Alpha_Mated

by Nora Ash

  Icy tendrils creep up my back at the sudden realization that, even with all Peter's strength and power, this man in front of me could - and would - harm him. Is this how Peter feels, knowing how easily his enemies could harm me to get at him? I am infinitely simpler to hurt than my alpha protector, and suddenly his attempt at sending me away makes more sense than it did just an hour ago.

  As I stare up at the Lord Mayor, I know without a shadow of a doubt that if Peter dies, I will be nothing but a shell. He is my alpha—the other half of me—and it doesn’t matter that I never chose him, because it never was a choice.

  But if I back down now, I lose him anyway. He will send me away to keep me safe, and I will never see him again.

  And that’s not an option, either.

  My hands are clammy when I accept the microphone from Bremen once more.

  I turn around and look out over the many reporters staring back up at me. The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

  This is my one chance. Fighting against the sick feeling of nerves fluttering in my stomach, I lift the microphone to my lips.

  “I am Leigh Adams, the girl from the video you’ve seen all over the news this evening. And I have something important to share with you.”

  Chapter Six

  “Before I explain what happened on that tape, I need to tell you about the night I met Peter Leod.” I take a deep breath as I look out over the many faces and video cameras pointed at me. There is no holding back now.

  “I am the KTP reporter who Presented during the press conference a few weeks ago.”

  Surprised murmurs fill the room, but I ignore them.

  “At the time, I didn’t know why. It was the most shameful thing that’s ever happened to me—until I was blasted across the city on that video tonight, of course. I was told not to show up at work again until after the election—if I was lucky. I was devastated. I’ve worked hard for my career and my reputation, and all of it was gone—just like that. Because my body betrayed me, without my conscious knowledge or approval.

  “That next night, Peter Leod came to see me.”

  Another round of murmurs. I take the small break to look down at him. He’s still standing in front of the podium, alone now and facing the audience, like my own personal bodyguard. His muscles are tense as if he’s expecting a fight, and I know he’s scanning the room for any potential threat to me. Even though I know he doesn’t want me to do this, his first instincts are still to protect me. As mine are to protect him, which is why I have to moderate the true events of the night he came for me.

  “I don’t need to tell anyone here how badly affected Peter’s reputation was after that press conference. He’s supposed to be the one alpha who protects us all—the champion of the women and beta males. Our voice. And yet there he was, broadcast across the city as nothing more than a primitive, feral beast so wrapped up in his embarrassing instincts he lost all ability to act like a civilized human being.

  “It’s probably no surprise, either, that when he came to see me, he was very angry at me. I thought he might hurt me for ruining his reputation.

  “He didn’t. That night, I learned what it means to be an alpha’s mate.”

  This time, the voices in the room rise to more than a murmur, and I take another break as the gathered reporters come to grips with what I’ve implied.

  “Miss Adams, are you saying you’re Mr. Leod’s mate?” someone calls out, his tone incredulous.

  “No, I am not saying that. Not yet.” Subconsciously, I reach up to touch the bite marks hidden by my hair. “He has yet to claim me. You see, for him to court me like an alpha would his intended mate, there would be no possible way of repairing his image as the moderate Liberal who does not support archaic gender roles and biological structures. And I… I was scared of him. Of the alpha in him. The man you saw fighting amidst every other alpha in the room during that press conference is the Peter Leod I’ve come to know. He tries to hide his physique in those expensive, tailored suits and behind smooth words to make you forget what he is underneath the thin layer of civilization. Because he knows, as well as every other politician in here, that we fear them—the alphas.

  “And we are more than happy to play along, aren’t we? Every one of us in here can smell the alpha pheromones in the air, but we all pretend like we don’t notice. We pretend like it doesn’t fuck with our own hormones and instincts, we pretend that we’re all too civilized to let our behavior be dictated by our biology. Even the Conservatives, with their old-ways agenda, hide the most primal of their urges to not show us their true faces, and with good reason. We all saw what kind of pleasure these politicians—these alphas—seek during this year’s masquerade. And we were horrified. Appalled.

