Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3

by Wilder, Carina

  E. D.

  Like a woman possessed by a fleeting moment of masochism, I clicked it open and stared at the image inside—a tiny portrait of a beautiful woman with bright eyes and flaming red hair.

  Some unconscious reflex made me drop my hand to my side, and the locket fell to the bathroom’s steel floor with a strange, heavy thud.

  “Elodie,” I breathed into the space around me like a huff of frosty vapor. Tristan’s former fiancée was staring up at me as though her tiny portrait had deliberately come to life and was clawing its way into my mind. “How did…?”

  I had no recollection of putting the locket into my purse, no recollection, even, of holding onto it after discovering it in Tristan’s old family home. When I’d confronted Tristan in New Orleans, it had only been to talk about his old journal, the ancient tome that recounted his entire sordid history—minus the many pages that had been torn out by someone else’s hand.

  All of a sudden I wished I’d thrown the silver pendant into the marshy waters of New Orleans, or better still, burned it into a mess of melted metal, never to open again.

  I reached down to the floor without looking, shut the locket quickly and slammed it back into my purse, vowing to dispose of it at my earliest chance. I never wanted to look at that face again. Never wanted to think about the life Tristan had once had, a life that had ended in torture and pain.

  A life that I’d hoped would never again come back to haunt either of us.

  I pulled myself to my feet and looked in the mirror again, breathing slowly, all too aware of how pale my face had gone.

  Why am I so upset about a dead woman? I asked my reflection silently. It’s not her fault things went badly for him. It’s not her fault my life has been so screwed up for so long. She was a victim, too.

  So why do I hate her so much?

  I wanted to slap myself for being so damned selfish. The fact was, Elodie Demarche had lost Tristan a long, long time ago. They’d never been able to follow through on their plan to marry. She’d died in childbirth. If anyone in this scenario had gotten the raw end of the deal, it was her.

  With a quick pinch of my cheeks and a deep exhale, I pushed open the door and headed back towards my fiancé, reminding myself that our life together was amazing, and I had nothing to be afraid of.

  * * *

  By the time I sat down next to Tristan again, I’d managed to restore calm to my insides and put on a happy smile. I had no time for ghosts. No time for sorrow.

  I was not going to let a spectre ruin my life.

  He was still working intently on his numbers, so I amused myself by holding up my left hand and fixing my eyes on my ring as if to further drive home the point that my delicious fate was sealed.

  “I suppose I can’t wear this to the wedding,” I said, my eyes locked on the incredible work of art that sparkled on my finger.

  “What? Why not?” Tristan asked as he drew his eyes up from his work, a slightly hurt hue shading his tone. “I thought you liked it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, dropping my hand. “You know I love it more than anything I’ve ever owned. Hell, I’d marry this ring if I could.”

  “Ah, so now the truth comes out. I see where your affection truly lies,” he teased. “You want to run away with that diamond bastard. Well, I’ll have words with the fucker later. No one steals my woman.”

  I laughed, turning towards him to see the amused smile on his amazing lips. The man was incapable of looking anything other than delicious, whatever his expression. Even when he flew into a rage, all I wanted was to tear my clothes off and ask him to take it out on me. One thing was sure; the fact that he’d committed to me for life had done nothing to diminish my attraction to him. If anything, I wanted him more than ever. We’d had more sex since he’d slipped the ring on my finger than ever before—which I’d always thought was physically impossible.

  To be honest, I was amazed that I could still stand up straight after the last few weeks.

  “Seriously though, if you love the ring, then what’s the problem?” he asked. “Why would you want to take it off for the wedding?”

  I let out a scoffing breath from between my lips. “You men are so naive. But I’ll try my best to explain it,” I said, pressing my index finger to my chin as if I was suddenly deep in thought. “Hmm, let’s see. For one thing, Clarissa would lose her whole damned mind if I showed up with this thing on.”

  “What? Why?”

  I rolled my eyes. For an incredibly worldly, experienced man, he really didn’t understand women, did he? “Look,” I began, “she’s super-laid back in almost every way, but if I turn up with you on my arm and this bling on my finger, she’ll think I’m trying to steal her thunder on her big day. And frankly, she’d have a point. I may as well walk in wearing a wedding gown and ringing a bell while I sing a song called I’m Marrying the Richest, Handsomest Man Ever and Oh By the Way, Look At All My Amazing Stuff, You Losers.”

  Tristan let out a laugh that told me he was beginning to get it. “Okay, fair enough,” he said. “So put it away for the wedding, then. Just make sure you wear it for the rest of your life, so the world knows you’re my woman.”

  I slapped his arm and let out a snort-laugh. “You do realize that it’s considered pretty Neanderthal-like to refer to your wife as your woman, right?”

  “Fine, then,” he said, easing towards me in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s just refer to you as my forever eternal lover who loves my cock with a passion unequaled in the history of humankind.”

  “So much better.” I gave him a quick kiss on the lips then went back to staring at the massive diamond surrounded by a circle of perfect, round rubies. “And in case you’re actually wondering how much I love it, let’s just say that someone would have to take a chainsaw to my hand to get it off me after tomorrow.”

