Alpha Betrayed: A Dark Shifter Romance

JULIET

For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not worried about shifting or fighting or training or scheming or outsmarting the many people who want me to fail at this school. All I'm thinking about is beating Catherine to the other side of the pool in a freestyle race, jumping off the highest rock formation, and trying not to get caught staring at Ford. Not staring at him at all isn't an option because holy hell, the man looks good with no clothes on. Even better than he did before, in fact.

He's bulked up, but added a little fat to his frame, too, just enough to make him look healthy and strong instead of like some half-starved body builder. The lean, hungry hollows have left his cheeks and his already bootilicious backside is now a thing of thick and gorgeous beauty.

Seriously, I could write a sonnet about his a*s, and I'm not a sonnet-writing girl. He's the one who's good with words, the one who practically writes me a poem with his eyes every time I stare at him a little too long.

I can feel his eyes on me now, and I want to turn and glance over my shoulder so badly it hurts. But it's a good hurt, one that makes my blood hum and my body sing as I lift my arms and dive backwards off the rock, hearing Catherine and Layla's cheers just seconds before I plunge into the cool water.

I let myself sink deeper than I have before, feeling the perfect pressure of the ocean all around me, like a hug from Mother Nature, promising everything is going to be all right. Growing up on the coast, I've always felt a closeness to the sea. The smell, the spray, the sweet relief of cool waves on a steamy summer day, all of it feels like home in the best sense of the word.

I exhale the last of the air in my chest, letting the bubbles float away and the last of my tension seep from my weary muscles. By the time I pull back to the surface I'm more relaxed than I've felt in days and my skin is glowing a soft pink again. "Dude, look!" Layla points to my arm. "It's happening. You're shifting."

I shake my head with a little laugh. "Nah. It's just a thing that happens when I'm feeling happy. It's happened a couple times before, but I didn't shift after."

"But maybe you can," Ford says from his perch on a rock about a foot beneath the waves at the water's edge. His hips are submerged enough to conceal his c**k-and the a*s I'm having way too many steamy thoughts about-making it easier to focus as he adds, "Maybe you just need to keep relaxing and feeling good and just...melt into the shift instead of muscling into it. Maybe that's the phoenix way."

"Melt into it," Layla repeats as she treads water. "You might have something. I melt into my bear sometimes. Like this." She lies back, floating on the surface, her entire body going limp. "I just give into the rise and fall of my breath and the warm rush of my blood in my veins and..."

She goes full furry, her adorable black bear form floating on the surface for a moment before she lets out a playful roar and sinks under the waves. Not long after, she's swimming toward Ford, who scoots over to make room for our now much-larger friend with a grin.

"Yeah, like that," he says, his grin softening as he glances my way. "Just give in to the warm rush, Jules. I can come help you if you want. Hold you while you float or...whatever else you need."

I narrow my eyes on his but can't bring myself to get too worked up about the off-limits flirting. Catherine and Layla aren't stupid. They figured out Ford and I aren't "just friends" a long time ago, but they haven't pried. They seem to sense that it's complicated. And it is. My connection to Ford is complicated in many ways. But in some ways, it's also pretty simple. He's a boy who makes me very aware of all the good things my body can feel. And he's a friend, one who meant it when he said he'd do whatever he could to help me survive what comes next. He's proven that in the past two weeks and earned my unwavering loyalty in the process.

And my affection, I'll admit it.

I just...like him. A lot. So why not let him help?

"Okay," I say, gliding toward him with a breaststroke pull, with my head above the gently bobbing waves. "Hold me while I float?"

His brows shoot up. "Really?"

"Really." My lips hook into a smirk as I stop a few feet in front of him, treading water. "That was a real offer, right? Not just lip service?" "Absolutely real," he says. "I just didn't expect you to take me up on it."

"I'm not always stubborn and determined to do everything all by myself," I say.

"No, not always, just on days that end in Y," Ford shoots back, making Catherine laugh from her perch on top of the diving rock. "Yes, let him hold you while you float, J," she says. "And I'll send joyful vibes down to the pool while I meditate."

Layla lets out a soft bear roar.

"And Layla's going to nap in relaxation solidarity," Catherine says. "I think that's what she said, anyway. My bear is a little rusty." Layla lets out another groan that sounds almost like a laugh as she sags onto the rocks at the edge of the pool and closes her eyes.

"All right, let's do it. Lie back, I've got you." Ford eases off the ledge, coming to stand in the shallow water at the edge. But even the shallow water rises nearly to his shoulders. The pool is deep and the ocean cool. If I catch fire, I'll be put out long before I can hurt anyone.

The thought gives me comfort as I stretch out onto my back and open my arms, so my palms face the rocks overhead. I stare at the nearly perfect circle of sunset orange and purple sky as Ford's hand settles under my shoulders. A beat later, his other hand comes to cradle my a*s, making my pink glow flare a little brighter.

"Just relax," he says, his voice muffled by the water in my ears and the smug grin curving his lips. "I won't let you sink. You can let go of everything and just melt."

Melt...

It would be so easy to melt for Ford, for his kind eyes and smartass grin and the possessive, but reverent way he touches me. He makes me feel beautiful and special in a way no one else ever has.

I'm also pretty sure that he loves me. Or that he thinks he does, anyway.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

I don't have much experience with love. My father didn't love me; he took pride in ownership of a clever daughter until a better option came along. My grandmother loved me, but she wasn't around much, and obviously my mother couldn't give a shit. She's still in Montreal and hasn't sent so much as a "good luck in the trials" text or email my way. (I got my Lost Moon University student cell phone on day two, and I'm sure she has the number.)

My friends are the ones who taught me what love was, but even my closest, dearest friendships don't feel like this.

As I relax into Ford's hands and close my eyes, I sense how deep we could go if I gave in and stopped fighting. We're in a big empty room right now, with nothing but possibilities inside, but we could fill the space with memories and pleasure and devotion. And then we could lay together atop of our love like dragons guarding a treasure we know can never be stolen, not as long as we keep the promises we've made.

And maybe, eventually, it wouldn't matter that it all started with a chemical reaction or a dash of stardust or whatever it is that puts the fate in fated mates.

Right now, with my heart light from playing with my friends and my blood rushing from how good it feels to have Ford's hands on me again, it doesn't seem quite as impossible as it did before. It probably will again tomorrow, in the cold light of day, and tomorrow night, on my last sleep before the trials, but right now...

Right now, I let myself imagine how good it could be to believe.

To hope.

To melt into this man who holds me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever touched.

And then it happens, as easy as plucking a daisy from a field of wildflowers. I shiver into a thousand dazzling pieces and come back together different than I was before.