Her Broken Alpha Page 5

  How to make her unfurl?

  She made little whimpers and sweet, confused sounds. The little thing was lost. It needed to be owned, wanted to be owned. He was sure of it.

  He grumped and huffed at it—awkward noises. He tried a growl and watched the noise affect her. She made more of that wonderful, delicious smell that reminded him of home.

  Darre tucked his face over hers, searching out her warm and tender spots, inhaling where that warm sugar scent had gathered. He wanted to lick up that smell so badly. He tried to pet her, pulling at her gently. Trial and error eventually resulted in a rumbling hum—his purr.

  With a shiver and a sweet coo, the little thing loosened. He brought her nose into his neck, the need to imprint his scent on her guiding his action. He knew once she scented him, she would imprint on him as the strongest alpha and trust him with her body.

  Taking a sniff, she inhaled, her rib cage expanding as she breathed him in.

  His. His. His. She was his.

  As he smoothed her hair away from her face, Darre’s claws caught at the fabric covering her soft, interesting curves. He began to unwrap the marvelous treasure brought to him.

  In the deepest parts of his brain, a voice protested. The man whose body the monster inhabited wanted to be faithful to a female who no longer existed, to a dream that was long gone. The man shouted and demanded, trying to push through the monster's control of his body.

  But this sweet treasure right here smelled delicious. She needed a mate. He would be that mate. He would take her and fill her with his child. He would breed her.

  The man said no.

  The monster raged at his refusal.

  He went back to the piles of flesh and bone on the floor—men once, but only carcasses now—found one that was whole, and tore it to pieces. Anything in his way, he picked up and smashed against the walls.

  He wanted. He hurt. He had waited. He would have.

  He silenced the foolish man, pushing him into darkness with his fervor. Elemental and animalistic, the man had given this violent part of himself free rein too often and too long to try to practice control now.

  The monster wanted to take a mate, claim her, and soothe his pain inside of her. Unlike the man, he had no reason to refuse.

  Covered in the gore of his victory, he went back to his female. She was curled up tight again, avoiding his rage. No, this wouldn't do.

  He barked commands at her, then purred—a claiming song. It wasn't long until she was lost to her own instinctive response.

  He pulled her open, seeking that wonderous summoning smell and finding it in the valley between her legs. The monster snuffled at her pussy, finding soft, vulnerable, hairless flesh, ready for him to kiss and taste. He lipped the intimate skin of her slit, discovering a flow of golden, salted arousal.

  He’d been starving for this. This flavor; the cycle of life; the testimony of a female ready for a male. Her taste was the answer to all his emptiness. She was his other half, and she would make him whole.

  His cock throbbed. The female grabbed a handful of his hair and tried to push him away, but then she pulled him near and bucked, whimpering and whining.

  He put a hand on the middle of her softly rounded belly to still her while his other hand commanded her leg, splitting her open. Salivating with anticipation, he positioned his face and shoulders deep between her thighs.

  He lapped with long strokes of his tongue. There was no finesse to the action, no goal but to devour every bit of her he could. Nothing had fed the monster like this before. He would never have enough.

  Darre licked and she began to keen a beautiful howl of a song. He focused on the interesting shape at the top of the slit—a tiny pearl of tissue—and on how her sounds changed when he worked his tongue there.

  The delicious female squirmed, and her honey coated his chin when he gently suckled and discovered a rhythm that made the female sing her song again and again.

  This was what he was made for, what he should have been doing all along. This was what the man said he'd never be allowed to have.

  I am a dead thing walking, the man said.

  I am here, the monster answered. I am alive. This is mine.

  He soaked himself in that golden slick, scented himself with it so that it covered the stench of his dead enemies and the memories that haunted him. He plunged his tongue deep, seeking more. He needed to own it, to live inside of it.

  His leather pants stuck uncomfortably to his crotch and thighs, the sheer quantity of his own pre-cum saturating them. Always sore and angry, endlessly unsatisfied, his cock throbbed with renewed pain at the sight of this treasure.

  He tried to pleasure himself all the time, but nothing eased the hurt of having no womb to tunnel through. Masturbation never ended in release. No matter what he did, he only felt like his balls were being twisted in a vise. With the man's female stolen from him, they'd both been stuck in this cursed fucking state of readiness for so long it had become a way of life.

  Her legs were spread wide, her little hands clenching and grasping at air. She watched him, pupils so blown he couldn't tell their color. She was making noises—speaking, he thought. But all he heard was her need and pleasure.

  The desk put her at the perfect height. He braced a hand near her head and pulled her needy core closer. Growling, he watched her essence trickle down her thighs.

  Shucking out of his pants, he took his ready cock in hand, hissing at the contact of the hot flesh against his own palm. He would put it right there, in that sweet, wet place.

  Positioning himself over her he rubbed lengthwise through the tender lips of her pussy. He listened to her song, her sounds more encouraging as he rubbed himself over that curious little bump of flesh his tongue loved so well.

  This was the monster's first female. If there had been others, it was before he awoke and started taking control of the man. He couldn't remember any others.

  They didn't matter anyway.

  No one else would ever matter.