  “These men up here with me are the people we entrust with upholding the very foundations of our society, and every single one of them partook in the auction at the masquerade. Every single one gave in to his most primal urges—everything we as a society claim we want no part of.

  “That’s what Peter did to me in the video you’ve now all seen. He gave in to his instincts, and he took me as an alpha takes his woman. But it wasn’t rape—I wanted every moment of it.”

  I fasten my gaze on Leod’s as the murmur rises anew across the room. It’s only a short moment before he turns his head back to scour the crowd, but it’s long enough for me to see the pride in his eyes. It gives me strength to continue.

  “We allow ourselves to be blinded by the masks these men wear to gain our confidence, but deep down we all know what they are. And we crave it on a primal level so ingrained in our DNA we hardly realize it’s there. But it is. There’s a reason why every politician in this city is an alpha, why every riot officer and firefighter is one of them. We gravitate toward them because everything inside of us yearns to follow a strong alpha. We may play at being civilized, but deep down, we still have the same urges and instincts as we did tens of thousands of years ago.

  “Peter Leod didn’t rape me. What you’ve seen is a private video tape of consensual sex with an alpha. I don’t know who leaked this video, or how they got a hold of it, but I do know it’s been done in an attempt at discrediting the only man in this city who speaks up against the corruption and unfair segregations in our community.

  “Do not hold Peter Leod’s nature against him when you don’t hold it against every alpha who’s ever knotted a woman, and every beta or female who happily follows them. Do not punish him for what he is—hold him accountable for what he says and what he does, like you should any candidate hoping to lead our city. That is the only way to put a stop to the deceitful doings by corrupt men with too much power and too little respect for the people they are meant to serve. Do not blame their alpha nature for your distrust. If you do, you will only give them excuses. Blame their actions. Blame their ill intent. Hold them accountable not for what they are, but for what they do. And then act on it.

  “Do not turn against the only hope Mattenburg has for ending the corruption.”

  My heart is hammering in my chest when I finally finish my speech. I never wanted this kind of attention, but now that I have it, I desperately hope that I’ve done enough to save Peter. And Mattenburg.

  Movement in my peripheral vision makes me turn my head in time to see Lord Mayor Bremen—with a face like a thunder cloud—stalk toward me, and it takes all I’ve got not to shrink back from his obvious anger. Clearly, he’s not impressed with my speech, even though I didn’t mention his involvement in that video directly.

  But before the pissed alpha reaches me—and the microphone—Peter appears by my side, undoubtedly summoned by the aggressive pheromones in the air. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and shoots Bremen a pointed look, a clear warning, before he turns us both toward the crowd once more.

  “Mr. Leod, is what she’s saying true?” a reporter shouts above the loud mutterings from the room.

  Peter glances down at me, and his gaze softens as our eyes lock. Gently, he touches a hand
to my chin before returning his attention to the reporter. “Every word. And she’s right—it’s about time we stop pretending. I am an alpha, with every instinct and desire that goes along with it. And it changes nothing. I will still fight for equal rights and elimination of corruption in Mattenburg, like I have from day one. I will fight for the people of this city, not its crooked elite. I am every firefighter, every policeman and every bodyguard in this city. I am here to protect you, and I will not rest until the people of Mattenburg are safe. I am an alpha, yes, and my power is yours. This I swear to you.”

  It’s midnight before Peter finally manages to leave the heaving throng of reporters and politicians with excuses that “his mate” is falling asleep on her feet. He’s not far off—when the door to his office finally shuts behind us, I stagger the few feet to the nearest armchair and collapse in it.

  “I’m so tired I think I could sleep for a week,” I mumble, my eyes already sliding shut.

