by Renee Rose
“Fuck.” I pick up the tattered remains of my trousers and find my boxers within them. They’re torn, but might stay on if I sort of hang onto them. I step into them.
“You speak English.” There’s a note of relief in her voice.
I scowl. She shouldn’t trust me. Because if she knew what I want to do to that luscious, naked, fully available body of hers, she’d be screaming.
My shirt lies a few feet away. I grab it and brace myself against her intoxicating presence before I turn back.
It doesn’t help. She’s as beautiful as I thought. No—more. Somehow I make it to the side of the bed to arrange my shirt over as much of her skin, which is a shade of burnished gold with tan lines in the shape of what must have been a miniscule string bikini. My mouth waters imagining what she must have looked like on the beach where she earned her tan. I know she filled out her bikini in a way that made every male in the area groan.
I drape the fabric over her pussy and stretch the other end up toward her breasts.
She quakes, her thighs straining against the iron manacles on her ankles and I catch the scent of her arousal.
Fates, is that all it takes? A single brush of fabric against her most sensitive bits and she’s already ripe for the taking?
I seriously will not survive this test.
Arranging the shirt becomes a torture in itself, because when the scent hits my nostrils, I yank the fabric too high and expose her pussy, then slide it off her breasts when I give it an impatient jerk down.
The way her nipples rise and fall with her quickened breath doesn’t help matters, nor does those big blue eyes fixed on me.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, stretching both ends simultaneously. My fingers brush her skin and I barely bite back a growl of excitement. It’s baby soft. Smooth. My cock strains eagerly toward her and, like an idiot, I inhale deeply. The smell of her pheromones and arousal makes me dizzy. Judging by her scent, she’s close to ovulation—they must’ve known that. Must’ve known that no full-blooded shifter male could survive being locked up with a naked alpha she-wolf in heat over the full moon without claiming her at the very least, if not marking her forever his.
I manage to cover her pussy and one breast with my shirt before I drop the fabric and step back. One more brush of her skin and I swear I’ll be pawing every inch of her.
I somehow drag my eyes away from her uncovered breast, with its peach-tipped nipple beaded up and hard. I wonder which part of this scenario turns her on—the bondage, nudity, or my attention on her fucking gorgeous body. No, I definitely don’t want to know.
My breath grows short as a fresh shot of lust kicks through me. I clear my throat. “You’re American?”
She nods. “Are you?” Her voice comes out half-whisper half-croak and she clears it and runs her pink tongue along her chapped lips.
I bite back a groan.
Fates know I want to lie and say yes. Pretend I’ve been kidnapped from America, like her. Brought to Monte Lobo and thrown in a cell. Rage at my own predicament almost brings on another shift.
“No.” I reach out to twitch the fabric up again, but only succeed in making it slide away from both breasts.
Fuck—those nipples. They are begging to be in my mouth, my tongue treating them to the adventure of a lifetime.
I close my eyes and pace away a few steps to master my lust. “Are you hurt?” It comes out gruffer than I mean it to.
“I’m thirsty.”
I go to the door and pound my palm against it, making thunder of the steel echo against the walls of our cell.
I’m not surprised when there’s no answer. “She needs water,” I shout in Spanish. I can’t see out the window because it’s a one-way glass, frosted on the inside. This time I hear a low voice behind the door. Motherfuckers. They’re standing there listening to this whole thing. At least I disabled the fucking camera.
“My name is Carlos. Carlos Montelobo.” I steel myself once more to face her. “I am so sorry you’ve been mistreated this way.”
She licks her lips again. She has to stop doing that. “It’s not your fault.”
That’s where she’s wrong, and I’m an asshole if I don’t tell her.
Her eyes travel down from my face to my naked torso, reaching my waist before they skip back to my face. She blushes.
Oh fates. So sweet. So fucking sweet.
I stab my fingers through my hair. “Unfortunately, it is my fault.”
Her eyes narrow.
I hold up my hands. “I mean, I didn’t know they were doing this, but this is my pack. I’m supposed to be the fucking alpha. Only I was locked in with you by the council of elders.”
“Why?”
She knows why. I can tell by the way her gaze darts to my erection.
I swallow and sit down on the bed, my focus traveling once more to her bonds, as if I might discover some other way to free her. “Our pack suffers from too much in-breeding. We’ve dwindled in size and many of our numbers are unable to even shift. We call them defectuosos. Most females are barren and cannot reproduce. I knew el consejo was working on a plan to introduce new breeding, but I had no idea it would be this.” I jab a hand in the air to indicate the cell.
“They want you to breed with me?”
“Yes.” Guilt drops down on my chest like an anchor, dragging me into its depths.
Her cheeks grow pink and she pulls at her chains.
“Shh.” I touch her before I realize my own intent, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I won’t force myself on you, I promise.” When she continues to tug on her bonds, I grip both her wrists below the shackles. “Stop.” My voice sharpens with command.
She freezes, her wolf responding instinctively to the dominance of an alpha male. Her glare doesn’t match her obedience, though.
And her body’s response doesn’t match the stink eye.
