Captive of the Alpha

by Laxmi Hariharan

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” His tone is flat, and something in it, a twist of hurt maybe, brings my head up.

  I look at him, and his chest heaves. His biceps are rigid. Color stains his cheekbones and a bead of sweat trickles down his temple. Eh? “You want me?" I blink.

  “I am attracted to you, but don't go making too much of that.”

  Ego much? You...brute?

  He bends to peer through the windshield. Rain patters down, and the wipers flick on. “You, an omega in heat. Me, an alpha who can help you break it." He rolls his shoulders, "You do the math.”

  “Why did you claim me?”

  His fingers clench around the steering wheel, “You don’t get to ask the questions.”

  “You saw me and wanted me. That’s when you came up with this insane plan to kidnap me, right?”

  “Wrong. Even before I saw you, I scented you. That sugary, spicy, luscious slick of yours drenched the air and pulled me to that terrace. I wanted the source of that abundance of pheromones. Then I saw you and knew I wouldn't stop until I had learned your every secret. Until I had taken you over and over again and ruined you for anyone else."

  9

  Kayden

  The fuck? Did I say that out loud? Hadn’t meant for the words to come pouring out. It doesn’t mean anything, of course. Words. What my adopted father lived by.

  It's what I'm good at too. My gift for talking has allowed me to charm the omegas, to strategize the end of the alphas who stand up to me. It’s how I had seized the leadership after my father’s death. Twisted lies. Words that can be bent out of shape, made to mean anything. That’s what I am good at. The truth…? I have never owned up to myself, until now. Until she’d asked and I’d wanted to lie…but this once, the truth will work better.

  I have nothing to hide from her.

  She’s already seen me at my worst. Yet, I have never before taken another omega against her will. So why don't I feel more regretful about my actions with her?

  I had scented her, had seen her, and been instantly attracted to her. There was no way I could have left the Omega harem without her.

  After all, we Alphas take. We rut. We demolish. Our base natures demand that. But we also protect what’s ours. And she’s mine. Mine. Temporarily. For a few days; until Zeus tracks us down.

  The lights of a house glow in the distance, and I swerve off of the road.

  “Where…are we going?”

  “You don’t get to ask me questions.”

  She shudders, then clutches at the door handle. No other sound emerges from her mouth. I don’t need to look at her to know she is in agony.

  I can't claim to understand what it is to be an omega, but my half-sister, Kiara, had mentioned to me the pure torture it is to face estrus without an alpha rutting her.

  She’d managed it, thanks to the suppressants that I’d procured for her. The drugs are not easy to come by. Which begs the question, how did this omega manage to survive so far?

  I shoot her a glance. Her skin is pale, and sweat stains her upper lip. The strands of her hair stick to her forehead. Her shoulders twist; her fingers are locked together. She chafes her thighs and lifts her legs so her knees are pulled close to her chest again. Under her thighs, the seat glistens. Slick…heavenly slick. My mouth waters. It’s only when her scent deepens that I realize that I have leaned in close.

  I want to lick up that moisture from under her, right before I thrust my tongue into her wet cunt and tear into her. Fuck. The SUV tilts as the car grinds up the slight incline. The tires catch each rut and dip and jostle us side to side.

  Her head hits the window.

  The sound sweeps aside all other thoughts in my mind. I need to get her to the house before she hurts herself more. Another bounce, and her head falls back against the seat. She pants and gasps. Then mumbles under her breath. Sweat beads her forehead. Clearly she is in discomfort. Why should that matter to me? So I knotted her, and now she is my hostage. She is my best bargaining chip with Zeus, and that's one reason to make sure she survives this trip, right?

  Besides, I'd have done the same for any other omega in need. Yep. That's all it is. I toss my head, then press down on the accelerator. I speed up until we hit the driveway.

  The gates are open; one of them hangs off of the hinges. I veer around the winding road, then pull up in front of the house. A light comes on inside.

  Leaning over, I untie her from the door handle. She doesn’t react. Her eyes are closed. The tendons of her throat move as she swallows.

