Enslaved by the Alpha: Part One (Shifters of Nunavut Book 1)

by Rivard, Viola

  It appeared that a few of the wolves they’d travelled with had arrived before them, because she could see several of the pack members passing around M&Ms and small bags of potato chips. Those that weren’t fixated on the sweets were staring at her and Erik, varying degrees of scrutiny on their faces. None of the wolves approached them, and a few seconds later, Erik was dragging her down yet another tunnel.

  The tunnel was pitch black and grew colder the deeper they went. Before long, Astrid’s impatience with the alpha outweighed her fear of him. She began to squirm and struggle against his hold.

  “I can walk, you know.” Her voice was tired and a bit scratchy.

  Astrid was surprised when the wolf abruptly dropped her. As she fell, she braced herself for the hard impact of the icy floor. Instead, her face came in contact with something soft and fuzzy. She rubbed her cheek against it, puzzled.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Um, can you untie me, too?”

  “Perhaps,” came his offhanded reply.

  He must have shifted.

  She heard the sound of a match striking, and a second later, warm light filled the tunnel. No—it wasn’t a tunnel at all. He’d brought her into a room. Unlike the rest of the cave, this room didn’t appear to be made of ice, but of stone and quartz. The light bounced off the crystals, casting a multi-chromatic illumination around the room. From what she could see, the room was quite large and she had been placed on a small pile of white furs.

  Astrid was still taking in the gorgeous sight when she sensed a presence behind her. She felt something glide across the top of her head and down her back. She swallowed hard, and then breathed a small sigh of relief when she felt him cut the bindings around her wrists.

  On instinct, she moved to sit up. The alpha placed a hand on her chest, forcing her onto her back. Though she made no effort to get back up, his hand remained between her breasts. Even through the layers of clothing that she wore, Astrid could swear that she felt heat radiating from his touch. She stared up at him, trying to mirror his stoic expression and failing miserably. He was just too overwhelming.

  She had never given much thought to what her ideal man would look like. As Carmen, her best friend in middle school had once said, “girls like us don’t get to be choosy.” Back then, Astrid had secretly rejected Carmen’s philosophy. She’d been certain that in high school, boys would be able to see beyond her curly hair, braces, and round face. They’d be able to see her inner beauty, falling hopelessly in love with her charming personality and her quirky laughter.

  But as it turned out, high school boys were not so enlightened, and so, she waited until college. Surely in college, her acne would disappear, she would lose her baby fat, and her vague ethnicity would make her exotic and mysterious.

  None of that had happened either, though she had left college with a boyfriend—the first average-looking man to give her the time of day.

  His psychopathy aside, Astrid had never before met a man of Erik’s physical caliber. With perfectly chiseled jaw, broad cheekbones, ethereal eyes, and long, inky black hair, his face was a work of art. Coupled with his massive, yet remarkably proportioned body, and with its heavy muscles and rugged scarring, he looked like some sort of ancient deity.

  As she stared up at him, Astrid realized that he was so impossibly good-looking, that it was somewhat of a turn-off. He was nowhere near her league. The idea of him being from the same planet as her was ridiculous. He was the sun, and girls like her knew better than to play with fire.

  “Are you going to rape me?” she asked, and she realized that she was probably the first woman in history to utter that phrase following a snort of laughter.

  A brief flash of confusion marred his face, but it was followed immediately by annoyance. “You think I would have to?”

  The question sobered her. “You’re attractive, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a stranger. A stranger that just killed my friends.”

  “Those men were not your friends,” he said. She thought that he’d seen through her bluff, but his next words made her blood run cold. “They were planning on murdering you. Perhaps raping you as well. There seemed to be some indecision on that part, though I am not sure why. If they were already going to kill you—”

  Astrid tried to sit up, but Erik’s hand remained firm. “Did you hear them say that? Is that why you killed them? To protect me?”

  Now, it was Erik’s turn to snort. “I killed them because they brought guns into my territory.”

  “Oh…” she said, her face heating. “So, why didn’t you kill me then? Because I’m a woman?”

  “You think I was being chivalrous?”

  It surprised her that he even knew that word. “I was thinking more for, um, sexual purposes. I know that chivalry is a foreign concept to werewolves. Your females are usually larger than your males. Also more prone to aggression. I guess, what I mean to say, is that they’re no damsels in distress.”

  Curiosity glimmered in his gaze. “And how is it that you know so much about my kind?”

  As he spoke, Erik extracted a thick curl from her frizzy mane. He twisted it around his finger, gave it a gentle tug, and then released it and returned for another lock.

  “My sister Ginnifer, she did a documentary on wolves.”

  He gave another one of her curls the same treatment. “Documentary?”

  “It’s an informational movie.”

  “Movie?”

  Astrid bit her lip, eyes fluttering upward in thought. She remembered that most shifters had only limited exposure to humanity. Erik had probably spent his entire life in the wilderness, cut off from most of human culture. Beneath his smooth accent and alluring flesh, he was truly a wolf.

