Hungry for the Alpha: Paranormal Werewolf Romance

By Celia Kyle

Mitchell is the only alpha that can make Tilly purr.

Mitchell Blake’s wolf can’t help but howl when he catches Tilly’s heavenly sweet scent. One sniff tells him the delicious lioness shifter is his. The problem? Apparently she’s too busy running the Bless Your Tart bakery to have a mate. Well, too bad. What the Alpha wants, the Alpha gets. That includes one curvy, annoying, scrumptious package named Tilly McBride.

He can claim her, but can he save her from the one person determined to end their mating before it even starts?   

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Dec 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094449838

Celia Kyle

Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romances for readers who: 1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry) 2) Dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady) 3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed. It goes without saying that there’s always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way. Today she lives in central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Tilly wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Okay, that was an exaggeration. She knew what she was staring at—nice little rows of cookies laid out on the stainless steel counter, snug in their cookie sheets. She’d whipped up several batches around 4:00 a.m. amidst preparing the day’s cupcake, brownie, and mini-tart orders. And then there was the regular day’s supply to prepare for the casual customers.

But none of the other stuff mattered because she was staring at her sister’s glorious masterpieces. Her sister’s words, not Tilly’s. Never Tilly’s. What she had before her was so anti-masterpiece it needed to be banished to the ninth circle of hell. And even then, the devil would look at her and say, What the fuck is this? or What the fucking fuck? or even "You’re only seventeen, how do you know about this?"

If it offended Satan, it would definitely offend the customer.

She really did not have time for this. The bakery she owned with her two sisters, Bless Your Tart, was due to open at 7:30 a.m., which was in—she glanced at her watch—an hour. The cookies spread out before her were supposed to already be decorated and boxed, ready for pickup by the customer at eight. This was a simple job. A job their bakery had completed in one size or another dozens of times since they’d opened four years ago.

And yet…

Tilly took a deep breath, fighting for calm as she stared at her youngest sister’s handiwork. Her inner-lioness paced in the background, growling and informing her they needed to show Phoebe who was the boss. That she should always listen to Tilly, and if the seventeen—nearly eighteen—year-old girl couldn’t get that through her head then her lioness would…

She shoved the animal to the back of her mind, demanding that she submit to Tilly’s human half. It’d been this way her whole life. She wasn’t a pure shifter so her control wasn’t as strong as that of others. All three siblings had the same issues even if they weren’t the same type of shifter. Her mom had a thing for lions, and tigers, and bears (oh my) which meant all three sisters slowly learned how to compensate for the alleged lack. (Alleged because she dared any pure breed to say the words to her face. She dared them.)

Ahem.

Another deep breath. Phee, can you just go through your thought process with me on this one?

What’s wrong? Phoebe frowned, her gaze going from Tilly to the cookies and back again. I got the colors right. Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "You approved the colors before I started. I brought you the icing and you said yes. No take backs."

No, she shook her head. "I’m not taking back my approval on the colors."

She had approved them. It’d become a new rule in the bakery after Tilly learned Phee saw purple as pink or at least pinkish. Then it was—did Tilly know Phee was having trouble with her eyes? Did werebears always have color problems because…

Oh. Good. ’Cause I worked really hard on ’em. Phoebe popped her gum. Probably because she knew it’d annoy the hell out of Tilly. "Then I don’t understand why you’re crankypants. I mean, it’s six thirty and these don’t have to be ready until eight and I’m almost done. I’ll be done early. I should get a bonus or something. Her youngest sister jerked her head in a nod as if it was already decided and held out her hand. Can I have an advance on that? My shift ends at eight and I’m meeting Shawn, I mean Stacy, at the diner for breakfast."

Tilly pinched her nose. We’ll discuss Shawn-Stacy in a minute. Mainly because Phoebe needed to stay away from boys forever. Okay, more deep breathing. She really needed to listen to her serenity tapes every day and not just when she was ready to kill her siblings. Especially not when the one annoying her most stood fewer than three feet away. For right now, explain to me what these white drops of icing represent?

