Vulfen Alpha's Mate
After a disastrous blind date, Ellie Bradley enjoys dessert and hot kisses with a mysterious waiter, who turns out to be wealthy Russian businessman Rylek Sidarov.
Rylek, Alpha of three vulfen clans, was waiting tables as a favor to his chef uncle. He never thought he would find his fated mate in the human world, but there is no mistaking Ellie’s intoxicating scent. At the end of a blazing encounter, danger looms and Rylek goes against his strong vulfen instinct to send Ellie away
unclaimed for her own safety. Unable to give her up, Rylek offers
Ellie a choice to accept him and be his beloved mate—or never see him again.
Discovering a mate is a gift for Ellie and Rylek both, but human hunters, a vulfen traitor and the complications of navigating a new culture all conspire to threaten their new mating bond and their lives.
Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 33,701 words
VULFEN ALPHA’S MATE
Vulfen Cadre 1
Laina Kenney
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
VULFEN ALPHA’S MATE Copyright © 2011 by Laina Kenney E-book ISBN: 1-61034-437-5
First E-book Publication: May 2011
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Vulfen Cadre 1
Ellie suppressed a sigh and sipped her wine. The restaurant, Sidarova, was beautifully appointed, the waiter polite and attentive, the dinner perfect. Even her hair was perfect for once, the thick black curls settling into the elaborate updo with no trouble. Her makeup was subtle, just enough to set off her clear blue eyes. With strappy heels and a new black silk cocktail dress, Ellie had been pleased by the woman in the mirror.
The only thing wrong was her date.
It could hardly get worse, she reflected. She wanted to trade in her date for the waiter. She would be willing to bet money that the gorgeous, broad-shouldered waiter never droned on and on about his healthy bank account and his vintage silver corvette. Dear Lord, with a body like a medieval warrior, hair and eyes as dark as midnight, the waiter wouldn’t have to speak at all for women to fall all over themselves trying to attract his attention. But when he did speak, that hint of a Russian accent would drive any woman wild.
“—and then I had her reupholstered. All genuine leather,” Henry said proudly. “Dark red leather, and with the silver exterior, she’s a real showpiece—”
His high, nasal voice seemed to fade into the background again as
Ellie spied their waiter coming toward them.
The waiter’s long, straight black hair was loose, and he had removed his tie at some point and left the top button undone, she noticed. His crisp white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves now to expose tanned forearms dusted with black hair. There was the tiniest hint of dark hair visible at his throat, and Ellie shivered at the thought of her large breasts with their sensitive nipples nestling in his chest hair. She did love a man with a hairy chest. There was just something so deliciously primitive about it.
She glanced across at Henry, still happily talking about his car. He didn’t even seem to notice that her attention had wandered. Nope, not the slightest hint of chest hair on Henry. His suit was perfectly tailored and obviously expensive, as befitted a junior account executive, but his shoulders could definitely not be called broad, and his forehead was becoming rather too prominent.
She looked back at the waiter and sighed longingly. She wanted a man like that to notice her for once. Thirty years of life, and the past fifteen spent with boring clones of Henry on boring dates like this one. She was more than ready to take a walk on the wild side.
Seeming to feel her appreciative regard, the waiter looked intently into her eyes as he walked smoothly up to their table. He moved with a kind of animal elegance, and she could easily imagine him stalking prey in the deep boreal forests of Russia. Holding her still with the power of his dark gaze, he smiled slowly. Ellie could feel her heart flutter at the palpable promise in that intimate smile. The sensation was breathtaking.
“The dessert I recommend for you this evening is a dark chocolate mousse, a specialty of the chef, accompanied by a Russian coffee,” the waiter intoned in his deep, warm voice. His slight accent gave his words a darker resonance. He leaned a little closer to Ellie as he said, “The mousse is luscious and creamy with a hint of spice, and melts on the tongue.” His eyes never left hers as he spoke, and it seemed to Ellie as if he was delivering a deeper message. Her heart thudded
once and her pussy clenched deliciously.
“Ellie doesn’t need dessert. She’s probably on a diet.” Henry’s nasal tone intruded, breaking the waiter’s spell.
