Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3

by Wilder, Carina

  “Bend over," Tristan commanded, his voice deep and full of need. "Wrists together, and spread your legs wide for me, beautiful.”

  I obeyed—what sane woman wouldn’t?—and offered myself to him. By now I was all but purring with anticipation, my body tortured by the promise of his touch, desperate to feel him inside me.

  He tore my lace panties off in one rapid movement, pulled the leather belt loose of his fallen pants and wrapped it in a sort of intricate fold-over pattern around my wrists, securing me to the metal bar so that I couldn’t back away.

  My core throbbed with the anticipation of what might come next. I was now his sexual prisoner, and the feeling of entrapment that should have frightened me only served to excite me. I wanted more. I wanted him to possess me, to demand my submission. To punish my body for unmentionable sins. To take out every frustration he’d ever felt on me and me alone. My greatest desire of all was to step over the fine erotic line between pleasure and pain that reminded me what it is to be alive.

  Sensing the urgency of my need, he lifted the front of his shirt and thrust his dick into me from behind, glacial blue eyes devouring my reflection, running over every inch of my body like eager, sensual fingertips on my flesh. I could all but feel the heat of his desire piercing me, thriving on the curve of my breasts, the dip of my waist, my hips, my thighs.

  Never in my life had I felt more aroused than I did in that moment of sheer vulnerability. Standing there, legs splayed, as the man of my dreams cupped his hands over my breasts, rolling my sensitive nipples between his fingers, occasionally pinching them just enough to deliver a shot of pain to my depths.

  He understood what it was that I wanted. That I craved the very limits of physical sensation.

  "I've never seen anything sexier in my life," he whispered into my ear as he bent forward, "than the sight of my lover completely and utterly at my mercy."

  “I am at your mercy, Wolfe,” I moaned as he drove his cock into me. “You have me trapped here. I’m helpless.”

  “You are trapped, yes," he snarled, his rhythm picking up to a violent pace. His words came in choppy waves. Determined, yet labored. "You're mine in every conceivable way…but you’re free to stop me whenever you want…you can leave if you want. You know that, Ariana.”

  “I’ll never want to leave you,” I told him, my breath little more than a gasp, my eyes confronting his in something close to a challenge.

  “Good.”

  “Take me even harder," I growled, my tone demanding. "Faster. Take me like we're both on the edge of a cliff, about to leap off into an abyss that could kill us both...or send us both to heaven."

  Those words set my lover off. He drove himself inside me with a frenzy, his intense blue irises lit from somewhere deep inside his wild soul. Those amazing eyes belonged to a feral beast, a powerful man guided by secrets and dark memories.

  I cried out with the searing agony of his power, wondering—almost hoping—that the residents of Wolfe Tower could hear me. I wanted them to know that their leader was mine. I wanted to broadcast to the world that Tristan Wolfe was going to come hard, to shoot his hot seed inside me, and there was nothing that any of them could do to stop it.

  As if reading my thoughts he thrust hard one last time, his eyes locking on my own, jaw set in his struggle to maintain his composure.

  When his eyelids slammed shut, I felt the rush of exquisite, impossible heat filling me like liquid fire. Then Tristan pressed himself, chest heaving, to my back, his arms wrapping around my waist possessively. For that perfect moment, our bond was about more than mere sex, or even power. It was about something far deeper.

  In that moment I felt loved.

  I could only hope that Tristan did too.

  “I’m going to have to tie you up more often, my unbelievably sexy vixen,” he muttered against my skin after a few seconds of silence. "I don't think I've ever been so hard in my life."

  “Yes, please,” I said, newly aroused at the thought of being at his mercy again sometime in the future.

  By the time he started up the elevator again to bring us up to the top of the building, my legs were shaking. I was spent. Exhausted. Destroyed.

  Yet I still wanted so, so much more.

  Chapter 5

  When Tristan had freed me from my temporary bonds and the elevator doors opened, I slipped my dress on, picked up my purse and undergarments, and stepped into the penthouse. The overhead lights flashed to life and a large open-concept living room greeted us. Sleek, modern lines, and shades of charcoal and cream. This was Tristan’s style. Elegant, modern, and highly inviting.

