Claimed by the Alpha

by Laxmi Hariharan

  Claimed by the Alpha

  Knotted Omega 2

  Laxmi Hariharan

  Scarlette Brooke

  13 Suns

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Free book

  About the Author

  1

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  Lucy

  When I come to, it’s to the sense of heat enfolding me. I burrow into the warmth, the hard planes of the chest that shift under my cheek. The scent of fresh rainwater on parched earth fills my nose.

  That alluring, growing need curls in my belly and my core trembles. Every instinct tells me I am safe.

  Safe?

  I try to move and find there is a heavy arm around my waist, its weight both brutal and soft.

  The friction of his skin over mine sends a tremor of heat down my spine.

  Slick pools between my legs. My stomach cramps, and the mating bond in my chest pulses with life. Heat. Life. Energy. My scalp stings, my fingers and toes tingle.

  Every part of me prickles like it’s coming back to life. Like I have been asleep for a long time. Like I’d never jumped off the cliff and straight into that blue-green water, hitting the waves, going through and—my eyelids snap open.

  I am surrounded by his smooth, honey-brown skin, which is broken by the scars on his throat, the wounds I had marked him with. They bleed into the tattoos on his chest.

  I reach out and trace my fingers over those swirls and curves, those colors that are as stark as the monster I’d thought him to be, as poignant as the lost boy I had glimpsed in his eyes in the seconds before I’d jumped off the cliff and into the sea below.

  Why had I done that?

  Willfully sent myself to a possible death, while deep inside I’d known it wasn’t going to happen that way? That I’d just started living. I’d just met him, and I wasn’t going to let go of him or the future I’d glimpsed.

  Had I been testing myself? To see if I was as brave, as fearless as I’d thought myself to be? To test him to see if he’d come after me? And he had.

  The thoughts tumble around in my head. There is a fluttering in my stomach, and I push against his chest.

  A growl rumbles from him. “You’re awake?”

  “Where am I—?” My voice cracks; my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

  When was the last time I drank water?

  Well, if you don’t count the gallons I swallowed as I sank under the waves, eh? A chuckle wheezes out of me.

  I feel lightheaded, enough to be able to laugh at this strange scene which might well be from a dream. Except it isn’t. The man-mountain moving under me, his flesh surrounding me, the pulse of need flooding down the bond…all of it tells me I am alive. “Why did you save me?”

  He doesn’t reply at once.

  Is he considering his words before speaking? Strange. The Zeus who’d taken me like it was his due had never given thought to the feelings of another.

  He cups my cheek, and his touch is so gentle, so sweet. “You didn’t leave me a choice, little squirrel.”

  My throat closes. That term of endearment…does it mean that he cares for me? Nah. Not possible. So why does it feel like I betrayed him when I ran from him? He took me without giving me a choice, I was right to leave him.

  “It won’t work, you know.” His voice reverberates under my cheek, so growly and yet so soothing.

  I want to close my eyes, burrow into him, merge with him, and go right back to sleep.

  “What?” I swallow, somehow knowing what he is alluding to, but that isn’t possible. He cannot read my thoughts, can he?

  “You keep trying to leave, not realizing that I will follow you.”

  His words send a wave of need coiling through my womb.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I will always find you, and claim you.” His jaw tics, and a nerve throbs at his temple. “You are mine to own. To claim. To possess.”

  The passion shimmers in the air between us.

  The hair on my neck prickles. The flood of raw emotions, of fear and lust and his utter need to take, flows down the bond. My chest hurts. The back of my eyeballs begins to throb.

  It’s not like he doesn’t know every inch of my body, or how my flesh responds to him, not like he hasn’t shown me how much he wants to dominate me. He wants to break me.

  His gaze narrows; the skin stretches over his cheeks.

  My chest grows heavy. There is a ball of emotion inside clawing, waiting to get out. The force of it is bigger than the mating bond, more profound than the physical urge to want him to rut me, more primal than the need to procreate that is inherent in my omega state.

  It is real, alive and writhing inside of me, and that scares me.

  This need to tell him that I am his.

  To respond to that call of his mate, to tell him I am here for him, that he can take me, slake his thirst in me, bury himself inside me, and knot me all over again. And I want it all. So much.

  The depth of my emotions washes over me and floods into the bond, sweeping through it.

  Under me, his heartbeat increases in speed. Heat pours from his chest, and his muscles go rock-hard. Can he sense what I don’t dare tell him? That I hadn’t meant for it to be this way?

  Why is it that he just has to look at me, touch me, hold me, and I will dissolve, shatter into a million pieces, each of which reflects his name? Screams this monster’s status. Alpha. My alpha. Mine.

  The mating bond curls inside me, tugging at me, yanking at me, pleading, urging, begging me to accept.