  “Good. But let’s hope they don’t.” With that, Tristan gave my bare thigh an affectionate squeeze, which immediately pried my mind away from sparkly things. “You know, I’m looking forward to wearing a ring myself,” he said.

  “Oh?” I asked. “You’re into wedding bands? Funny, I never thought of you as the type.”

  “Who said anything about wedding bands?” he said, shifting his gaze very deliberately down towards his fly, which concealed a large, mouth-watering bulge.

  “Ah, I get it. So when I head to the jeweler I’ll be asking for an extra-large cock ring, then?”

  “Extra-extra-large, just to be safe. I wouldn’t want to cut off the circulation down there, if you know what I’m saying.”

  A laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Sure. I’ll make sure it’s diamond-encrusted too.”

  “That sounds like it would be painful, for one of us at least.”

  I chuckled again and looked up towards the front of the plane. The cockpit door was open, revealing the backs of two heads—Tristan’s usual pilot and a co-pilot I’d never met before today. “Hey, not to change the subject, but I couldn’t help but notice that Kara’s not up front. Where is she?” The Valkyrie was always along for Tristan’s flights. It felt strange to know she wouldn’t be greeting us outside the plane when we landed.

  “I…gave her a little errand to run,” he replied in a shady tone. “But don’t worry, it’s a quick one. She’ll probably be with us when we run off to elope in our special location.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “An errand, you say?” I asked. “That sounds sketchy.”

  “It is. Totally sketchy.”

  “Okay, well, Mr. Mysterious, I won’t ask any more questions about who’s in the cockpit, or why.”

  Tristan reached a hand over and dipped his fingers between my thighs and under my skirt, slipping gently over my folds through my panties, which drew a hard gasp from between my lips. “There’s only one cock pit worth thinking about,” he said, his voice taking on the low, needful tone that told me how hungry he was to get his mouth on me. “And the only one who should ever find his way into its depths, for the
record, is yours truly.”

  * * *

  We landed in Chicago at one p.m. The rehearsal was to begin at five, followed by dinner at some restaurant near the hotel that Clarissa had selected for her guests. Fortunately for my sanity, she and James had taken on the services of an extremely thorough wedding planner. Which meant that I hadn’t had to help her pick out flowers, or write out a million addresses on envelopes, or whatever it was that bridesmaids were expected to do.

  The best part was that she’d also decided against a bachelorette party, which was the most massive relief of all. Much as I loved her, I had no desire to pretend to drool over oil-covered male strippers with a bunch of drunk women who were intent on almost cheating on their significant others.

  Since I’d met Tristan I hadn’t even been able to imagine finding another man attractive, regardless of how prominent his abdominal muscles were, or how handsome his face. That is, if you didn’t count my brief and all too horrifying moments of brainwashing by his cruel brother, Krane. A dragon shifter with a seriously manipulative streak, he’d tested me on more than one occasion. The man was dangerously charming, handsome, and he locked his female victims into his sexual spells with a scent that seemed entirely composed of some kind of erotic, mind-warping chemicals.

  Nothing had happened between us. But still, they were moments I preferred to forget.

  All I really wanted was to focus on Clarissa. To see my friend married and happy…so I’d get my turn to be selfish and run off to marry the man I loved.

  “So,” Tristan sighed when he and I found ourselves tucked into the back of the stretch limousine that was to take us to the hotel. “We have a couple of hours before the rehearsal. What do you want to do between now and then?”

  I shot him a look that said You know perfectly well what I want. I was actually impressed that we’d managed to remain relatively chaste on the plane. Maybe it was the presence of the new co-pilot that had kept us relatively reserved. But he was gone now, and we were enclosed in a dark, secluded space, all alone.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said nonchalantly, leaning back in the seat and parting my legs slightly. “What do you want to do?”

  “Naughty fiancée.” When he slipped his hand between my legs, I closed my eyes and gently pressed my hips forward against his touch, aware that the driver might very well figure out what we were up to. Then again, it probably wasn’t the first time passengers had done forbidden things in the back of his limo.

  “I wonder, future Mrs. Wolfe, how many times I can make you come between now and the rehearsal,” Tristan said, his deep voice dripping with sensuality.

  “Would you like to find out?” I asked.

  He answered by pushing my hair away from my neck and kissing it, his tongue stroking over my skin, seeking out my accelerating pulse. His lips sucked gently as if they were making a concerted effort to remind me what my clit would feel like in a few minutes if we both got what we wanted.

  I loved how consumed he was by my pleasure, how generous a lover he was. His entire mind focused on me, on ensuring that I experience the pinnacle of physical sensation, even as I begged for him to drive himself inside me. Tristan was like a sexual artist, a tantalizing creator whose sole goal was to paint orgasms across my mind and body.

  But right now, I wanted a little privacy.

  “Excuse me,” I said loudly, drawing the driver’s attention.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “How far is the hotel?”

  “Twenty minutes or so,” he replied.

  I looked at Tristan, my eyebrows raised. “That’s not very long,” I said.

  “Hey, driver,” Tristan called out. “There’s a five-hundred dollar tip in it for you if you take us the long way.”