She knew what Phoebe was gonna say. Knew. It. She just didn’t want to know. Because, what else could droplets of white icing on corset cookies represent? They were typically one of the best sellers for bachelor parties, guys wanting to get frisky with some breasts without getting into trouble with their mates or wives-to-be. So, Bless Your Tart made Babeless Boob cookies. Skinny little corseted waist cookies with overflowing breasts. Some corsets were red with black piping while others were pale pink with dark pink piping. Naughty and nice. One thing that did not exist in any color combination for her decorations was white.

And definitely not white drops decorating the cookie cleavage. Ever.

Thank God she hadn’t let Phoebe decorate the penis cookies. She didn’t want her baby sister to think, see, or speak about penises. Ever.

There was a lot she didn’t want her sister ever doing. Ever, ever.

Um, well… She fidgeted. I was talking to Marcia—

Marcia was the sweetest girl on the planet but definitely no longer living in Virginland. But that wasn’t her argument to have because Marcia wasn’t her responsibility.

—and Marcia was talking with Lucas—

Tilly bet that in Marcialand talking meant sex. Again, not her argument to have. Marcia was a werewolf, sister to the local pack’s beta. Tilly reminded herself that wolves were highly sexual—banging was a better outlet than tearing each other to shreds when attacked by all of those teen hormones. She knew teenage sex was acceptable since: 1) They couldn’t catch diseases and 2) They couldn’t get pregnant until after they’d had their first heat. Seventeen—nearly eighteen—year-olds hadn’t had their heat yet.

—and Lucas told her about pearl necklaces.

For the love of fuck.

And that guys love to see—

Tilly held up her hand, silencing her sister with the gesture and a look that promised retribution. "Under no circumstances do I ever want to hear about them from you. Ever. For my sanity, please." She fought to find her center. Like all her stupid serenity tapes said. Those damn tapes weren’t made by someone raising a teenager. Unless you’re thinking about exploring them in real life. In which case, don’t.

Phoebe groaned. Tilly…

No, she shook her head. Non-negotiable.

You do realize everything with you is non-negotiable, don’t you?

Yes.

Tilly knows best? Phoebe rolled her eyes.

Tilly knows she doesn’t want her sister knocked up before she’s married or at least graduated from college and has a stable job with a 401K, she replied blandly, earning another eye roll from Phoebe. "Are there any that don’t have ‘pearl necklaces’?"

Phoebe nibbled her lips and looked down the line, forcing Tilly to do the same.

No. The answer was no.

Um, we could put white icing on the tip of the Dudeless Dong cookies and then—

No, she snapped. One, you’re never going near a dong, cookie or otherwise. Ever. Ever, ever. And two, we don’t sell those types of desserts.

You sell dong cookies with bow ties, but not ones covered in icing cu—

This time she slapped her hand over Phoebe’s mouth. "Not another word and I don’t even want to know how you know I put bow ties on them. She glanced at the wall clock, mentally calculating the time she needed and the call she’d have to make. Great. You’re going to go open the shop and handle breakfast while I call the customer and get to re-baking these. Got it?"

Tilly removed her hand. "But Shawn—I mean Stacy is waiting for me."

"Shawn-Stacy and his penis—I wasn’t born yesterday, kid—can wait until you’re done for the morning. Phoebe poked out her lower lip, but Tilly hadn’t fallen for that since the girl was three. It was also the same time she began contemplating smothering Phoebe in her sleep. Obviously she hadn’t, but she was putting the option back on the table. And if he can’t wait a few hours, he can keep his penis and his pearl necklace to himself. Got it?"

Fine, Phoebe huffed. You’re the worst sister ever.

Yeah, yeah. Open the shop and don’t call for me unless the place is burning down or you’re dying. With a sigh, she snatched the order receipt off the bulletin board and trudged to her office, leaving the door open on the off chance Phoebe set the place on fire and was dying.

She glanced at the slip and then groaned. Of course the order was for the werewolf pack’s soon-to-be mated beta. The beta who lived in the pack house. Of course. With a hiccup like this, she typically offered to deliver the order, but she didn’t feel like strolling onto pack property. Hell, maybe she’d get lucky and they’d deny her access. That would be awesome. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the whole cat versus dog—er, wolf—thing.

