Outlaw Alpha

by Dakota Cassidy

  “Got it.”

  Her eyes began to close, the world a soft haze of fading colors and sound. “Oh, and please feed Clarence. His food’s in the cabinet above the…”

  She didn’t remember what she was going to say.

  Instead, she allowed the darkness to swallow her whole and take away her worry that her days were numbered.

  * * * *

  He grabbed the bag of dog food and dumped some in the bowl for Clarence, measuring it carefully with the scoop Freya had in the bag. He imagined everything Attorney Ashe did was always measured.

  Except when she made love. There was nothing measured about her response to him, nothing cautious about her touch.

  His groin tightened in response to the memory of last night, crystal clear despite the Seventh Heaven haze. And he wanted more. But stranger still, he found he wanted her willing. He wanted her to willingly come to his bed, and not just for sustenance.

  In the midst of this crazy, that was cause for some damn reflection. This wasn’t like him. He could lust for a woman all he wanted, but he’d never lusted in this way, this hard, soft, sweet way.

  Jesus Christ. Not now, McConnell. Focus on this shit that’s going to rain down on the two of you if you don’t figure this out.

  He patted his thigh and held out the food to Clarence, who ran willingly into the kitchen, his stubby tail wagging. “C’mon, buddy. Eat up then help me figure out how the hell we’re going to save your saucy mistress from death. And don’t worry, I won’t let that piece of shit Courtland take you from her. Not on my watch.”

  Because if Courtland knew what had happened last night, and how much she loved Clarence, he’d kill the dog just before he killed Freya—for the sport of it. Because he was a sick son of a bitch, and he’d love nothing more than to make her suffer before her death. And the new laws would damn well back him up.

  She’d reeked of Seventh Heaven last night. He was as sure of that as he was Courtland would have a damn chicken when he found out they were now mated.

  But where the hell had it come from and how had she consumed it without her knowledge? Granted, she’d been pretty lit, but she’d been in a crowd of people. Who’d want to drug her, and to what end?

  Grabbing his phone from his jacket, Liam sent out a text:

  Glitch in the plan.

  Do I want to hear this?

  Probably not, but you’re gonna anyway. Need help.

  What kind of help?

  The kind that has me turning an innocent.

  Fuck. That’s a joke, right? You didn’t.

  Not a joke.

  I don’t know if I have enough help in the world for that, man.

  Advice would be appreciated.

  Meet me at the lighthouse in twenty, keeping in mind you’re fucked to high heaven and whatever I say probably won’t help.

  Freya would be out for at least a couple of hours. That gave him plenty of time to meet up and get back before she woke.

  See you in twenty.

  While he waited for Clarence to finish his meal then let him outside in the backyard to handle his business, he ran over the events of last night, avoiding their lovemaking.

  Something was so damn wrong about this. For Seventh Heaven to just up and appear in Rock Cove, when he hadn’t seen nor heard about it in at least two years, had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

  Clarence bounded back toward him, covered in snow, his legs pumping, his jowls stretched and flapping.

  Despite everything, Liam grinned.

  He didn’t hate this new predicament.

  Not nearly as much as he should.

  Chapter 7

  Freya woke with a bone-satisfying stretch and that cavernous, gnawing hunger she’d experienced before she’s passed out. Every nerve in her body tingled, every cell aware and on fire. Her nose flared at the distinct scent of Liam, and as her eyes adjusted, she saw him standing in the doorway more clearly than she’d ever seen him before.

  Beautiful, hard, muscled.

  That crazy rush of need pulsed between her legs even as her raging hunger screamed for relief.

  In a blur of raven hair and strong thighs, Liam was by the side of the bed, staring down at her, devouring her with his eyes. Eyes that blazed hot and shimmery.

  “You need to feed.”

  “I need to fuck,” she replied, only a little surprised by her words as they shot from her lips with such ease. “You, by the way.”

  Somewhere between last night as a werewolf and tonight as a vampire, she’d lost the few inhibitions she’d once possessed.

