by Lizzy Bequin
“So that thing that happened with your…”
“Yeah, never had that happen before. And the stuff that happened with your inside parts. I’ve never experienced anything like that.”
I nestle my head beneath his strong jaw and nuzzle against the cords of his muscular neck.
“Conway?”
“Yeah, sugar.”
“Can we do it again?”
He chuckles deep in his throat, but the sound soon morphs into that low, rolling growl. His skin heats, and the warm scent of desire curls off of him again, wafting from under his arms. And something long and hard and smooth prods against me at the joining of my thighs.
CHAPTER 20: CONWAY
By the time the evening sun is getting low in the sky, I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done it. All I know is that this girl is insatiable. She’s barely let me get out of bed all day, and that’s where we are lying now in the middle of the messy covers that are whorled up like some kind of nest. The sheets are damp with sweat and reek of our mating.
“Please,” Amrita begs in a sing-song voice. “Just one more time…”
She rolls back and forth lazily beside me on the bed, her knees falling open to reveal the raw heaven between her soft thighs, and the alluring scent of her cunt fills my nostrils again. She gazes at me between her splayed and slippery legs. Her pupils are stretched to near total blackness.
She’s in heat, and she’s practically drunk on fucking, lazy and playful like a cat that’s had too much catnip.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I chuckle, grazing my knuckles along her inner thighs, which are moist with sweat and her own sweet nectar.
She’s given me one hell of a workout today. I’m dehydrated like a motherfucker, and my heart is hammering like a two-stroke engine. Plus my poor dick is sore as hell.
Amrita, however, seems like she could keep going all night. And I have a feeling she’ll have no trouble convincing me.
A huge grin splits her face.
“Am I too much for you to handle, Mr. Alpha?” she teases.
In a flash I’m on her again, pinning her small, soft body beneath mine. Our mouths blend together in a hot kiss, and when I finally pull away, a thread of saliva briefly bridges our lips. She gasps as I tease her opening with just the tip of my hard cock
“I like it when you take care of my needs,” she says.
She giggles and squirms as I nip at her perfect little ears, which are blushing pink and scalding hot.
“It’s a tough job,” I growl between nibbles, as I roll my cockhead against the nub of her clit. “but somebody’s gotta do it.”
“Not somebody,” she whispers. “You. Only you.”
The women I’ve been before with would never say something like that. With them it’s been impersonal. Cold. And that’s how I wanted it. Hell, if one of those women had said something like that, I would have been running for the hills.
But with Amrita it’s different.
I know exactly what she means because I can feel it too. We’re bonded now as mates. That’s the only word for it. I feel connected to her on a deeper level than I’ve ever felt with another person before. My thoughts are consumed with protecting her. And one other aching need.
The need to see her belly swell with my child inside of her.
But another part of me curses myself for being so stupid. For one thing, I hardly know this girl. More important, we’re still not out of the woods regarding this whole screwed up situation. Kruger is still AWOL, our would-be killer is still out there somewhere, and as far as I know, Omicron is probably after my ass as well.
And here I am spilling my seed into this innocent, untouched girl like I’m trying to get her pregnant.
Based on everything I know about my Alpha conditioning, I have a sneaking suspicion that my little swimmers are about as souped-up as every other part of my physiology. And looking at the way that Amrita’s body has changed since she went off her meds, well…I’ve got a feeling that she’s beyond fertile too.
Hell, I’ve probably knocked her up already.
But I just couldn’t help myself. That scent. The way it gets inside me. The way her soft skin sets my body on fire. And those eyes. Those beautiful lavender-rimmed eyes, gazing into me and pleading for more and more and more.
She curls her arms around my neck, pecking kisses all over my lips and jaws.
“Come on,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. “If I don’t have you inside me at least five more times, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Only five?”
She rolls her eyes back like she’s doing some mental math.
“Ten,” she says in a mock serious voice, struggling to keep a straight face.