  “Basically, Ginnifer studied werewolves, then brought the knowledge back to her people. Earlier this year, she lived with the Siluit pack for a few months.”

  He arched a brow. “And they let her leave?”

  “They did, but she went back to them. This time, they didn’t let her go.”

  He was still toying with her curls. “Why did she go back?”

  “Why are you evading my question? I asked why you decided to spare—”

  Her words died in her throat as Erik took a fistful of her hair, his grip tight enough to make her cringe. “I am not evading the question. I am…making conversation. This should please you. Unless you’d rather be fucking.”

  The word jarred her, and Astrid could only gape up at him.

  He released her hair and then began to stroke it, his gaze distant. “You did not have a gun.”

  “Huh?” she asked, baffled by the non sequitur.

  Slowly, as though speaking to a child, he said, “That is why the men died and you did not.”

  “They just brought guns to protect themselves,” she said. Only after the words were spoken did it occur to her that she was defending her would-be rapists and murderers. That was, if Erik could be believed.

  The alpha smirked at that. “This logic did not seem to work in their favor.”

  Erik dipped his head down. Astrid thought he might be about to kiss her, but instead he all but buried his face in her hair. She heard him take a long drag of her scent, before proceeding to nuzzle her neck. Her body tightened with incredulity.

  “Your kind is inherently greedy,” he muttered, and she could feel his hot breath against her skin. “If they did not try to kill my wolves tonight, they would have come back to try to kill us later.” He ran his tongue across the juncture where her neck met her shoulder. “Can you honestly tell me that your friends weren’t planning on killing us?”

  “They weren’t,” she said, on reflex. She cared less about the reputation of the dead men, and more about her own standing, as she’d been part of their group.

  She felt his lips curve against her flesh. In a velvety voice, he said, “You lie with such conviction, little human.” Then, he nipped her neck.

  What should have been a painful gesture sent shivers of pleasure down her s
pine. Her toes curled and her fingers clutched at the fur bedding. For some reason, feeling the fur between her fingers only served to heighten her arousal.

  Either she had completely taken leave of her senses, or this entire experience was some screwed up, alcohol-induced dream. The latter would make much more sense, considering that in reality, a man like Erik wouldn’t be cuddling with her and trying to seduce her.

  She did her best to remain still while his hands roamed over her body, steadily working through the many layers of her clothing. His mouth continued to lavish the flesh of her neck, as his skillful fingers unzipped her jacket and unbuttoned her cardigan, and then her blouse. He hadn’t struck her as a patient creature, so she found it strange how he methodically undid each button at a languid pace.

  When he reached her innermost layer of clothing, a thin cotton tank top, the alpha paused. Not taking his head from her neck, he ran his index finger down the center of the tank top, as though searching for a hidden clasp or tie. She bit her lip as the long finger coasted between her breasts and past her navel, stopping at the seam of her jeans. His thumb grazed the button that held the pants closed. He drew a claw around it in lazy circles, deliberately teasing her.

  Astrid grit her teeth. “Quit stalling. Just do what you’re going to do and be done.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You think I want to be raped?” she asked, her cheeks burning.

  Faster than she could blink, Erik was on top of Astrid, his massive body casting a dark shadow over her. He placed a finger over her lips and clicked his tongue. The human gesture clashed with the feral heat in his gaze.

  “You want me to tear your clothes off, push your legs apart, and force myself inside of you.” He cocked his head to the side, his lips curving into a mockery of a smile. “You want me to bite you, scratch you, and take you like the animal we both know that I am. Do you know why?”

  Astrid stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want any of that!”

  “Such conviction,” he muttered. He placed a hand around her throat, just tight enough for a fresh wave of adrenaline to spike her blood. “I will tell you why. You want me to hurt you so that you can tell yourself that you are a victim, that you do not want me to be fucking you. Because it is much harder for you to lie to yourself if I seduce you until you are shaking, crying, and begging for my cock.”

  Astrid blamed her fatigue—and not the revolting prospect that he may be at least partially correct—for her inability to formulate a response. Instead of answering him, she reached up to try and pull his hand from her neck. Her own hands could hardly wrap halfway around his wrist, which only served to remind her of how vulnerable she was.

  Erik leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers in an almost affectionate manner. “Know this, little human. Even if I tore your clothes off and forced you onto your knees—if I raked my claws down your back, bit you until you bled, fucked you until you screamed—you’d still be begging me for more.”

  Their eyes locked, and Erik held her gaze as firmly as he did her throat. Beyond the blazing intensity of his blue gaze, she thought she could see her own eyes reflected in his.

  They were frightened.

  And excited.

  “I was not aware that you enjoyed playing with your food.”

  Erik drew back as a cool, feminine voice cut through the tension in the room. He tilted his head to the side to regard the newcomer. Rather than seem annoyed by the intrusion, he favored her with a grin and addressed her in a wry voice.

  “Humans bring out the worst in me.”

  Astrid didn’t immediately look for the woman. Erik’s bare chest, highlighted by the light of the flame, had caught her attention. While he was distracted, her eyes roamed down to where the stacks of muscles tied into an enticing triangle at his hips. She tried to steal a brief glance at what was between his legs, but when she caught sight of it, she couldn’t immediately tear her eyes away.