Because, hey, they were dogs, of a sort. The only reason Phoebe hadn’t had problems was because she was half werebear while Tilly was half werelion and their middle sister Liv was half weretiger. Yeah, their mom was a wereho.

Tilly picked up the cordless phone and quickly dialed the number, listening to it ring. The familiar sound rattled three times and she began mentally preparing her message, trying to be apologetic yet firm at the same time. She wasn’t a pushover. Generally.

When the fourth ring came, followed by a click, she patiently waited for the voicemail system to, well, do its job, but all she got was silence.

Silence and then… Blake residence.

Two words. Two words and… she shuddered, arousal piercing her hot and fast and between one heartbeat and the next, she went from business owner to needy whore.

Needy. Whore.

Needy whore with wet panties because there was a deep voice and then there was a deep voice that touched you in all the right places. She was turned on. By a voice.

There was no way she could meet the owner of that voice. And sure, there was no guarantee that if she delivered the cookies she’d actually see the owner of that voice, but—

Hello? Is someone there?

Did a whimper just escape her? Yes, she was pretty sure it did. Tilly did not whimper or moan or whine.

Hello?

Oh, he sounded annoyed. Annoyed and sexy and Tilly finally found her voice. Sorry. Wrong number.

And then before she could second-guess herself, she ended the call. Now that she’d spoken to Mr. Sexy Voice, she needed help.

This person she rang answered immediately. Like a normal human being. Lush, Emma speaking, how can I—

Emma? It’s Tilly.

What’s up, Tills?

I need new panties and I need you to make a call for me.

Emma ran the best (and only) lingerie store that catered to curvy women in Wilder along with a kick ass website that had an awesome web business.

Because…

Tilly whined. Look at her, the non-whining Tilly whining again. Because I said so?

Try again.

Fine, she grumbled, knowing her BFF wouldn’t give in. She rolled her chair toward the door and peeked into the kitchen and beyond to see Phoebe behind the counter. Because I made a call this morning and… She sighed. Wet panties.

That… is not enough information. Try again.

Wet. Panties. And a panting lioness. The damn animal was acting as if it was starving and it wanted to feed on the man attached to that voice. And by feed, it meant hours of mind-blowing sex. A man who sounded like that… It’d be a criminal shame for him to suck in the sack.

A little more for me, hon.

Making sure, once again, that Phoebe was occupied, she spoke to Emma. I called a customer this morning because their order won’t be ready on time.

But you always meet your deadlines.

Yeah, unless my sister decides to put cum necklaces on my cookies. "Just… Phoebe." Emma’s ahh told her nothing else needed to be said. So I called, and oh my God, Emma. His voice. Pure. Sex. I mean… my cat wants him more than the damn cow I took down with the pride two weeks ago.

Ew. I mean, yay for wanting to boink him, but I don’t need to hear about raw cow consumption. And why the hell are you still going to Clover to hunt when we have perfectly nice woods around here?

Wolf-owned woods. "Can we focus on our current situation, please?"

We are totally revisiting this though, right?

They revisited the issue pretty damned often. Emma kept assuring her that the Wilder pack was nothing like any other their mongrel family had encountered before. Well, Emma was a human and just couldn’t understand the dynamics of shifter relationships. Tilly wasn’t willing to risk the heartache or the pain Phoebe would experience from more rejection. Going two towns over for a hunt was just fine for them.

Fine. We can revisit. After you bring me panties and make a phone call.

Why am I doing this again? Pick up the phone. Call him back. Do your job, then ask him what he’s wearing. Get that phone sex ball rolling.

The idea had merit. A lot, actually. Sadly, she would not take her friend’s advice.

"Because when I said I really enjoyed his voice I really enjoyed his voice. Or rather, part of me did."

Silence. Pure silence. Did it enjoy things a lot or just a little bit?

"I… I just… panties, Emma. Please."

And a phone call.

Uh-huh.

To whom?

The hot guy so I don’t need two pairs?