  When I pull back, she moves toward me.

  “Stay.”

  She angles her body and falls across the console between the seats. I catch her, and she moans low in her throat. She rubs her cheek against my hand. No words. Not needed. The need clings to her skin and saturates the air.

  “Fuck this.”

  I drag her up and over to my side, then pull her out and haul her into my arms.

  She promptly burrows into my chest—her shoulders, her hair, her cheek, the side of her thighs. She fucking plasters every available part of herself to every surface of my skin she can reach. She moans again and my heart thuds in my rib cage. I need to put her out of her agony. Something primal inside of me insists I take care of her.

  I stalk around the SUV and race up the steps. As I reach the doorway, it opens.

  A man stands there, clad in pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His hair is gray and combed back, his face weathered.

  “Marcus.” I nod.

  “Kayden?”

  His gaze moves from my face to the woman in my arms. I tighten my hold on her. The skin around his eyes creases. He’s noticed her bindings.

  His forehead furrows. “The last I heard, Zeus had you under house arrest.”

  “I broke out.”

  Zeus isn’t exactly the well-respected leader he is striving to be. He’s made mistakes, and many of the old guard aren’t happy with how he killed our blood father and took over.

  At least, so I have heard.

  Marcus nods and my shoulders relax.

  “We need food, shelter.”

  “She needs more than that; she’s bleeding.”

  I drop my gaze to her and find a trail of blood trickling down her forehead. She’d hurt it at some point. When she banged her head against the window? Is she that fragile? She’s tiny, weighs hardly anything in my arms.

  Yet, she’d held her own with the kind of aggression I associate with males.

  It’s a quiet strength, a fortitude that I had seen only in my mother. How she’d confronted everything life threw at her—the way Golan had raped her…the way I had taken this omega. No, not the same thing. My shoulders tense.

  This is different. This is for the sake of my clan, my people, who’ll never be happy under Zeus.

  I don’t trust my half-brother to do the right thing. I don’t trust him to not kill my people, loot my country, take what is not his…no. My circumstances condone my actions. But do they? Do they really?

  “I owe your father, Kayden. You can trust me.” He swivels around to walk up a winding staircase to the first floor.

  I follow him to the room at the far end. He pushes open the door and I stride inside.

  There’s a skylight overhead that lets in the moonlight.

  Marcus switches on a floor lamp and the room is illuminated in a soft glow.

  I cross the floor to the massive bed, then place her on it.

  She moans and I cup her face. "Shh. We'll get you comfortable soon enough."

  I hear my words and start. What am I saying? Why do I have this intense need to take care of her?

  She moves her head toward me, nuzzling my hand, and my gaze constricts.

  "It's natural for an alpha to want to protect his mate."

  I shoot a glance over my shoulder to find Marcus watching us.

  "Not my mate." I growl and step back, only her hair snags on my fingers. She winces and I pause. Then bend over her to disentangle the glo
ssy strand. I straighten it out over the pillow, rub the curl between my fingertips. So soft. I drop to my knees on the floor and bring it up to my nose. The scent of her fills my head. Mine. A growl rumbles low in my throat.

  A low chuckle from the old man pulls me out of my fugue like state. The fuck is wrong with me?

  I drop the strand and rise to my feet.

  “Why are you helping us?" I swivel around to face him. "And it’s not only because of my father, so don't give me that."

  He drums his fingers on his chest, “I’m not a fan of Zeus, as you well know." A smile ghosts his lips. The canny bastard knows I am changing the topic and is accepting it. Small mercies and all that but whatever. I'll take it right now.

  "Besides, your omega reminds me of my wife. If that had been her wounded and hurting, I’d not have wanted her to suffer.”

  “Your wife…she’s…”

  “Not here.” His jaw tics. “I’ll get the medical supplies.”

  He walks out of the door, which swings shut.

  Her shoulders jerk, and I sink down to my haunches. “You’re safe now.”

