Alpha Asher By Jane Doe

Chapter 129 – I spun around, nearly bumping into the narrow chest of some man. He placed a hand against the front of the dress shirt he wore, drawing my attention to the rings speckled on his fingers. There were a few on his other hand, which clinked against the glass of alcohol in his hand.

There was a big part of me-and Maya that felt infuriated being called ‘little she-wolf.’ We were proud of our title, both of them. We had bled and fought to claim them both, even if they weren’t what we wanted at first. It went against my instincts to hide my position-especially to another werewolf.

Unfortunately, whenever you mixed alcohol, anger issues, and copious amounts of testosterone, you were left with a person that couldn’t take no for an answer.

The stranger lifted one of his dark eyebrows but never once took his eyes off of Brandon as he asked, “this guy bothering you?”

“She just punched me in the gut hard enough to make me puke, which I would’ve done if I weren’t the son of an Alpha.” Instead of becoming defensive, Brandon grinned. “Now she can either punch you in your bird chest, or you can walk away and try your luck with some other unfortunate soul.”

“I don’t need you to defend me.” I told Brandon once the drunk stranger stumbled away, muttering under his breath about ‘ snobby s***s and their boyfriends.’

Brandon groaned like a child, “you’re as boring as Asher.”

“I’m boring? I’m sorry I don’t live to entertain your immature a*s.”‘ I snapped, lowering my voice to a hiss when a few nearby women glanced my way. “By chance, what do you find fun, Brandon? Is it kidnapping people in the middle of the night to take them out of pack boundaries knowing said person has vampires and witches after them?!”

“You want to know what I find fun?” He snickered, meeting my eyes for a second before focusing on something further back in the club. When a flash of recognition sparked in his eyes, I spun around.

I could see the back wall of the club in between the sea of dancing bodies, and the roped off area labeled as “VIP.” Right next to that section was an unassuming door that read “Restricted – Employee’s Only.” There was another cluster of circular stages back that way, larger than the others in the club. Where the others had three women dancing, this one had six.

One of those six was a girl not much older than me, with thick thighs, tanned skin, and wildly curly hair. The golden body glitter across her shoulders and b*****s didn’t twinkle as much as the others because she had stopped dancing to stare Brandon’s way.

every few seconds, I could see this girl visibly

looking away from the girl. “She’s looking at

her…” Brandon frowned, just as confused

started walking our way, giving Brandon’s friend the chance she needed to slip through the

“Lola, what are you-“

I said

those fake friends I ditched Breyona

up behind me, but it wasn’t him who’d hit the bouncers first. Just by looking at them, I could almost anticipate their moves. The one with the larger arms would try to grab me, thinking I’d be easy to subdue because of my small frame. The other, whose arms

fond memory float to the surface of my mind. He had taught me to keep an eye on my surroundings, that too many warriors make the mistake of relying on their muscle and skill, when there’s so many other ways to win a

off their table, all without breaking my stride. The strong-smelling alcohol didn’t have time to drench my hand, because I was already hurling it at the beefy one’s face. A painful crack was heard, followed by an explosion of ice and beer. I avoided his flailing grasp and kicked the other as hard as I

I swore

just enough time to sprint past the two of them, through the employee door Brandon’s friend had

to take in my surroundings as quickly as possible. With Brandon right behind me, we darted into the employee’s only section, which happened to be a narrow hallway

seconds. Almost all of them had signs that read “available”

their heavy footfalls and knew there were too many for Brandon and I to take on in a

hallways, but up ahead there was a set of two. Both were open, pinned against the wall so that music and laughter spilled out. We made another

be at least twenty different men, and nearly

all. All I cared about was the set of doors farthest to us, and the sign that read ‘dancer dressing-rooms.’ The thundering sound of feet were growing closer, so much that I could hear a