Alpha Domination (Alpha Wolf Book 1) Read online

  My only way to Hattie’s will be to follow the scent of the pickup. The longer I wait, the more likely the scent will fade. I don’t have the luxury of time for this not to work.

  Then my skin begins bubbling and tingling, just as before. Relief passes, only briefly, over me. Now that it’s actually happening, my terror sky rockets. And the more frightened I become, the faster the change goes. Bones break out of place, dragging a strangled yelp as my vocal cords reform. Everything is moving and everything is on fire. The pain reaches the threshold of unbearable when it suddenly stops, leaving my body aching and uncomfortable.

  I wonder, exhaustedly, if this is how people felt when they were tortured on a rack.

  Panting, I look down at my hands, which are now paws. Flexing claws instead of fingers feels bizarre at best. Worse still, is the realisation that I have a tail and zero idea how to use it.

  Brushing past the fire, my reflection catches my eye in the uneven copper of the utensils. My fur is grey and white. For all the world, I could be a large husky except for the sharpness of my eyes and ears. My hesitation only lasts a moment.

  Nathan is on his own. I need to get to him before he ends up a worse mess than before.

  The door is closed, causing me to growl at my own stupidity. Awkwardly, I rear onto my back legs and grasp the handle between my teeth. The metal tastes greasy and worn. It takes more than one attempt to open it.

  The snow is cold on my pads and nose. It takes a few minutes of paddling to catch the scent of the pickup, but then I’m running in my awkward new body.

  The pale morning light is almost unbearable as it glances over the white ground. My enhanced vision leaves me squinting in the glare. I try to ignore it as much as I can, focusing instead on the scent of the pickup.

  My paws skid to a stop. The tracks come to a snowy junction. Snuffling the ground eventually reveals the direction Nathan has taken, but, as I follow the new path, I realise that the pickup’s scent is mingling too readily with the aromas of other vehicles that have passed by. I step up my pace, hoping nobody else drives down the snow covered road whilst I’m on it.

  Miles down the lane, the small town starts to come into view. I slip off the beaten track, sheltering amongst the scattered shrubs and trees as I near the buildings. The scent of the pickup has all but disappeared now.

  Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea...

  I slip down alleyways and through snickets, sniffing and looking for Nathan or the pickup. But it’s Hattie’s scent I catch first. Something instinctively tells me that it’s old. That doesn’t matter, though. It’s strong and I guess that means she’s travelled this way often.

  Warily, I follow it to the back entrance of a small block of flats. The door is open and it leads into a small utility room. I sniff the air carefully, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone there. Instead, there’s just the scent of washing powder and damp. I edge inside, slipping slightly on the dirty, tiled floor. There are two washing machines in action and a dryer that’s come to a stop.

  Hattie’s trail leads further into the building. I can spot a stairwell through the ajar door. There’s no way I can head up there as a wolf. A low grumble reverberates my throat. I’m going to have to change back and see if I can pinch some clothes from one of these machines before I can go on.

  I squeeze under one of the counters, hoping it might shield me if anybody decides to come check on their washing when I’m halfway through transforming. Somehow, it’s easier to change back than it was to become a wolf. Maybe that’s because my body is already humming with adrenaline. Still, I crouch there, naked and panting for a few minutes, sweat dripping from my forehead and trickling down my spine in this somehow humid but clammy room.

  The contents of the dryer are less than helpful. The cycle inside is still damp. I sift through the clothes. There’s a knee length skirt that fits at a squeeze, but the rest of the bottoms are men’s and far too big for my frame. There are no other women’s clothes in the drum. Shivering, I pinch one of the white button-down shirts and tuck it, with some difficulty, below the band of the skirt. Shoes and socks are a luxury I’m clearly not going to get.

  The stairwell is empty, but I can smell four distinct, familiar aromas. Hattie’s is the most prominent. Then there’s Caleb and Dan. And Nathan.

  I creep up the steps, listening carefully for any sign of danger and trying to ignore the cold tile beneath my bare feet. The place seems deserted, but I remind myself that it’s early and the humans are probably barely awake, yet.