  But not from me. So why am I compelled to say the words that soothe her.

  She turns her face toward me. Her green eyes are glazed with agony. Or is it fear? She lowers her chin and stares at me. Burning sparks flare in her eyes. Her lips part, and she flicks out her tongue to wet her mouth. She pivots the upper half of her body, wriggling closer until her face grazes my palm, then licks the skin on the inside of my wrist.

  Goosebumps flare over my skin. Fuck. I pull my hand back and surge up to my feet. No one is allowed to have that kind of impact on me.

  No one gets under my skin. Definitely not her. So why am I hesitating? Why am I moving back and staring down at the woman who writhes on the sheets?

  Perhaps she senses my perusal, for she pauses. Bending her knees, she brings her bound wrists down to her pussy and begins to play with it.

  10

  Chloe

  Need him. I need him. Why is he standing there looking at me, when it’s clear that he wants me? I stab a finger into my pussy, and he jerks. His shoulders flex; his nostrils flare. His gaze is entranced by the motions of my wrist. I add another finger, then drag my fingers in-out-in to my dripping channel.

  The wet squelching sound fills the air.

  The scent of slick creeps over my skin. Sugary and sweet. I lick my lips.

  I rake my gaze over his beautiful mouth, down that glorious chest to the thick bulge that strains his pants. The patch of wetness at his crotch has grown…he’s definitely hurting, if not as much as me, enough for me to know that he’s exercising a level of self-restraint I don’t associate with alphas. Why? Why doesn't he fuck me and put us both out of our misery? Isn’t that his job? A snarl drips from my mouth, and I start.

  Is that me?

  This ferocious, wanting creature who will do anything to get this alpha to put his cock inside of her? Except ask.

  He’s more than a foot away, yet the warmth of his body embraces me. That wall of muscle that is his chest calls to me. A bead of sweat slides down between his pecs, trailing a line in the dirt that sticks to his skin, and I gulp. Why does he have to be this sexy? This delicious? This overpoweringly male? All the time I had dreamed of my alpha mating me, knotting me, impregnating me…his face had no features. A faceless, nameless, virile man who’d not stop until I was his. Who’d overpower me, fuck me, protect me. Save me. He’d done all of that. Not exactly in that order either. He’d also kidnapped me.

  But he'd saved my life.

  After putting me in danger.

  Only to satisfy his own ends.

  His gaze flicks to the door, then back to me. He swoops down and I gasp and pull back.

  He heaves me up in his arms, marches to the bathroom, and places me inside the tub.

  “Stay.”

  Right, where can I go anyway?

  Another tendril of heat sweeps up my spine, and I pant loudly. Darn it, I can’t help myself. My belly clenches, and I hunch in on myself.

  His jaw firms. Swiveling on his feet, he marches out, shutting the door behind him. I hear the sound of low voices. A chill rattles my body, and I groan, clench my fists, curl my toes, curl into a ball, a writhing mass of misery. Damn, but everything hurts.

  My body doesn’t feel like my own anymore and I am not fully into estrus yet. Every nerve in my body is sensitized. My skin stretches. The blood surges in my veins. Each cell in my body is attuned to him. Every sensation is magnified. Why does everything feel so... so intense? It has to be his nearness that’s triggering this cascade.

  Another shudder propels icicles through my veins, and a low scream spills from my lips. The chill seems to radiate out to my extremities until my fingers grow numb, my toes...until I can’t feel myself. My body…cripes.

  I bang my head against the side of the tub, and again. Need something more…more. More of him. Where is he, the jerk of an alpha? Where is he when I need him? I raise my head, and when I slam it back, it hits something soft. His palm cradles my head.

  I wheeze, “Alpha.”

  He straightens, then flicks on the water, which streams over me. Heat. Warmth. The breath whooshes out of me. I lie back to find him shrugging out of his pants. He steps in behind me and slides down so I am held in the ‘V’ between his legs.