  I was about to suggest that we grab a bite when a note sitting in the center of the living room floor caught my eye. Curious, I padded over to take a look. In large, printed handwriting, it said:

  Take a peek in the bedroom closet, Sex Queen.

  xo, T.

  I spun around to look at Tristan, who offered me a quick I’m innocent of all wrong-doing shrug, then I raced into the bedroom to follow his instructions, half expecting to find a leather dominatrix outfit.

  Instead, when I pushed the closet doors open, I was greeted by the sight of a ball gown the likes of which I’d never seen, its broad hanger suspended from a hook in middle of the ceiling.

  Of course it was a gown. Tristan had known that I was worried about what to wear to the ball tomorrow night. I had some nice dresses, including the one he’d given me in Colorado. But I’d heard from Kara that the Midsummer Ball was over the top, an affair equivalent to the Met Gala in terms of its flamboyant outfits.

  According to the Valkyrie, it was a night to go all-out and wear something I’d never otherwise put on my body. “Most of the women wear white gowns,” she’d told me. “It’s a tradition that goes back centuries—but you don’t have to. I’ll wear white, but probably something conservative. I don’t like to stand out. There are no hard and fast rules, except that you’re expected to bring a mask.” With all my flip-flopping about a dress I still hadn’t chosen a mask, though I had every intention of popping by the theater tomorrow and grabbing one from the costume department.

  The dress that Tristan had bought me was deep crimson, the saturated shade of a red rose’s petals in full bloom. The bodice was tailored to perfection, lined with bone, like a corset, its skirt layered with row upon row of some sort of translucent, airy fabric that matched the red of the top section.

  The gown was strapless, and the décolletage dipped down impossibly low, like the garment was attempting to defy gravity. As I stared at it, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

  “No way is this thing going to stay on my body,” I muttered to myself. “It’s a massive nip-slip waiting to happen.”

  On the floor sat a pair of strappy, high-heeled silver shoes coated in tiny crystals that looked like diamonds. A cross between Cinderella’s slippers and Dorothy’s ruby shoes from the Wizard of Oz.

  I grabbed the dress, darted towards the bed and spun around, laying it down before yanking the one I was wearing over my head only to spot Tristan’s amused face staring back at me. Apparently he’d walked into the room in full stealth mode.

  “Do you like the gown?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I replied, though my grin must have told him I was quasi-lying. “Okay, fine. I freaking love it. But Tristan—even if it fits by some miracle, my boobs are going to be on full display in that thing. At least my cleavage is. Did you even see how low-cut it is?”

  “That was sort of the point,” he said, slipping forward and running a finger between my bare breasts. “This is one of my favorite parts of you. Of course, so is this…” He reached down and drew his fingers over the place between my legs, still extra-sensitive from our love-making. “But I didn’t think you’d agree to show up naked for the ball.”

  “No, probably not,” I replied, breathless from the brief burst of erotic torture that his fingers had inflicted.

  “Put the dress on,” he commanded. He stepped backwa
rds, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at me through discerning, narrowed eyes, his well-manicured facial hair giving him a slightly mischievous look.

  “I don’t think there’s any way I can wear a bra under this thing,” I said as I tried to figure out how to get the gown on.

  “Good,” he replied. “You should probably avoid panties as well.”

  “Oh?” I shot him a sideways glance. “Is this a commando ball?”

  “It damn well should be.”

  “If I’m going to go commando, so should you,” I teased as I figured out the best way to navigate the massive dress.

  “I’d be happy to,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Really?” I laughed. “You’re going to fly free just for me?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Less clothing means it’ll be easier to bend you over in a dark corner and take you from behind while the boring guests mill around talking about their 401Ks or whatever the hell it is that shifters chat about these days.”

  A sudden tactile memory of being tied up in the elevator assaulted my mind, a shudder of pleasure overtaking my still-reeling body. “Bend me over at a ball? You wouldn’t dare.”