  Humans...

  Have I really started to think of myself as a separate species?

  My heartbeat seems to echo off the walls as I climb higher, following the scents. Then the aromas trail off to a door. I hesitate on the landing. My palm brushes the door and it gently sways, unlatched. My breath sucks in. The sharp scent of blood has slipped through with the draft.

  But whose blood?

  Hattie had screamed on the phone. Was she here when they rang Nathan? What have they done to her? Is she still in there? Are they still in there? There aren’t any sounds to suggest they are...

  I lick my lips and cautiously push the door. The room is revealed slowly. The small hall space is dark and crowded by shelving units crammed with stuff. My eye catches on a picture frame that boasts two young women with similar features.

  A sharp splinter in my chest twists with the realisation I’m looking at Hattie and Anna together in happier times.

  The hall space opens into a drably lit kitchen where clutter has been toppled mercilessly to the floor. I step over a fallen chair, bare feet cold and silent on the thin lino. There’s a window above the worktop and it’s allowing the early grey light to capture a hint of the still room. I tiptoe towards it. Scents are heavy on the air, but there’s no sound in the small apartment.

  Nathan has been here, definitely. But so have Caleb and Dan. My nostrils flair. My human brain tries to unravel the animal directions. Are they still here, hiding in one of the rooms somewhere, or have they already left?

  As I turn to scope out the other rooms, my toes smear something sticky. A ripple of unease channels down my spine. I want it to be something gross like marmite or jam, but the smell that’s arisen from its disturbance assures me it’s not. Crouching in the dim light, I can see that it’s a large splatter of blood. There’s a swathe already cut through it as if something has been dragged.

  Without hesitation, I know it must be Hattie’s blood and Hattie’s removal.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand suddenly to attention. I start to turn before I even catch sight of the shadow, but I’m already too late. The yelp in my throat is cut short as a long-fingered hand clamps around my neck and lifts me from the floor like a ragdoll.

  Dan’s face washes past in a blur as he smashes me down onto the worktop. My foot swings out, but I don’t manage to connect it with his crotch as I intended. Air burns my lungs as he releases the squeeze on my neck. The relief is short lived, his fist connecting with my cheek, instead. I feel like one of those free standing punch bags as he yanks me back towards him and lays another blow.

  Spots of colour flash in front of my eyes. I suck in a breath and jar my forearms against his chest as he brings me in close to him again. My head feels like it’s about to explode. “Did you think we were going to let you go? After all the hard work we put in?”

  A third blow has blood pounding in my ears. His hands are on the waistband of my borrowed skirt. The fabric is tearing and my fists are wailing against his shoulders and chest.

  “You have to break a new bitch in to claim her properly. Destroy that sweet pussy. Fuck her ‘til she knows she’s yours. And I can smell you want it from here.”

  Smell that I want it...?

  The material of the skirt gives in to his ripping. I try to push his hands away, but he’s thrusting up the hem of my oversized shirt. Another blow to the face momentarily disarms me, a split second before his heavy weight leaves my body and crashes t
o the floor.

  I lurch forward, trying to sprint from the room, but stumble onto all fours instead. Gravity feels somewhat stronger than usual. I lift my head with difficulty. Dan has been yanked to his feet.

  Nathan is here. Thank god Nathan is here. He smashes the other werewolf in the face, his stony anger darkening the air around him.

  I try to stand, but I’m still so dizzy that all I do is tumble awkwardly to a side. My head is spinning. I try to focus on the figures before me.

  Dan’s blood is spraying the room as Nathan pummels his face without restraint. I’m reminded of the night outside the bar and how he seemed to lose control, then, too. It isn’t until Dan’s breathing through blood bubbles that Nathan’s fists begin to slow.

  “Nathan?” I rasp, my throat burning.

  His chest is heaving, his fist stalled in mid air, knuckles bloody and bruised. His eyes are still on the battered werewolf on the floor whose body he is crouched over. Scarlet froth pops on Dan’s mashed lips.

