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  WOLF FIGHT

  (Book 1: The Art of Claiming an Alpha)

  By

  Marian Tee

  Copyright 2014 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Calys Adelardi, the princess also known as "the human monster", may only be alpha if she can find a strong, kind warrior to champion her cause. She’s determined to marry for the good of her pack, but meeting a playboy werewolf prince makes Calys think twice about her noble priorities.

  His name is Alejandro Moretti. He’s the strongest shifter she’s ever met, but he seems prouder of his skills in bed than in battle. When he tells her he’d be her Cavaliere, Calys is overjoyed…until she finds out his offer comes with a price. For every instance he does his duty, Alejandro expects Calys to pay it in his bed, whenever and wherever he wants.

  Prologue

  One Year after “The Werewolf Prince and I”

  Norman Bailey was afraid. He was also jealous and angry. He may be the bodyguard to Princess Adelardi, but that was how he felt. Worse, the more time he spent with the princess, the more Norman hated her.

  In front of him, the princess continued to carefully clean off the blood from her mask. It looked like it was made of human skin. Just looking at the mask made Norman want to throw up. Of course, he knew the princess hadn’t killed anyone for it. The truth was, he had been with her when the princess knocked on one of their farmers’ door and was given a dead goat.

  Norman shuddered, remembering the glassy look in the goat’s eyes as the princess laid it on the ground and knelt next to it. After praying over the carcass, the princess had calmly taken its skin to sew herself a mask. She had even used thread that was the color of blood.

  When she was done, the princess had looked at him over her shoulder. In a cheerful voice, the princess had asked, “Do you want to try it out?”

  Norman had fainted dead away in response.

  That night was all Norman needed to know the truth. Calys Adelardi was truly The Human Monster. Like everyone, he had heard the rumors about her. They said she was so crazy and strong she could kill panthers thrice her size. And with her bare hands, too!

  Norman used to laugh at the stories. But then he became the princess’ bodyguard, and he learned the truth. The stories didn’t even come close. It just didn’t.

  If only he had been the one adopted by Venetto Adelardi, Norman thought jealously. He would not cause his bodyguards trouble. He would act the way royalty should act. And he would definitely not pretend to be a male shifter in order to fight at The Den.

  And here they were, six days now and counting, Norman thought sadly. If the pack found out about the princess’ secret activities at night, they would surely kill him and it would be all her fault!

  He had pleaded and cried for her to stop this madness. He had even threatened to kill himself. But the princess had only looked at him with her scary, all-knowing blue eyes. And then she said in her sweet voice, “You must understand, Norman. We will all be dead if I do not do this. I have to do this for the good of the pack.”

  And that was that. Princess Calys might be a tiny thing, but she was also a tiny stubborn thing.

  “Norman?”

  The princess’ delicate-sounding voice made Norman jump in his seat. Making sure none of his real feelings showed on his face, he said, “Yes, princess?”

  She was standing in front of the mirror now, a small girl with a very shapely body. Her boyishly cut hair only made the princess look more feminine. Her big blue eyes were terrifyingly innocent. Norman always did his best not to look into those eyes when talking to the princess. It was very hard to lie to those eyes.

  The princess was no beauty, but he had seen how she kept turning heads wherever they went. Norman couldn't really understand her appeal. Maybe it was because she was unique. She looked so delicate and yet she was also ridiculously strong. Like a Hulk Barbie.

  “I have good news to share,” the princess was telling Norman as she laid her mask, now clean, on the table. Her costume, freshly washed and ironed, was next to it.

  The smile on the princess’ face made Norman uneasy. “What is it, princess?”

  The princess clapped her hands in childish delight. “I’ve just learned something wonderful. My request to fight in the heavyweight class has been approved.”

  Norman whitened. Heavyweight? Wasn’t that the strongest fighting class here? Wasn’t it made up of the deadliest shifters in The Den? And she, at barely five feet, was thrilled to go against them?

  The princess was gushing, “Isn’t that wonderful? I thought I’d be stuck with choosing my future consort from a group of baby-faced shifters who think capoeira is a kind of pasta.” The thought had the princess rolling her eyes. “But now! Oh, I’ll get to see the real warriors! I get to fight with them, and—oh my God! Norman? Norman? Are you all right?”

  But Norman had already fainted dead away in response.

  ****

  In another part of The Den, a tall masked figure in black was leaning against the wall, his foot tapping impatiently. His name was Alejandro Moretti, one of the most famous princes of the Lyccan race. Shifters of every kind knew him to be the more amiable of the Moretti twins, a charming werewolf who used to be known for his strength and bravery in combat.

  Nowadays, however, he was better known for two things. First was that he was brother to Domenico Moretti, the disgraced heir of the Moretti pack. Second was his recent preference for sex…in public.

  In The Den, however, Alejandro was simply known as The Masked Wolf, a persona he donned only when he couldn’t fuck his way out of a bad mood. And right now, he was in an extremely bad mood.

  He needed to fight. He should have been fighting now, should have been inside the damn steel cage and covered in blood by now. But he wasn’t. Alejandro cracked his knuckles, trying to control the urge to go berserk.

