My throat closes. My fingers tingle and the hair on my nape hardens. Why doesn't he do something? Say something? Anything to break the silence that fills the room and presses down on my shoulders. Sweat beads my palms.
The chiseled planes of his chest tense, tightening his skin that is the color of honey. I want to run my lips over the demarcation of those powerful pecs, to lick and suck my way down to those thighs shaped from sheer muscle and tendons and covered with a smattering of light hair. The chafing of his rougher skin on mine would set off delightful trails of friction over my belly, leaving tracks of redness where they’d scrape the insides of my thighs.
Sparks of heat jolt through my chest.
The tension in the room ratchets up, and my nerves feel like they are being strained to the breaking point. Every part of me feels like it is on fire, yearning for his touch, yet he stays unmoving. He could be a sculpture or an obscene dedication to everything that is lethal.
My eyelids feel too heavy, and I lower my gaze back to where that massive shaft throbs. In the last few seconds, his shaft has grown bigger, harder.
My breath stutters. He’s too large, too massive. Every part of him screams that he is bent on dominating me, that he will not stop until he gets what he wants, and not even then. Not until every single inch of my skin bears his imprint.
Something very much like anticipation grips me. The still rational part of my brain screams out a warning.
I need to get out of here.
Out of these clothes which feel too tight on me. Out of these barriers which I have imposed on myself. Tear through the walls and expose that giving, needing omega inside me.
The yearning is so primal that my womb cramps and slick gushes down my inner thighs. I wrap my arms around my waist and groan.
The sound seems to turn him on even more, and his already engorged shaft thickens further.
He takes a step forward, and I have no doubt that he is going to close the distance between us. He is going to lick up the sweat from between my breasts, then thrust his tongue inside my pussy and absorb my essence, and the awful thing, the beautiful thing is that I can’t wait. I need him to take the choice out of my hands and put me out of this misery.
The image cuts through the haze that the heat cycle has brought on. I straighten my shoulders and tear my gaze from the part of him that promises me the ultimate freedom.
He stalks toward me to stand at the foot of the bed.
This close, the dominance of his presence weighs down on my chest, presses down on my shoulders. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck rise. A plume of heat spools off his chest and slams into me, a moan whines out of me.
His gaze widens, those cruel lips curl in a smirk.
My sex quivers in response. Every pore on my skin pops open tuned into him, waiting for him… waiting.
He leans forward on the balls of his feet. His scent crashes over me, sinks into my blood and tugs at my nerve endings. My skin puckers.
Closer, I need him to come closer, why has he stopped? No, what am I thinking? What’s happening to me? My throat closes. “Don’t you dare,” I gulp.
7
Zeus
“Don’t challenge me.” I keep my voice casual when every part of me aches to cover her body with mine.
Waves of fear roll from her. Yet she holds up her fists in front of her. The skin stretches white over her knuckles.
Standing on the bed that is on a raised platform, she is still not at eye level with me.
I frown. “You are tiny.”
Her chest rises and falls; her thick hair curls over her face and around her neck. Red highlights gleam in it. How will it feel to have those locks wrapped around my palm as I yank back her head and close my mouth around those delectable lips?
“My looks are deceptive.” She raises her head and meets my gaze.
“I said tiny…not fragile,” I smirk. “Your will is strong enough that you walked into my turf and took me on, not to mention facing down a crowd of alphas. Clearly, you are also stupid.”
“Stupid?” She blinks as if she can’t quite believe that I said that to her face.
Hey, I did compliment her first, didn’t I? Backhanded as it was, I was still appreciative of her fearlessness…or should I call it recklessness?
“Not as much as you are.” She thrusts out her chin.
“Oh?” I angle my head. “Pray, tell me what you mean by that?” My voice is casual…and while my men would have given me a clear berth on hearing the threat in my voice, it seems to have the opposite effect on her.
“I’ll go one better,” Her shoulders tighten. The muscles of her arms bunch, and I know she is preparing to attack me.
