Fated Mates: Paranormal Romance Series Starters Boxset

by Hariharan, Laxmi

  He’d been the rare male alpha who’d actually not conformed to the stereotype. Who’d seemed to understand what it means to live a life where you are constantly living from one heat cycle to the other. Fighting it each time. Terrified of that hunger that sweeps in with the onset of each mating loop. Worried that this cycle is the one where you give in and seek out an alpha to break the cycle and put an end to the suffering. It was one-sided. So unjust. Nature had decreed that with the plummeting population count, omegas in the heat cycle would attract every single alpha in the square mile around them. Send enough into the rut that they would seek you out and try to take you.

  Most of my omega friends had rejoiced with the onset of their cycles. Dreaming of the alpha who they would choose as their mate. Not me. I wanted to hold on to my independence for as long as I could. No alpha-hole male is going to break me. No, I am my own person and intend to be this way for as long as I can. I had opted to take fertilization blockers—fringe benefits of being royalty? I had the means to purchase the drugs from the black market—and subdue my hormones. I'd pushed my heat cycles further and further apart, and been able to spar with alphas without attracting their attention.

  I thought it was working…until I had sensed him and my true nature had come roaring out.

  Another white-hot cycle of pain rips through me and catches in my throat. I don’t have the energy to scream to try to relieve some of that burning pressure.

  My womb cramps, and the fluid begs to be secreted.

  All it needs is an alpha’s purr, his scent to draw it out and satisfy this hunger that demands his touch. Where the hell is he when I need him? I bang the side of my head against the floor in the hope of relieving some of the pain, or at least to hurt some other part of me so as to distract me from the core source of pain. Inside me.

  Deep inside me.

  In the very center of my being.

  The sound of footsteps grows closer. Am I imagining it? A faint rumble of voices, then the air from the corridor flows over my flushed forehead, then the door slams shut.

  I scent him first.

  That spice of burned pinewood seeps through the air. My mouth waters. Or maybe it’s just that I am thirsty?

  The pace of the footsteps increases, then I feel him kneel down next to me.

  I expect him to berate me, to perhaps hit me for messing up his space or maybe slide me on my back and take me…which is what I want, damn it!

  Tears prick the backs of my closed eyelids, and I let them trickle down my cheeks.

  I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.

  I want him to fuck me, to take me mercilessly and put an end to the dense, cloying pain that thuds through my guts, that fills my head, pounds at my temples. I just want it gone.

  I open my mouth to ask him to do just that, while a part of me cringes at the shame of it. This is my sworn enemy—he’d taken me against my will, and now I want him to do it again. And again.

  I try to move my limbs but only manage a slight jerk of my hands.

  He seems to understand, though, for his arms come around me and scoop me up.

  Every muscle in my body tenses.

  I am sure he is going to fuck me when I am at my weakest.

  When I need him the most. When I don’t really want him, but my body is not going to cooperate with my will.

  I want…to get the hell out of here.

  I want...to turn back time to when I’d met Kayden, and tell him I do not agree to his plan.

  I want…the feel of the alpha’s arms around me, cradling me closer, his lips sliding over my fevered forehead as he walks into the bathroom holding me.

  The sound of running water fills the space. It splashes over my face and I gasp. It's cold. Too cold. Goosebumps pop on my skin. My shoulders quiver. I gulp, and the breath catches in my throat. I open my mouth, and water slides in. I gurgle and shove at the wall of muscle at my back.

  “Shh.”

  Has he actually placed his chin on my head? Is he actually being this gentle with me? I feel the purr vibrate up his chest as he holds me flush against him. Instantly, my muscles unwind.

  My shoulders shudder.

  It feels like every part of me is reacting to him, tuning in to him. Drawing in every last cadence of that purr that rolls over me, sinks into my blood, uncoiling that tension that grips my flesh.

  My shoulders slump, my knees go weak, and I would have fallen, except his arm is around my waist, propping me up.