  My back rests against his chest. The warmth is instantaneous. It leaps off of his body, cocoons me. A low purr wrenches from his throat, bleeds into my skin, and I sigh. This…is what I want. This is what I’ve been missing.

  Tremors rattle my body, and I scooch back, trying to paste myself to him. I need more warmth. More of that pine-filled scent of him. More of that cool, wind-touched essence that is uniquely him. More of his arms coming around me, a band of steel across my chest, restraining me. More. More. A sob catches in my throat.

  He pushes me to sitting position, and I whine.

  “Shh. Just taking these off.”

  He bends past me and unties the restraints around my wrists. He flings them over the edge of the bathtub.

  I sigh aloud. My shoulders relax. I turn my body and all but burrow into him. His skin. His scent. The essence of his protection. His dominance is what I need. This alpha is what I crave.

  I rub my nose into the hard wall of his chest, flinging my arms around his neck, licking, sucking, biting whatever part of him I can get to. He doesn’t protest, simply lets me breathe in my fill of him.

  He pulls the hand shower, and flicking the lever, holds it over my hair. His fingers smooth over the strands, washing out the dirt, down my back. His hands trail over my skin, the curve of my hip, the flare of my butt, down to the sensitive underside of my thighs. His hardness digs into my waist, and I shudder.

  He purrs again, and the vibrations roll up his chest, curving around me, entrancing me. He points the shower spout over his head, over his face and chest. The dirt leaches away, baring that caramel skin.

  I dip down and lick the raised nub of his nipple, and he growls. The hand shower switches off, and he flings it aside. He straightens in one smooth move, bringing me up with him. Then he steps out of the tub and swings me over, his movements abrupt. His dick slaps against my thigh, and I look down at the hard, solid length and gulp. Angry, throbbing, it seems bigger. Saliva pools in my mouth.

  I reach for his cock and he makes a warning sound in the back of his throat.

  I blink.

  What am I doing?

  I shouldn't want this man, not after what he did to me. But my body has developed an agenda of its own.

  It wants his cock inside of me, soothing my burning channel with his cum.

  A jolt of awareness ripples down my spine, followed by a chill so intense that my shoulders tense.

  Another day and I will be completely in thrall of the heat cycle.

  If I escaped from him, I'd have to face it on my own. I’d also attract the attention of every single alpha in the square mile who’d sniff the pheromones and
make a beeline for me.

  And if I stay? I'll give in to the estrus. I won't be able to resist him then.

  I'll throw myself at his feet, begging him to rut me. Goosebumps flare on my skin. If I do that, I have no doubt he'll take pleasure in enjoying my body in ways I hadn’t known existed. My pussy squeezes; moisture wets my cunt.

  Another wave of sensation spikes up my belly.

  I am pulled up to the tips of my toes as if by an invisible thread. I stumble and he cradles me against his chest. He grabs a towel, then rubs it over my hair, down my shivering shoulders, over my hips. Dropping the towel on the floor, he scoops me up again and walks out of the door toward the bed. He drops me there.

  I lie panting as he stalks over to where a tray of food sits by the entrance of the room. He stops in front of the double doors, then slams the bolt shut.

  11

  Kayden

  The sound of the double doors slamming shut fills the room. A gasp sounds behind me. I turn around to see her swing her legs over the side of the bed. She paces back and forth, muttering to herself.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing…everything.” She chews on her lower lip, then drops to her knees, sniffs the bedspread, and scrunches up her nose. “That…that’s what’s wrong.”

  I tilt my head.

  “That…” She stabs her finger at the bed. “Can’t you see?”

  ‘It’s a bed.” I raise my shoulders and let them fall.

  “That’s what I mean… It doesn’t smell right.”

  “Ah.” My lips curl.

  I bend and pick up the tray of food. It also has some medical supplies, antiseptic, bandages, even a rope and a pair of scissors. Efficient, Marcus.

  I walk to the table in the corner of the room, place the tray on it, then jerk my chin toward it.

  She frowns at me and rubs the skin over her chest.

  “Does it hurt?”