She squeals as I give her rump a swift smack. I roll out of bed, crossing the cabin on buckling legs.
“Where are you going?” she pouts.
“If we’re gonna do it ten more times, then I’ve gotta rehydrate,” I tell her, heading to the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ve got a drop of fluid left in my body.”
Fuck. All of the five gallon glass water jugs that I kept stashed by the kitchen are empty. I grab one, tilt it all the way up with both hands to let the last few drops trickle onto my tongue, and then tuck the big empty jug under my arm.
“Amrita, babe, can you be a good girl for two minutes while I go out to the well to get some water?”
She’s lying on her back, head hanging off the edge of the bed, grinning at me upside down. Her lovely gold hair drapes down the side of the bed like a wavy silk curtain. She rocks her legs back and forth like a slow metronome, watching me as I pull on my jeans. How the fuck is she so sexy?
“Two minutes?” she asks.
“Two minutes.”
I lean down and press an upside down kiss to her soft, wet lips and stroke her cheek. Then I go to the door and step outside.
The forest is dimly golden with the light of the dipping sun. The cool evening air washes over my bare chest and shoulders, evaporating the beads of sweat that dot my skin and refreshing me. I breathe deeply taking in the smells of the forest, the rich, earthy smell of decomposing logs, the soft odor of mushrooms, and the bitter tang of green leaves. As I walk to the well, about fifty yards from the cabin, the papery carpet of fallen leaves crunch under my bare soles.
The well is a steel pipe sprouting from the earth in a small, stony basin between the hills. There is a pump handle that pulls the clear water up from the depths of the earth. I pump it a couple of times, catching the sparkling liquid in my palm. I splash it on my face and gulp a couple of handfuls. It tastes wild and slightly sweet.
After a few more splashes, I set the five-gallon jug beneath the tap, filling it with the gushing, pure liquid.
The sights, the sounds, the smells around me are all so vibrant. It’s like Amrita’s body has changed me. Made me into a new man. She’s given me new life.
But I know I have to be careful. I have to stay sharp. For her. For both of us.
As I’m walking back to the cabin, water sloshing in the big jug hefted on my shoulder, I hear something, the faintest crunch of a twig, and I freeze.
Sniffing, I taste the evening breeze, but I don’t pick up any scent. If an animal or another human was sneaking around out here, I would smell them. And yet, something doesn’t smell quite right. Just slightly off. The short hairs bristle on the back of my neck.
I duck just in time, and the jug explodes on my shoulder, showering me with cold well water and shards of glass as a rifle shot echoes through the trees.
My reflexes kick in.
Without thinking, I’m scrambling on all fours, tearing across the forest floor in the direction of the shot. Somehow our mystery shooter has caught up with us. I spot him, and everything narrows to tunnel vision, focused on the small, shadowed figure crouching behind a flat, moss tufted boulder.
I duck and roll to the left, and bark shatters from a pine tree as another rifle shot booms, the bullet coming c
lose enough for me to hear it whine as it pierces the air.
Digging in my heels and claws, I barrel toward the gunman, my long strides eating the yards between me and my would-be assassin.
As I spring, his fingers are working the bolt of the hunting rifle, chambering another round, but it’s too late. He should have hit me with the first two shots. Now he’s dead.
My left hand swats the rifle, knocking upward just as the muzzle flashes, sending the bullet up into the canopy of the forest, blasting a dead branch overhead. My right hand clutches his throat as I tackle him. He tumbles backward and I land on him with all of my considerable weight. The air wheezes from his lungs and the rifle flies from his grasp, spinning away across the slippery carpet of fallen leaves.
“You’re in trouble,” I growl.
I’m dripping wet from the burst water jug. My shoulder has a few small nicks from the broken glass.
The man’s face is streaked with black and green paint, and he is dressed in camouflaged coveralls. His matching cap has fallen back to reveal the thinning, dark gray hair atop his head. His eyes, near perfect circles of pure terror are bright white amid his dark face paint.