  The water is no longer cold.

  It seems to hit my fevered skin and to absorb some of the heat before it flows away. The throbbing in my forehead dulls.

  All through it, he keeps purring— a low, deep, comforting sound that coils around me, soothing away more of my aches, trembling down my spine, down the backs of my thighs.

  I am floating; my limbs feel so heavy. My eyelids feel like they are weighed down. I should protest and tell him he can’t manipulate my body like this. He has no right.

  My muscles tense again.

  My hands twitch as I try to raise them. I fold my other arm above my chest, place my mouth next to his ear, and allow another husky purr to wind around me.

  He pulls me back against that solid wall of his chest. My head rolls back, and I let sleep pull me down.

  When I awake next the room is dark.

  I feel the soft sheets under my cheek; something silken covers me. My insides twist, but this time it is something else…a different kind of hunger. My limbs feel too weak, but I force myself to open my eyes.

  A shape moves in the dark next to me.

  I scream and spring up.

  21

  Zeus

  She screams, and the noise rips through my guts. It shouldn’t affect me. She is just someone I had decided to take for my own and keep on a whim…except that’s not true, not anymore. Fact is, from the moment I had seen her, scented her, laid eyes on her, there was a powerful pull toward her. One I can’t yet understand.

  Except I need her with me, need to bury myself in her softness and slake my hunger.

  To satisfy her while I am at it, too. Why is it so important that I soothe her? I don’t want to go to her and yet I cannot help myself. I am not aware that I am on my feet and moving to her, not until I am sitting next to her on the bed. Not until she’s flung herself at me, tearing at me with her nails. She growls, and there are tears dripping down her cheeks as she flings herself at me again and again. Pain comes off her in waves. And terror, the sheer terror of the unknown. Mixed with it is the whiff of hunger. A need so powerful that a growl rumbles up my chest. It’s torn out of me, flowing through the air. My very insides seem to be begging me to stop her, take her close, protect her. I curl my fingers into fists at my sides, digging my nails into my flesh. Pain shudders up my arms, but I push it aside. All my attention is taken up by the tiny thing who is trying to climb me, who is crawling up my chest, to wrap her arms and legs around me.

  “Please.” She clings to me.

  Her voice breaks.

  I need to bring her closer, take her to me, draw her essence inside me…and yet I resist. I am not sure why. Is it because the way she suffers satisfies some deep-rooted hunger inside? The need to rut, to kill, which has been with me from the very start, from the time I saw my father hurt my mother, over and over again as he tried to take her, make her bend to his will? And my mother had resisted every step of the way. Until the bastard had broken her physically, and yet her spirit hadn’t given in. She’d resisted.

  Like she is. My little omega who bares her teeth at me.

  “Why are you not taking me, fucking me as a red-blooded alpha should?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  My voice comes out harsh, and I don’t recognize it. It sounds like a man at the edge of despair, an alpha at the edge of his control. And I have been holding on to the shreds of that ever-weakening control of mine. I hadn’t been aware of that, not until now.

  Not until she snarls, “I demand that you fuck
me and take my pain away. That you break me and find that part inside of me that wants to be revealed to the world. I ask that you then feed me, for I am hungry. Hungry. Do you understand, Alpha?”

  The crudeness of her words sends a keening cry of desire rippling down my spine. My cock hardens. My groin throbs. “You are not in your senses; you don’t know what you are asking—”

  She grabs the back of my hair and yanks me close with such force that my head snaps forward.

  “How do you know what I want? How can you possibly know the depth of hunger that twists my insides, that bubbles up from my very womb, that yearns for your touch, your heat to fill me, that needs your seed to soothe it, to fulfill it? To take root. How can you know the depth of want that drives me to open my eyes, my mouth, my soul and ask for you to take me? Even as the part of me that is rational and independent that was taught to fend for myself and survive without an alpha cringes and wails at the depths to which I have fallen?”

