Her Broken Alpha Read online

  His purr.

  She’d patted him on the arm and told him thank you.

  But when this giant, scarred male purred, Naya let him undress her, touch her all over, and even put his face between her thighs. She'd spread her knees so he could lick her. His purr was everything.

  Naya shivered. Why wasn't he doing that now? How could she get him to do it again?

  He'd made those delicious, bone-melting sounds and turned her to jelly, her entire body relaxing with an endorphin release. He'd made her want him, need him. His touch had quickly become the center of her world.

  Mother had told her time and again that she must be careful of alphas who weren't family. Unless bonded, any alpha she came across could make her want to have sex with him.

  They'd been so careful. She'd only ever been around approved and trusted males.

  Until her engagement, no one had dared. Her father was an influential man of power—not just a scribe, but a scribe master. At the top of his profession, he could devastate a rival in the Administration Courts like few others. Everyone she knew yielded to him.

  Crispin was pleasant. Eventually she would desire him. Her biology had to respond to him. But all during their courtship, she'd been thinking of what would happen after the mating more than anticipating the joining of their bodies.

  But this strange male...

  All she wanted was to get close to him, to mate with him again. It felt incredible.

  Her insides pulsed and throbbed with her , and her skin felt tight and uncomfortable. She needed it to stop.

  The best way to deal with that itch was rubbing herself against her alpha.

  She'd learned that in her lessons. At the time, it had sounded absurd, like it was just something for the alpha's benefit and nothing Naya would ever enjoy. Now with this feeling building inside of her, it didn't seem so ridiculous.

  She moved closer, pressing against him. Her breasts ached. Her nipples were sore. Her core was empty, needing to be filled and bathed in alpha sperm. It was his job to take care of her.

  Pushing her back again, he put space between them. Then he worked the soapy cloth over her neck and down her arms, skipping her chest altogether.

  Naya growled displeasure.

  A frown on his lips, he jerked his arm back and stopped washing her.

  She took the opportunity to cuddle closer to his stiff manhood. It seemed a lovely idea to rub her belly against it, to let it touch the undersides of her breasts and paint them with the milky fluid leaking from its tip.

  "No. Turn," he commanded.

  Naya's body turned as if she had no ability whatsoever to resist the alpha's commands.

  Who was he? When had they gotten in the shower?

  Her head and body felt less heavy, less disassociated than they had for days. Yet she had many questions and few answers.

  She understood one thing, though—something new and important—that this very large alpha was her alpha.

  He was hers, and she didn't even know his name.

  He soaped up Naya’s hair and back with his woodsy-smelling soap. The quick and efficient strokes left delighted tingles in their wake, raising bumps on her skin.

  Then he took the rag away. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that he was washing himself now in a constant process of fresh water from the bucket: wring the cloth, soap, fresh water.

  Naya pulled the cloth from his fingers, eager for an excuse to touch him. "Turn. I can help with your back."

  She could help. A little, anyway. There was sticky red everywhere.

  He gave a rolling growl of agreement. That sound. She needed it inside her. Now.

  Trembling, leaning against him so that she could stand, his butt pressed against her abdomen. She pressed back, her breasts against him. It felt lovely.

  She washed what she could reach, fascinated by the sexy hills and valleys she found. Such gorgeous skin to taste and bite, and it was hers. She’d claimed it with her teeth.

  Finally she wrung out the cloth and gave it back to him to rinse. The process was slow. There was a lot of him to wash, but she didn't mind. Her fingers pressed the soapy cloth into the round muscles of his backside, exploring crevices.

  Her alpha. Her alpha. The new mantra stuck in her head.

  She wanted to wrap herself around him. Wrap herself into him.

  He had to pry the cloth from her hands before he dumped the bucket and refilled it. Distracted by his body, she could almost cry for need of him. Why wouldn’t he let her finish what she'd started?

  He was huge—bigger than any alpha in her family—and bulky, with heavily veined muscles that bulged under her hands. Saliva pooled in her mouth for want of all the things she wanted to do with his body.

