Taming the Alpha

by Mandy M. Roth

  From the corner of his eye he could see she smiled, very slightly. She said nothing else until they reached the bottom of the mountain as he’d planned. He knelt and Wallace helped him take Dahlia off his back. From here he would carry her in his arms.

  She snuggled against his chest, swelling his instincts to protect her.

  Here the grass grew tall along the foothills. As a boy, he’d read once about the meadows in the west being filled with grass that grew as tall as the bison, and once they began keeping cattle, the landscape was never the same. Apparently, it was true and with the passing of modern civilization, the earth was resetting itself.

  The old highway’s asphalt had disintegrated without upkeep. Barely visible through the shoulder high grasses, they finally found the cracked remains that wound through the pass. Tiny seeds peppered his coat as he walked behind Wallace. Much of the pavement remained, at least enough to make their way easier, and there were wide trails where the weeds had been trampled by large game. He hoped that meant they were maintaining scouting expeditions, but nothing was certain.

  Connor hadn’t been this way in years and little looked familiar.

  “What are we looking for?” Wallace asked, his throat sounding dry.

  Connor swallowed, forcing what little moisture remained in his mouth so he could speak. “Mile markers. They should still be standing. I’ll keep an eye on this side and you watch that. We could walk right past them.”

  “Dahl, we’re almost there, baby,” he said, giving her a shake. She didn’t wake up. He stopped and shook her again. Her head lolled to the side.

  His heart pounded. “Run, Wallace. We’ve got to find water. Now.”

  “What if we miss it?”

  “She can’t wait much longer. Run on the sides. One of us is bound to hit it,” Connor said, launching himself into a desperate run.

  They kept even with one another, running alongside the broken highway. Wallace shouted, and Connor raced to his side.

  “I found one,” Wallace said, breathing heavily.

  “Here, take her,” he said, handing Dahlia to her father while he searched the area for the cache. The grass was shorter here as if it had been trampled down a few weeks or months ago—a good sign they were in the right spot. Could something go right just this once?

  A depression marked where a ditch once stood. He jumped into the area, found an old culvert leading under the road. It was overgrown, full of dirt and weeds and still moist from the recent rain. Leaning down, he ripped the weeds and debris out of the way, clawing at the earth frantically trying to open the hole wider. There, hidden inside was a backpack.

  Relief flooded him like nothing ever had before. “I found it!” he shouted. He raced back to where Wallace was, waiting as the old man set her on the ground. Inside the bag were two canteens, a pocket knife, a thin roll of wire, and an emergency flashlight with a whistle on one end.

  On inspection, the canteens smelled fine. He handed the whistle to Wallace. “Head onto the road; blow this every five minutes until I tell you to stop. With any luck, one of our scouts will hear you and come.” Wallace nodded and returned to the road.

  Connor dropped to his knees and gathered Dahlia’s head in his lap, tilting her face so he could pour the water into her mouth a little at the time. Her eyelids fluttered as the water trickled past her lips. She swallowed greedily, color coming back to her face.

  Panic widened her eyes. She pushed him off, leaning over to vomit. She heaved until she’d emptied all the water from her stomach and collapsed back into unconsciousness. This wasn’t simple dehydration. She’d picked up a parasite.

  The whistle carried, loud and clear. The hope that a patrol would hear them in time to save Dahlia was nearly nonexistent. His settlement was miles away.

  Dahlia rested her head on his lap, breathing shallowly. He smoothed her coarse, curly black hair from her temple. Even unconscious, he could see she was in pain by the lines marring her forehead. Her lips were chapped and nearly colorless. The bright youth of her skin looked pallid and deathly. Urgency gripped him like a vice, twisting his guts with regret and dread. He couldn’t wait on the promise of aid that might not come.

  Taking a deep breath, Connor dug the pocket knife out of the backpack and unfolded the small blade. He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Dahlia woke in the semi-darkness, with the warm press of a hard body against her back and a heavy arm across her middle. Disoriented, she struggled with the arm before someone spoke and she realized it was Connor.

  “Dahl. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Connor said, his voice gruff and sleepy.

  She turned in his arms, looking at his face, realizing she could see every detail in the shadows. Behind him, a fire crackled in a hearth, and the wood smoke scented the air. The glow against the wall reflected on his silhouette, making his dark brown hair glimmer.

  “Where are we?” she asked. “Where’s my dad?”

  “We made it to my settlement. New Haven. Your dad has his own room. The first snow of the season fell while you were sleeping and recuperating. We just made it through the pass and there’s no going in or out now. We’re stuck here until spring. You don’t have to worry about your people finding us, or anyone else for that matter,” he said.

  “New Haven,” she said, liking the name.

  He watched her and traced her cheek. “I forgot how fragile human life is until I held you in my arms and watched you nearly die.”

  But she didn’t feel the same. Something was different. She’d never had excellent eyesight, and she distinctly remembered being unable to make out his face in the dark before. “What happened to me?”