  She pants to a stop, chest heaving, red lips glistening. The scent of her need fills the space, crashing over me.

  I lean in until our noses bump, until I can see the pores on her cheek, the flush that stains her skin, the freckles that dot the creamy expanse of her breasts. “Once I start there is no going back.” I want to smirk, to pretend it’s a joke, to show her that I am the dangerous one in this relationship—and I am, of course I am.

  For I am bigger, more physically powerful, much stronger than her.

  And yet, as she raises herself on her knees so her eyes are level with mine, so the heat of her core flows over my chest, I know she packs a powerful punch, too. Perhaps we are more equally matched than we realize. Perhaps that is why the force in me that needs to take, relishes the challenge. For that’s what she is. A challenge. Prey. One I can toy with, play with, without fear. For she will not break, not that easily.

  And I will keep trying over and over again, so she gives a little every time.

  And when she finally goes over the edge, I’ll be there to taste my spoils.

  Her complete submission, it will be so beautiful.

  So erotic.

  A thing of pleasure that will be well worth the effort. And break she will.

  I intend to take every single part of her until she is pleading with me to stop.

  Until she is begging for more.

  Until her very spirit cries out for me.

  Until I own her. Absolutely.

  The thought of it is such a turn-on that desire hardens my groin. My cock strains against my pants, its need twisting my insides. While every part of me readies to take her, to bend her to my will.

  “Promises, promises, Alpha. Are you going to just sit there talking or are you going to live up to your words?”

  Anger brushes my nerves. My skin tightens with the overwhelming need to take, to possess, to consume. “Don’t provoke me, Omega.”

  I shove her away, not gently. “Not unless you can take the consequences of your actions.” I am past any pretense. She wants to see what I am. She wants to feel the monster inside. The one who is insatiable, who will not stop, not until one of us breaks, and it will not be me.

  22

  Lucy

  He pushes me away, and I am not sure why. Does he not want me anymore? No, that can’t be true.

  I sense the need in him, the want to tear into me, to break me. And I am not unhappy about it or threatened.

  All I feel is a relief that finally he’s revealed his true self to me. Just as I have to him. I watch him walk to the door, open it, and speak in a low voice to the soldier stationed outside. Footsteps approach up the corridor. A tray exchanges hands. He steps back, holding it. The door snicks shut behind him. It’s a soft sound and yet it shivers over my sensitized skin. The scent of food wafts over to me, but that only twists my stomach.

  He places the tray on the table, then turns and folds his arms over his chest. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for me to comply with his unspoken command. Every line of his body indicates he’ll patiently wait until I give in.

  I want to say no, want to deny him, but all that comes out is a snarl. It’s as if whatever I am becoming is cutting through the civilized veneer in me, marking me what I am. An omega with the desire to breed.

  “You know what happens when you disobey me.”

  “So you’ll fuck me?” I smirk. “Guess what, big man? That’s what I want anyway.”

  “If you continue like this, I won’t give you what you want.”

  What the—? My breath catches, and I feel the color leave my cheeks. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He bares his teeth, then grabs his crotch. “I can scent your arousal, the moisture that your body is producing as we speak.”

  His every word sends a fresh need rippling over my skin.

  He growls, and the purr slashes through the hunger that has me in thrall. “Just my very nearness makes you want my cock thrusting inside you.”

  My spine arches back and my breasts grow heavy.

  Every part of me wants to go to him, to throw myself at him and beg him to take me.

  “And you will have it, but only when you do as you are told.”

  Rage thrums my nerve endings. That I needed him to fuck me and break my heat cycle is bad enough. That he taunts me about my dependency on him and holds back, is far worse. I feel like I am losing the very last of whatever pride I was holding on to. Pride? Hah! I have nothing left, nothing but this fiery will to fight back. To take what I need instead of always being put in a position where I am being manipulated and used.

  Something inside me snaps.

  I’ve had enough.

  Enough.

