The Alpha's Fake Mate

I strode into the bar and made a beeline for the bartender who was idly polishing a glass and staring at the football game on the TV overhead. "Tequila," I ordered, my voice clipped, adrenaline still racing through me. "Give me the good stuff and keep it coming." The bartender nodded and set about pouring my order while I hopped onto a stool, seething and cursing under my breath at the encounter with the bane of my existence. Vane Harding. My wolf growled at the mere thought of his name. Arrogant, annoying motherfucker with an ego the size of Russia and the good looks to pull off such a massive ego. On the surface, he appears charming and suave, the poster boy for wealth and charisma, but only a handful of people know what truly lies underneath that exterior.  A cruel and brutal monster with no soul who took delight in crushing anyone he considered beneath him. The man who is going to be my mate. Or rather, my cold, power hungry father had sold me out to that leech in exchange for an alliance with yet another powerful pack. The Black Wolves pack, of which Harding ruled supreme as the alpha, carried enough political and financial clout to soothe my father's greedy soul, if he had one that is. As the alpha of the  pack and a sitting member of the werewolf council, my father's ambition in life was to someday become a Supreme, one of the three principal positions in the council and would stop at nothing to achieve his dream. Even if that meant crushing the dreams of his only daughter and chief disappointment, the omega who was born to a family of alphas. Omegas were the weakest of any pack, better known for their quiet and submissive traits and for my father, the leader of one of the strongest packs in Nevada, it was a disgrace to him that his only offspring was an omega.  Rather than face ridicule, my father had hidden my rank from the pack. I was sheltered, rarely allowed to mingle with others. As I grew older, I realized that to gain some freedom, I had to act like an alpha female. I'd learned to fight, stand up for myself and generally act like the world belonged to me. I had acted tough, strived to become the daughter my father would be proud of but all to no avail, as he had continued to do his best to ignore me. Until two months ago, when he had summoned me to his study to coldly inform me that Vane Harding had made an offer for me to become his mate and my father had agreed, without even asking for my opinion. I had known he didn't give a damn about me, but standing there in his study, it had finally sunk in how little this man actually cared for me. The bartender slid the small shot glass in front of me and I picked it up, knocking it back in one gulp. The alcohol burned its way down my gullet and I sputtered, shaking my head. "Another." I slammed the glass hard on the bar. I should have bit his tongue when he rammed it down my throat. I mused, though I was still slightly shocked that I'd even managed to practically crush his balls with my hand without him striking me in retaliation. Though the look he'd given me once he straightened from groaning in agony had chilled my spine. I had high tailed it out of the club without sticking around to see what he had in mind. I'd probably put Vane Harding's balls temporarily out of commission. He wouldn't be trying to f**k anyone for a couple of days at least, not with bruised balls. My wolf growled again, this time in satisfaction. That will teach him to try marking me without consent. I had no intention of becoming his third unfortunate mate, contract or no. Ugh, now I need to wash my hands. I downed the second shot and ordered another, hopped down from the stool, tucked my purse under my arm and made my way to the bathroom. I washed my hands, giving my reflection a cursory glance, and grimaced at the state of my hair. The humid New Orleans air had turned my carefully groomed dark brown curls into something that resembled a rat's nest, and my lipstick was smeared by Harding's sloppy kiss. I repaired the damage as best as I could. My hair looked only a little better even after fussing with it, so I simply gathered it back with a scrunchie. My phone rang and I dug it out of my purse. The screen showed my best friend's name. "Where are you, Jess?" Lucia demanded, her tone worried and anxious. From the music in the background, she was still at the Callan, the shifter club we'd had picked for our Friday night out. "Please, don't tell me you left with Vane the vain or I swear, I'll have you committed to a psych ward." I couldn't help chuckling at the fitting nickname. The tension eased from me and I leaned against the counter. "Please promise me that you'll do exactly that if I ever hook up with him." "Done. Now, where did you go? I got back from dancing and you'd disappeared and so had Vane." "I'm in the French quarter, some bar named Joey's. Harding tried to mark me at the club and I got so mad, I just stormed out." I had to hold the phone away from my ear at Lucia's enraged shriek. A stream of curses followed and I could easily picture the blonde with an angelic face cursing a mean streak.  "That fucker...I'm gonna castrate him and feed him his dick." Lucia was saying as I brought the phone back to my ear. "Even better, I'll hang his balls out to dry and shrivel like raisins. Are you okay?" "I'm fine," I waved away her concern. "He's probably sitting on an ice pack as we speak." I recounted how Harding had come up behind me on the dance floor, wrapped a hand around my waist, kissed me and then tried to bite my shoulder and mark me as his. I knew what he was trying to do. Once a male marked a female, it was the first step towards the two becoming mates, a sort of engagement like the humans did. Other males would know to keep away from the marked female and it would create a temporary bond between them.  This temporary bond gave the couple an opportunity to get to know one another better and see if they were compatible. If, by the next full moon, the couple still wanted to be together, the next natural step was the claiming or consummation, which involved the male marking his female again in the same spot, this time while having s*x, binding them for life. It was extremely rare for a marked female to back out of the bond, though. Once marked, a female  was more susceptible to her male's scent, always wanting to be near him, more submissive and docile towards him and the male in return became more protective and possessive of her. I have heard that s****l attraction is crazy. Knowing this, I had reacted in pure rage and self-defence, turning quickly to grab his balls, shifting just my hand into claws and just squeezed, the way Kellan, Lucia's older brother had taught us to do. Harding had groaned and doubled over, his expression filled with pain.  Best. Moment. Ever. His ever present guards had lunged for me, but Harding had held them back, rising to his feet. His eyes had gleamed with excitement, as though having a female defy his advances was a thrill.  Which it probably was. Built like a viking, sinfully handsome and stinking rich, I'm sure women were only too glad to throw themselves at him, so having someone reject his advances must be a novelty for him. "Such a sexy little spitfire," he'd murmured for my ears  alone. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you in my bed." I'd almost thrown up, but instead, I had given him my best glare. "The only thing breaking will be your d**k, Asshole." I retorted and swept past him, nose in the air. In fact, I suspected that the only reason he hadn't dealt with my constant insults and stubborn attitude was because he was bidding his time, waiting for the day he officially claimed me. I had seen his eyes flash with anger several times when I had rudely shoved off his advances. He would make me pay for each and every slight to his ego. All the more reason why I could never be his mate. He would kill me, but not before making my life a living nightmare. "Oh my goddess," Lucia breathed when I was done. "Okay, two things. First, way to go on the balls thing, Jess. I'm so proud of you. And second…" her tone became worried. "We need to find a way to stop these bastards from having their way."  My father was one of the bastards she was talking about. There was no way he wasn't aware of Harding's proclivities, but he didn't care about me. Instead, his only advice had been for me to try acting more like a good, willing mate and less like a hellion, then maybe Harding wouldn't be so hard on me. His words had hurt. I had thought myself immune to my father's indifference, but those words had torn past my defenses. There was no help forthcoming from that quarter. If I was to save myself from Harding, I had to do it on my own. I had no relatives on either side. My mother had married my father against her family's wishes and they had cut ties with her. I didn't know anyone from her side because, until her death, she had never talked about them. My father had been an only child to an only child, so I had no one to take my side against my father. Kellan, Lucia's brother, had offered to become my mate, but just three months ago, he had met his fated mate while on a business trip to Chicago and they were now mated. I liked Lizzie, his mate, and I knew how wonderful and rare it was to find the person you were destined for, so I was happy for him. "I do have a backup plan, at least there's that option." I had contemplated leaving the pack and striking out on my own, but that was too dangerous and something I kept only as a last resort. An unmated rogue female without the protection of her pack was just asking for more trouble than it was worth. It would be like declaring open season on Jessica Farstone, as every male within reach would try to forcibly claim me. I could end up in a far worse situation than Harding. "I don't like the thought of you out there on your own." Lucia replied, her voice filled with sadness. "There's got to be some other solution." But there wasn't. I'd tried everything I could think of, but that contract was binding.  