  He sat up in the bed and turned, retrieving a glass of water on a bedside table. He offered it to her and she sat up, realizing for the first time that she was in an actual bed—with pillows and a comforter that was as fluffy as the clouds. She had on a fresh laundered shirt that smelled like flowers, and someone had divested her of her pants. Her skin and hair felt clean as well, and looking at him, she realized he was naked beneath the covers. The knowledge that he’d been snuggling her in the buff without a barrier between them sent a shockwave through her.

  He sighed, looking worried with his furrowed brow. “You had to make the change, Dahl. You’d picked up something from the untreated water and couldn’t hold anything down. We, your father and I, knew you’d never make it. Can you forgive me for forcing something on you that you didn’t want?”

  She drank her fill of water and handed it back for him to set down. Her opinion on the Renegades had been colored by horror stories her entire life—she’d never met one until Connor, and he’d changed her opinion of them in every way imaginable. She’d had no way of knowing that by saving him, she was saving herself and her father. He’d given them the precious gift of hope when all she’d ever really known was despair.

  When he turned back to her, she felt a light go off inside. She opened her arms, inviting him close. He hugged her, feeling right, safe and warm—everything she’d needed and didn’t know.

  “I was afraid before I knew you. I’m not afraid anymore. It’s done and you did what you had to do to save me and my father. I could never hate you for that,” she murmured against his naked chest, reveling in the scent and warmth of his skin. “It’s a gift.

  He stroked her back through her thin shirt, making her shiver with anticipation. He stopped, holding her away to meet her eyes. “I want you to be my woman, my partner. Will you stay or do I have to get down on my knees and beg you?” he asked in a charmingly gruff voice that melted her insides.

  “Begging would be nice…” she said, grinning. She nodded and grabbed his chin. “Of course I will stay with you until you give me a reason to leave.”

  He smiled. “I don’t plan on giving you one.”

  She felt mischievous. “Now, I seem to remember there is something of yours that I need to steal.”

  His eyes glinted. “I knew you had ulterior motiv
es. You’re a terrible liar.”

  She pushed him down on the bed and straddled his waist, pinning his hands on either side of his head. “I’m taking your seed and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Give it up. Now. Or there will be consequences.”

  Connor laughed, faking a struggle with her as she dipped her head for a kiss. His lips parted and he sucked her tongue greedily into his mouth. She moaned in the back of her throat, rubbing herself against his groin. His cock hardened, poking against the cleft of her buttocks. He lifted his hips insistently urging her for more.

  For once, she was in complete control and she liked it. She smiled against his mouth, playfully tugging at his lips and jaw as she rubbed her palms down his arms and chest. He nipped at her, hungrily trying to reconnect, but she avoided him, preferring to tease him until his body stiffened and his breathing quickened.

  He rubbed her hips and lower back, her buttocks. She kissed his jaw, enjoying the contrast of stubble, the pulse in his neck. She played with his nipples, watching them harden under her fingertips. When she licked one, he sucked in a harsh breath, and the movement of his belly muscles fascinated her. She traced the muscles with her tongue, shifting her body down until his cock was trapped in front of her groin instead of behind.

  Connor groaned, grabbing her. “I’m ready for you to steal that now.”

  Dahlia laughed and straightened, grabbing his cock with both hands and pumping the shaft until his eyes rolled back in his head. She was wet and ready, tired of teasing them both. Lifting up, she guided him to her entrance and slowly lowered herself down on his dick until she’d engulfed him completely.

  “Ahhh,” he said, lifting his hips as she set a rhythm.

  Flexing her thighs, she moved up and down, taking a slow pace that tightened her core muscles with each stroke. Connor grabbed her hips, urging her faster, harder. She bit her lip, throwing her head back and holding his chest for support.

  The sudden touch of his fingers on her clit sent pleasure shooting through her nerves. She gasped, grinding against his cock as he plucked the swollen nub.

  “That’s it, baby. Ride it. Come for me,” he said, his voice hoarse and so sexy, she thought she would die.

  “I...I don’t know how,” she said, biting back a moan as the tension within her increased.

  “Don’t think about it,” he ground out, rubbing her clit with gentle ferocity.

  Her belly jerked. Her pulse quickened, and every ounce of her being seemed focused on the sensation his fingers elicited in her clitoris. Overwhelming pleasure mounted and grew. She was beaded with perspiration, her muscles aching with the strain of growing tension.

  He didn’t let up on her, not for a second—guiding her hips with one hand and keeping his fingers at her throbbing center. Pressure built, climbing until it reached a pinnacle of white hot intensity that burst through her nerves and curled her toes. Warmth spread to the bottoms of her feet, up her spine. She dropped to his chest, and he gripped her back, thrusting upward into her until the clenching grasp of her inner muscles brought him to orgasm.

  She felt his groans in his chest, felt the shuddering of his organ deep within. She trembled, taking it all until he was finished and limp beneath her. For several minutes, they lay with their bodies still joined, and then he rolled and pulled free with a wet sound. He kissed her face and brushed her damp hair behind her ears.

  “Wow,” she breathed into his neck.

  “It gets better,” he said, lazily playing with her curls.

  She looked up at him. “Better?”