  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t always be the responsible one. The one who should provide for my clan. The one who found a safe passage to this country. The one who negotiated with the leader of Scotland. The one who took the initiative to walk into this alpha’s palace determined to see his demise. Not knowing it was my own that was in sight. If this is all that’s left of me, then so be it. If I am reduced to this sniveling, wanting mass of emotions that cannot survive on my own anymore, then so be it.

  I am tired of hiding what I am.

  An omega who chooses to take.

  A woman who will let herself feel.

  A lover who will revel in her alpha’s skin sliding over hers.

  Who will be broken and filled again because she derives pleasure from it.

  I am tired of asking. It’s time I take what I need.

  Everything around me fades. The room recedes. Everything except him. His scent, his face, those blue eyes that tear into my soul. It’s all I can see. My gaze focuses in on him. Springing up on the bed, I run to the edge then jump across the space and throw myself at him.

  His body sways. The breath slams out of him. He takes a step back but doesn’t fall. He grabs my waist and holds me in place. I snap my legs around him, loop my arms over his shoulders, and fix my lips on his.

  His mouth opens in surprise, and I slide my tongue in.

  I drink of him, suck of his essence, I take from him and keep taking. I don’t stop. At some point he responds. He yanks me close enough for my skin to rasp over his vest that he still hasn’t removed. I smell blood in the air. Mine? His? I don’t know.

  A growl rumbles up his chest, flowing up our joined bodies. My thighs spasm and I dig my heels into the hard planes of his back.

  He slants his head and sucks on my tongue.

  The taste of him sinks into my mouth, flowing through my blood, and goes straight to my head.

  Everything inside me comes alive.

  My toes curl, and I dig my heels into his back. I am likely hurting myself, hurting him, too…and that doesn’t matter. If anything, it only feeds that hunger inside me that is pushing to get out. That writhes and groans and wants more, so much.

  I realize then I can’t stop.

  Not until I have him.

  Not until I have it all. Not until I am in him, as he is in me
. And it’s not fair that this monster, this alpha who has the future of my clan in his hands is the one who can arouse these feelings of complete submission in me. But I am not submitting, am I?

  All I am doing is tearing open my heart, my soul, my body, and offering it to him. And him? He takes.

  Without tearing his mouth from mine, he walks to the bed. The world tilts; I feel the bed at my back. He pulls his mouth from mine and rises to his feet, putting distance between us.

  My pulse quickens. Eyes half blind with desire, my senses alive with need, I move to rise with him. “No, please, don’t…” Don’t what? Don’t go? Don’t leave me? I want to say it out loud.

  But that tiny, rational part of me that is still functioning holds me back. I have all but submitted my body to him, not my soul. Not my will. I cannot give him that. I will not put myself through the ultimate betrayal and give up everything. Not yet.

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes, my chest feels like it is going to burst, and there is a growing pressure in my head. My brain cells seem to be melting, and surely, he can see it? Can’t he tell how difficult this is for me? Can’t he see how much I need this, need him? How much I want him to just take me, to give me the oblivion I so crave?

  And maybe he does, because he cups my cheek. “Shh! I am not going anywhere. I just need to take off my clothes so I can feel you completely.”

  I swallow, registering the change in him. When did that happen? When did he go from being the aggressor to the comforter? I blink, and a teardrop runs down my cheek. His gaze follows it. Then he leans down and licks it up.

  “You taste so sweet, so haunting.” He brushes his lips over mine and straightens.

  Every part of me wants to follow him, to fling myself back at him. But I wait. Wait.

  I don't move. I can't take my gaze off him as he unhooks his vest.

  Walking to the chair, he drapes it over the backrest.

  The thick muscles of his triceps bulge. The scent of him deepens. Pungent, tangy, and so evocative. My mouth waters. The muscles low in my belly tighten. I clench my thighs but cannot stop the fresh burst of moisture that flows out. A low whine is drawn out of me.