As I take a sniff, I realize why I didn’t smell him before. He has sprayed himself with the odor eliminator that hunters use to keep downwind bucks from catching their scent. Smart. This guy’s not a total dumbass. But he got one thing wrong.
I’m not a buck. I’m the predator in this situation.
“Talk or it’s your eye,” I snarl as I protract the claw of my index finger, holding the needle sharp tip a millimeter from his frightened eyeball. “Who sent you?”
Behind me, Amrita calls my name from the cabin, her voice warbling with fear.
“Conway?”
“Get back inside,” I bellow.
But a moment later the camouflaged assassin pinned beneath me hollers in a stricken voice.
“Amrita!” he calls. “Amrita baby!”
My heart skips, and my muscles tense up. Son of a bitch. I didn’t recognize him with the painted face, and the odor eliminator masks the scent that I caught from him at the diner. So it was her father who shot me through the window of the hideout in the city. That explains why he didn’t try to shoot me once I was carrying Amrita in my arms. I didn’t even consider him as a possibility, figuring he would have no way to find us. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty damn curious about how he did find us, but I don’t have time to ask.
“Dad?” she cries from the cabin.
“Amrita, stay inside,” I roar, my mind reeling as I try to figure out how to get this situation under control.
But it’s no use. She doesn’t obey me, of course. The sound of her bare feet pattering on the ground grow louder as she runs closer.
“Don’t hurt him, Conway,” she calls, “He’s my dad.”
“Your lucky day, bub,” I hiss at him, and he releases a heavy sigh of relief as he realizes that he’s not going to die today.
Before I let him up, I pat him down real good, checking him all over for hidden weapons. I find two extra magazines of .308 ammo for the rifle, a .40 Glock, an elongated Judge revolver chambered with .410 bore shotgun shells, a trench knife, a can of real mace and two incendiary grenades. Motherfucker came prepared. Guess he really loves his daughter.
I take the satchel that he has slung around his shoulder and dump of his weapons into that. In the process, I notice an unusual device that I don’t recognize. But now’s not the time. I can ask him about it later.
Once I’m sure he’s clean and safe, I let him up.
He and Amrita take each other in a big tearful hug. He’s so caught up in the moment, that he doesn’t seem to notice right away that she’s wearing a bed sheet wrapped around her instead of clothing.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he blubbers, then he holds her at arms length. “You look…different.”
Amrita blushes as her father’s eyes go wide as they travel down her body, noticing the ample curves that she has developed since they last saw each other. The swell of her breasts and curve of her wide hips are more than noticeable through the drapery that covers her.
“Just as I feared…”
His gaze falls on her bared shoulder, the small red marks from my bite still clearly visible.
“What did this bastard do to you?” he shouts, turning and rushing at me. “I’ll kill you, you sick bastard.”
I easily hold him at arm’s length as he flails and swings wildly, his arms too short to connect with my face or body. I don’t have any desire to humiliate this guy, but I’m also not in any mood to be pummeled.
“Dad.” Amrita jumps in, placing her hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Dad, I’m all right he didn’t hurt me.”
“But…”
I can see the gears turning in his head and he looks at the wrapped bed sheet, and the developed curves of Amrita’s body underneath.
“Without your medication, you must have found out about your…your…needs.”
Amrita nods, her blush darkening.
“But you’re alive and well, so…”
He turns to me again, eyes wide, thoughts churning. This is getting a bit awkward. For a moment I think he’s going to come at me again, and I tense up. But the attack doesn’t come. He realizes it’s useless. With his weapons gone, he’s defenseless now.
“Listen,” he says, pleading, “let Amrita go and take me instead. Whoever is paying you, I’ll work for them. I’ll do whatever they want. I’ll make them a new Omega. I have the knowledge to—“
“No,” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m calling the shots now, and nobody’s going anywhere. As of today, I’ve cut ties with my former employers, but they’re going to keep coming after Amrita until they get their hands on her. I’m not going to allow that, and I know you aren’t either. But if we’re going to keep her safe, we need to figure out what the hell this is all about.”