  “Nathan...?” I try to move towards him, but my body is so disorientated that I pitch sideways again. The action draws Nathaniel’s gaze.

  He straightens as though stiff and moves to help me, raising me from the floor and scooping me up. My arms wrap around his neck. I can smell blood and sweat mingling with the sweet perfume of him, the scents thick and intoxicating. I glance down at the pulped body on the floor. It’s disturbing to think Nathan could have done so much damage with a few swings of his fists.

  He sets me back down on the worktop, his body cradled between my thighs. Warm fingers tilt my chin, drawing my gaze to focus on his.

  “Georgie...?” He looks concerned and wild-eyed.

  I swallow thickly, but my voice still rasps, burning from when the brute squeezed my throat too tight. “Did you find her? Hattie?”

  “Not yet,” he murmurs. His fingers trace the side of my face, gently probing my jaw and cheek bone. “Does this hurt?”

  “A little,” I choke. My gaze finds the werewolf on the floor. “Did you kill him...?”

  Nathan doesn’t look at the prone figure; instead, his fingers move to explore my neck. My pulse quickens under his delicate touch. “Not yet.”

  He cups my jaw, eyes flickering to find mine and then my lips, before he kisses me, slowly, like he’s drinking me in. The lingering tenderness trembles of something deep and unspoken. Something verging on desperate. His shuddered exhale warms my lips.

  “Stay here,” he whispers, raw gaze playing over me like he thinks I might vanish.

  I lean back, resting my spinning head against the window pane. Nathan glances at me, warily, and then stoops to the werewolf’s body. He grabs him and drags him into another room.

  Excuses

  Between the time it takes Nathan to complete his task and return, I doze off a little. I don’t know how long he’s gone, exactly, but the dizziness eases. I come to, finding Nathan is brushing loose hair from my face. His expression is a picture of concern. I briefly wonder how bad I must look after those blows.

  “Hey,” he murmurs, eyes black pools of concern and tenderness. “Hey, dahlin? How’s the head?”

  “Achy,” I reply, lowly. The rasp has gone and my throat no longer burns. However long I was out must have been long enough for my newly accelerated healing to go to town on my sore vocal cords.

  Muted relief crosses Nathan’s brow, a flicker of indignation quirking his lips. “I told you to wait at the cabin.”

  “I’m not a dog,” I murmur. My head still feels like it’s been a couple of rounds in a washing machine. “I’m a strong, frustrating woman. And I... I taste like falling.”

  I glance at him from under my lashes, trying to decide if I should regret uttering those words. Nathan’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks at me like he wants to reacquaint himself with that taste even if he knows he shouldn’t.

  And I wish he would.

  But the cold ache of knowing I’ll have to return to my former life and figure out my strained relationship with another man stifle any advances I can think to make. You can’t start a new book without tying up the loose ends from the last. Right?

  “He said he could smell me,” I mutter awkwardly, meaning pre-pulped Dan.

  Nathan swallows. His voice sounds raw and thick. His nostrils flare almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. I told you that male werewolves can smell females.”

  “But he said–”

  “You smell like sex,” he murmurs with an ache in his throat. The darkness in his eyes has become stormy; a mixture of lust and possessiveness that he tries to swallow down but fails. “And orange blossoms. And sweet spices.”

  “Oh...”

  “Female werewolves’ scent is supposed to bring in all the male werewolves in the vicinity. It’s potent. Like a drug. That’s why Caleb is so desperate to have you.”

  “So, last night and–”

  “No,” Nathan interrupts hastily, shaking his head. I form a quizzical expression in his hesitant pause. His fingers twine in my loose hair and he draws me in for a slow kiss, his soft lips hot and inviting. When he retreats, his voice curls around me like heated chocolate. “If I was that weak, I would have jumped you the moment I met you.”

  He may not be that weak, but the more I’m around him the more vulnerable I feel. His hands are on my legs, thumbs rubbing hot, erotic circles on my inner thighs. My breasts are beginning to ache, straining for the same attention.

  His gaze flickers over me. “A good orgasm will dampen it for a while.”