But no, her problems could not be happily solved by a phone call to Emma because…

Phoebe. The whirlwind world destroyer also known as Phoebe. Tilly? Why do you need panties? What hot guy? Did you sneak a guy back here? Because that’s not fair. You said no boys—

That wasn’t the worst part. There wasn’t much privacy in her house and that was something she’d come to expect. She was raising a teenager. At least it was only one. When it’d been a tween Phoebe and a teen Liv… she’d nearly killed them both. Often.

Hold on one sec, Tilly spoke to Emma and then took the twentieth calming breath of the hour. Phoebe, I don’t have a guy here, I was talking about the guy on the pho— she slowly turned toward the door and froze.

Phoebe wasn’t alone. Of course not. Never could Phoebe show up alone when Tilly was having a lovely embarrassing-as-hell conversation with her best friend about wet panties and a hot guy.

Tilly, this is Mitchell. He said he thinks you called him about something a little bit ago. And he was coming out this way anyway so he thought he’d stop in to see if you needed to talk to him. Phoebe slumped her shoulders and did her best to look pitiful. It was a look she’d perfected after all this time. Have I worked long enough now? Can I go see…

Tilly now knew why animals in the wild killed their offspring.

Three words brought him to Bless Your Tart. Three words that had Mitchell’s dick rock hard and his wolf howling as if the moon were full and shining in the sky.

Now, less than ten minutes later, he was standing in the kitchen of the small bakery, staring at the woman destined to be the next notch on his bedpost. Nah, the next five notches. God. Damn.

She was gorgeous, all wide green eyes, deep auburn hair, and curves. Fuck, she had curves. Not that he could see them all, but from where he was standing… Her rack was full and begging for his hands. He wanted to cup and knead them, taste those pretty nipples. And they’d be damned pretty. Pink against her alabaster skin. He’d lick those little nubs, suck and nibble until she begged for more.

His animal was back to howling and pacing, nudging and nosing him to pounce now. Now. They could talk later. It wanted to mount her in front of the whole damned town so others would know she belonged to him. Him.

And he didn’t even know her name.

The wolf reminded him names weren’t necessary, bringing their bodies together was. His cock twitched with the idea, the image of them clinging together in bed, him baring his teeth and her tilting her head, giving him the perfect opportunity to bite…

He sucked in a harsh breath, intent on releasing it slowly to hopefully calm his rampaging need, but what came with that inhale…

Sweet. Musky with a hint of sugar and his mouth immediately watered with the desire to lap up those flavors. Arousal. Desire. Need. Her need.

For him. He had no doubt that the flush in her cheeks and the cream now soaking her panties was for him. A low rumble built in his chest, his wolf making its desires known as the animal overpowered his control. It wanted this female—Tilly—writhing beneath them. This wasn’t lust, wasn’t the craving for a quick meaningless fuck. No, he wanted hours with Tilly. Days.

Years…

Years?

The wolf purred. Years.

Another quick inhale, another wave of her delicious scent, another twitch of his dick. Dammit. He wasn’t a fucking kid anymore. He wasn’t going to come in his jeans.

The young female at his side, half-shifter if his nose was anything to go by, sniffed once… then twice… then…

"Ew. Gross. Can you two keep your nose boners in your pants for, like, a second?" The girl shuddered and focused on Tilly. Tilly with an even brighter red face.

She was gorgeous, all flustered and embarrassed like that.

The teen wasn’t done. Seriously, Tilly. Can I go meet—

Did you leave the front door unlocked? If you did, who’s manning the counter? Tilly immediately snapped back and his dick went even harder. Dayum.

Umm… Phoebe blew a bubble and popped her gum. At the same moment, the bell above the front door jingled. Phoebe winced and scrunched her nose. Be right back.

Mitchell kept his eyes on the young girl as she strolled toward the front of the building, ponytail bouncing and gum popping the whole way. Welcome to Bless Your Tart. How can I help you?

Tilly cleared her throat, drawing his attention, and he stared transfixed as she pushed to her feet. She was shorter than his six feet, but not too short. Maybe five-seven, five-eight. A nice size to tuck against him at night. That was a plus.

Another plus that came with her new position was he could now see her trim waist, wide flare of her hips, and snug jeans that encased her legs. They outlined her thighs nicely, giving him a glimpse of the heaven that lingered between them. He could imagine those legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close as he filled her over and over again.