  A look of challenge crossed Tristan’s face. “Come on now. Have you met me?”

  “Good point.”

  I stepped into the dress, hoisting it up so that it covered as much of my torso as possible, and lifted up the cascade of thick brown hair that was flowing down my back. When Tristan zipped me up, I gasped to look down and see how well the bodice fit. “Like a second skin,” I said before I’d even glanced at my reflection. Some tailor had worked magic on the gown without ever having seen me.

  Tristan took my hand and guided me to the full-length mirror at one end of the room, spinning me around to look at myself.

  “Holy balls,” I said as the layers of fabric on the skirt lifted away with my quick pivot, revealing just how many hours of labor must have gone into crafting the garment. “The dress you gave me in Colorado was spectacular, but this…it’s like that one on steroids.”

  As expected, the front dipped down in an almost aggressively deep V, the silk bodice just form-fitting enough to make sure my breasts wouldn’t leap out at unsuspecting passersby. Just to make sure, I hopped up and down and shimmied my hips, trying to free my not-so-small bosom from its extremely well-designed confines. “Impressive,” I said. “I thought a nip slip would be inevitable.”

  “All nip slips will be completely deliberate,” Tristan said, reaching around from behind me. He peeled down part of the rigid bodice, freeing my left nipple, which went hard as soon as the air swept over my skin. To my delight and torment, Tristan played his thumb over its tip, which only made me want him to claim my body all over again. “I love knowing that other men will stare at you all night,” he whispered, kissing my neck as he rolled my nipple between his expert fingers. The man was a sex guru, and he understood my body better than even I did. “I love knowing that you’ll be coming home with me, and no one else,” he continued. “I love that I’ll have the most beautiful woman in the world with me, and that I’ll get to suck on the most beautiful nipples in the world when all is said and done.”

  “I’m beginning to think you see me as a sex object, Mr. Wolfe,” I said, spinning around to face him.

  “Fuck yes, I do,” he said. “A sex object who’s a mentally stimulating, strong, powerful woman who happens to make my dick steel-hard. Does that bother you?”

  “Hell no.”

  He dropped to his knees, gave my nipple a quick, devastating lick, then folded the material back over it before rising again to tower over me.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Very. But are you sure I don’t need double-sided tape or something?” I asked, remembering that some of the actresses in our plays used it to keep their costumes from slipping.

  He shook his head. “The designer in charge assured me that this dress won’t betray your sexy body by coming loose. The boning keeps everything in place, apparently.” With that, he gestured to the vertical lines in the corset. “It’s an architectural and engineering wonder, designed exclusively for you.”

  “So this really was custom made?” I asked, looking at my reflection again. I already knew what a stupid question it was. Of course it was a custom job; there was no way you could buy a dress like this off the rack in any shop, not even in Manhattan.

  “Yes,” Tristan said, “I had it made special for tomorrow night. I believe most of the ladies there will be wearing white, but I wanted you to stand out. And you know how I like…”

  “Red,” I interrupted. “Yes, I do know.”

  “I was going to say ‘your gorgeous tits,’ but red is nice too.” He stared down at my cleavage, passing his tongue over his lips. “I’m beginning to think I should have ordered you something baggy and high-necked, though. It’s going to be hell keeping my hands off of you, even for a few hours.”

  “Well,” I replied, stepping towards him and pulling him close, “you did mention something about finding a dark corner. Maybe I’ll have to take you up on that.”

  “If you do, I’m going to be taking full advantage of it,” he said. “And of you.”

  “Good. I’m going to hold you to it. But first,” I said, eyeing the bed, “maybe we should practice a little more.”

  Chapter 6

  Two hours later as we lay intertwined on the king-sized bed in my lover’s bedroom, I found myself stroking my fingertips along the woven series of angry scars that coated his chest. Streaks of dark pink that no one but me ever saw, marks of a past that he’d kept hidden from the world for decades—possibly even centuries.

