Southern Alpha Book Two (Southern Alpha Serial 2)

by Carina Wilder

  “It is. Literally in the middle of nowhere. It’s how I like it.”

  He parked the car in front of a small house surrounded by the looming silhouettes of massive cypress trees. The house wasn’t much more than a shack, a square box of weather-beaten aluminum-siding with a rickety porch containing piles of fishing equipment. But something about it was sort of charming. After the ridiculous night we’d had, I felt like I was coming home.

  Trick slipped out of the driver’s seat and made his way over to open my door. I tried to twist my body out of the truck, but the move inspired a yelp of pain when another agonizing sting shot its way up my right leg.

  “Let me help,” Trick said, picking me up gently like he’d done back in the cemetery. Before I knew it, he’d managed to carry me up the porch’s steps and over to the front door. After miraculously unlocking it without dropping me, he carried me inside to a battered old couch and laid me gently on my back.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, padding back over to shut the door.

  “I’m okay,” I said, though I could feel myself wincing as the strained word made its way out of my mouth. The truth was, the pain seemed to be growing deeper, more intense with every second that passed.

  “I’ll get something to make you feel better,” he said, leaving me temporarily to dart into an adjacent kitchen. Less than a minute later, he returned with a small jar in one hand and a bottle of some dark honey-colored liquid in the other.

  “What are those?” I asked, sucking air through my teeth as I lifted a piece of my tattered dress to eye the angry wound on my leg.

  When my eyes landed on the burn, I all but fainted.

  I’d burned myself before. Once on an element on the stove, which left a bright red mark on my right index finger. Another time I’d slightly seared my thigh with hot wax, which had made my skin blister white, then turn pink. So I thought I knew what happened to human flesh when it met intense heat.

  But the flame that had scorched my dress shouldn’t have eaten away at my leg so deeply or so quickly. It definitely shouldn’t have turned my flesh black. It looked like a strip of my calf had been held over a grill for three hours until it turned to charcoal, then cooked for another hour.

  “What the hell?” I asked, tears threatening to streak down my cheeks. “How is this even possible?” I realized with a grimace that I’d asked that question more than a few times tonight.

  This isn’t possible seemed to have become the theme for the evening.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Trick said, holding up the small jar that he’d brought in from the kitchen. “This is a salve—a special kind—just for burns. It’ll help, trust me. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  “I don’t think anything can help this,” I moaned, trying not to look at the wound.

  “Just…trust me.” He handed me the other bottle, the one that contained the dark liquid. “In the meantime, take a swig of this.”

  “Is it moonshine or something?” I asked as I reached for it.

  He let out a snicker. “Something like that. Look, it’ll take the edge off. Have some.”

  I eyed him dubiously, not remotely trusting that any of this was a good idea.

  “Come on. I made it myself,” he said, yanking the bottle away. “I’m going to get offended if you don’t at least try it.” He uncorked it with his teeth. Damn, even when I was suffering the tortures of the damned, I was all too aware of how sexy his mouth was. As I stared, transfixed by the way his lips wrapped themselves around the bottle’s opening, he took a long swig.

  “Fine,” I said, grabbing it again and swallowing a huge gulp. The stuff tasted like battery acid mixed with lighter fluid. But it did warm my insides with a stunning immediacy.

  “Whoa there,” Trick laughed. “If you drink the whole thing, you’ll keel over. Take it easy.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “My leg really hurts. Booze seems like a good idea at the moment.”

  “I know.” His voice had gone gentle now, empathy lacing its edges. Something told me he understood the pain I was in, like he’d felt it before.

  I took another sip, watching as he applied the strange, clear ointment to my wound with his fingertips. Immediately my skin felt soothed, almost numb, like the burn had never happened. Even the angry blackish-red color seemed to fade away after a few seconds. At first, I thought it was just a trick of the light or my mind playing tricks on me. But no—the wound was definitely already on the mend. Though I had no idea how, the magical bayou mixture seemed to be healing me at an accelerated rate.