  “You’ve had a long day,” Peter says, his voice a deep rumble. Its sound relaxes muscles I wasn’t aware were tight. He walks over to my chair, easily lifts me up so he can sit, and then places me in his lap. He’s warm and safe, and I nuzzle in against his strong body with a pleased mewl.

  “Before you sleep, may I ask you how you came up with that speech? You creamed my PR team with that show, and I pay them an awful lot of money to make me look good.”

  I shrugged, not bothering to open my eyes. “I just told the truth. Your willingness to give me up to protect me, even from yourself, kinda proved that you’re one of the few good guys in this city, deep down. You’re the reason that what goes on at the masquerade is public knowledge, after all.”

  A small pause. “You do know I did that solely for selfish reasons, right?”

  I smile against his chest at the somewhat hesitant note to his voice, as if he’s reluctant to admit it to me. “Eh, either way, you acted in the best interest of the public. And I think as long as someone’s there to remind you to keep doing that, you’ll make a most excellent Lord Mayor. So I guess I better stick around to keep you on the right path.”

  “Leigh… it’s not safe. If Bremen gets a hold of you again, he isn’t gonna use you as blackmail. You’re smart, and the way you spoke to the city tonight, he knows you’ll be a threat to him in your own right. I won’t have you harmed. You understand?” This time, there’s more than a hint of grim determination in his tone, and I know he’s working himself up to be all Protective Alpha and attempt to send me away again.

  I give his chest a soothing pat. “I guess you better make sure I’m protected, then, ‘cause I’m not leaving Mattenburg. Or you. You may be my alpha, but you don’t get to boss me around outside of the bedroom. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

  He’s silent for several seconds, until a defeated sigh escapes him. A large hand cradles the back of my head, pulling me in closer against his bulk. “You better prepare yourself to never leave the bedroom, Miss Adams.”

  I smile against his shirt and cuddle into his warm embrace. “I’m sure we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement, Mr. Leod.”

  Chapter Seven

  2 WEEKS LATER

  The bang of the front door slamming shut rouses me from my sleep.

  I blink a couple of times into the dimmed light in Peter’s living room—or our living room, as it is now—and sit up on the soft leather couch I’ve fallen asleep on while waiting for Peter to come home.

  A large, dark figure stands in the door opening between the living room and the hallway. A man—and alpha—judging by his sheer size and bulk. He stands there silently, looking at me from the shadows concealing his face.

  “Peter?” I ask, still groggy from sleep.

  He moves toward me, and when the faint light from the city outside flickers through the blinds onto his face, I realize it’s not just the shadows hiding his face—it’s also a now familiar, black mask.

  “You jerk!” I hiss, pressing my hand against my chest as my heart settles back down again from the involuntary lurch at the unexpected presence of a potential stranger. “I thought we were done with masks and lurking in the shadows.”

  He doesn’t answer, but before I can lay into him for being a prick, he reaches the couch and bends to press his lips against mine.

  If I hadn’t already recognized his mask, I would have known him by this kiss. It’s soft but so unquestionably needy, filled with heat and a longing that resonates deep in my own bones. No one’s ever kissed me like Peter, and no one ever will.

  My alpha.

  Even though he’s still an ass for creeping up on me like that.

  “If you want to roleplay rapey stalker, give a girl a head’s up beforehand,” I grumble against his lips. “I don’t particularly want to go back to the good old days of thinking I’m gonna get murdered by some creepy idiot in a mask.”

  From the twist of his lips against mine and the rumble deep in his chest, I can tell he’s amused, but instead of replying—or pulling back—he crawls up on the couch, pushing me down flat on my back without breaking our kiss.

  Strong hands pull my pajamas pants and panties down over my hips, ripping the elastic as he tugs them off me completely. I moan softly into his mouth, my arousal waking with a start as he delves a couple of fingers down between my thighs, stroking me open.