Ellie gaped at him, shocked by his rudeness. It was true that her
curves were generous. She would never be a size six in this lifetime, but she certainly wasn’t fat! She had an hourglass shape with a tiny waistline. How dare he simply assume that because she wasn’t a stick- thin model she should be on a diet?
Before Ellie could gather her thoughts for a suitably sharp reply to put him in his place, the waiter spoke again.
“That would be a shame,” he said gallantly, reaching down to take Ellie’s small hand in his large one. “Are you sure I cannot change your mind? A beautiful woman should never be denied food or pleasure.” His eyes lingered for a moment over her abundant curves clad in black silk, and his admiration was obvious. Her nipples beaded in reaction, and she was forced to stifle a moan.
Henry bristled at the attention his date was receiving from the bold waiter. “No more pleasure tonight or she’ll burst the seams of her dress. It’s tight already,” he said. “I’ll take the check now. Come on, Ellie.” He made a grab for her hand.
Ellie gasped, her eyes closing in horror and humiliation.
The waiter pulled Ellie behind his broad back immediately and bared his gleaming white teeth as a vicious snarl burst from deep in his throat. His eyes were fierce, his posture menacing and blatantly aggressive. The air around him crackled with live energy. Henry shrank back in his seat, clearly ill-prepared for this uncivilized reaction.
As if summoned, two large men appeared out of nowhere, one dark and one blond, and more men could be seen converging on their location. “You must leave,” the blond man said urgently to Henry. “Leave now.” He hustled a startled Henry out of his chair and ushered him toward the door while several of the others surrounded the waiter and tried to steer him toward the kitchen.
The waiter, still growling ferociously, retained possession of
Ellie’s hand, pulling her along with the group.
“Why should I be forced to leave?” Henry protested as he was pushed along. “No waiter is going to have me thrown out,” Henry stated importantly, stopping and puffing out his skinny chest. “I am a regular at this restaurant, and I want to speak to the maître d'. I know him personally. He’s a client of mine.”
“It would be in your best interest to leave, sir, if you value your safety,” the blond man said, glancing apprehensively back in the direction of the growl, still moving Henry quickly in the direction of the door.
“That waiter is making me look bad so he can steal my date.” Henry’s indignant whining was getting louder now.
Ellie was beyond embarrassed at her date’s behavior, but she didn’t want the waiter to lose his job. She tried to reclaim her hand from him, intending to go speak to Henry and try to smooth things over.
Her waiter would not release her. Instead, he wrapped his other brawny arm around her waist to ensure that she stayed with him.
When she finally stopped struggling and moved with him and his large entourage toward the back of the main dining room, his growling ceased, but he never let go of her hand. He didn’t remove his arm from her waist even when they reached the back wall by the kitchen door. The men with them shared significant glances but didn’t try to separate her from the waiter’s grasp.
Ellie watched her captor closely. He was grimacing and breathing deeply, and it was obvious that he was still struggling for control of his raging temper, but she didn’t worry for her safety. The men with them spoke quietly, seemingly careful not to disturb him any further.
The maître d', a distinguished gentleman in his late fifties or early sixties, was now following Henry to the door. Ellie couldn’t hear their conversation, but when Henry finally left the restaurant, the maître d' turned and hurried toward her, frowning.
“Sir,” she said hastily, “please take into consideration that my date was being unpleasant. The waiter was just trying to make up for his bad manners, and I don’t want him to get into any trouble for sticking up for me—”
“My apologies, dear lady,” the maître d' said with a little bow. “You are not in any way responsible for the behavior of your companion. Please step into the kitchen and we will deal with this… unusual situation.”
Ellie was not reassured by his comment. “I want your assurance, sir, that the waiter will not be fired for this. Please,” she entreated softly as they all moved into the kitchen, “don’t punish him.”
The maître d' smiled kindly and one of the men who had helped to restrain her waiter from attacking Henry laughed.
“Madam, I give you my assurance, I will not be firing the owner of this restaurant, and my own Alpha—that is, my superior,” the maître d' said complacently.
Ellie looked in surprise at the man who was still holding her hand. Her waiter was the boss? The owner of Sidarova was said to be a reclusive Russian nobleman, with business interests up and down the Eastern seaboard. Waiting tables and openly flirting in the middle of a busy restaurant, he didn’t fit the term “recluse” in Ellie’s mind, but with his proud bearing, incredible accent and melting dark eyes he could definitely pass for a Russian nobleman.