  He was huge. Not holy-shit-I’ve-gotta-have-it huge, but holy-shit-that-can’t-be-real-and-if-it-is-keep-it-the-hell-away-from-me huge. She suddenly found the prospect of him raping her to be downright hilarious, as she could now see that it was anatomically impossible.

  “Will she be your mate?” the woman asked.

  At the mention of the word “mate,” Astrid’s attention was yanked from Erik’s manhood. She recognized that word, or rather, what that word meant to shifters. The vast majority of female shifters, as well as many of their weaker males, were infertile. Because of this, alphas relied on taking human females as their “mates,” or breeding partners. The offspring between a werewolf and a human was almost always a shifter.

  “No,” was Erik’s firm reply. “She is just a pet.”

  Astrid would have been insulted, were she not so relieved. She glanced over at the doorway, finally getting a good look at the woman. She wasn’t at all what Astrid had expected. Tall and muscular, with strong, angular features, she would have been remarkably handsome if she were a male, but as a woman she was far too masculine to ever be called pretty. Her white hair was cropped at the neck, and her luminous green eyes were fixed on Erik, one white brow arched.

  “Well in any case,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “I thought you would want to know that Sylvestre has taken it upon himself to start distributing the goods we brought back.”

  Erik scoffed. “American chocolate.”

  “Ah,” she said, wagging a finger. “But there is also coffee.”

  That got Erik’s attention. “Tell him to take his filthy paws off of it.”

  “Go tell him yourself,” the woman said. She gestured towards Astrid. “Give that poor girl some peace for tonight. She’s clearly exhausted.”

  Astrid stiffened as they both turned their attention on her. Erik gave her a calculating look, sighed through his nose, and then rolled off of her. She watched in silence as he tossed his pelt back on and stood. He cleared the distance between the bed and the doorway in three long strides.

  “Make sure she’s fed,” he said, breezing past the woman.

  The woman stared after him, appearing amused. After a moment, she turned back to Astrid and smiled. “So, what’s your name?”

  It was the first time Astrid had been asked that all night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The woman’s name was Sabine, and although Astrid didn’t want to like her, Sabine was too kind and considerate to hate. She brought Astrid a pot of warm water to wash up with, and then a bowl of hot soup to eat.

  “We don’t have many spices,” Sabine explained as Astrid scarfed down her meal. “Even if they were easy to come by, we are not exactly in the habit of cooking our food.”

  Perhaps it was because she was so famished, but to Astrid, the soup was the most amazing thing she’d ever eaten. The blandness of the broth only served to accentuate the meat, which was bursting with flavor.

  “It’s delicious,” Astrid said, once her mouth wasn’t full.

  Sabine beamed, her green eyes alighting with pride. Astrid was pretty sure she recognized those eyes—eyes that were eerily similar to the wolf that had viciously attacked her just hours before. She wanted to believe that it was just a coincidence and that there were many white wolves with those uncanny, peridot orbs.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Astrid asked as she set her bowl aside.

  Sabine was sitting next to Astrid on the furs, her long, muscular legs outstretched. Coyly, she said, “Perhaps I am just a nice wolf.”

  “Are you?”

  Sabine gave a positively wolfish grin, revealing one pointed canine. “Not really.” She crossed her legs. “I admire your courage. It was a brave thing, to come all the way out here to find your sister. I was not aware that humans placed so much value on family.”

  Astrid considered telling her the truth about her relationship with Ginnifer and why she’d come to Nunavut to find her. However, that
would only serve to confirm the wolf’s bleak outlook on humanity, so she changed the topic.

  “Wasn’t your mother human?”

  Sabine shrugged. “So they tell me.”

  Like Erik, Sabine also had an accent, though Astrid could easily place it as being French in origin. It made the female shifter more exotic, and the longer Astrid spent with her, the more attractive Sabine seemed to become. Despite her lack of feminine attributes, she radiated confidence and possessed a magnetic aura.

  “You’ll want to wear these tomorrow,” Sabine said, placing a roll of bound furs between them. “That is, if you plan on leaving this room. The rest of the den, it is not so warm.”

  “I’m free to leave?” Astrid asked, brows rising.

  Sabine nodded. “I do not see why not. Though I would not advise leaving on your own. You should wait for Erik to come for you.”

  “Why?” Astrid asked, not bothering to mask her irritation.

  “Our pack, it has many males. Around human females such as yourself, they can be rather…unpredictable.”

  “I thought only alpha males took mates.”

  “This is true,” Sabine said. “But the other males are far from celibate. Human females hold a particular allure for our males, so it is in your best interest to avoid them, otherwise you may get them in trouble with Erik.”

  Astrid’s annoyance must have been evident in her expression, because Sabine went on to add, “Wolves do not share human inhibitions. When we are hungry, we eat. When we are tired, we sleep. When we are aroused, we couple. Sex and intimacy rarely go together. It makes for a much less complicated society.”