  “No.” I yank myself from his hold with such speed that I must have taken him by surprise.

  His grip loosens, and I wriggle out from under his grasp. Hitting the hard floor, I push myself to a standing position. The world swings around me. His big body moves. His muscles tense, and he springs up to his feet, arms outstretched to catch me.

  My legs tremble, and I punch my toes into the floor for support. “Stay away…” I gasp.

  I don’t need to ask him to know that he saved my life.

  I lurch to the door and shove it open, stepping onto the fine white sand. There is a beach in front of me, sloping down, ringed with coconut palms, and beyond that the sea, waves, and the blinding sun shining off of it for as far as I can see. It should be idyllic but it is not.

  It should gladden me that I am away from the smoggy, dirty streets of London, but it doesn’t.

  I am here alone with him. My skin puckers.

  I stumble forward and onto the beach. My feet sink into the sand. I look down and draw my gaze up the curve of my ankles, to my legs, over my bare thighs, to my stomach. My breasts are bared to the sun.

  I am naked.

  Heat flushes my cheeks. All this time, in his arms, I didn’t have any clothes on.

  Something sounds behind me, and I swing around and flush. Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I know my neck must have turned an interesting shade of scarlet. For the
man is naked, too.

  He has not a stitch of clothing on.

  Not his pants or those massive boots I’ve seen him in. Nope. There’s a vast expanse of honey-brown skin, marked with those tattoos I’d been admiring down to the sculpted planes of his stomach, and below that his shaft, which is already semi-erect.

  “Wh…why did you bring me here? Why did you rescue me?” Why am I bothering to ask him this question?

  He confirms my fears. “One guess?”

  “Uh, because you needed time away, and this is your island retreat?” I swallow.

  “Wrong answer.” His stance is patient. He’s waiting, waiting.

  “And because I am your…” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Say it.” His voice is soft.

  “Your…” I force myself to open my eyes. “Omega.”

  “And?” He takes a step forward.

  I hold my place. I will not be scared. I am not going to step back. Not going to show him how afraid I am. That my heart is pounding, my throat is dry, while sweat breaks out on my forehead. “And I need water. I am parched.”

  He turns and walks inside the house, then reappears at the door with a bottle of water.

  A bottle?

  So someone has stocked this place. I lean back and take a better look at it. The structure is rudimentary but seems secure. It must be for Zeus to bring me here. Why is it that I trust this alpha so implicitly with my safety? Was it because he'd jumped into the ocean after me and saved me?

  I want to ask him why he did it but I am not sure I want to know his answer. Not least because I don't want to question the warmth that pools in my chest at the thought of him risking his life for me. My captor had become my savior and how do I feel about that, eh? Why am I not panicking? My toes curl and my fingers and toes tingle. With fear? Anticipation? Both?

  I close the distance between us and snatch up the bottle, “This place belongs to you?” I gulp down the water then hand the bottle back to him.

  Without wiping the top, he tilts it to his lips and chugs down from it, too.

  It feels very intimate. My lips tremble. I want his mouth on me again. Longing sears my belly, and I push back the need to press my thighs together. But I must have given something away, for his gaze drops right back to my core.

  He bends to place the bottle at the side, on the ground, then straightens. “It’s just you and me, and no one is going to come here, not until your lesson is complete.”

  “Lesson?”

  “Yes, little omega. The one you need to learn.” He looks at me. Hooded eyelids. The silver in his irises is as liquid as the sea behind me. As tempting as the water, I had dived into when I had jumped off the cliff. There’s a pleasure-pain of calling in them. They scare me and seduce me at the same time.

  “Which one is that?” I dig my toes into the sand.

  “You want me to spell it out for you, little squirrel?” His lips thin. His nostrils flare.

  That threat in his tone sets my nerves jangling.

  I know what he means. And it should terrify me. Should warn me to stay away from him.

  Still, that spirit of disobedience that has brought me this far, that has gotten me into trouble so many times, urges me not to cooperate with him. Not when I am so clearly in his control. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  He closes the distance between us so quickly that I gasp.

  He grabs my nape and pulls me close. His fingers are long enough to curl around my neck all the way so his fingers meet in the front.

  My pulse rate ratchets up.

  He lowers his face and his nose bumps mine. His eyes narrow, and his jaw goes solid. The scent of dominance leaps off him, so thick and fast that it plows into my chest. Sweat breaks out on my forehead.

  He rubs his thumb over the front of my neck. “Perhaps I should show you what happens to omegas who run away from their mates.”

  My breath hitches; anticipation tugs at my belly, and moisture beads my core. Why does the brutality in his voice turn me on so much? Why do I want every depraved thing that he can do to me? It should feel wrong and it doesn't.