  I swallow a cocktail of surprise and heat. “Sorry...?”

  His lips crush mine in a mixture of lust and frustration. All thought forgotten, I lean into the kiss, the agony of needing him settling in my chest. The sweep of his tongue heats my mouth and hitches my breath. His fingers move up the inside of my thigh, dipping under the hem of my shirt to stroke me as I melt and moan in abandonment.

  He patterns my jaw with butterfly kisses that gift me a few precious moments of cold, hard air. I clench my hands around his shoulders, swaying between pushing him away and pulling him close. When he speaks between gentle, suctioning kisses that flutter against my throat, his voice vibrates my taut skin.

  “I’ll make you come, Georgie, and your scent won’t be as potent for a while.”

  I’m about to protest, I don’t want this to be just an exercise in safety, when the damp heat of his mouth fastens around my nipple through my shirt. My body arches and I have to bite down on my lip to stifle the mewl of ecstasy that escapes my throat. I can feel him chuckle against my breast, his playful fingers purging all thoughts of amusement from my mind. When he slides them inside of me, the same moment he chooses to scrape his teeth over my untouched nipple, I have to clamp my fists around the edge of the counter to try to keep control.

  How is it that my body is so highly strung when he’s around?

  Panting, I murmur his name, begging him to stop, begging him to realise where we are, begging him to oh... yes...

  He kisses my mouth, his tongue teasing mine. My muscles clench and my body arches as he moves his fingers with sure strokes, swirling his thumb over my clit. And I’m begging him again, but this time because I’m already close, my whole body vibrating with the effort not to explode. He chuckles and carefully slips his fingers free, licking them and watching me bite my lip as my brain drunkenly tries to fathom its next move.

  Before I get my breath back, Nathan’s lowered himself to tease my clit with the sure swirl of his tongue. This time I do moan in ecstasy. I can feel him smile against me. He sucks gently on the sensitive nub, scooping me closer to him. My knuckles blaze white around the edge of the counter.

  I don’t want him to do this just to make us less obvious to other werewolves. I want him to do it because he wants me. There should be no other reason. But explaining that seems somehow intensely difficult right now. My thoughts race, trying to form a cohesive protest.

  But then he slides his fingers slowly and surely
inside of me, again, stroking as he tastes me, and my mind is blanketed by need. An animal noise leaves my throat. My whole body is trembling, hips rocking in answer to his expert attention.

  The rough pad of his tongue drives me over the edge of the precipice. My eyes close and my head tips back as I explode beneath the heat of his mouth, unintelligible cries breaking from my lips.

  The world has imploded and my body has dissolved into the contented darkness it’s left behind.

  I finally reopen my lashes moments later to find Nathan dabbing at his face with a tea towel that he discards, but, when he kisses me, I can still taste my own orgasm on his lips. His hands smooth around my backside and slide me closer. His erection presses, thick and hard, against my crotch. He unbuttons my shirt so quickly I barely realise what he’s doing until his hot palms are cupping my breasts, fingers playing my nipples like guitar strings.

  I groan against his lips, feeling the excitement in my body beginning to rise again. He lowers his trousers and I waste no time in finding the velvety tip of his erection to tease and caress. His hot kisses scatter damp patterns to my breasts where he laves each bud until it pebbles and he takes it in his mouth, scraping the underside thrillingly with his teeth.

  My breath comes in hard pants, desperate for a second release in the presence of his delicious attentions. He pushes my hand away from his delectable cock and, in agonizing ecstasy, slowly slides himself deep into my slick heat.

  “Sweet Jesus, you feel so good, dahlin,” he pants, nipping my neck and sliding back for his first decadent thrust.

  “Ahhh, yes... please...” I gasp, softly.

  Our fingers lace together, hands pressed down against the worktop. Our bodies move perfectly in sync, my breasts brushing tantalisingly against his chest with each sure thrust.

  “You tasted so good when you came,” he whispers raggedly in my ear. “So good I needed to feel you. This. Ah, Georgie... Fuck...”