I brace myself for the inevitable when she snaps her shoulders back, and her breasts strain against her jumpsuit. Those nipples outlined through the material tease me, call to me, begging me to cup them, massage them, curve my tongue around the hard nubs and pull on them.
All other thought goes out of my head.
Everything except that I am an alpha and this luscious omega, ripe for the plucking, going into her heat cycle, is here, in my room, in my bed. On my turf.
Fuck everything else.
My thighs go rock-hard.
Her gaze slides back down to my dick. Her little pink tongue slides out to lick her lips, and I feel the ripples of need all the way to my groin.
I have to have her now.
I growl my intention, drawing that harsh purr out, all the way from the depths of my being, up through my ribcage, pouring it out, unfurling the notes over her, lassoing her with it and pulling her closer, closer.
She groans and stutters mid-step. Her gaze widens; the black pupils in those forest-green eyes bleed out. “That’s not helping.”
“On the contrary. I’m making sure you are wet enough to ease my penetration.”
I breathe out a low purr. And am rewarded when the sugary scent of her arousal grows deeper.
Her cheeks flush. “Thanks for painting—or should I say panting—that for me in graphic detail.”
I can’t stop the surprised chuckle that cracks out of me. “Not only gorgeous, and a fighter, but also smart.” The compliments roll off my tongue so easily. I hear my own words and start.
Just a one-off, that's all it is.
I never waste time on words, definitely not before I fuck. Not ever. And certainly not to sing the praises of the omega who’s already in my grasp. I have no need to tell her what I think of her. Really not.
Her cheeks flush. “You going to say now that your approving talk will also ease your infiltration of my body?” She huffs out a breath.
“No, actually… I am deciding how to put that sharp tongue of yours to better use.” I gaze at her mouth, knowing that will only turn her on further. Somehow, my plan of taking her has turned into a full-blown seduction. It feels so right, and yet it’s not what I want. Is it? I need her to fear me, lay with me, fuck me back perhaps, just as I intend to worship her body, too.
Molten heat courses through my blood.
She must sense my thoughts, for her lips tremble. Her chest heaves. She curls her fingers into fists at her sides, and I know it’s because she’s stopping herself from touching me.
“You want me, admit it.” I run my hands over my chest.
“No.” Her gaze follows my actions as I slide my palm down to my thick cock and palm it at the base. Squeezing it down the length until a drop of precum oozes out.
She licks her lips. Oh, yeah, she wants me, wants my dick inside her all right. “Why are you fighting the inevitable?”
“Because… I have sworn to only lay with my mate.”
Her features freeze as if she can’t believe she’s blurted that out. I angle my head. Interesting. A strange warmth pools in my chest. I don’t want to examine it. Don’t care what it is. Nope. No way.
“So you haven’t been with any other alpha?”
She squares her shoulders. “Your ability to deduce the obvious is overwhelming.” She tri
es to sneer, but her voice trembles, spoiling the effect.
I don’t need her confirmation to reaffirm what I’ve already sensed. She’s held back from anyone else having her, and that knowledge shakes me to the core.
I want to shove her on her back, bury myself inside her, sheath my cock in the depths of that sweet omega essence right before I turn her over, then bend her and slam into her from behind, taking her in every conceivable position.
She must read the intention on my face, for she shakes her head. “No.”
I peel back my lips. “Yes.”
This is when she retreats, perhaps falls on her knees and submits to me—better still, lies back, opens her thighs, and stays that way. I growl low, anticipating that sweet taste of her coating my tongue, that complex, seductive omega scent rolling through my blood as I raise and lower her on my cock. I can literally feel her skin give under my fingers when she snarls and bows her head and comes at me.
For a second it is I who blinks and freezes. I stare as she charges at me.
Little hellion.
I almost admire her for her fighting instinct, for that need to not give up, to fight back until the last breath, that intuition that had kept me going all through my growing years. That had brought me here to this fine suite in the palace in the richest district of the city.