  The flesh on his right side was pitted and textured. He had ropey scars over his arms, pectorals, and thighs, as well as round scars, some concave and some convex. He looked like he'd stood in the middle of an explosion, then had to be sewn back together like a well-loved stuffy.

  He was older too. His command held a hard, seasoned authority that only older alphas exhibited.

  He was a strong alpha. A good alpha.

  But who was he? Where had he come from?

  Dark hair, black eyes, sharp features—this alpha was not handsome in the soft, cute way Crispin was. He looked vaguely familiar, though. Had she met him before?

  He must have defeated Crispin, fought for the right to have her. Naya couldn't recall seeing her intended in the last couple of days and felt certain he must have challenged this man and lost.

  That was what the blood was about. It was archaic and old-fashioned, but she loved it.

  Hopefully poor Crispin wasn't dead. She wouldn't love that at all.

  While the savagery of her claiming was not part of her planned bonding ceremony, something inside her insisted this was normal and natural behavior. She wanted to preen and brag. This powerful alpha had fought for her. He would make a good protector.

  Naya was smiling up at him when he turned the handle and water rained down for the third time. His brows lowered over his eyes and big hands cupped her face, a thick-clawed thumb brushing across her cheek.

  "Look at you. Higher than the clouds in your heat. Were you drugged before? Or have you always been so calm?"

  His voice was smooth when he wasn't irritated, like velvet over steel. Pushing the wet strands of hair over her shoulders, he turned her so that every part of her body was rinsed. Then he guided her out of the shower so he could do the same.

  "I'm always calm. Usually. Maybe I was drugged? My heat? That's why I feel so empty. Can we..." Naya stumbled over her thoughts and words, babbling senselessly, until finally she landed on a concrete idea.

  "Wait. What's your name?"

  He grunted at her like a beast, and not in a good way. It sounded contemptuous. She didn't know there were still animalistic males who made such crude noises in answer to perfectly good questions.

  "You wouldn't know the likes of me."

  His tone didn’t appeal to her any more than his grunt. It wasn't nice. But something more complex tugged at her chest—pain, not anger. She rubbed at the feeling, frowning. Was that him? What did he have to be hurt or angry about?

  Naya needed him to lay with her. Put his thing in her.

  Knot her.

  Naya closed her eyes and moaned as slick poured out of the “V” between her clenched thighs. She looked down at it. There was so much. Now she understood her mother's extra-thick padded panties. What a mess.

  "What can I call you?" she asked quietly. She wanted to know the name of the alpha who made her slick at the very thought of him.

  "You can call me Monster, because that is who claimed you." He shut the water off and picked her up without drying off.

  A delighted hum built in her chest at the satisfying skin-to-skin contact. Oh, yes. She needed this.

  "You're supposed to be afraid of me. Terrified," he rumbled.

  Naya wrapped herself around him as best she could
, frustrated by an inability to lock her ankles and squeeze him tight. He was just too big. Hitched high on his chest, she found the place where she had marked him and bit him again.

  Chapter Six

  Naya

  He carried her into a room with an oddly positioned bed lifted high off the ground. The space was clean, but it looked old. This whole place reminded her of a rundown building from another era that needed a million good sector credits’ worth of remodeling.

  Furnishings were sparse: a standing rack of clothing, two gigantic trunks, and a wooden chair with a broken spoke where a glowing clay lamp had been set. No rug on the floor. No comfy window seat for reading.

  Thin and worn bedding covered a broken-in mattress. It was completely unacceptable. When Monster tried to set her on it, Naya jerked away and clung to him.

  "What is that? This isn't my nest!" The pitch in her voice climbed with every word until she was screeching.

  Monster grumbled. "Fucked you on my desk and you were fine. Put you in my bed, and now you want a nest?"

  "You can take me home. I have a nest there. Just take me a minute to arrange it for... you," she said primly, picturing what she had prepared versus this alpha's size.

