Alpha's Strength (Fallen Alpha) Read Online Free Page B

first he’d approached her at the coffee shop and now—here he was in her house. She was the only common denominator.
    “You said I smelled like power . How do you know what that smells like?”
    “You followed me here because I said something flippant? Because I gave you a crazy answer instead of saying that you smelled like cinnamon or vanilla or coffee beans or something? I’m sorry. I’ll sniff again and see if I can do better.” She looked at the clock. It was almost six. She had to find Nathan and make sure he called his father for his daily check-in. That meant she had to get this man or wolf or whatever as good and gone as a turkey around Thanksgiving time.
    But she couldn’t chop off his head. He’d shift into a wolf and stop her before she could— where the hell had that thought come from?
    “See, here’s the thing.” He held his hands out in front of him as though he wanted to pacify her. She stared at his long fingers, transfixed by his every motion. What was it about this man that was so interesting? Well, other than the whole wolf thing.
    “The thing?” She scanned the room until she found what she needed. The knife she’d used to chop the onion. It was still on the counter. If she couldn’t hurt him, she could at least make him aware she meant business.
    “You’re right. I do smell like power.”
    Ego much ? “Great. I’m so happy I was right.”
    She moved to the left, keeping her gaze off the knife. Let him believe she was turning off the water at the sink. Anything, but what she intended to do. It helped that she still couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. When this was over, if it ever was, and her parents were free of Nathan’s family, she’d find a therapist. Someone who could explain to her why she did the things she did. And then how she could stop doing them.
    “But that’s the thing.” Cyrus turned and walked away from her. She appreciated the sight of his backside when he moved toward the counter. What she didn’t like was that he picked up the knife she’d wanted and placed it on the opposite side of the room where she wouldn’t be getting to it. How had he known that’s what she’d intended? He twisted to look at her and she almost gasped from the sheer masculinity pouring off him. Only her sense of self-preservation kept her from reacting.
    “Go on.” She had to find something else. Or maybe she should make a run for it. That would be the sensible choice, right?
    “The fact that you know I smell like power is because you can really smell me. You’re like me, princess. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re also a wolf.”
    Betsy stopped moving and forced herself to raise her eyes to meet his, even though it hurt to do so Why did it feel like someone had placed a weight on them and made them heavier when she tried to stare at him head on? “I’m not a werewolf or whatever you are. I think I would know if I had the ability to go furry. I get one visitor every month, regularly, and it has nothing to do with the full moon or walking on four legs.”
    Cyrus turned beet red. One second he looked all hot and scary, and the next, he flushed and looked anywhere but at her. Men were all the same. Mention the period, and they had no idea what to do with themselves.
    Betsy took her chance. She launched herself across the room and dove toward the counter where he’d placed the knife.
    Cyrus rushed toward her, but she got there first. She held the knife in her shaking hand. Having never actually threatened anyone with a weapon before, she had no idea how hard it was to do, even if the person who needed the threat was actually part-wolf, had stalked her home—and busted in her door because he smelled her blood and wanted to protect her.
    Or maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant. Maybe he wanted to eat her because of her scent? Cyrus still hadn’t said what he wanted with her, other than to talk about what he smelled like.
    “Listen, I want you to go. Okay?” Her