  I can't stop myself from pressing my thighs together to hold in the moisture that threatens to leak out from my core. I need to put an end to the hold he has on me. I must.

  “You are not my mate.” The skin over my heart ripples. The bond pulls at me, scolding me for not accepting what I already know.

  “You are right.”

  “I am?” I stare.

  “I let you out of my sight. I left you before the ending of your heat cycle, when you needed me, instead of consolidating the bond.” He pauses, surveying me, watching me, stalking me like the prey I am.

  And I am tired, so tired of being on the defensive with him.

  Mates aren’t supposed to trap you or drive you out of your mind with need until you yearn for their touch, then deprive you.

  Mates who are alphas are supposed to hold you, rut you through your heat cycle, then cherish you and bring you down from the high, none of which he has done.

  A pulse ticks at his jaw. “I am going to set that right.” He steps forward and cups my face.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want that…I don’t.”

  Swooping down, he places his forehead on mine and purrs, a low, glorious resonance that is drawn up from the depths of his core. The notes ripple up his massive chest with such strength that the vibrations thrum over my breasts.

  My nipples pebble and the flesh between my thighs weeps.

  The sound of his purr strums my sensitized nerve endings. My core clenches and moisture gushes from between my legs to form a puddle under me.

  A sob rolls up my throat. My chin wobbles and I raise my hands to his chest, wanting to push him away.

  All I end up doing is spreading my palms, sensing the vibrations that throb up his ribcage. It’s strangely soothing. An affirmation that he is alive. That I am still alive. I push back from him. “Why do you insist on doing that?”

  He bends and scoops me up in his arms then walks back toward the house. “You like it when I purr.” His forehead furrows. “It brings out the need inside you. Speaks to the omega essence of you.”

  “Exactly!” I peer up from between my eyelashes. Those piercing blue eyes of his deepen in color. Mistake. Why am I trying to reason with him when all he has to do is look at me and I want to fling myself at him and ask him to take me all over again? “That’s why I don’t want you to do it.” I shove my hair over my shoulders. “It’s difficult to think, let alone speak when you do that, and then it leads to the inevitable.”

  He steps over the threshold. My gaze flies past him to the narrow bed at the far end of the room.

  There is barely enough space for one person. An image of me curled up against his broad back, my face pressed into those sculpted planes washes over me. It’s both arousing and reassuring, and the mix of emotions confuses me.

  I shouldn’t be so needy for him.

  And it’s not just my body.

  My will is melting along with the rest of me, getting used to his presence in my head, in my heart, in every part of me which has begun to recognize his flavor and thirst for it.

  His essence flowing down the mating bond is bending me to his will. I drop my head.

  I have been fighting this attraction to him for so long. My shoulders slump. I lower my chin toward my chest, and my hair spills over my face.

  “So what would you rather do?” His voice reverberates up his chest.

  My insides quiver. Why is it that as I am trying to be logical, my body is hyper-aware of him? I huff out a breath. “I just want us to talk without any distraction.”

  He crosses the floor toward the bed. “Okay.”

  “Huh?” I blink, staring up at that impenetrable visage. Whatever it was I expected, it wasn’t for the devil to agree to my request. “So you’ll be willing to answer a few questions first?”

  “One.” He sets his jaw.

  “Three.” Gues
s there is some use of having grown up in a royal household and eavesdropping on discussions my father had with his Council. All those negotiations, all that give and take I’ve witnessed is ingrained in my blood.

  “Two.” He straightens his shoulders, and I sense he’s back to being the General again. He also doesn’t seem very surprised that I’d tried to talk him up.

  “Okay,” I agree before he changes his mind.

  “Hmm.” There’s a low exhale of breath from him, then he lays me on the bed. Pulling up a chair, he flips it around and goes to straddle it.

  “Wait.” I spring up on my knees.

  “Now what?” he growls, his massive shoulders flexing as he folds his arms over his chest.

  “You may be used to being naked, but I am not.” I jerk my chin at his body, not daring to lower my eyes to that chest. If I do, I’ll be lost. If I look down to where his shaft is growing harder by the second, I have no doubt I’ll close the distance, grab it, lick it, and then lower myself onto it…and…not yet. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Let’s put on some clothes. Please, just until we have this conversation.”

  He turns and stalks away.

  I blink.

  Not what I’d expected, okay? I mean, this here is an overbearing alpha-hole, the monster who runs this city as if it is his personal dictatorship and…maybe I misjudged him.

  I push the thought away. Nah. Being this close to him, sensing his warmth, the tug of the mating bond, all of it is skewing my judgment. Next, I’ll be thinking of playing happy families with him, of him and me and our children in his stronghold. I shake my head to clear it.

  Clearly, I am losing it, and the worst part is, none of it seems wrong.