  Well, whatever it was, wherever it had come from, it was a hell of a lot better than sitting there in excruciating agony. For the first time since the fireball had clawed its way up my leg, my mind began to clear.

  I leaned back and fixed my eyes on Trick as he stared at my calf. I couldn’t help admiring his amazing eyes, his sexy, slightly pouty lower lip. That out-of-control hair that never seemed to fall the same way for more than a few seconds at a time.

  As I gazed at him, my insides warming from the effects of the dark brew that I’d been drinking, a sudden memory flooded back of the sensation of his lips on mine, the feeling of his fingers inside me, his tongue lapping at my clit…

  Those few minutes had been bliss, perfection, ecstasy.

  If only we could finish what we’d started.

  No, I told myself. This has been the craziest night of your entire life. You need to get some answers before you even think about going down that road.

  “Hey, who were you talking to in the cemetery?” I asked, pressing my head back into the arm rest, and folding my forearm over my eyes. “Who was that woman?”

  Trick let out one of his low chuckles. “Wow, you really do like working your way into people’s business, don’t you? Even when you’re injured.” The words may have been an accusation, but his voice was shaded with amusement.

  “It’s who I am,” I told him, pulling my arm away from my eyes so I could look at him. “I used to be a journalist, before I became an author.”

  “Well, that explains a thing or two. So you’re telling me that now you only eavesdrop for pleasure.”

  “Something like that.”

  Trick tucked a hand into his hair, pushing it up and away from his face. “Well, if you must know, that woman was from New York,” he told me, his eyes roving back to my legs again. I wasn’t sure if he was admiring them or monitoring my wound for progress. Either way, I liked it. “She works for an old acquaintance of mine. She was setting up a meeting.”

  “Ah. You mean the man who’s coming here,” I said. “The one she was talking about. Tristan Wolfe, right?”

  Trick eased down to seat himself on the floor close to me, crossing one muscular leg over the other and pressing his hands into the dark blue area rug spread out beneath him. His eyes were doing that sparkling thing I’d seen earlier in the evening—going oddly bright, like they were lit from within. They almost reminded me of the eyes of those enormous dogs…but no. His eyes were kind, if a little cold on occasion. He was no animal.

  “Tristan Wolfe,” he said. “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “I heard you talking about Alphas. What was that all about?”

  He pulled his eyes away from my legs and locked his narrowing gaze on mine. “Nothing you need to know about right now.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like you’re keeping a secret.”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  I let out a snicker. “You keep saying that. Tell me, is everything complicated in your life?”

  His lips curled up at the corners. “Nope. Some things aren’t complicated at all, actually.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “Like what I’m thinking right now,” he said, his gaze stroking its way over my prostrate body. I glanced down to realize for the first time that the fire had burned a deep slit up the side of my dress, which was now revealing not just my entire right leg, but also the thin waistband of my lace panties.

&n
bsp; It was no damned wonder he’d been staring so intently. I was practically flashing him.

  “What you’re thinking?” I asked. “You mean to say that you intend to take advantage of the poor, helpless victim of a firebomb attack?”

  “I’d never take advantage of you,” he said. “I’m just admiring you. Don’t forget, we were in the throes of some pretty intense heavy petting when the shit hit the fan back there. Right now I’m finding it a little hard to forget how good you tasted.”

  A rush of blood swept through me, heating my cheeks and pretty well every other sensitive part of my body. “But I’m a mess now,” I said. “I’m burned, my dress is ruined, and I can only imagine what my face looks like. I’d say I’m a walking disaster, but I’m not sure I can even walk. I can’t imagine you’re finding me particularly alluring at the moment.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, moving onto his knees and easing nearer, until he was right next to the couch. The sexy giant was too close to resist now. I could smell him again, and that unreal, intoxicating scent of his was destroying me.

  As my eyes slipped over his features I thought about grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss. I wanted to. I didn’t care about my burn anymore, about anything but his lips finding their way to mine.