I sense a kindred spirit in her. Which is why I am going to have to break her. I almost feel remorseful at that. Almost. But I have no choice. I have my plans all laid out. I haven’t come all this way to let an omega derail me.
So what if she smells like sunshine and heat and that faint sugary taste of musk that hints at her arousal?
So what if she has the most beautiful, most desirable, most luscious body that I have ever encountered?
So what if given half a chance she will claw her way under my skin, rip out my heart, and trample all over it, even as she claims ownership of my soul…and I must put an end to this. To whatever spell she is casting over me. Her omega essence is clearly ensnaring me, making me lose my composure, and that I will not allow. No way.
When she rushes at me, I take the brunt of her hit. I don’t feel it. No, that’s a lie. The feel of her breasts sliding against my chest, the scrape of her knuckles as she smashes her fist into my side, all of it turns me on.
I don’t move. And it’s not the fear of hurting her that keeps me immobile. It’s just that I relish the splatter of her punches on my chest until the fight finally goes out of her.
She falls to her knees, head hanging forward, shoulders slumped.
She’s breathing heavily, her lips parted, her spine curved down. It’s a gesture of total submission, one I appreciate.
My cock twitches and I delight in every second of the tension building in my groin. The inevitable coupling is going to be so much sweeter. So satisfying, that bite of pure satisfaction that comes with having broken an omega completely and utterly.
Reaching down, I swipe her hair away from her face, then clamp my fingers around her neck.
Her body tenses, then she springs up and snaps her head forward.
8
Lucy
I rear up and smash my head into his chin. Shock waves ricochet down my neck, down my spine. Sparks of red flash behind my eyes.
It feels like I’ve run into a brick wall. The impact slices through my body.
I cry out and fall back on the bed. Tears run down my cheeks. I’d known I wasn’t going to be able to escape, knew it from the moment I’d agreed to this half-assed plan to assassinate the General, that this could go either way. But until that moment I’d not realized I’d held out a last sliver of hope that I’d be able to break out of the grasp of this alpha.
He’d given me a chance to escape, and I had failed.
Then he’d allowed me to go at him, and the one solid hit that I’d got in at him had laid me low. The physical pain from the impact rips through me. A dull pressure pushes against the back of my eyeballs. More than the fact that I am utterly and completely at his mercy, it is the humiliation that I can’t hold my own against him that frustrates me. I’ve honed my fighting skills against some of the most skilled warriors, and all of it is to no avail.
It’s strange that more than the possible rape of my body that this alpha no doubt intends, it is the rape of my pride that hurts me more.
The throbbing in my head increases in crescendo. My guts twist, and the band around my chest tightens.
Sweat drips down my back, down my forehead, creeping into the space between my eyelids, and they sting.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lie there waiting for whatever punishment he has in store for me. Knowing only to expect the worst. Every last nightmare version of what I have heard from other omegas of how alphas will take from you, tear into you to slake their thirst…all of those scenarios crowd in on my head. My shoulders hunch. Tears slide down my cheeks and dammit, but I can’t stop them.
I am aware of him swooping down on me.
The world tilts as he slides his body under me, stretching out and cradling me close to his chest. There’s a strange gentleness, an almost awkward reverence to how he holds me. He doesn’t soothe, doesn’t say anything. His arms are around me, bands of steel that tie me to him. To keep me prisoner, to stop me from escaping, no doubt. I should feel threatened…yet I am not.
There’s only a relief that I can stop pretending. Is that what I have been doing so far? Pretending? The thought brings on a fresh wave of tears, and a sob racks my body, then another. Before I know it, I am holding on to the same arms that imprison me, hanging on to him for support as I bawl my eyes out.
My insides twist.
I curl up my legs and bring them close. I am wound around this man’s chest like a baby clinging to her mother.