This time she didn’t clear her throat so much as call his attention to the fact that he was being rude and staring at her cloth-covered pussy. A. Hem.

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She tried to look all offended, but the flush in her cheeks, the desire in her eyes, and the scent of her arousal told him her lips would be dripping with lies if she tried to deny him. How had he missed her? Wilder was decent sized, but he didn’t think it was so big that he wouldn’t have come in contact with her before now.

Hi, he smiled and extended his hand, not missing the small tremble that wracked her body. Mitchell. I think you called the Blake house this morning?

Tilly licked her lips and he ached to capture her tongue between his own. Right. Yes. I was calling about the order for ten dozen Dudeless Dongs and Babeless Boobs. We had a small issue with the Babeless cookies and I was calling to make alternate delivery arrangements.

Her cheeks reddened further with each word until she looked like she was sporting a head-to-toe blush. The only thing that’d truly tell him if it was head-to-toe would be if she stripped for him. Slowly.

Maybe next time.

I was under the impression they were to be picked up at eight. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. It’s seven forty.

Right, she scrunched her nose, reminding him of the bouncing teen in the front of the store. Her daughter? No way, she didn’t look old enough to have a teenage daughter. You see, there was a small mix up in the decorations and I’m a perfectionist. I’m more than happy to deliver them to the venue if you’ll just give me a time and place.

He knew where she could deliver them, though he didn’t think she’d be game. She was trembling for him, aching for him, but she wasn’t giving him that vibe. The one that said she was easy and open to whatever he desired. That was all right. He could wait. Hopefully not long, but he could.

I’m sure they’re fine. Are they destroyed completely or is the color off or something? Do they taste like shit?

Tilly’s eyes blazed, her arousal disappearing beneath a bolt of anger. "Like shit? Like shit? I will have you know nothing, nothing, out of Bless Your Tart could ever be described as ‘taste like shit.’ Ever. Even on my worst day."

Mitchell raised a single brow. Fuck, her anger was sexy. But these aren’t leaving the store, and you’re not telling me the problem, so…

The cookies… They… She was beautiful all flustered. Hell, she was plain beautiful. He wanted to make her scream in frustration and then scream his name as she came. They just…

Hey, Tilly, I bet I can just flick these necklaces off. I doubt you’d have to start from scratch. At Phoebe’s words, Tilly let out a groan and closed her eyes. If it’d been a happy sexy groan, he would have shoved the door closed and convinced her they needed to get naked ASAP.

This one was pained. Unacceptable.

Tilly? he murmured and took a step toward her. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?

Her words, when they finally came, were no more than a whisper. "A new sister? Just one. I’ll keep the other one. She’s normal."

That answered his question about the young Phoebe. He could deal with sisters. If it’d been her daughter… He’d have to hunt down the young girl’s father and kill him for touching Tilly.

Tilly, are you listening? The teen padded into the room. These pearls will pop— The girl stuttered to a stop. You’re still here. Why are you still here? Did she tell you about the pearl necklaces? Because I think they add authenticity. She even nodded as she said it. And since that’s what the bride and groom will be—

Shut it, Tilly snapped. That was damned hot. "I don’t want to know why you even think it would add authenticity to anything."

"Shaw— I mean Stacy said—"

Okay, first, you said it was Marcia who told you. Second, you shouldn’t be talking about pearl necklaces with anyone, let alone Shawn-Stacy. Tilly glared at Phoebe and… Yup, there went his cock twitching, impressed by her fury.

Which had Phoebe curling her lip and wrinkling her nose once more as she stared at him. "Could you please not get all bang-y while I’m standing here? I mean, she’s my sister. Gross. She doesn’t have sex. Ever."

Good to know. He grinned and ignored Tilly’s answering glare. She might not have sex now, but she would later. With him. Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest, quickly going through what he’d just heard. "What kind of pearl necklaces are we talking?"

We’re not talking about any of them!

Tilly’s shrill shout was overlapped by Phoebe’s quick interruption. These.

He took the cookie, cataloging the decorations in a quick glance. Red and black corset, tiny waist, exaggerated boobs. White droplets of icing…

No way.

