Free Anger Management for Alphas by Anya Byrne Page B

man could hit the floor.
    The soft skin of the stranger's bare arms burned Landon's
fingertips, and he wanted nothing more than to rip off the T-shirt and explore
every inch of that delicious body. Instead, he asked, "You okay?"
    "F-Fine," his mate stammered. A pink tongue came
out to lick the young man's lower lip, and the sight of it hypnotized Landon.
He ached to press his mouth to that of his mate, to take what he'd waited for
his entire life.
    But the humans were still there, watching, so Landon was
forced to release his beautiful mate. The young man slid into his seat and took
a deep breath, as if trying to brace himself. Landon didn't know if it
worked—for him, it definitely wouldn't have, since the tantalizing scent of his
mate was already getting to his head. However, the other man wasn't a
werewolf—a shifter, yes, but not a werewolf—so maybe it helped him. In the end,
it didn't matter. Landon's mate turned toward him and offered his hand in
greeting.
    "That was an interesting way to meet. I'm Angel Gilmore.
Welcome to the group."
    Landon took Angel—and wasn't that a fitting name?—up on his
offer and gripped that soft hand in his own. "Landon Boone. And it's a
true pleasure being here. More than I ever expected."
    ****
    Angel felt like he'd fallen into a dream, or better yet, as
if he was flying in the upper strata of the atmosphere, where shifters his age
were always told not to go. He could not believe this was happening. He could
not believe he'd finally found his mate.
    Landon held onto Angel's hand for a little longer than would
have been polite in the case of two human strangers brought together by anger
management classes. Angel's face flamed, but he didn't try to free his palm.
For the first time since he'd been grounded, he felt something else despite
frustration and resentment.
    Landon's eyes glowed, green-gold and shining with a predatory
light. It was hard for Angel to identify the exact species of his mate, but if
he had to guess, he'd say... werewolf. There was just something about Landon
that felt wild and free. When Landon had helped him to his chair, Angel had
sensed the barely veiled strength in his mate, the beast straining underneath
the surface. And oh, he wanted nothing more than to release that beast, to
slide his fingers over Landon's skin and trace those magnificent muscles, to
hold onto Landon's dark hair as his mate touched him in turn. But now was not
the time. He had to stay focused. He was in public, and his far too elaborate
fantasies weren't helping either of them.
    Mrs. Jameson cleared her throat, and Landon finally released
Angel's hand, albeit with a great deal of reluctance. Angel would have felt
embarrassed, but he knew better than to think the human would begrudge them the
attraction. Indeed, she shot Angel a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Mr. Boone here has a lot of things in common with you, Angel. Perhaps it
would help him if you shared your story."
    Quite frankly, Angel doubted that. Whatever had brought a
werewolf here, hearing about Angel's past wouldn't chase away his anger. Then
again, it wasn't like Angel could actually tell the truth.
    "I ran into trouble with my parents because of my sexual
orientation. My father tried to pressure me into marrying someone I didn't
want, and it all exploded in our faces. Since then, it's been very hard for me
to come to terms with what happened and start over."
    It was a bit vague, but he didn't want to delve into the true
unpleasantness of the story. For the moment, he just felt happy and mellow, and
he wanted nothing more than to curl into Landon's embrace. Patience, he
reminded himself. The class would end soon. He just had to endure for a while
longer.
    It took forever. Angel usually liked coming here—he didn't
have to do it anymore, but he enjoyed being around the humans. As a rule, it
distracted him from his glum thoughts. Today, he was anxious, perpetually
hyper-aware of his mate's presence by his side.
    The