  Fighting was the only way to forget. But because he wasn’t fighting, memories hounded his every step.

  Earlier tonight, Domenico had warned him and his twin not to attend the ball at Lyccan Hall. “It’s going to be more vicious than usual tonight,” their eldest brother had said. “They will be laughing behind my back all the time, and I do not want either of you to see it.”

  Domenico Moretti used to be the most powerful and feared warrior in the entire Lyccan race. But then his human wife left him. Domenico had not bothered to hide his heartbreak, and he had become a laughingstock after that. Nowadays, other Lyccans had taken to calling him a dog, a pet to humans. Nowadays, everyone liked to sneer at Domenico about his wife taking a gay-looking Faerie for a lover.

  He and his twin Alessandro had, of course, ignored Domenico’s warning. They had gone to the ball because Morettis always stuck together. In minutes, Alessandro’s hot-headedness had gotten him involved in a brawl. His way of avenging Domenico’s name was direct: to punch whoever had a bad thing to say about their brother.

  Alejandro’s form of revenge was more subtle. He found a woman to fuck in one of the balconies. Her name was Monica. She was beautiful and voluptuous, just the way he liked it. She was also the wife of one of Domenico’s enemies, also the way he liked it.

  In minutes, he had her screaming. In fact, Monica had screamed so loud it was obvious she had forgotten she was married. By the time they came in from the balcony, all the guests were staring, including her husband. It would have been the sweetest revenge if only Domenico hadn’t stared at Alejandro with a
tight-lipped look of disappointment on his face.

  And then…

  Alejandro swore. He wished he could throw the memory out of his mind for good, but it was impossible. He remembered it so fucking clearly.

  Domenico, humbly delivering an apology on his behalf—

  Domenico, being slapped like a goddamn slave by Monica’s husband, a fat old man who would never have stood a chance against his brother if Domenico had been in the mind to fight him.

  Domenico, not bothering to retaliate because he was taking the blame for Alejandro’s dishonor—

  It had been too much.

  And so here he was.

  Only in The Den could he fight. Only in The Den could he pretend. Only in The Den could he forget that Domenico, once the most powerful wolf of their race, was now called The Prince of Dogs, and there was not a damn thing Alejandro could do to make things right for his brother.

  Chapter One

  CALYS

  My breasts hurt.

  The pain was similar to having a pair of sore giant lumps connected to my body. The pain reminded me of something I tended to forget. I may have been raised with panthers, but I wasn’t one. I was human, and I could die of breast cancer.

  But the pain’s all worth it, I told myself valiantly. Tonight was proof of it. My aching breasts, the result of an opponent’s hard jab to my chest, were also proof of it. I was in The Den. I had made it to the strongest fighting class. And because of that, I finally had the chance to pick my future partner from the cream of the crop.

  Black Mamba, my first opponent, had potential. He had an eight pack, a must for me. I was also an expert when it came to guesstimating body mass indexes, and just by looking at Black Mamba, I knew he was at 24.4. That meant only a little over one-fifth of his body was made of fat. Not bad at all, although he really could have gotten that down to twenty-three. A couple more push-ups each day would have done the trick.

  Rare Bear was good, too. His skills in tae kwon do were amazing, but there was something strange with the way he fought. He always had his pinky finger turned up, like a queen holding a teacup. Could that mean anything?

  I continued mentally scoring potential consorts as I hurried down another tunnel. If all roads led to Rome, all tunnels under Naples, Florida led to The Den. The tunnels were dark and narrow. Lights were only installed in the intersections. They were sparsely decorated with plain wooden tables and chairs, and they served as waiting areas for fighters without dressing rooms.

  Behind me, the shouts of the crowd were still loud.

  “Bite his neck!”

  “Break his claws!”

  The Den was the only one of its kind in the States, an underground fighting arena for shifters. Night after night, huge crowds turned out to watch the fights. To make battles more exciting, special chemicals had been injected in the air. These chemicals had the power to neutralize the extraordinary senses of shifters. As a result, wolves no longer had the best sense of smell and bird shifters no longer had the best sense of hearing. Everyone was basically equal, and because of that only brute strength – and tactics – could win the battle.

  My breasts ached more painfully with every minute that passed. Since I was the best in my previous fighting class, The Den had given me a dressing room. But that was still five intersections down, and I didn’t think I could make it that far. I had to do something before I went crazy and cut off my own breasts.

  Turning right, I took a detour. In minutes I came to an empty intersection and nearly expired with joy at the sight of it. I hurried to the corner and took off my loose shirt and overalls. My choice of costume was strategic. Leatherface’s clothes were big enough to hide the fact that I was, well, a girl.

  Under my costume, I wore a tank top and a skimpy pair of black nylon shorts. I pulled my top up and unwrapped the layers of cotton bindings around my chest. “Aaaah.” Tears actually formed in my eyes as my breast bounced free of its restraints.

  Note to self: make an appointment with a doctor ASAP. I knew how to do things. Hot wiring a car was easy. Saving a choking stranger with the Heimlich maneuver was easy. But girly stuff like finding out if I had breast cancer? I could vaguely remember watching an infomercial that said I had to touch myself to find out if I had breast cancer. But the why or how of it? Not one clue.