  I shudder and gasp when he finds my clit, my own hands grasping for his strong shoulders. I dimly recognize the sturdy high-tech fabric he wore in the park underneath my fingertips, but my attention swiftly returns to my sex.

  Peter rubs my sensitive little nub between two fingertips, stroking up and down with small movements until I’m squirming and panting underneath him. My pussy is aching to be opened, and I cant my hips up in invitation. He takes it, easily sliding first one, and then another finger inside my already wet opening.

  “Jesus, that’s…” The rest of my sentence dies on a groan, because just then he forces a third digit into my already stretched sheath. He’s only bedded me twice since we were forced to record that awful video, the long hours during and immediately after the election not leaving us many moments alone, and my body’s still not entirely adjusted to his ruthless size. A problem he’s apparently planning on rectifying tonight.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  Peter pumps his three fingers into me in a steady rhythm, driving soft squelches from my weeping channel every time his knuckles breach my entrance. When his thumb finds its place on my clit, rubbing circles across the little pearl, I dig my nails into his shoulders and pant harder. He’s not easing me into it, and soon I’m squirming for his skilled hand as he forces my body to climb.

  When he changes the angle to get my G-spot, I surrender.

  “Oh, God, fuck! Peter!” I cry out, a long, drawn-out moan as my pussy clenches hard around the invasion and every nerve ending in my lower body crackles with white-hot pleasure. My orgasm is deep and long, and oh-so-satisfying, and when Peter pulls his fingers from me I collapse into a satisfied puddle on the couch.

  “That was—oh!” My sleepy appreciation is abruptly interrupted when the masked alpha grabs me by the waist so he can lift me over the back of the couch. He spins me around, and then a large hand between my shoulderblades presses me forward until I am bent over the back of the couch, ass up and face halfway down into the soft cushions.

  The hand he doesn’t have on my back he uses to cup my pussy from behind, making me spread my thighs wider to accommodate him. His palm is hot against my pulsing sex, and I arch my back in an instinctive plea for him to slip his fingers back inside of me.

  “Don’t move.” It is a rough growl, filled with heat and darkness, and it makes a shiver of anticipation run up my spine.

  Slowly, provokingly, he rubs his thick digits between my splayed lips, teasing my entrance and tickling my still-hardened clit with the tip of his fingers.

  I mewl and try to press my mound against him harder, but before I can get any sort of stimulation, h
e abruptly moves both hands from me and steps back.

  “What—” I turn my head, about to raise up, but his sharp command whips through the room, making my nipples harden and more liquid drizzle out from my eagerly upturned pussy.

  “Don’t. Move.”

  I freeze in place, but keep my eyes on his dark-clad figure just barely visible in my periphery.

  “Don’t you wanna knot me, Lord Mayor?” I surprise myself with the sultry tone to my voice, more so than I do the question itself. A few weeks ago, I dreaded the harsh stretch of his brutal knot, but now… as I stand bent over the sofa in the darkened space of his living room, bare from the waist down, open and ready for my alpha to mount… the thought of it makes the deepest, most primal parts of me shiver with longing.

  When he ties with me, we are fully one. When he shoves that thick, hard knot through my protesting opening and lodges it up against my aching G-spot, there is nothing else in this world. Just him, and me, and that deep, full sensation of completion beyond my wildest dreams.

  With him, I lose myself, only to be reborn again while he holds me in his arms and purrs his deep devotion in my ear.

  And right now, that’s all I need.

  But Peter doesn’t answer me. He walks out of the room, leaving me aching for his touch.

  I breathe deeply and grasp at the backrest. As much as I want him right now, I’m also intrigued to see what he’s got planned. I squeeze my thighs together to ease the hollow need between them, hoping he’ll be back soon.

  He is.

  He’s nearly soundless as he steps back into the living room and crosses the floor, and as so many times before I am awed at his lithe movements for such a huge man. He moves like a large panther, and I am once again reminded of the predator so deeply ingrained in his DNA.