My sobs intensify. What the hell is wrong with me? This is not the time to have a full-blown breakdown. Not in the arms of my captor. Yet surrounded by the heat of this alpha's body I feel secure in a way I've never felt before, not even with my own family. I don’t have many memories of my mother who died too young. My father was a warrior, the Czar of Moscow. Though I was an omega, he’d recognized the fighter in me. He’d made sure to train me. I’d been fortunate that as a member of the royal family I’d had the choice of when to mate with an alpha. I’d managed to delay it, too, until now.
The tears keep coming.
My throat is so dry I am sure I shouldn’t be able to cry anymore, and yet I can’t seem to stop. It’s as if all the years of pent-up hatred, fear, recklessness, all of it wound inside comes bubbling up. I am falling apart, and it’s in the arms of the most powerful alpha in the land. The one who will no doubt take my virginity against my will.
But even that thought doesn’t stop my weeping. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing except the feel of his arms around me.
The soft growls that rumble up his chest rock my body.
The rich bass of his purring crawls up the space between us, vibrates up his throat and curls around me. Sensuous, gentle. His tone is almost sub-vocal, and yet it’s unmissable. It’s hypnotic. I listen to it. Am entranced by it. I hiccough once. My ears pop, and the sound grows deeper. A soothing, resonant murmur that rolls over my skin and sinks into my blood.
Each new wave of purring sets off sparks of heat in its wake. Seducing. Comforting. Like he’s weaving a cocoon around me. I am caught in the wonder of this new experience.
The earthy scent of him, mixed with the dark cinnamon of his arousal, sloshes over me. I breathe it in, not aware that I am doing it, not until the hard planes of his chest bite into my cheeks. I become aware of digging my nails into his skin, which is streaked from my tears.
My tears.
It’s so intimate. And yet it shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t feel so right when everything else is wrong, so wrong. I shouldn’t be here. With him. In his bed. Enfolded in his arms. Soaking in his warmth. Reveling in that entrancing alpha scent of his, seeking out his touch…his caresses. Him. Only him.
How
can I feel so much, in such little time? And for someone completely and utterly wrong for me? My eyelids grow heavy. I try to crack them open, but it’s too much of a struggle. I push against his hold, knowing I should try to break free.
Another soothing purr rumbles over me, and the muscles of my shoulders unwind.
He slides his thigh between mine, but I am too weak to protest. The rough hair of his upper thigh brushes the tender skin between my legs. I was wrong. The feel of his skin on mine is not only pleasurable, it heightens the contrast between what only he can offer and the emptiness swirling inside me. Something like pain skitters down my spine.
I swallow and reach once more for that rumbling that is growing in volume, deepening around me. Pulling at me. Tugging at me. I want to protest, say something. But I feel too weak. Like I have been running, fighting too hard.
The purring changes tenor becomes deeper, resonant. It sparks a response from my nerves which immediately seem to catch fire. I shudder, not sure exactly what he’s doing to me.
If this is what it means to submit, so be it.
He may as well take me when I am half out of my head with grief, with sadness, and an overwhelming desire to be done with whatever it is that an alpha does to an omega. Or not. I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been with a man before. Not because I am a prude, not for my lack of trying, but because for an omega, once you get an alpha to mate you to break the heat cycle, then you can’t stop, not until the heat cycle has run its course. More often than not it results in an omega’s pregnancy.
And I’ve never thought I’d want to bring a child into this world, not until I’d met the right alpha. Which isn’t him.
My muscles tense.
His arms tighten as if he senses my discomfort.
I wriggle in his embrace, pushing against the sculpted planes of his chest.
His breath raises the hair on my head. Another purr builds up from his groin. I am lying on him so I can track exactly the source of that sound, follow it as it shivers up his iron-hard stomach, ripples through his rib cage, vibrates up his throat and then pours out in mellifluous chords that slide into my blood, straight to my core.
Fated Mates: Paranormal Romance Series Starters Boxset Page 38