  She’d never shied away from pursuing a man when the need arose, but she’d also never felt quite this urgent—this on the edge of insanity if she didn’t immediately have instant gratification.

  He lifted his chin, the stubble on it caught in the frosty glow of moonlight from her bedroom window. His eyebrow rose in that amused way Liam had. “Very subtle.”

  Rising to her knees, a hot throb of need pulsing through her veins, she whispered, “If subtle was what you were looking for, you barked up the wrong werewolf.”

  He reached down and clamped her wrists, putting them behind her back. His fingers wound around them, singeing her skin. “Take my clothes off, Freya,” he demanded, his voice husky and thick.

  She arched up against him, her back bowing, her breasts pressing against his chest, absorbing his body heat. Her nipples rubbed through the fabric of her sweatshirt, tight and hard and desperate for Liam to wrap his lips around them.

  Without a word, he let her hands go and hauled her close, pulling her tight to him, allowing every ripple in his body to melt into hers.

  Her fingers instantly went to his belt, unbuckling it to tear at his zipper and pop open the button of his jeans. She thrust her hands inside, sliding them down over his hips, gripping the firm flesh of his ass, freeing his cock, thick and rock-hard.

  Liam wrapped the length of her hair around his palm and tilted her head back, letting his teeth skim the length of her neck, making her purr with a rush of pure pleasure.

  She tore at his T-shirt, dragging it up over his head as he shrugged out of his jeans, kicking them away.

  When he stood before her, perfect, naked, the definition of his body caressed in moonlight, the lean slant of his hipbones sharp and lickable, she almost fell to her knees. Heat pooled between her legs, her hands itched in agony to touch, taste, savor him.

  Their eyes met, his like bits of smoldering coal, scanning her mussed hair and rumpled clothes. “Undress,” he ordered, his luscious mouth issuing the command with a hiss.

  Freya wanted to relish this moment, enjoy each nuance, but her lust—thick and heavy, hot and sweet—needed quenching. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head, dropping it to the floor as Liam’s eyes burned holes in her skin.

  When she hooked her thumbs into her sweatpants, Liam stopped her, gripping her wrist. “Don’t. Not yet,” he growled from a clenched jaw. “I can’t see your pussy without wanting to bury myself in it. But there are other parts of your body, aren’t there, Freya? Other parts that need just as much attention.” He trailed a finger over her covered cleft, making her buck against him with a whimper.

  Her body throbbed out an achy beat and if she could still breathe, she was sure she would have stopped by now when Liam knelt before her and whispered his lips across her nipple, then drew one into his mouth and paused before flicking his tongue over it.

  It grew tight in the heat of his mouth and then he tugged at it with force, letting his teeth graze over the rigid nub. Her knees buckled as she melted into him, the dizzy rush of need hitting her full force, making her grab handfuls of Liam’s hair.

  His mouth on her made her forget everything until she remembered she wanted to experience him, too. She needed to touch him, feel his skin beneath hers, leave her mark on him.

  Pushing him away with regret, Freya ignored his earlier demand and slipped off her sweats, shimmying out of them and
kicking them out of the way.

  Placing a hand on his chest, she pressed Liam onto the bed and straddled his hips, lingering for a moment to allow his cock to skim her cleft before she hiked herself up on his chest.

  His eyes met hers, on fire, glittering in the dark of her room. “Tell me what you want, Freya,” he commanded, husky and low.

  Lifting her hips, she offered herself to him. “Touch me. Lick me.” She whimpered the words before sliding her hand under his head and pressing his mouth to her aching core.

  His tongue wisped over her throbbing clit, striking out at it before retreating, making her legs tremble and her chest tighten.

  She gripped his hair. “More,” she begged, licking her lips. “More…”

  Liam slid farther down on the bed until his mouth was between her thighs, and then he spread her wide with his fingers, tasting her, humming his approval against her wet flesh.

  That urgent burn didn’t simmer—it shot white-hot heat throughout her body, coursing through her, making her nipples tight and achy as Liam stroked her.

