Enslaved by the Alpha (Shifters of Nunavut Book 2)

by Rivard, Viola

  When she climaxed, she half expected to lose herself again, but it was normal. At least, as normal as her orgasms with him could be. When the euphoria passed, she became distracted by Erik’s handsome face. She’d caught glimpses of him during sex before, and his expression always fell somewhere on the spectrum of wild abandon and steely determination. But this time, his brows were drawn together and his teeth were bared. He looked angry and frustrated.

  On impulse, Astrid guided his head down to hers and kissed him. She’d meant for it to be a quick, reassuring, and calming gesture, but it turned into anything but. His bottom lip felt too perfect, and she couldn’t resist running her tongue along it. When she did, Erik’s mouth parted in an invitation she had not expected and could not deny. As her tongue moved with his in a primitive dance, she found herself caught in the crosshairs of the intimacy she’d tried so desperately to avoid.

  As he poured himself into her, Erik held onto her so tightly that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t afraid because she trusted him not to hurt her, and she was right. When he finally loosened his grip, she inhaled deeply and then went lax against his chest. She listened to the sound of his heart beating, unsure if she wanted to get up and run as fast and as far as she could, or if she wanted to put her arms back around him and go again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  “Erik?”

  “Hm?”

  He was nuzzling the top of her head again, only this time, it was different.

  Everything is different.

  Before, when he nuzzled against her, or stroked her, or caressed her, it had always seemed like a means to an end, something he did to butter her up and wear her down so that he could get inside of her with minimal protesting. It had been manipulative, and she’d known it, but she’d allowed it because she’d secretly enjoyed having the big, bad, and sexy werewolf toy with her body.

  “Do you remember the night in the cave?”

  “Every night is a night in a cave,” he said absently. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  She would have smiled if she weren’t having an internal crisis.

  “The night you asked me, no, the night you told me that we’d be mates. You said it wouldn’t change anything between us.”

  His only response was a noise of affirmation.

  “And you don’t feel that anything has changed between us since then?”

  Everything has changed.

  He was rolling one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters because—wait, can we have this conversation when you’re not inside of me?”

  They were lying side by side again, after what must have been their fourth or fifth mating session. She should have felt completely wiped out, but she wasn’t even hungry anymore, let alone tired. She felt like she could keep up this pace for hours, and might have even been inclined to try if not for her full bladder and tumultuous emotions.

  Erik lifted his head to stare down at her blankly.

  “I am not done yet.”

  “We can’t stay like this forever,” she said, pursing her lips.

  He shook his head. “Not forever. Only a few days.”

  “A few days?” she repeated.

  “The nights as well,” he clarified.

  “Well, sorry to throw a wrench in your plans, but I have to use the bathroom.”

  “You are not washing my scent off.”

  “It’s an expression. It means I have to pee. Don’t you? We’ve probably been in here half the day.”

  “Once more, and then I will take you to the bathroom.”

  “And to get food?” she asked, wanting to buy time to clear her head. “I’ll need the energy if you plan on doing this all night.”

  He made a noncommittal sound. She could sense that he was almost ready to go again, but for the moment he seemed content to resume nuzzling her head. It was not in any way cajoling or calculating, and that was the problem. He seemed to genuinely enjoy touching her, not for any sexual pleasure, but because he wanted to feel close to her.

  And she hated how much she loved that.

  Astrid relaxed, becoming supplicant in his arms. There was still a storm brewing in the back of her mind, but once again she disregarded it in favor of enjoying the moment. Erik had begun to move inside of her, and this time he was using his thumb to rub lazy circles over her clitoris. He’d never done anything like that before and it amazed her that they’d gone from frenzied and violent sex to slow and sensual mating in the span of only a few hours.

  She stretched against him, relishing the feel of his warm skin and hard muscles against her back. Erik’s movements were firm and controlled as he stoked a slow climax within her.

  Just as she was about to reach her peak, Erik abruptly shot up and snarled. Astrid screamed and crossed her arms in front of her face. It took her a few seconds to remember that she wasn’t supposed to be afraid of him anymore. It took her a few more seconds to work up the nerve to peek at him. When she did, she saw that he wasn’t looking at her, but rather towards the crevice that led from his room into the passageway.

  She heard someone from outside the room clear their throat. “Ah, Erik? Sten sent me to get you.”

  Astrid thought she recognized it as Sylvestre’s voice and she felt her cheeks heat.

  “Fuck off,” Erik ground out.

  There was a pause, and then Sylvestre said, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent.”

  Erik glanced down at Astrid, groaned, and then rubbed his face. When his hand came away, he looked as though he’d aged five years. There were dark circles forming under his eyes and his hair was a wild disarray.

  “What is it?” Erik asked, his tone that of resignation.

  “One of the scouts came back. It’s bad, Erik.”

  ***

  Sylvestre had been a member of the first group of wolves to merge with the Amarok pack, bringing with him Sabine, Beau, and a wheezy little female that had been mauled by a caribou during her second week there. Sylvestre had broken away from the pack of his birth, intent on becoming an alpha himself. It had not taken him long to recognize that he was unfit for the position—that size and strength were not the only prerequisites for leading a pack of wolves. Erik had always admired Sylvestre for recognizing his shortcomings, and Sten notwithstanding, Erik trusted Sylvestre above all other males in his pack.