Where did a girl like you learn about—

Tilly snatched it from his hand and tossed it in the garbage. I’m not having this conversation. Tilly trembled. I’m just not. She shook her head. Mr.…Mitchell, I apologize for the inconvenience, but if you’ll tell me the delivery address and when you’d like them brought over, I’ll make sure you get them on time.

He stared at her, this small, red-haired package and the parts of him that wanted to fuck her into next week now wanted to cradle her closely and calm her. Soothe whatever the hell was wrong with her.

Tilly… the teen whined, and he immediately called for his wolf.

The girl was a half-shifter, a bear, but still half. He could easily subdue her with his dominance, his innate power born to every alpha, and figure out what the hell was going on. What do you think a pearl necklace is? Who told you and why did you think it was appropriate to decorate your sister’s cookies in that way?

Phoebe stiffened and narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a glare that would have made a lesser wolf tremble.

Mitchell was not a lesser wolf.

You can’t just come in here— Oh, Tilly didn’t like his attitude.

Tough.

"It’s when a guy you know on a girl’s chest, Marcia Langston said, and because you ordered Dudeless Dongs. I thought you could put them side by side on the table." The smile he got was blinding and filled with innocence and light. She was good. He had to give her that. She looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

"Phoebe Lynn Price," Tilly hissed the girl’s name.

Mitchell raised a single eyebrow. "Marcia? Really." The confirmation was in the girl’s embarrassed gaze. Without another word, he whipped out his cell phone. Sure, wolves were highly sexed and he knew those in his pack were having hooking ups before eighteen, but… come on.

It took less than ten seconds to shoot his beta—Marcia’s older brother—a quick text message. Ask Marcia if she wants to tell you about pearl necklaces and Phoebe Price.

That done, he focused on the two women currently staring off against each other. One he wanted to bend over the desk and fuck until neither of them could walk and the other… He wanted her to be anywhere but here.

Miss Price? He softly touched Tilly’s shoulder, jolting with the bolt of electricity that zinged through him with the connection. His wolf howled louder than it ever had and strained against his mental bindings. His gums ached, desperate to break free and sink into her flesh.

McBride, they said in unison.

Okay. He wondered why they had different last names, but that was a discussion for another time. Miss McBride? Give me your cell number. I’ll text you the time and address.

Tilly narrowed her eyes and glared at him. And you can’t write it down because…

Mitchell shrugged. Because that won’t give me your number.

You don’t want my number, she growled and his dick jerked. She needed to stop being so sexy.

"Oh, God. More nose boners. Get a room, you two," the teen huffed and spun, heading toward the front.

Mitchell grinned, waiting until the girl was gone before speaking. You can’t pretend you’re unaffected.

She sniffed. I can pretend whatever I want.

Your sister is a half-shifter and I’m thinking you are, too, even though I don’t know what kind. You know what I am. You know I can scent you, Tilly.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, I assume you’re a wolf, but can you just pretend you can’t smell me?

Not happening. Ever. Especially not with her. Give me your number.

No, it’s not necessary. She shook her head and he wondered if she knew the longer she denied him, the more his wolf wanted her. I just need a time and place.

You’re being difficult about this, he murmured and she sighed in relief, believing he’d given up.

He hadn’t. He’d simply take a different approach.

I’m not being difficult, I’m being professional. I apologize for the inconvenience and I’ll compensate you with a cake made for the occasion. I truly am sorry for the delay. She pleaded with her eyes, begged him to go along with things.

He would. For now.

Mitchell leaned toward her, suppressing the smile that came with this new nearness, the shallow pants that escaped her lips and the low whimper that teased his ears. Her lips parted as if prepared for

Reviews for Hungry for the Alpha

[cmcd27 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Great writting. Hilarious banter, intense (maybe over the top but...) and action packed.
Why a 2? Not a fan of writers who interject their bizzare sexual appetites so much so that it distracts and detracts from an otherwise great story. Butt stuff. Even animals don't do that. The voyer mating scene... Possessive you say??

[Jameliah Brown · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Please tell me their will be a follow up to this book .I need in my life and if you can do it on Audiobook to please