  Then his mouth was too much, not enough, breaking her, giving her life, and when he sucked her clit into his mouth, it was her undoing. His tongue, rasping over her silky and quick, drove her to tear herself from his lips, placing her hands over his mouth and sliding down his body like a cat, content to absorb his smooth skin.

  Freya purred her contentment as her nipples scraped over his chest. She let her mouth graze his nipples, her tongue explore the ripples in his abdomen, until she was between his legs and his cock rubbed against her cheek.

  She heard him hiss from above her, smiled when he jammed his hands into her hair and lifted his hips as she enveloped him.

  Wrapping her hand around his length, she stroked, following the pattern her tongue had taken, a slow downward plunge.

  His cock was smooth, thick, and pulsing between her lips as he drove into her mouth, meeting each of her strokes until he made a protest and pulled away.

  Reaching for her shoulders, he dragged her upward and rolled her to her back, moving his body over hers and hiking her thigh up over his hip.

  Freya spread her legs wide, met his eyes when he stared down at her, savored the moment just before he drove upward, making her eyes slide shut and her back arch.

  Liam burrowed into her, pushing her deep into the bed, blending their bodies until they ground together with no beginning and no end.

  “Put your lips at my neck, Freya,” he murmured hotly against her ear, nipping it. “Do it now.”

  The frenzy he created in her body made following directions almost impossible. But she did as she was told, placing her lips at his neck—and then instinct happened. It came in a bolt of lightning, an understanding, an unspoken drive to sink her teeth into his flesh.

  The unbearable pleasure grew at the mere thought. With Liam deeply embedded in her, stretching her, filling her, her fangs elongated.

  It was at that moment, with a flash of brilliant lights behind her eyelids and an unquenchable heat between her legs, that she saw euphoria as though it were an entity. It was bright, hot, and it tasted like Liam.

  She sank her fangs into the flesh of his neck with a feral howl she was only vaguely aware came from her, sipping at the sweet rush of his blood as she came in writhing, wanton need.

  Her body went rigid, each muscle so tight she thought she might snap in two, and then pure pleasure washed over her, racing through her body as she clung to Liam’s back, her fingernails digging into the hard muscle.

  Liam consumed her, swallowed her whole, and there was nothing but flesh meeting flesh and wave upon wave of agonizing bliss.

  When his body stilled, he gathered her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers. “Rest now, fledgling.”

  How could she rest after that? She wanted to sing, dance, maybe even twerk. “I don’t want to rest. I want to—”

  “I know what you want, Freya, but you need to absorb this feeding and not exert yourself. You need to build up your body’s defenses and the best way to do it is to store the blood, not burn it off. I know you feel compulsive and reckless as all hell, but I’ve been a vampire a long time. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I feel a million things right now.” Some of them, things he likely wouldn’t want to hear. Things like, Oh, my God, don’t ever do that with anyone else because I’ll die if you do. And then I’ll kill the bitch. I’ll kill her so hard—

  Whoa. This vampire thing had some definite extremes. When was the last time she’d wanted to kill another woman for having sex with a man she’d bedded?

  Never. Because she didn’t really hang around long enough to care. But vampire extremes aside, the thought that he’d ever make love to another woman was like an arrow to her heart.

  Which was absolutely crazy—even if by some crazy set of circumstances, they were mated for life.

  “I know you do, and that’s why I’m telling you to just rest.” He rolled off her and pulled her tight against him. “Now, quiet not only your body, but your mouth. That needs rest, too,” he said on a chuckle.

  Rather than fight his order, Freya allowed herself to relax against him. She let his smooth skin on her cheek soothe her. “How long do I have to rest before I get some flying lessons?” she joked, grinning when she heard him laugh low.

  “I don’t fly.” Placing his fingers over her mouth, he traced the outline of her lips with a tender touch before kissing the top of her head. “Now, no more talk. Just rest, and if you wake up before I do, stay put.”

  “But I have so many questions.”