He purses his lips, his jaw ticking with nerves. He shifts his glance between me and his daughter again.
“We both want the same thing,” I tell him. “To keep your daughter safe.”
“Hey,” Amrita says with a sarcastic wave. “I’m right over here.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, realizing I was talking about her like she wasn’t even here. “Look, it’s getting dark. Let’s all go inside. I’ll make some coffee, and then we can have a long overdue chat.”
***
The cabin is dim and cozy. I have electric lights, but I’ve chosen to use candles to save the limited amount of solar power. The flames from the candles light the interior of the cabin with a warm, flickering glow.
Standing at the stove, the heat from the burners warming my front side, I take the hot kettle and fill three tin mugs with steaming, black brew before setting the kettle back on the range and turning down the heat until the blue gas flames are just enough to keep the rest of the coffee warm.
While I’m preparing the coffee, Amrita is apologizing to her dad for the thousandth time for mistakenly shooting at him when we fled the hideout. He repeatedly tells her not to be sorry, and even laughs a little as he commends her on her marksmanship with a glow of genuine, fatherly pride in his voice.
He’s a good enough guy, and it’s clear that Amrita means the world to him. That makes him a winner in my book. It’s just too bad our relationship got off to such a rocky start, to put it mildly.
“I don’t have any sugar or milk,” I say, carrying the three steam-curling mugs to the small table that I dragged into the center of the floor.
“That’s okay,” Dr. Jacobson mutters. “I take mine black anyway.”
I set one mug down in front of him with a soft clank, and he gives a slight nod of gratitude, as he cups his hands around the warm mug, not raising his eyes to meet mine. There’s a stained white rag by his hands that he used to wipe the war paint from his face, which is mostly clean now, except for some smudges around his hairline, below his ears, and embedded in the creases around his nose.
Amrita is sitting across from him, dressed now in one of my sweat suits, which is comically big on her tiny frame, although the bagginess of the outfit still cannot totally conceal the voluptuous curves of her body underneath. My cock thumps faintly with desire, even now at this most inappropriate of times.
As I set a mug in front of her, she tilts her face up toward mine and brushes her hair back from her eyes, the bunched-up, oversized cotton sleeve so long that only the tips of her fingers emerge.
She gives me a pretty little smile, but there’s a pained look in her lavender eyes. This situation is complicated to say the least, and more than a little awkward.
But that doesn’t matter. It’s time to clear the water and figure out what the fuck is going on.
I drop into the third seat with a thump, my weight shaking the cabin, rattling the loose pots and pans hanging on the wall, and generally getting everyone’s attention.
“All right, Dr. Jacobson—“
“Reese,” he interrupts, casting me a sidelong glance between blowing at his coffee. “Call me Reese, please.”
I guess considering that we’ve tried to kill each other twice in as many days, we might as well be on a first-name basis.
“Fine. Reese,” I continue. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Me?” he barks, leaping to his feet and toppling his chair. “I’m not the criminal here! I didn’t kidnap anybody! If anyone has some explaining to do, it’s you!”
“Easy, Reese,” I growl, my muscles tensing. “Don’t forget that you’re my guest here.”
“Guest?” he shouts. “More like we’re your prisoners.”
I resist the urge to rise from my seat. In any other circumstances, I’d be tearing this son of a bitch limb from limb. He’s lucky that he’s my mate’s father.
“Dad,” Amrita says, reaching one baggy, sweat-shirt floppy arm across the table. “Please don’t do this. It’s not like you think. Conway wants to help us now.”
“He kidnapped you,” he says, his body fairly trembling with anger and frustration. “Sweetie, you’re confused. You must have Stockholm syndrome. It’s a common occurrence with kidnapping victims. They develop a misplaced empathetic bond with their kidnappers, and—“