  But right now, Erik wanted to tear his throat out.

  For the first time in hours, Erik pulled out of his mate. Hissing his displeasure, he flung a pelt over his shoulders and then got up to maneuver through the crevice. His room had been warm and filled with his mate’s intoxicating scent. The passageway was cold and the air smelled stale. Sylvestre stood waiting, his gaze averted.

  “I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t be down here if it weren’t serious. Atka is back and—”

  Erik held up a hand to silence him.

  “I’ll be up in a few moments,” he said tightly. “Now go.”

  Sylvestre nodded and then hung his head as he took his leave. Erik stood in place, glaring at Sylvestre’s back as he faded into the darkness. The sound of soft footsteps made him turn in time to see his mate slipping out of the room. She had a small pelt wrapped around her midsection and Erik could make out numerous bruises that had blossomed on her arms. Blood had pooled in the bite marks at her neck and his mouth watered at the sight of it.

  “Geez, if looks could kill…” she mumbled. “You shouldn’t be mad at him. He thought he was leaving me with Sabine.”

  Erik cocked his head. “What are you talking about?”

  She nodded towards where Sylvestre had gone. “You’re mad at him because he left me in the storm, right?”

  He hadn’t even remembered that.

  “Yes,” he said, shaking his head. “Now wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  She jumped in front of him to block his path.

  “Ah-ha!” she yelled triumphantly. “You just li
ed. I caught you lying!”

  Erik scowled at her, but she appeared unperturbed.

  “Why are you lying?” she asked, poking him in the chest. “Why are you mad at him?”

  He smacked her hand away from his chest, hard enough to make her wince. Then, he fought the urge to take hold of her hand and examine it for damage.

  “It’s you,” he grunted. “I’m pissed off because of you.”

  Her mouth fell open. With an air of righteous indignation, she asked, “What did I do?”

  Erik grabbed her hand. He inspected each knuckle and finger, bending the joints to test them.

  “You make me want to kill every male in my pack,” he told her. “How am I supposed to function like this?”

  And how long was this going to last? He recognized the irony of the question. When he’d been in his room with her, buried inside of her, he’d been content to stay like that for days. Now, he was reminded that although he was busy claiming his mate, his pack would still need its alpha.

  “Well don’t be mad at me, I didn’t do anything,” she said, her lips pursing. “You’re the one who wanted to be mates.”

  Erik knew now that he’d never had a choice. From the moment he’d brought her into his den, mating with her had been inevitable; he just hadn’t realized it then.

  He pointed towards the room. “Wait for me until I return.”

  “I can’t stay here, I have to pee, remember?”

  One of Erik’s hands clenched into a fist. “I can’t have you around other males right now.”

  “Hey, why does your pack have so many males? I thought werewolf packs were predominantly female.”

  “Because it didn’t matter. I never thought that I’d—“ Erik cut himself off. “No, we’re not doing this right now.”

  “Doing what?”

  “The thing where you ask pointless questions and I keep answering them.”

  Every moment he spent talking was a moment he could have been fucking. He needed to go up and deal with the scout, and then put Sten in charge for the next week.

  “My questions aren’t pointless,” she argued. “I’m trying to learn and adapt to my environment. You know, inquisitiveness is the hallmark of learning.”

  She kept talking, but Erik stopped listening. He grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her down the tunnel, his steps heavy and purposeful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  “What is this?” Ila asked, eyes wide.

  Erik pushed Astrid into the she-wolf’s room without ceremony. Numerous candles burned haphazardly on the cluttered surfaces. Astrid eyed the round bed in the back of the room with envy, wondering how Ila had managed to get it all the way out here and into the den.

  “I can’t deal with this right now. Take her,” Erik said. “And if you lose track of her for so much as a minute, I’ll kill you.”

  Astrid whipped her head around, intending on giving the alpha a piece of her mind. But to her amazement, he’d already left.

  Goodbye to you, too, she thought, inwardly pouting.

  Ila stood in his place, her pretty face marred with fury and disbelief. Of all the people Erik could have dumped her with, why did it have to be this one?

  “You’re not supposed to be fertile,” she said, her voice dripping with accusation.

  Astrid couldn’t hide her agitation. She had only told two people about her struggle with infertility—Erik and Sabine. Given that Erik thought she was delusional about being infertile, it would have had to have been Sabine that told her. Either that, or someone had overheard them and spread her business around. It was such a private and deeply personal thing, and the thought of the whole pack knowing made her feel violated.

  “I’m not,” Astrid replied tersely.

  Ila wrinkled her nose and sneered. “Oh please. You smell like Erik could get you pregnant by sneezing on you.”

  Even coming from a second shifter, Astrid couldn’t bring herself to accept it. She believed that they smelled something, maybe a minor hormonal change, but after running the gamut of fertility drugs and being poked, prodded, and evaluated by doctors for months without any success, there was no way she was going to spontaneously start ovulating.

