“Ready, babe?” he calls over the noise.

I’m not sure if he’s calling me babe in case Scott hears or if he’s just calling me babe because that’s what he calls women, but it makes me smile.

I take a deep breath and swing on behind him. He takes my hands and locks them around his front. I grab a handful of his soft t-shirt and feel a thrill at the hard muscles underneath.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Okay?” Deke calls over his shoulder. His cheek is curved into a grin. He’s not wearing a helmet.

“You’re not wearing a helmet,” I say. I sound like a prissy kindergarten teacher, even to my ears.

“Babe,” he says in reply, and the bike takes off with a roar. We ride right past Scott. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine his stunned rage. It is delicious. I give a little wave in his direction and then grip Deke tighter as we fly up the main drag of town—Paseo del Pueblo Norte road—and around the curve into the open night.

I never knew riding a motorcycle was so much fun. The night air is crisp and rushes all around us. Deke’s bike is a monster of leather and chrome, purring hot under me, but Deke’s even bigger. He rides with perfect ease, his big body solid and upright, blocking most of the wind. I press against him, my cheek to his leather vest. He doesn’t go too far out of town, turning down a back road to loop back. When he leans into turns, I lean with him, and the bike twines nimbly up and down the back roads of Taos.

For a moment, I think about shouting a few questions—“Where are we going? What’s the plan?”—but the sky is so vast above us, black velvet studded with