  But I should have cared. I should have been in self-preservation mode. He was dangerous in more ways than one, and I needed to be careful.

  “You still look beautiful, you know,” he said, breaking my resolve for a moment as he slipped a hand onto my cheek, his thumb stroking its way gently over my lower lip and along my chin. I shivered under his touch. “Really damn beautiful.”

  I found myself smiling in spite of my self-consciousness. I felt close to him all of a sudden, like he’d opened a door just a little and was considering welcoming me inside his private emotional haven.

  But after a second I tore my eyes away from his and focused on the ceiling, reminding myself that the entire night had been crazy—and not just because of the lunatics with the Molotov cocktails. Trick wasn’t some sweet guy that I could bring home to Mom. He was a disaster of a man who’d pushed me away and pulled me in so many times that I felt like a yo-yo on crack.

  “Beautiful enough for a one-night stand, you mean,” I replied, trying to convince myself not to bask in the pleasure of his admiring touch when I knew it couldn’t last.

  He yanked his hand away. “That’s not what I said.”

  I shook my head. “No. But it’s what you meant. I may be attracted to you—way too attracted—but I know your type. You waltz into a party, every woman swoons, one of them goes home with you, you play hide the manaconda, and then she never hears from you again.”

  “Oh, that’s how it is, is it?” he asked, a hint of irritation darkening his voice. “You think that’s who I am?”

  I flicked my eyes over his face again. “I don’t know,” I said. “Is it?”

  “No. Besides, you’re dead wrong about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You would definitely hear from me in the morning.”

  “Oh, would I?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I mean, you’re impressive. You took the extra step and got yourself horribly burned, just for an excuse to spend the night with me.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s why I did it,” I said, nodding as a reluctant smile forced itself over my lips. “It was all part of my master plan. Suffer intense pain and risk losing a leg, in the vague hope that the hot behemoth will take you home.”

  “Well it worked, didn’t it? You’re here.” Sensing that my iciness was melting a little, he edged closer until he was only an inch or two from my face. “It was a good plan,” he murmured, his lips almost close enough to touch my own. “You figured out my soft side. You knew there was no way I was going to abandon a woman in need of my tender care.”

  “I don’t think you have a soft side,” I said, willing him to move closer still. “In fact, as I recall, you were very, very hard.”

  “True. Funnily enough, I’m very hard right now. You seem to have that effect on me.”

  Kiss me. Kiss me now or I’m going to explode. Let’s finish what we started in the cemetery...

  “Show me.”

  He rose to his feet and slipped onto the couch to prop himself up over me, one knee tucked into the couch on my left side, the other on my right. I smiled up at him, taking in that gorgeous face of his, surrounded as it was by tumbling strands of light hair. His complex eyes spoke every emotion imaginable. Joy, sadness, confusion, pain…and deeply erotic hunger.

  He pressed down, his lips meeting mine with a burning intensity, reminding me how I’d all but passed out from the sheer delight of the sensation in the cemetery. As his tongue stroked mine needfully, his left hand slipped up to the right strap of my dress and slowly eased it downward, and before I knew it he’d managed to peel both my dress and my bra away from my skin, exposing my right breast. In one graceful motion he moved down, his lips wrapping around my nipple, peaking it as his tongue lashed at its tip and sent a dart of agonizing desire straight to my core.

  I shot my fingers into his mane and pulled him closer still, encouraging him. The pain in my leg was entirely gone now, my body nothing more than a bundle of overjoyed nerves.

  He slipped my left strap down and treated my left nipple with the same care as my right. A low moan escaped from between his lips as my hips rolled under him, urging him to give me what I really wanted.

  I needed him now, craved him. I felt like I’d tremble into pieces if he didn’t find his way inside me soon.

