Alpha’s Virgin Stripper

When the man stood in front of him, Harris first took note of the way he held his sword. The broad-chested man's grip on it was tight but imbalanced, and he saw this. Perhaps weeks of intensive training had done him better than he believed it would.

Harris had been carefully and brutally training with the wolves since he arrived. He knew that the only way he would not be thrown into the streets is if he could impress the chief, Jesse Wyatt.

The man had said he would be present to watch today's training session. And for some reason, they were training with swords. Of course, Harris never saw the use. If they ever went to war against any pack, they would make use of guns and combat.

However, Jesse had said that necessary swordsmanship skills taught a man focus, agility, strength, and speed for physical combat.

So there he was, holding on to the steep blade as if his life depended on it because it did.

Harris shook his head, he wished could easily wipe the sword out of the man's hands and slit his throat at the spot. He knew that would please Jesse.

Just as Harris had suspected, the man swung first. He blocked the hit on his face by slanting his sword and the two metals clashed, sparking, and making clanging noises. The tall man aimed for his leg, but Harris was fast enough to block the hit. He pushed further and the man staggered backward.

Harris scoffed. He drew his feet back against the sandy ground, dust rose from underneath his feet. His ragged clothes were soaked and stained with sweat, but it was nothing for him to worry about.

He only wished the sun above them did not have to be so scorching and hot.

"What's funny?" The man growled.

Harris moved to the right when he saw the man continue to move in circles.

"Nothing really. I'm just impressed by the fact that you do not want your pretty face bruised." Harris replied. The man tried to swing his sword at Harris's throat, but Harris ducked it by bending his back, he pulled himself up and slid on the floor, aiming for the man's heel.

The big man jumped and Harris missed. He sprung up to his feet immediately.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, mixed with his blood and Harris kissed his teeth, readying his stance by placing his right leg firmly on the ground, few inches ahead of his left.

Harris knew he was at a slight disadvantage. The man was naturally big and had more body mass than his slim self. Whether he could use that to his advantage or disadvantage rested on him. But with the heat of the sun frying his brains, Harris did not know if he would be able to think.

"Think fast!" A familiar voice called out from the stands. Harris froze on the spot and turned sharply to loom at Jesse Wyatt. Immediately he heard the big man growl at him, Harris returned his eyes to his opponent and swung his sword without direction.

This move not only confused the man, but it caused the big man to lose his balance as his feet had not been planted properly on the ground. Harris found the confusion in the man's eyes and he worked on it and with it. He jumped, as though he was going to strike the man from the top.

The man ducked to dodge the hit, but ended up falling to the ground, flat on his back. Harris landed on the floor with his two legs at both sides of the big man's body.

The man stared at him from the ground and Harris chuckled, while dangling his sword in front of the man's face.

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"What do you say I give you a permanent tattoo? You know, something to remember me by when I'm gone."

"You do have a lot of nerve speaking to me, boy." The man had obviously missed his joke, because he was neither smiling nor laughing.

It had been that way since he got here. He barely spoke to anyone except a scrawny roommate of his. They were the only ones who had common physical attributes. Harris had often wondered if they'll speak to him when he started to build muscles.

It was the only reason he joined the men at the local gym every morning. He started with mild exercises, now, he was lifting iron bars of over hundred kilograms and the likes. He was starting to see the growth in his biceps and legs, but Harris knew it'll take some time for him to become like any of these men.

"You better get off me, boy. Before I wipe that smile out of your pretty face." The big man threatened. Harris continued to laugh as he pulled his weight away from the man. He stretched out a hand to help, but the man ignored it and rose to his feet by himself.

Harris watched the big man walk away, but he could feel Jesse's eyes on him.

"Good job today, boy!" Jesse called out from where he stood. The handsome elderly man was clad in a lose white long-sleeved shirt, opened to the third button on his chest. Beneath the shirt were black cargo pants.

He did not look as though the sun was scorching. Instead, the sun radiated something Harris liked to call the "glory of male beauty."

Although, he wished they could stop to refer to him as "boy". He was a grown man, and he was very sure he was older than at least ten percent of the population.

He bowed to Jesse and the man smiled.

"If you keep up like this, I might send you on your first assignment to Rush pack."

Harris's eyes widened even as he stared at the sandy ground. His jaw hardened and his fists clenched by his side.

Rush pack.

His mind wandered back to the event that brought him here, to Jojo.

His sole aim was to get revenge on the alpha for bringing him here, and to get Jojo Wyatt at all cost.

He would be damned if he allowed himself lose an opportunity like that.

He raised his head and kept a straight face.

"I'll be most honored, chief."