Fuck. I needed more drinks. “If there is, I’m going to find it.” I said, just as the door opened and two giggling girls stumbled in, clearly drunk out of their minds. Which reminded me of the reason I’d gone out tonight. “But right now, I want to erase the memory of that leech’s mouth on me.” “ OK, give me your location and I’ll come to you.”  I gave her the address and ended the call, then headed back for my seat. The place had a few more customers now and while it wasn’t yet crowded, most of the stools at the bar  were occupied. I spotted an empty one at the far end and made a beeline for it, stopping next to a guy nursing a half empty glass of what looked to be scotch. His long legs were angled in such a way that it blocked access to the stool. “Excuse me,” I had to raise my voice over the sound of EDM music blasting from the speakers. When that failed to get his attention, I tapped his shoulder, noting how broad they were and how nicely they filled the dark blue blazer he had on, and the firmness of muscles beneath my fingers. Nice. He turned his head and I found myself under scrutiny by a pair of thick-lashed gray eyes, the color of storm clouds set in a ruggedly handsome face. Even seated, he was obviously tall, broad and muscular and I felt hot all over as my wolf sat up and took notice.  Lordy lord. He looks kind of familiar, like I’d seen him somewhere before, but at the moment, my pheromone filled brain isn’t pulling any hits. “Yes?” The single word was terse and clipped, an eyebrow raised in irritation.  I felt a different sort of heat suffuse my cheeks when it hit me that I'd been staring at him, saying nothing. I gave myself a mental slap upside the head and pointed at his legs, trying not to notice how nicely muscular they were, encased in dark tailored pants.  "Is this seat taken?" I smiled up at him but he just studied me, face expressionless. He spared a glance at the seat in question and   regarded me for a few more seconds and I resisted the urge to smooth a hand over my shitty hair or tug at the thigh-high hem of my dress.  Then he moved those broad shoulders in a shrug. "No, it's not."  "Great." I eyed his legs again, wondering if I should just step over them. Then he stood up to let me pass and my mouth went dry. I looked up, my head tilted back because he's so tall - my guess would be six-five - and yes, he was just as deliciously built as I'd assumed. Under the blazer he had on a white button-down shirt with the top three buttons undone, giving a tantalizing glimpse of tanned skin and well defined pectorals.  I'd do him, my wolf said, and I agree wholeheartedly, my legs going wobbly with lust. He looks down at me and something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone before I can decipher it. Still, it spurred me into moving before he thought I was going to spend the entire evening staring at him. I set my purse on the marble top and hoisted myself up, a feat that normally would have been embarrassingly awkward if I weren’t wearing red-soled Louboutins that boosted my five-foot two frame by a good three inches.  "Thank you." I smiled at him gratefully, but he merely nodded and sat down, our bodies so close I could catch his scent, mint and something earthy and warm. Delicious. I studied his profile surreptitiously. Thick dark hair, expertly cut, the ends just brushing over the collar of his blazer, a nose that seemed to have been broken sometime in the past, nice, firm lips that could probably make a girl lose her mind. The hands wrapped around the glass are big, yet elegant. For a moment, I lose myself in the fantasy of having those hands wrapped around my waist, or his fingers doing wicked things to my body. My wolf and I are helplessly reacting to the power emanating from him. This was an alpha’s alpha, no doubt, he probably was the leader of his own pack and I am enthralled, as no doubt countless females, wolves or otherwise have been and will be. I clench my thighs and squirm restlessly in my seat, as another heat wave suffuses