  The pain in my breasts reminded me of my unwanted task. With a grimace, I started groping my breasts. They were bigger than I was comfortable with, so there was a lot to grope. I really wanted to have them reduced. Panthers outside my pack tended to think just because I had big breasts, I was stupid. Worse, they also thought the bigger a woman’s breasts were, the smaller her brain was. I just couldn’t understand them. It wasn’t like breasts took up space inside my head.

  The damp air inside the tunnels made my nipples pucker up. It was embarrassing, and I felt my cheeks heating up at the sight of it. I really wish I was born a man instead, I thought glumly as I continued touching my breasts.

  The weight of my breasts in my own hands was also embarrassing. Maybe it was time to seriously consider breast reduction surgery. Maybe—

  “Do you need some help with that?”

  With a gasp, I whirled around, shocked at the voice. I should have heard someone approaching, but I had let down my guard, being too busy worrying about breast cancer.

  The intruder was a tall masked man clad entirely in black. He had dark hair and green eyes. I recognized him instantly.

  He was The Masked Wolf.

  He was The Den’s #1 fighter.

  And I was his #1 fan, but he didn’t have to know that.

  For a moment, I could only gape. The Masked Wolf. The Masked Wolf! THE MASKED WOLF!

  Growing up, I had never been interested in boys. I had always thought of myself as one of them, only we had different body parts. But then I saw The Masked Wolf fight. And I totally fell in love. Just by looking at his body, calculating his weight and height, I knew – oh I just knew he had the perfect body mass index.

  And oh, the way he fought inside the cage! It was poetry in motion, art painted in blood. The groans and moans of pain from his defeated foes were like hymns to the deadly beauty of his moves. But most impressively of all, he was honorable. The way he conducted himself inside the cage, the way he never baited those weaker than him, the way he always gave the bullies the comeuppance they so deserved—

  He was my superhero, and right now my superhero was staring at my naked breasts.

  CRAAAAAAP!

  I quickly covered my breasts at the realization. For the first time in my life, I wished I had longer hair. Really, really long hair, the kind that could cover my breasts completely. Or maybe I could be a mermaid and have one of those shell-made bras.

  He was still staring. The fierce look glittering in his eyes, which were a stunning shade of green, made me feel like he could see through my hands. It made me turn pink all over.

  “Stop staring.” Just saying the words made me feel more embarrassed. God, what did he think of me now? I had secretly fantasized about the two of us meeting inside the cage. I had secretly dreamed that he would be so bowled over by my fighting skills that when he realized I was soon to be a pack leader, he would fall down on one knee and declare himself my devoted Cavaliere.

  But considering I was half naked right now, I had a feeling all he’d want to do was double over in laughter.

  Or stare.

  Which he was still doing now.

  I hugged myself more tightly in reaction, wishing there was something I could do to control my body’s reaction to him. My nipples had prickled in awareness at his unswerving gaze. “Please stop—”

  “It’s impossible not to stare, my beauty. You have the most amazing looking breasts.”

  The words should have sounded like the worst pick up line, but when he said it so matter-of-factly, I just couldn’t help but feel beautiful and sexy. I have never felt that way either before.

  “Why were you touching yourself in such a public place
?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I mumbled.

  A sexy, cocky smile touched his lips as he asked wickedly, “It wasn’t?”

  For a moment, all I could do was stare. Was The Masked Wolf actually flirting with me?

  Seeing that he was still waiting for an answer, I said lamely, “They hurt.” Unbidden, my gaze strayed to my costume on the floor. Realizing my mistake, I looked back at him quickly, but it was too late. His gaze had followed mine. When he looked back at me, the recognition in his eyes had me biting my lip in dismay. Crap. My cover was busted.

  When he spoke, I expected him to say something lewd. But instead his voice was quiet as he said, “I caught the last few minutes of your fight earlier. I saw where he hit you.” He took a step towards me.

  “Don’t come closer!” The words burst out of my mouth, but he didn’t stop walking. The closer he got, the more panicky I felt. The tunnel suddenly felt claustrophobic. Just the thought of his proximity had me forgetting all my years of warrior training. It made my mouth dry and my body tingle all over.

  I wanted to take a step back with every step he took forward. But I stood my ground. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid—

  Oh, crap! He was just a step away from me now. Warrior pride be damned. I turned around and tried to run away.

  “Not so fast.” His chuckle was husky, his voice a velvety murmur tinged with amusement as he caught my wrist. He spun me around to face me. In another second, he had pushed me back against the wall. He put my arms over my head just as his hard body pressed against mine.

  Oh…wow. This was not my first time to have a man’s body next to mine. I had been raised as a warrior. I was used to having a man’s body on top of me, under me, next to me. Men’s bodies and mine tangled in all kinds of positions during battle practice.

  But this was different somehow. With him so close, the heat of his body making my own body burn, my whole world compressed into one single thing: him. The fact that I was in The Den didn’t seem to matter anymore. The fact that this was a public place, that I was half-naked – none of it mattered.