  There would be no other.

  Her legs flailed and she tried to wrap them around his middle and pull him closer. Pushing one of them high and folding her so she fit against him, Darre rubbed the wide head of his member at the entrance of her inner passage.

  A dark purple, swollen mess, he seeped his own clear stream of slick. That didn't happen. Usually his cock was ready, but hot and dry, demanding relief, but never giving. He produced no slippery pre-cum for his hand. But for this female, he brought out his offering.

  It pleased the monster. This was as it was meant to be. He rubbed and pressed against her hole, their mutual noises sloppy and undignified.

  She moved her foot to his shoulder for leverage and lifted her hips, her body calling for his. His cock slipped into place. Her passage was so tight, cradling him, suckling at him. His female sang her song, sweet and melodic.

  Her need brushed over his skin as soft and gentle as a feather, easing the demanding pressure in the base of his spine and cooling the burn of his swollen testicles. Like him, instinct had made her needy. A cell-deep biological command to mate and reproduce controlled them now. His little treasure begged for more.

  He made guttural noises; words lost to him. Using short, shallow movements of his cock, he opened her body to take him. She’d get only want he wanted her to have. She would not command him. He was an alpha. He would control her need.

  Her breathy answering sounds turned to whines, but he held steady. Gripping at him, her tunnel squeezed, wanting his member, as hungry as a voracious kiss.

  Grasping the dark flesh of his erection at the base, he held back the urgency of his growing knot. Unable to resist all the smooth skin, he let his other hand wander her body, discovering her slender neck and gorgeous breasts.

  His hands looked massive on her lush little frame. Watching her breasts shake with every shallow thrust, he covered them with his palms. Her little nipples were fascinating. She was light-skinned, her flesh a flawless golden rose to his
darker, scarred hide.

  Tears welled in her eyes and her face was pink and sweaty. She needed. She wanted. Her desire doubled all his sensations, pleasure gathering at his spine and then exploding out in a surprising burst of heat and freedom.

  Darre came for the first time in ages, seed streaming from his cock into her sweet, wet cave. The pleasure of his release curved his back in a shocking arc. Intense, painful, addictive pleasure flooded him all at once.

  Her body bucked, receiving him just as he’d always imagined his woman would.

  Now that her passage was coated with his fluids and better prepared, he pushed deeper into that tight space, delving with longer strokes. Stretching her out and testing her limits.

  Sweat coated him, tinged pink by the blood of his kills. It dripped into his eyes as he looked down at the place where they were joined. What a glorious sight she was.

  His thick, oversized member was dark and ugly in the center of her straining petals. Spilled masculine seed and female slick created a gloss of nectar on his cock. The wet mess coated his balls, the tops of his thighs, and between his legs. It pooled on the desk and spattered on the floor beneath them.

  It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. Ever felt.

  The monster wanted more.

  Darre glided his hands over the body connected to him. He played with her little nipples while his hips found a steady rhythm. He rubbed and stroked at the points of her body that seemed to plead for his mouth to suckle them.

  Her small, pale hands curved over his bigger ones and moved down his arms, stroking over him in their own exploration. Her eyes opened and closed rapidly, trying to focus, but they kept rolling back each time her sweet pussy tightened around his cock.

  As a roar built in his chest, he released the base of his cock and plowed deep, trying to force his knot inside. He leaned close to her body, finding that scent beneath her jaw and neck.

  He covered the little female, his much bigger body arched over hers in dominant possession.

  So small.

  He bent in half so he could lick the tears from her cheeks while he bucked hard and merciless at the gate to her center, demanding the right to enter.

  Twisting his hips, he searched for the way to get deeper, instinctively knowing she could to take all of him. He moved her body to fit her shoulders in the curve of his arms, holding her tight, surrounding her.

  Fluid leaked from his tip, coating that closed bud along her back wall until finally her womb began to open for him. He shoved forward, breaching the entrance. She let out an ear-splitting shriek as pushed himself home. Fire raged from his balls to his tip as his seed began to spurt and his long-denied knot found its forever home.

  Fully seated, his cock cradled and squeezed by her tight core, his hips moved in quick bursts, careful of her delicate female tissues. He tasted every part of her skin he could reach, sucking and bruising her, marking her. The cage of his body made a cocoon around her, so tight that all he breathed, saw, and felt was her.

  This little thing. This girl.

  He cradled the back of her head in his hand, drawing her mouth up to his neck.

  He tried to form words, but only grunts and snarls came out.

  The monster never needed words, and the man had none to offer. But his predator’s mind knew there was more. It wasn't finished. He needed her bond.

  Wanted it. Please, please bite me. Take me.

  The monster had never begged.

  He took. He stole. He killed.

  He did not beg.

  Until now.

  He worked his mouth from her throat to her slim shoulder. Her skin was tender, her bones breakable. Gently he scraped his incisors along her, bucking his hips as she tried to wrap her legs around his waist and keep him close.

  At the urging of his hand, she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to taste him. It was the cure for every sickness, that hot little tongue.

  Bite me, his growl said. Own me. Make me your monster. He showed her what to do, working the same spot on her neck over and over, but dared not break her skin.