my core. The stools are set close to each other and our arms brush as I squirm, the contact sending tingles over my skin. He doesn’t react in any way to the contact, simply continues to glare at his glass, a sour look on his face and my ego takes a hit. I may not be a drop dead gorgeous or beautiful model, but thanks to my genes, I know I am good looking, and other than my stubborn, overly sensitive to humidity hair and height, I inherited the best of my mother’s delicate features and my father’s eyes and nose. I have pulled my fair share of admirers over the years, even though the guys I’d had crushes on were rarely a part of that list. Apparently, the type of guys I was attracted to didn't see me as their type and Alpha Gorgeous here was no exception. Ah well. I push that thought aside and focused on trying to get the bartender’s attention. Trying and failing because the guy was absorbed in chatting up a cute redhead all the way on the other side and no amount of waving or gesturing could get his attention. Dammit. If I wanted a drink, I would have to leave my seat and walk over there. I sighed and made to get up. Alpha Gorgeous raised his arm, just a freaking arm, and the bartender instantly leaves his lady love and comes over. “A refill, sir?”  Really? I narrowed my eyes at him but his attention was on tall, dark and authoritative. Well, at least he was over here and I could chime in my order when the guy is done. “The lady wants a drink.” His voice is a deep rumble that reminds me of warm chocolate on cold snowy days. Startled, I glanced at him and met his gaze. Again, it seemed like he was studying me intently, that dark gaze spearing through me as though he could read my thoughts.  “Another shot of tequila?” The bartender asked and I tore my gaze from Alpha Gorgeous to look his way. “Actually, I’ll have a vodka martini, extra dirty, no olives.” I thought for a moment and added, “make that two, please.” Just in case I can’t get his attention again. “Anything for you, sir?” “No.”  The bartender moved off and I angled my upper body towards Alpha Gorgeous. “Thanks.” I smiled at him in gratitude. “I wasn’t expecting that.” His brows rose and he also turned to face me, looking puzzled. “Why?" "Nothing, really" Goddess, I hoped I didn't sound like an ungrateful b***h. "You just seemed really absorbed in glaring at your glass, like your worst enemy was inside or something. Rough night?" His lips quirk in what I assume is an attempt at a smile. "Something like that." "Yeah, I know the feeling." I nodded in sympathy and gestured at his scotch. "First drink?" He lifted the glass and swirled its contents, his eyes on me. "Yeah?" "Here's a tip. You'll want to gulp down your first three drinks, you know, get the sting off whatever upsets you, then you nurse the fourth drink and plan your enemy's demise." This time he actually smiled though it didn't reach his eyes. "Does it work?" "My friends and I swear by it." "And how many have you had?" He asked, just as my drinks arrived.  I eagerly grabbed the first glass and took a deep sip. I coughed and my eyes watered as the vodka did its stuff. "You okay?" He leaned close so our shoulders brushed, looking concerned.  "I'm fine." I assured him, already feeling better. "The vodka is the good stuff, burns like hell the first time down and to answer your other question, this is my fourth but I'm still kinda pissed off, hence the rush. The next one will be for planning revenge." Or escape. I added silently. I was conscious of his eyes following my moves, his gaze like little laser darts on my skin. I watched as he lifted the drink to his mouth and downed the entire thing in a few swallows. I couldn't help ogling his neck, watching the way the muscles moved as he swallowed. I wanted to lean over and run my tongue over that expanse of skin and nip little bites with my teeth…. Whoa. Hold the brakes, Jessica. Maybe four drinks was one too much, which wasn't the usual case. Werewolves are made of hardier stuff than humans and can handle alcohol much better. It usually took about twice this many drinks to get me this buzzed about a guy.  Why did this guy stir me up like that? I wondered. Yeah, he was ridiculously hot, but I'd met hot guys before but it usually took me a good while to have any s****l thoughts about them. This man, though, had me and my wolf going from one to two hundred in the space of a few minutes. "I'm Kaden." He interrupted my thoughts, setting down the glass and holding out his hand.  Kaden, I sounded it out in my head, liking the feel of it. “Jessica.” I replied and placed my hand in his palm, noting how his palms felt rough yet strong. His fingers closed over mine and he squeezed lightly.