Holding her eyes with his, he nodded slowly, and the men still surrounding them backed up several paces.
“Rylek Sidarov,” he said, bowing deeply over her hand. “I am indeed the owner, but my uncle Vasily is the chef and the day-to-day boss of Sidarova. I was in town visiting him and the restaurant was short-staffed this evening, so I offered my services.” He shrugged his brawny shoulders, for the first time looking awkward. “I have done many things, but I have not waited tables before. Perhaps I do not have the correct temperament.”
Ellie felt strangely compelled to reassure him. “You were
wonderful,” she said, squeezing his fingers a little. “I appreciated your courtesy to me.”
“And did you appreciate it when he frightened your date away?” The blond man who had removed Henry from the restaurant asked pointedly, walking in behind them.
Ellie looked down, uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure how to formulate an answer that would hide her wicked attraction to Rylek Sidarov, or her immediate preference for him over the man she had arrived with, so she stayed silent.
Rylek, however, had no such difficulty. “The man was unworthy of such a woman,” he stated. “He wanted to deny her food.”
This was said as if it was offensive in the extreme to suggest that a healthy, undeniably curvaceous woman should be prevented from enjoying one evening’s dessert.
Ellie was surprised when his embarrassing statement was greeted with gasps of outrage from the roomful of men working in the kitchen. Several of them growled briefly, before seeming to catch themselves and stopping abruptly at a look from Vasily.
“You see now why he had to be challenged,” Rylek asserted, his accent quite pronounced.
“Of course, you could never leave this beauty in the hands of such a man.” The older man who came forward was obviously the chef, and therefore, Rylek’s uncle. He turned and rattled off a series of instructions in his native Russian, snapping his fingers at one of the sous-chefs. There was a sudden flurry of activity in the kitchen.
Rylek laughed briefly and guided Ellie to a small table in a private alcove to one side of the kitchen where they were sheltered from the busyness. The nameplate on the door by the little table proclaimed “Manager,” but the door was closed.
“My uncle says you are to have a glass of chocolate mousse, a tray of rich pastries and chocolate desserts to sample with dark Russian coffee to break the sweetness,” he said, bowing from the waist. “Exactly as I recommended for you, if you recall. The dark
sweetness suits you, I think.”
She nodded her head, but then his words sank in, and she protested. “I don’t really need a tray of desserts,” she said. “I’m very grateful to you, but I really should be going and—”
“I would be a poor host if I let you leave without seeing to your every need,” Rylek said deeply. His resonant tone, combined with the thought of this man tending to her every need, caused a series of luscious shivers to run up and down Ellie’s spine.
He seated her gracefully at the tiny table. He pulled a small white tablecloth from a nearby drawer and snapped it in place over the table with a flourish, then sat across from her and claimed her hands in his again. He seemed enthralled with her small hands, stroking her skin and playing with her fingers. It seemed he could not stop touching
her.
“Rylek,” she said. “I—” She stopped, unsure what she wanted to say to this glorious male. She was by no means a young, inexperienced girl, but just the touch of his hands made her feel breathless, almost shy.
“Ah, perhaps you will favor me with your full name?” He breathed the words into her sensitive palms, and she quivered in reaction.
“Elizabeth Ann Bradley,” she said apologetically, sorry that her name was so ordinary in light of his own exotic name. “Ellie is what everyone calls me.”
“Elizabeth,” he said, and his accent made her name sound beautiful. “Ellie. It is a name as beautiful and feminine as your scent.” He inhaled, nuzzling his face into her cupped hands. His tongue darted out to lick the beating pulse at her wrist, and he groaned softly, closing his eyes briefly as if overcome.
Ellie could feel her heart pick up speed. The man was a living, breathing picture of sex. Visions of this man tasting other, more feminine parts of her body took over her mind, and her entire nervous system went up in flames. It was all she could do to keep from
rubbing her thighs together under her silky skirt.
He seemed to know it, damn him, because his eyes locked on hers and he leaned forward across the small table. His decadent mouth settled over hers, and once again he tasted her, moving his lips and tongue across her lips and teasing her to open for him.