  "No. No going home for you, girl. You use what I have,” he said with a put-upon sigh. "I didn't know I would need nest-building materials and girly shit today."

  His words contradicted his mind-bending purr and the way his hand glided along her back and through her wet hair. He made no move to put her down; instead he went over to one of the trunks. Shifting her to his hip, he worked the combination and threw open the lid, pulling out the long top tray. Then he grunted at her again.

  This was a nicer grunt—noncommittal, but it seemed to ask a question.

  Naya looked inside. She saw bundles that looked like real furs.

  "Oh, yes,” she moaned in delight. Loosening her legs, she slipped to the floor so she could see better, touch better.

  There were three giant furs, all of them different textures, colors, and types. She'd never seen anything like them. There was one with long, curly white and blond hair, enticingly soft and shaggy; one with shiny black hair that lightened to chocolate brown near what she thought were arms and legs, sleek in one direction, but prickly when brushed in the other; and the third one had brown stripes interspersed over gold hairs that almost looked orange and was amazingly soft.

  There were smaller furs too. She gathered everything she found, then went to his clothes rack and picked items from there.

  All of this she arranged carefully on his bed. She got in and out of her creation a couple of times, rolling around, testing the size and layers, feeling those furs on her bottom, her breasts, and making noises of delight.

  "Are you done yet?" Monster asked.

  Naya hummed as she looked up at him.

  All his muscles were magnificently tense. His cock arched dramatically in his hand, leaking milky stuff that he caught with his palm and drew down the shaft, rubbing it in.

  The flesh there had a darker pigment than the rest of him, colored like a ripe plum at the tip and blending to a deep nut-brown at the base where hair curled in tight, short circles.

  Beneath his cock—round and swollen, dark skin taut—were his testicles. The diagrams from her studies hadn't been colorized and hadn’t described the heady smell, nor the tempting hair she wanted to rub against her cheeks. Bigger than her wrist was wide and ridiculously long, she couldn't believe that his cock had fit inside of her.

  It had hurt, she remembered. Hurt so much she shivered with the memory, craving more.

  She wanted to taste him, to know him and connect with him in this fundamental way. Her mouth watered at the rich scent of his yearning. Of all the things she had prepared for, a need to put his cock in her mouth—to taste, to suck—wasn't one of them.

  No one had told her she would want to do that. It certainly wasn't on the list of things to expect the doctor had given her.

  "Girl. What do I call you?"

  "Mate,” she said, grinning at him. Hands above her head, Naya arched her back, wriggling so that her chest jiggled.

  His eyes followed the movement, but he frowned. "Your name? Or I will keep calling you girl."

  "My name is Naya, Mr. Monster. Care to give me yours now?" She spread her legs wide, teasing him as she looked at that cock of his. She wanted it. Just a little taste.

  "You will learn it soon enough, and not be happy you did, I imagine. Are you going to invite me in, or should I just force my way there?"

  She giggled again. She couldn't help it.

  Wearing a thunderous expression, he appeared impatient with her presence in his bed. But his hand worked his cock with increasing urgency, milking it for her. She scooted to the edge, making room for him as she held out her hand.

  He only had one knee on the bed when Naya jumped at him. All her inhibitions gone, head in his lap, she covered his hand with both of hers, and captured the mushroom head of his root in her mouth.

  "Fuck, girl. Fuck. Naya." His words were hoarse, desperate. Finally, his need matched what she was feeling.

  The fluid from his cock was thick like a sweet glaze. She needed more of it.

  Naya worked his cock in long strokes the same way he had. She thought his veins might be firmer, have more of a texture, but they smoothed out under her hands. The base was thicker than the head, the flesh strangely ringed. Pressing there, she discovered three slightly thickened ridges, one as wide as two of her fingers together.

  "What's this?" she asked on an inhale. The texts from her omega reproduction studies had never mentioned rings around an alpha’s cock.