  But he chose to draw out my pleasure, to torture me by prolonging my ecstasy. After a few seconds he was between my legs, his fingers yanking my panties away as he laved my slit with exquisite strokes before dipping his tongue into my hungry opening. Then he pushed two fingers inside, his tongue flicking over my bud again, lashing me with tender, velvet strokes that made my body shudder with the promise of the coming explosion.

  I jammed my fingers into his hair again and rocked my hips, pushing myself greedily into his mouth even as he fucked me with those wondrous fingers of his.

  “Trick,” I moaned, “I’m going to come. Is that what you want?”

  He nodded even as he pulled my clit between his lips in a series of slow, devastating sucks, his tongue probing, tasting, massaging me. By some miracle, this man knew my body better than I did. He was driving me over the edge in slow motion, forcing a slow, methodical eruption inside me that sent tingles of heat down every extremity at once.

  “Oh...fuck,” I rasped, then I cried out as the orgasm flooded from my head straight to every nerve center in my body. I squirmed when he thrust his fingers deep, thriving on my tightness when I pulsed hard around him.

  “That’s it,” he said, landing a gentle kiss on my bud. “Squeeze me. I want to feel it.”

  My hips rolled slowly, urging him deeper as another tremor hit, then he eased his fingers in and out rhythmically until my shudders finally subsided.

  He pushed himself upwards, his body skimming over mine, until I could look into his amazing face again. His hair was tossed to one side, wild and untamed just like the rest of him.

  “Take off your shirt,” I commanded impulsively, the breath coming hard to my chest. I wanted to see all of him, to know what the magnificent beast looked like without the burden of clothing. If this was going to be a one-night stand, I wanted to experience every bit of him, even just this once.

  He pulled himself up and dutifully yanked his shirt over his head, revealing a broad, powerful chest and eight-pack abs. I gasped when I saw how glorious his bare torso was. I’d never seen a man with such exquisite definition, with so many complex ridges of muscle. I couldn’t resist the temptation to run my fingertips over his taut stomach as he eased his body over mine again.

  “Holy. Sexy. Giant. Man,” I said, “you’re…amazing.”

  “I’m not,” he replied almost sheepishly. “I�
��m just a guy.”

  “No, you’re definitely not just anything.” I pulled my eyes to his again, studying him closely. I examined his irises, trying to work out what made them look so bright in certain light. “What is it that makes you tick, Patrick?” I asked.

  “Patrick.” His lips twisted into an irresistible smile. “I should tell you, I hate that name.”

  “So why are you smiling?” I slipped a hand around his neck and pulled his face towards my own.

  “Because it’s coming from between your lips,” he said. Perfect answer. His mouth sealed over mine again, and I sank deep into the couch, my mind drifting away while my body embraced the sensation of floating on air, water, clouds, pure lightness.

  I wrapped my right calf around his leg, astonished to realize that my wounded calf didn’t hurt at all anymore, and pulled him in closer. He was between my thighs now, his length pressing through his jeans into my pelvic bone, teasing me with its proximity to my eager pussy. “I want you,” I whispered when he’d pulled back far enough to meet my eyes. “I want you inside me.”

  When he shot me an inviting smile, I reached down and unbuttoned his jeans then slipped the fly downward. Reaching into his boxers, I gasped when I found what I was searching for. His gorgeous dick was so thick, so rock-hard that I could only imagine the sweet pain that would lash my insides to have him sheath himself inside me.

  It was a pain that I’d craved since we first made contact in that damned cemetery.

  He lifted his hips to let me push his jeans down to his knees, all but freeing him from his confining clothing. Seconds later, he’d yanked my panties to the side again, his fingers slipping inside me, twisting and pulling apart to pry me open, then curling greedily as he reveled in my wetness.

  He pulled his hand away and made a show of licking the shiny juices off his fingertips before fisting his erection and pressing its head tantalizingly into my folds.

  Oh God. This was really happening. The night of madness had culminated in sheer perfection…

  But that was when he froze.

  “Sierra…” he said when I reached for his hips and encouraged him to bury himself deep, my hips rolling up to welcome him. “Wait.”