Yeah, my body is right there with hers. Restraining her has my cock waving like a flag. Her exquisite breasts are just inches from my chest. I can feel the heat of her body, the puff of her breath against my neck.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself any more than you’ve already been harmed.” I ease my weight from her and release her wrists.
She flushes, and I want to tear out my own throat when tears pop into those incredible blue eyes. One escapes and slides down her cheek. I reach out to thumb it away. “Don’t cry, muñeca. I won’t claim you and I won’t let them hurt you. You have my word.”
She jerks her face away from my hand. “Why should I trust you?”
She’s smart. “You shouldn’t.”
I’m not even certain I can honor my word, but I know I will die trying. “Right.” She gives a bitter laugh.
Chapter Two
Council Elder
I stand outside the cell with my fellow elders Don Jose and Don Mateo, watching the two young wolves interact. I’ve sent the guards away. They aren’t necessary—these cells are impossible to break out of. “It’s only a matter of time. Their attraction is already apparent.”
“Agreed,” Mateo says. “He’ll mark her before midnight. That much of the plan will be successful. But when we let him out, he may rip all our throats out. His wolf has grown fierce since we saw him last.”
“I have a plan for that.” Don Jose taps one finger on the door. “We drug them both before we separate them, then overdose his mother. When Carlos wakes, he will have to respond to that crisis first. He’ll forget his fury because his mother will require all the gentleness he has inside him.”
“That’s not much of a plan,” Mateo says.
“By the time he finds his female again, she’ll be locked in a guest room, dressed in fine robes and being treated like royalty. He’ll have no cause to punish us for our means, as he’ll be pleased with the result—a beautiful prize for a strong alpha. Just what this pack has needed. Of course, we’ll humbly beg his forgiveness.”
I narrow my eyes. “It’s risky. What if he le
ts her go?” Although I was the one who the traffickers notified when they kidnapped the American she-wolf, the idea to imprison her with our alpha was Don Jose’s. I would have preferred in vitro fertilization. To use the girl as a breeder for the entire pack. A science experiment. We can’t depend on nature or animal nature to keep the pack healthy.
“If he marks her, he won’t be able to let her go. Biology will take its course, just as it will tonight.”
“You’re sure of it.” I say it more like a statement than a question.
“Yes.”
Juanito, a nine-year-old servant, arrives with the water I instructed him to fetch. He’s a slight risk, because he’s Carlos’ favorite, but that’s also why I picked him. We need someone to deliver food and drink to the couple, and I don’t trust Carlos not to tear off the hand that goes through the window. He won’t hurt the boy, though. There’s too much goodness in him. Just like his father.
Which was why we had to get rid of him.
~.~
Sedona
Carlos paces away from me and I register the loss of his closeness like a plant deprived of water. Which pisses me off. I don’t want to be so turned on by the dark, brooding, mostly naked alpha stalking around our cell. Even if he is made of solid muscle so sculpted he could be a bodybuilder. I watch him, fascinated. His chest is hairless and a tattoo covers his left shoulder and biceps, some sort of geometric pattern. A second tattoo covers his right biceps.
I’ve never had such a strong reaction to any male—human or shifter. But then again, I’ve never been chained with my naked body on full display for a male, either.
I replay the scene where he held me down to make me stop pulling on my manacles. He moved lightning-fast, pouncing over me, pinning me to the bed. For one second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Damn. He has neatly trimmed facial hair. What would it feel like against my skin?
What would it be like to have my wrists pinioned over my head by him while he plowed into me? To have all that command and power focused on me. Would he make it hurt? Or is he a tender lover?
Even though his high-handedness annoyed me, he was right to stop me. My wrists are already bruised from where I pulled and the silliest part of me loves that he flexed his will for my own good. It’s what a good alpha should do.
A square window at the base of the heavy door slides back and a small hand pushes a plastic tumbler through.
Carlos springs into action, diving for it, but instead of taking the tumbler, he grabs the wrist delivering it.
“Ay!” The cry of pain from the other side sounds distinctly childlike.
Carlos curses. “Juanito?”
“Perdóname, Don Carlos.” The boy sounds like he’s about to cry.
Carlos lets out a string of Spanish curses, many of which I recognize. He demands something in Spanish but the boy only answers with a sniffle. Carlos releases his wrist and says something in more soothing tones. The small hand folds up and bumps Carlos’ fist before it retreats. Carlos picks up the tumbler of water and stalks toward me. A tightly-leashed fury radiates from him, which I find oddly attractive. But yeah, I was raised by a dominant, generally pissed-off alpha wolf, so I guess that would be my male ideal. It actually makes sense why no other male has caught my interest until now. My wolf only shows her belly to a true alpha.
Great. I hope there’s therapy for this, because the last thing I need is another big shot male telling me what to do. I already have an over-protective father and brother for that.
I watch his muscles ripple as he walks to the side of the bed.
“They send a boy with the water because they know I won’t hurt him. Chingada bola de pendejos.”
“Who is the boy?” I’m thinking he’s a relative of Carlos.
“A servant.”
“Don’t they have child labor laws in Mexico?”