  "A gift of the monster and a very long rut. My knot is deformed and never fully goes away." His voice was heated and low. The sound sent warmth through her middle.

  His answer made no sense to Naya, but she would not press it now. Instead she adjusted herself so she could take him deeper into her mouth.

  He settled himself into the nest, lying back completely. She made a sound of protest when his hands circled her waist and started to lift her.

  "Easy, girl," he said as he rotated her body arranging them belly to belly, their heads at opposite ends of the bed. The position gave him the opportunity for a slow glide of his hands over her curves, testing her rounded flesh, smoothing over the soft expanse and sinking down to the swollen delta of her sex.

  She felt the careful press of his strange claws down her seam, a tease she couldn't help but lean into.

  Gentle; he was so gentle. The touch was light and reverent, fascinated. It enflamed her. Repetition of the action distracted her from his cock, but she had no intention of letting him go. She wasn’t finished yet.

  As she craned around to see what was happening behind her, she caught him licking her slick from his fingers, relishing her taste. He brought his cupped hands to his mouth, his eyes rolling back in bliss.

  The awed expression made her insides buzz. It was a good look for him.

  Eager to explore the rest of his cock, she sank her mouth around and down the side of his shaft. She tongued the strange rings near the base, as if she couldn't truly know this part of him without the use of her mouth, lips, and tongue. Those rings of tissue had no give and stayed firm under pressure.

  She concentrated on those rings with her left hand, squeezing and pulling down. He was so wide here her fingers didn't even come close to meeting. Hungry, Naya worked her other hand in tandem above while sucking. She followed her desires. Her tongue found a space on the underside of the organ that made his hips pulse when she lapped at it.

  The act should have felt awkward with her head bobbing, hands moving, and body bent over him lewdly, but she reveled in the act, hungry for more. She never wanted to stop.

  She kept on, womb kicking and vagina spasming in ecstasy with his every unrestrained noise. She drank him until his cock swelled even more and released a fountain of his savory essence.

  "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he groaned, seed s
pilling onto her tongue. "Take it. Take me. Let me feed you, baby."

  Senses consumed with him, she obeyed, getting as much of his essence inside her as she could.

  "Shit. Didn't prepare for a breeder. No food. No water. Shit,” he said, taking deep, gasping breaths that moved her body with his.

  His member was still firm in her hands, but she'd taken all he offered for now. Humming, licking at the little slit in the cap of him, Naya yearned for more.

  "Stop, girl. Need in you. In you one more time, then water. Food."

  He pulled her backwards, holding her against his mouth as he licked her sex from bottom to top. His tongue sank inside just long enough to tease her, then he was rotating her body to face him. Together they eased the silky spike of his cock into her core.

  "Wet. Tight. Small," he grated. "Gods, baby. I just knotted you. How can you still feel untouched?"

  His hands were under her butt, controlling her descent. He supported her, adjusting her position to best accommodate the girth of his cock.

  The position provided unfamiliar sensations. When Naya tried to take him deeper, the pain of the stretch stopped her. When she paused, he kept on. His cock stroked unfamiliar areas, the angle just right. Every time it slid over a spot along the front of her channel, she was struck by a jolt of pleasure stronger than the pain.

  "So good. So good," Naya whimpered.

  The reticent one of her family, she'd always kept her thoughts to herself. This alpha cracked open her self-restraint. She felt it happen, felt the pressures and expectations she'd lived under split down her center. Her moans turned to screams as she discovered herself capable of making an entire new array of sounds. Words were not enough to express her feelings about the cock rocking back and forth inside her.

  His cock caressed all the right places.

  She told him where she liked it, how fast to go, and how hard to push. He chuckled at her bossiness but did what she wanted.

  Naya rolled her hips impatiently and then threw her weight back, trying to take him deeper, wanting the pain of it.

  He smacked her thigh, sharp and stinging. "Settle, Naya.”

  And she did, giving herself over to him, trusting him, submitting to him instead of trying to lead the exchange.