  “Got it, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “And by the way, you might want to avoid looking in the mirror for the next little while.”

  “Understood.” The chauffeur pressed a button, raising the dark privacy window between his section of the car and ours.

  “Smart man,” I said.

  “He is,” said Tristan, dropping to his knees in front of me and pushing my skirt upwards until he’d exposed the tops of my thighs.

  “I wasn’t talking about him,” I purred, shoving my pelvis forward in invitation.

  “Best five hundred dollars I ever spent,” said Tristan and wrenching my panties to the side and pushing his tongue inside me.

  This was going to be the sweetest ride of all time.

  Chapter 3

  The hotel suite was amazing, as expected. Tristan had naturally insisted on booking the most expensive suite on the top floor overlooking the river. The rooms were massive, the windows looking out on the city in every direction. For a few minutes I stood and watched boats cruise by eighty stories below as the bridges lifted to greet them. I couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful the city looked from the sky. Manhattan from Tristan’s penthouse had always charmed me too, in ways I’d never known from ground level. From so high up I almost felt like I was flying, soaring above the world like a bird.

  I wondered sometimes if this was how the raven shifters felt. Then again, they had control over their destinations. They could move around, their wings taking them from place to place and land on top of any building they chose. It had to be a liberating, beautiful sensation.

  But of course it was one that I’d never know.

  As I stared out, I couldn’t help but think about our own future wedding. How different it would be from what Clarissa was about to experience. Ours would have no family, no guests. Just the two of us. Well, and I suppose we’d need someone to officiate, and a witness. We’d have to figure that out in due course.

  Whatever the case, I was all for having the bare minimum of intruders. All that really mattered was my future husband and me.

  “Do you want to head out soon?” Tristan asked, stepping up behind me to slip his amazing hands onto my waist and kiss my neck.

  “I do, yes. But first, I need a shower,” I said. “I think I might smell just a little bit like sex.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he replied, a sexy grin on his lips, “but if you insist on showering, I’m coming with you.” He had the look about him of a starving man who happened across a free buffet. I wanted to ask how he could possibly be horny after what we’d done to each other in the limo, but I knew all too well. My inexorable addiction meant that I was ready for another round, too.

  “Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.” I grabbed his hand and led him into the massive bathroom, which came complete with a huge two-person marble shower stall with multiple shower heads…apparently there was one for each body part.

  Each of us stood on one side of the room, peeling off our clothing one piece at a time. Tristan had the advantage of wearing more layers than me, so he made up for it by moving quickly. He tossed his white t-shirt over the shower door, his jeans over by the sink. By the time I was down to my bra and panties, my alluring fiancé was naked, his heavy erection enticingly defying gravity. God, he was exquisite. The refined definition of powerful muscles. A body that exuded power but spoke only of sex. Every bit of him cried out for my mouth, for the touch of my hands. I wanted him so badly that it destroyed me for the thousandth time.

  Apparently I wasn’t alone in my desire.

  “Fuck, Ariana,” he said, eyeing my black lace bra and thong. “How do you always do this to me?” With that he fisted his cock, stroking his fingers gently over its length. “You get me so hard without even trying. My life with you is spent in a permanent state of arousal, and when I’m not with you, I go hard just thinking about your body.”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s a mystery,” I said, slipping one of my bra straps down enough to just barely display the pink peak of my right nipple.

  In an instant Tristan was on his knees in front of me, pulling my bra down further, teeth biting gently, peaking my nipple into a stone-hard tip. “How are you so addictive?”

  “I
don’t know, but I’m very, very glad you find me as irresistible as I find you,” I purred as I watched him work my body like a musician stroking the strings of a harp.

  “I do. I need you. I hate being away from you. Every moment spent at work, I’m thinking about coming home to get my mouth on you…”

  “Likewise,” I breathed.

  Tristan looked up into my eyes with a smile that oozed with mischievous thoughts. “You’re a very dirty girl in need of a wash. Let’s get you into the shower.”

  I let out a happy yelp when he rose to his feet and lifted me to carry me over to the large marble enclosure, turning the water on. A shock of cold hit my body, invigorating me as Tristan’s lips melted into mine.

  I pressed my body into my lover’s as he reached around me with one hand and snapped the closure on my bra open. A second later he reached down with one hand and tore my panties aside, rubbing his length along my slick opening as his mouth met mine in a hunger-drenched kiss. The sensation made me gasp, an immediate erotic explosion erupting inside my body.

  I could never get tired of this. The butterflies in my belly never so much as threatened to desert me; they always migrated back to my insides like every kiss, every touch, was the first. Maybe it is a fear that our time together is limited that makes me so excited. A fear of losing him…of losing us. I knew that if I had the life span he did—if I was like him—we could be together for centuries, or possibly even more. If we had a million years together, I’d only grow to want him more with every day that passed.

  The problem was, we wouldn’t have a million years, or anything like it. In the end all we had was the blink of an eye—a mortal’s lifetime—and then it would all be over.

  A shudder ran through me to think of it. To realize that he wouldn’t be mine forever, no matter how many kisses we shared, no matter how many sweet words he spoke to me. Our love was flawed. Our lives were flawed.