  “All lawyers do. But not now. And if you don’t settle down, I’ll be forced to break out the coffin I use to lock up all errant newb vampires.”

  Freya chuckled, her eyes growing heavier. “You don’t have a coffin.”

  “Freya…” he warned. But her eyes were already closing even as her brain was still reminding her how nice it was to lie beside this delicious man.

  * * * *

  Liam surfaced from sleep in a dark haze, his consciousness coming almost instantly, followed by a familiar rising jolt of awareness. Reaching to the other side of the bed, he fought a smile at the idea of finding Freya next to him. He’d nodded off, too, after they’d made love.

  Incredible, goddamn love.

  But the space beside him was bare, devoid of her lush curves when he let his hand roam over the sheets. “Freya?”

  He cocked his ear, waiting to hear her answer.

  But nothing.

  Damn that woman and all her independence. He’d told her not to go even so far as the kitchen without him until she’d adjusted. If she’d gone out alone, he was going to…

  Sliding from the bed, he found Clarence on the floor, curled around his boot. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me where she is, are you?”

  Clarence yawned and stretched, jumping to attention, his tail wagging.

  He grinned down at the dog, reaching for his shirt. “That’s what I thought. C’mon, let’s get you some eats and then we’ll hunt down your mistress who still hasn’t put her listening ears on.”

  He jammed his legs into his jeans and wiggled his finger at Clarence, who followed closely behind him. As he made his way down her narrow hallway, noting several quilts in frames and one hanging on a hook, a gust of wind pushed its way toward him, ruffling his hair.

  Clarence went low on his haunches, sitting back on them and growling.

  Liam placed a hand on his head and looked directly into the dog’s eyes with a warning. Instantly, Clarence rose and pressed against his thigh, but retreated to a spot just behind him.

  He let his senses take over, sniffing the air, noting Freya’s scent—vague, but still lingering, and mixed with the smell of freshly fallen snow.

  Creeping down the hallway, he kept a finger latched onto Clarence’s collar and stuck his head around the corner of the kitchen.

  The damn door was wide open, and a snowdrift had begun to form on the slice of carpet F
reya had on the inside of the front entryway to wipe your feet.

  Meaning the door had been open long enough for the blowing snow to accumulate.

  At the rate it was falling now, it could have been open for who knew how long?

  Every muscle in his body tensed. If Courtland had come back around and even looked at Freya cross-eyed, he’d kill the motherfucker.

  Always think before you react—the very words he’d drummed into Freya, now applied.

  He let his nostrils absorb the scents around him again, keeping his worry for Freya and her whereabouts at bay long enough to take a thorough scan of the room.

  The crunch of feet against snow made both he and Clarence pause. Liam eyed the front door before putting his finger to his lips and looking down at the dog, whose beautiful eyes watched him as he waited for an order. “Stay.” He mouthed the command with a point of his finger.

  Skirting around the breakfast bar, he was just about to rush the front door when Freya fell into it, stumbling forward and crashing into the entryway wall with such force, she dented the sheetrock.

  In a blur, Liam was by her side, helping her up, righting her so she could stand. He wrapped an arm around the waist of her semi-limp body and cupped her chin. Her eyes were dilated and glazed over and a smear of blood lie at the corner of her mouth in a slash of ugly crimson. The same sweatshirt she’d worn yesterday was torn, threads of it hanging in loops, and her feet were bare.

  “Freya, where the hell have you been?”

  Her eyes were wild when she looked up at him, her body shaking. “I…I don’t know!” she almost wailed, gripping his arms, her nails digging into his biceps.

  The tone of her voice, the panic, the fear, set off alarm bells in his head, but he wasn’t going to get any answers with her in the state she was in. He tried to pull her close, but she shoved back at him, hard enough to knock him into the wall and take out a picture.

  And then she looked at her hands with horror.

  They were covered in blood.

  Their eyes met, hers filled with utter terror. “Oh my God! What did I do?” she whimpered, voice hoarse and raw, before racing to the kitchen sink.