  Her periods had always been irregular, and once or twice she’d even skipped a month altogether. She’d assumed it had something to do with her ever-fluctuating weight or the high stress of her job and until she and her husband had started trying to conceive, it had seemed like nothing but a minor inconvenience.

  Then, after months of trying to get pregnant, her periods had stopped. She should have known better, but even the sheerest shred of hope was too alluring by then. Ignoring the slew of negative pregnancy tests and her lack of symptoms, she’d unsubscribed from her infertility support forum, signed herself and Neil up for an infant care class, and knitted several tiny green hats.

  It was during her first prenatal checkup that her obstetrician informed her that she wasn’t pregnant. At first, she’d thought that he meant she’d had a miscarriage. Then he explained that she had ovarian cysts that were preventing her from ovulating and that her body had not produced sufficient hormones to trigger menstruation. She had never been pregnant at all, and somehow that was so much worse.

  Astrid remembered crying every day for a week. She’d hated herself for being so naïve, hated her body for failing her, and a growing part of her hated her husband for not understanding her pain. With the luxury of hindsight, if she had to pick a point in time when her marriage had become unsalvageable, it had been then.

  It didn’t stop her from trying to fix things. She’d moved forward with a fertility specialist, certain that she and Neil had only hit a rough patch and would get back on track as they always did. She endured months of Clomid, Metformin, and dispassionate sex to no avail.

  When she had exhausted pharmaceutical options, the only routes left were IVF or adoption, and both were prohibitively expensive. During their fight over which route to go down, Neil had taken a third option and packed his bags. She remembered sitting on the couch, the medical pamphlets and paperwork scattered on the coffee table, listening to him pack his things, and thinking, this is it. It’s for real this time. My marriage is over.

  Astrid blinked a few times, expecting to find tears. There weren’t any. She was still perturbed by the memory, but it no longer had a visceral hold over her emotions.

  Ila had moved to the bed. She held her sheets in a white-knuckled grip and glared at the floor.

  “You’re going to be his mate, aren’t you?” she asked, punctuating the question with a forlorn moan.

  Astrid’s throat dried. She knew that the dynamic within the pack was unique. Ila was not Erik’s girlfriend, or anything more serious than that. They were sexual partners, and that was that. But standing there in front of what was essentially Erik’s fuck buddy, Astrid couldn’t help but feel miserable. Astrid was the ‘other woman’ and though she hadn’t intended on doing so, she had edged Ila out of her favored position with the alpha.

  She sat down beside Ila and patted her back. “I’m sorry. In the beginning I was so caught up in saving my own skin that I didn’t consider—”

  “This is the worst day of my life,” Ila moaned over her. Tears began rolling down her rosy cheeks. “I can’t even kill you because Erik knows you’re with me right now.”

  Astrid withdrew her hand. “Wow. Okay…” She sighed. “Look, Erik doesn’t love me or anything. It’s only a physical attraction. This whole thing is going to blow over and then the two of you will be free to resume…”

  She trailed off as an image of Erik and Ila together popped into her mind. She could vividly picture the two of them, with their beautiful, graceful bodies, having hot, passionate sex right there on that very bed. It made her want to throw up.

  Ila lifted her head. “Are you saying that you will still encourage Erik to be my lover?”

  Astrid fumbled. “Well, uh, I don’t think that’s really up to me. I mean, let’s be honest, Erik’s goi
ng to do whatever he wants. I’m not the boss of him.”

  “He won’t come,” Ila said, working up a fresh batch of tears. “He hasn’t come to my bed since you arrived.”

  It wasn’t until then that Astrid realized how much she’d been worried about Erik cheating on her. Which was preposterous, because they weren’t even in a relationship—at least not anything that remotely resembled a functional relationship.

  “How weird,” Astrid said, trying to sound casual even though her stomach was doing somersaults. “I’m sure he’s just been busy.”

  Ila snapped her fingers. “I know what we can do. We’ll mate together, all three of us. Of course, you will be his mate, and I can still be his lover.”

  Astrid’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “What?”

  “I can do things for you,” Ila said, placing a hand on Astrid’s thigh. “Things Erik will not.”

  Astrid slapped her hand away as nicely as possible. “That’s not really my thing, but I’m flattered.”

  As though she’d flipped a switch, and Ila plunged headfirst back into her meltdown.

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” she sobbed. “Rut with beta males? Do you know what that will do to my reputation? My standing in the pack?” Her cries turned into whiny hiccups. “This is—hic—the worst day—hic—of my life!”

  Now Astrid wanted to slap her in a not-so-nice way. “Calm down. There’s more to life than who you’re screwing.”

  Ila shot her a dirty look. “That’s easy for you to say. It’s all looking up for you now, unless you die in childbirth. I hope you do.”

  “Okay, I give up,” Astrid said, moving to stand.

  Ila blocked her with an arm. “No, you can’t go! Erik will kill me if you leave.”

  Before Astrid could think up a retort, Ila crawled over and put her head in Astrid’s lap. Astrid could only stare down at her, mystified by the capricious female.

  “Fine,” Ila said, as though she’d capitulated to something. “I’ll be your friend.”

  “I didn’t ask you to be my friend,” Astrid said, squeezing the bridge of her nose.