Carlos’ expression darkens even more. “I know. My pack is... archaic. They—we”— his voice takes on a bitter tone— “live in a different era. The weak serve the strong. And they’re kept weak by design. Congress or commerce with outsiders is forbidden, technology and media is not allowed, nor do we even trade with other packs. Only the council and myself are exempt from all these rules.”
Water sloshes over the lip of the purple plastic tumbler. With far greater finesse than he showed when he tried to cover me with his shirt, he slides a hand behind my head and lifts it to meet the cup. I guzzle down half the water, not even caring that some of it dribbles down my chin. “Thank you,” I gasp when I’m finished.
“If you don’t approve, why don’t you change things?”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I am—I will. It’s a fight—always a fight against the council. But I will.”
I accept another sip of water from the tumbler.
Carlos stares down at me with glittering dark eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Sedona.”
He raises a brow. “Like the city?”
“My parents met there.” A few years ago, I was afraid Sedona and Tucson would be the farthest I’d ever travel from my home pack in Phoenix. And now I’m somewhere in Mexico, chained to a bed with a sexy Latino wolf devouring my naked body with his eyes. Not quite the adventure I’d hoped for.
Carlos repeats my name in his Spanish accent, giving it an exotic and sexy sound. “Beautiful name for a beautiful wolf.” The fact that he finds me beautiful seems to piss him off, because he scowls when he says it. He lifts his hand to my mouth, like he’s going to wipe the water off my chin, then retracts it with a grimace.
“Gee, thanks,” I say drily.
He brings his thumb to my lower lip and rubs it, back and forth slowly, his dark eyes growing black.
A thrum starts between my legs and my nipples tighten.
Oh shit.
I’m totally out of my depth here. The honest truth—I’m a virgin. My dad would’ve killed any boy I screwed around with when I was in high school. And I mean that literally. I didn’t even have a date to prom. I could’ve had sex in college, but I hang out with humans, and human males just don’t ring my bell. Not that they haven’t tried. I’ve messed around a little bit, but no intercourse.
The next thing I know, Carlos pushes his thumb between my lips and I’m making love to it with my tongue. A low growl reverberates in his chest like the start of an engine and all my lady parts rev up in response.
“Sedona,” he rasps in his sexy accent again. Say-doh-na. He pronounces my name like it’s a magical place. He drags his thumb from the suction of my mouth as if it pains him. “Being locked in here with you is going to kill me.”
It must be the repeated tranquilizers they gave me because I’m seriously about to invite him to try out the Sedona buffet, seeing as how I’m all spread out here for his delight.
“What’s your—” I clear my throat because I find it hard to speak now since he invaded my mouth with his thick digit— “What’s your plan, exactly? Wait it out? I don’t think that’s going to work. If they locked you in here to get us to breed, will they let us out before we do?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. He’s beautiful angry, a lock of thick dark hair falling across his forehead, the strong lines of his face accented by the firm set of his mouth. His fingers close into fists at his side. “I don’t know yet.”
If I didn’t have an alpha father and brother I might miss the legions of guilt and frustration coming off him in waves. Alphas can’t stand not taking action, not having an answer, or having their hands tied. Considering the way his cock is locked in the upright position, the action he’s most likely to take is thrusting into my warm, wet pussy. Not that I’m totally against the idea. Liquid trickles between my thighs as I fight to keep my head.
“How long have you been alpha?” I ask.
He rubs the back of his neck. “De facto—since my father’s death when I was sixteen. But el consejo encouraged me to leave, to continue at my boarding school education and then to attend university in the United St
ates. And then to go to graduate school. I didn’t return until this fall.” There’s a heaviness to his words. I sense the weight of more guilt, or some other burden as he stares at the wall opposite him.
“You didn’t want to return.”
“No.” He meets my eyes in a new way, as if the cloud of lust has lifted and he actually sees me, Sedona, not my naked body offered up on a platter. “I’ve never admitted that before. Even to myself.”
“How long have you been gone?”
“Seven years. Long enough to comprehend if we don’t make changes to this archaic place, the pack will die out.”
I shudder. I’m the solution his council cooked up to save the pack. There’s a certain amount of duty I was prepared for as an alpha’s daughter. Being a part of a breeding program wasn’t one of them. My dad is old school, but this is positively primeval.
He sits on the edge of the bed near my waist and examines the locks on my shackles. My wrists must look as raw as they feel because he rubs my skin around the edges of the cuffs and growls. “Tell me how you ended up here, Sedona.”
The dominant tone makes me shiver. It doesn’t matter that he’s trying to be a gentleman. My body responds to him. “It’s my spring break—or was. I was in San Carlos with my friends and a shifter approached me on the beach. Another came up behind me and stabbed a needle in my neck to drug me. They put me in a cage and flew me to a city where I spent the night in a warehouse. Then they drove me here.”
Carlos growls through my entire story, while his thumb works magic on the inside of my wrist, tracing light circles on my sensitive skin. I never realized a touch on the wrist was so sexy. My pussy throbs in a way that’s hard to ignore. The strange heat floods my system again.
“Traffickers,” he says when I finish. “From Mexico City. I’d heard a rumor that shifters were selling wolves in my country, but I didn’t believe it. The stories feature a demon called the Harvester who buys shifters, drains their blood, and steals their organs.”