  “The more you do it, the more you find to enjoy.”

  Dahlia smiled and bit his chin. His hand tightened in her hair and eased her head back. “What are you waiting for then?” she said.

  The End

  About the Author

  Writing futuristic and fantasy romances, Jaide Fox takes great delight in dreaming up new fantasy realms and scifi settings with characters that nag her until she tells their story. When she’s lucky, and her three children cooperate, she writes. When she’s not writing, she’s reading and researching for her next book. Jaide loves to create alpha heroes and heroines that readers can identify with.

  www.jaidefoxbooks.com

  Once Upon a Full Moon

  by Tracey H. Kitts

  Freya’s life is changed forever one full moon.

  Chapter One

  Never ride a dune buggy on a full moon. If I’d had that tidbit of advice before, my life would be completely different. My friend John and I were out late that night cruising the dirt roads. We live in a small town. There’s not that much to do. It was either this or hang out in one of the three bars on the other end of town. Personally, I’m not a bar kind of girl.

  Anyway, John was driving and I’d just cracked open a beer when he slammed on breaks.

  “What is it?” I slurped foam from the top of the can. Fortunately, I hadn’t spilled any on my coat or blanket. It was butt-freezing cold and I had no desire to get wet.

  “Did you see that?”

  It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it that made me pay closer attention. His eyes were wide and fixed on the road in front of us. The moon was bright, so we really didn’t need the headlights. I looked around and took another sip of beer.

  “John, I don’t see anything. Are you okay?”

  “Fuck.” He pulled back his hood and rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved head. “Do you believe in Bigfoot?”

  I laughed. “Are you high?”

  “Well, I saw something that I sure as hell can’t explain. It was big and had lots of hair.” He pulled the hood back over his head and this time wiped his eyes like he was trying to erase what he’d seen. When he put the buggy in reverse I reached over and grabbed his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going the fuck home. Look, you can make fun of me once we’re safe inside the house.”

  He was obviously upset and I was starting to get spooked. “I’m not going to make fun of you, but the closest house is mine. And the fastest way to get there is down this road.”

  I pointed to where he’d just seen “something.”

  John shook his head. “Fuck this. If we’re going that way, we’re going wide open. Put that beer between your legs and hold on.”

  Okay, now I was scared. John put the buggy in gear and revved the motor. I barely had time to grab hold of the bar in front of me before he took off. My hood flew back and if I hadn’t been sitting on part of the blanket it would have blown out. The wind tore through my hair and made my eyes water.

  “John!”

  He either couldn’t hear me above the roar of the engine and the wind, or he wasn’t listening. I was about to tell him to slow down when I saw something. A dark shadow came flying out of the woods. Everything happened so fast. I heard something scraping against metal, felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. The buggy spun around and the next thing I knew we were in the ditch.

  “What was that?”

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” John leaned over and pulled me to him. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I am?”

  Damn. My shoulder had been torn open. I couldn’t tell how bad it was without better lighting, but it hurt like hell.

  Another dark shape was following closely behind the first and leapt out right in front of our headlights. This one was clearly recognizable as a man. He had long black hair and the moment he looked at me I was captured by his gaze. There was determination in his eyes, sadness, and most of all regret. I was just about to say something when his eyes flashed amber. I gasped and in the time it took me to look at John, the other man was gone.

  “We’re getting out of here,” John said.

  The ride home was tense and frightening. The time it took us to cover the short distance felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. John pulled up close to my back door so we would be out in the open as little as possible.

  I had my key ready. When I went to jum
p out I finally spilled the beer. Under normal circumstances I would have laughed. It only took us a few seconds to get inside and quickly lock the door. John pushed a chair underneath the doorknob.

  “What the hell?”

  “They do it in movies. Shut up, I’m scared.”

  We both stood there trying to catch our breath, panting like we’d just run a marathon. It was when I went to take off my coat that I remembered I’d been injured. Somehow my fear had cancelled out the pain for a short while.

  “Shit.” John dropped his coat and went for the bathroom. “You still got that first aid kit?”

  “In the cabinet underneath the sink.”

  I winced as I removed my sweater and tried to get a better look at the cut on my shoulder. It was pretty long, but not as deep as I’d first thought. When I’d glimpsed it before, I could have sworn it was a wide gash.

  John gave me an odd look when he came back in the room. I hadn’t given much thought to standing in the kitchen in my bra and jeans. I was more concerned with my injury.

  “You need stitches,” John said, putting the first aid kit on the kitchen table. “Here, sit down and let me take a look.”

  “You’re an EMT, can’t you just tape it up or something?”

  His hands shook when he opened the kit. “I guess I can, it isn’t that wide. Stitches would be better.”

  “I don’t want an ugly scar.”

  “You should probably go to the emergency room anyway. I mean, what the hell was that thing? You’ve been scratched by an unknown … creature.”

  I sighed. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. The second one was clearly a man. Maybe the first one was too. All I saw was a dark shape. That could have been anything.”

  John wiped the scratch with disinfectant and I screamed, “Son of a bitch! Go easy with that.”