  She made a humming noise. "Mmm. You want me?"

  He heard her dove-soft voice under his chin.

  "Alpha." Her breath hitched as her body spasmed hard and sharp, his cock causing bursts of pleasure. He felt everything.

  "Alpha," she murmured breathlessly "Alpha. You want?"

  He hissed, the pained noise all he could offer to say yes.

  He pushed her nose against his throat, insistent.

  She hummed more while she licked at him.

  "Good alpha,” she said, her words vibrating against his skin.

  He wasn't. Not at all. Hadn't been for a long time. He was a killer bent on revenge, a destroyer of lives. There was nothing good in him; the man had let his loss burn all potential for good out of their DNA.

  But monster wanted her, and he would take her if he could.

  The little thing took her sweet time.

  Everything else he could coax from her—slick, pleasure, desire—but not this. If he hadn't done his job and seduced her, coaxed her with a heady combination of pleasure and pain that would make their coupling addictive—if she thought him unworthy—he would never have her bite.

  He could not force her choice.

  She teased him now, knowing what he wanted—needed. He growled a wordless command that made her core ripple, but she only giggled and continued to scrape her teeth over him, reveling in her power.

  His fingers found her mouth and pushed past her lips. When she tried to suck on the digits, he pried her mouth open further and set her teeth against his skin with his other hand.

  She gave in, clamping down until blood boiled up from his flesh where she'd broken it.

  The monster bellowed in triumph while the man inside could only watch in dismay.

  The girl released her hold, laughing in sex-drunk joy.

  Then his mouth was on her, finding the bruised, raw skin he'd worked over in preparation. He bit down in a claim, sealing their bond.

  The mad monster of Sector 2 had taken a bride.

  Chapter Five

  Naya

  Naya shook her head and sputtered when a stream of water ran into her face.

  The water poured through a large, round spigot above them, the backside of a metal bowl with holes poked in it. It came out with no more pressure than gravity provided. Tucked in the alpha's arms, she licked her lips when the water touched them. They stood there until drenched by the tepid liquid.

  He turned a lever and stopped the flow.

  "Stand." The command in his voice was deep and gritty, his tone so low it vibrated through her chest.

  Naya’s body obeyed before her mind did. She unfolded herself to stand on loose, trembling legs. Pain zinged sharp and insistent down the cords of her inner thighs and up into her body where it still ached and burned—and not in a pleasant way.

  The coupling had hurt.

  She wanted to do it again.

  It hurt worse without him inside her, a building throb sharp at all the edges. He'd rammed himself deep inside her, created space for himself. Why wasn't he filling her up?

  He needed to rub at the hurt. Ease it. That was his job. Instead he had her in this water for some reason she couldn't comprehend.

  "Girl. Stand," he repeated.

  Her body trembled from head to toe in response. He pushed her back a single step, steadying her with a hand so large it covered her entire shoulder. He was big.

  They were in a long box—a shower, but not like one she'd ever seen. There wasn't anywhere for her to go, no way to put space between them.

  From a bucket hanging on the wall, the man pulled a cloth and lathered it.

  Wait. What day was it? Naya made a noise of protest. She remembered buckets and drones and a scrub brush not fit for pavement.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she'd already bathed, but as the soapy water ran down her body to the drain, it changed color from pink to red. The
y were both covered in sticky red matter.

  Paint? Ink? She didn't remember.

  She registered the mixture of disgusting scents—blood, body fluids, and pheromones. The cool water felt good on her naked, feverish skin, but it didn't reduce the nerve-deep demand quickening in her body. She wanted to mate.

  He needed to fill the space inside her.

  Naya’s center clenched and slick spilled down her thighs. She moaned, reaching for him. She needed to crawl inside of him. Desire to wrap herself around him and mold herself against his body compelled her. They should fit their pieces back together the way they belonged.

  What was wrong with this alpha? Did he not want her? Why was he making her wait?

  She'd been so sure, even though he hadn't said it. She'd felt it—his call, his demand. He’d wanted her bite. He'd asked in the end, hadn't he?

  She needed that again, but he was wasting time with bubbles and wash rags.

  Drugged by his smell—cedar and nutmeg, like spice cake cooked over an open fire—Naya had allowed him to do things to her and had done things to him she’d never imagined.

  But it all fit together. It had been right, so right, to open herself to this male who awakened her body in ways she hadn't believed existed.

  She'd betrayed her promise to Crispin. But Crispin was…

  Not the right alpha. Not her alpha.

  The black-robed men had addled her with drugs, but the male she now shared a shower with had just been alone in his scent saturated room. A room that smelled like powerful, delicious, primal male. A too-sweltering room with too much light. He hadn't spoken to her at all.

  It had only taken his touch and his purr for her to fall apart, letting him do whatever he wanted.

  It must be her breeder dynamic. She'd already had her first maturation. Her body had changed, but her mind had stayed the same. She was still Naya. Her biological differences from betas and drones were as meaningful to her as hair color.

  The night she and Crispin had signed the contract, he had held her hand and given her a little rolling sound from his chest.