  In the daytime when Tristan was fully clothed, they vanished from my mind. I’d stare at him, decked out in his expensive suits, his stunning face knocking me for a loop every time I fixed on its perfection. In those moments, I all but forgot what had happened to him back in the days long before I’d ever been born.

  It probably helped that I didn’t know the entire story. All I’d ever managed to piece together was that some evil bastard had seen fit to beat him for reasons that he’d never told me. He’d suffered cruelly, only to wear the evidence of his torment for the rest of his life…and yet, he’d never opened himself up about the cause of such cruelty.

  “Sometimes I think these scars are maps of your secrets,” I whispered, as much to myself as to my lover.

  “Secrets,” he echoed, wrapping his fingers gently around my wrist. “We all have them, don’t we?”

  My hand froze, my body tensing, and for a moment I wondered if he could possibly have figured out that I’d seen Krane—more than once now. I shut my eyes and pictured the large man, recalling with disgust the effect he’d had on me. How terrified I’d been of him, but how mesmerized at the same time. I’d wanted to run from him, but what was far more frightening was how badly I’d wanted to walk towards him, too, to reach out and touch him, to see if he tasted as good as his brother. The man oozed erotic danger from every pore, just as Tristan did.

  The difference was that in Tristan, it was a blessing.

  In Krane, it was a curse.

  “Yes, we all have secrets,” I replied, pulling my head up to rest my chin on my wolf shifter’s chest. Revealing my own wasn’t an option, not right now. But soon I would tell him everything. “So,” I said, “are you ever going to tell me yours?”

  “I have too many to tell,” he said, pushing a strand of wavy brown hair away from my forehead. “But someday, maybe I’ll tell you about how this happened.” He looked down at his chest, at the criss-crossing lash marks that told an epic story without uttering a single word. The problem was that I didn’t know just how terrible the story was. “You need to promise me something, though.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “That you won’t overreact when I do tell you.”

  I pulled back, my brow furrowing with irritated confusion. “Overreact? What does that mean?” I asked d
efensively, proving his point. “Someone beat the hell out of you. Yeah, it probably happened a long time ago, and that person is probably dead. Even so, why shouldn’t I get pissed off about it? If our roles were reversed, you’d go ballistic to hear about someone hurting me.”

  He pushed his face up towards mine and bit my lower lip, a smile illuminating his glorious face. “God, you’re so sexy when you’re being stubborn,” he said, grabbing me by the waist, pulling my whole body upwards so that he could nip playfully at my breast.

  “I’m serious,” I protested, but I couldn’t help but smile as I dragged myself back until my face was level with his once again. I pressed my head down onto his chest, running my fingertips over the rough texture of his neatly trimmed beard. “You’re infuriating, Mr. Wolfe. You read me like I’m nothing more than the simplest, most banal book, but you’ve barely even let me crack open the first chapter of the epic novel that is you.”

  Tristan chuckled. “My chapters are dull. And most of them end in cliffhangers. Cliffhangers are annoying.”

  “Maybe,” I said, “but they keep people reading. They’re addictive. Maybe that’s why I can’t get enough of you.”

  “Oh?” he replied. “Here I thought it was because I have a huge dick.”

  “Speaking of which…” I reached down, finding the aforementioned appendage, and wrapped my fingers around it. As always, he hardened under my touch in an instant. “You’re right,” I said. “I am addicted. This magnificent cock of yours is my crack.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Oh?”

  “This is your crack,” he said, slipping a hand over my backside until his fingertips came to rest in the crevice between my butt cheeks. I let out a loud guffaw and buried my face in his chest.

  It was so good to feel the vibration of my laughter against him. In all my years of failed, brief relationships, I’d never shared moments of joy with a lover, not like this. Never felt close enough to anyone to let myself relax into sheer bliss like I so often did with Tristan. My lover transported me to a new place every day. My life with him—my new job, my new almost-home, my state of mind—all of it was a dream, and I marveled constantly at how I’d ever made my way from a life of agonizing loss to this place.