Alpha's Claim

by 10 Author Anthology

  "I will." She licked his nipple, flicking it mercilessly with the tip of her tongue.

  "Promise me." He squeezed her hip.

  "I promise."

  "I would never hurt you," he whispered, his forehead flush with hers.

  Her desire for him was hungered and impatient. "But you will drive me crazy with small talk?"

  "You think I've driven you crazy?"

  "No?" Bo bit her lip to keep from giggling.

  Tongues tangled, he slid into her. "I'm just getting started on you, woman."

  With a whimper, she watched his cock fill and empty her. Skuld's big, slick muscled body moving in the darkness against her was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

  It had been so long since she'd been with a man. Suddenly she couldn't remember when the last time was. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Just this man, her savior, healing her, fitting her to his own custom design.

  Skuld growled, his fingers gripping her by the hips, pinning her tight against him. She cried out as he went deep, fast, and hard. He loosened his grip, but she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, demanding he not soften his hold on her. A delicious tremor racked her body, and she clawed his backside. She came again, ripples of pleasure shaking her from head to toe. She'd never had an orgasm that powerful.

  "I can hardly wait to make you do that again." Skuld led her out of the chair and into his arms, moving to the bed a few feet away. He caged her with his magnificent body, continuing his heavenly assault. She grabbed the headboard as he reentered her, bracing herself for his thick heat. She bucked hard against him, driving her hips upwards, her ass off the mattress. The slow burn of friction between their bodies was hot enough to start a fire, and all she wanted was to burn.

  "Fuck…" Skuld whispered over and over, louder and louder.

  They transitioned into doggie style but not before Skuld took the time to swat her. He pressed down tenderly on the small of her back and parted the plump cheeks of her ass. "Your pussy is beautiful from this angle. Like a ripe piece of fruit."

  "Does it make you want to pluck it?" She bowed as deep as she could, her head to the pillow and gave him the full, unadulterated view.

  "I'm going to fuck it."

  Bo clutched the sheets beneath her while Skuld thrust into her. His rhythm quickened, and he pulled her hair. She liked it when he did that. Instinctively she anticipated his release and grabbed the headboard.

  "I want to look at you when I come, min skatt." Skuld pulled out, and she groaned with momentary anguish. She wanted him inside her forever. He rolled her in his arms and wasted no time reentering her, reclaiming the pace that promised ecstasy. "I'm going to come. Do you want my cum?"

  "God, yes."

  An unexpected shiver sent her over the edge, and she came once again, her body tensing from head to toe. Skuld pulled out just in time. A roar escaped his lips proclaiming his release as he took his cock in his hand and milked his shaft. Warm jets of cum rained down on her breasts and stomach. She could have come again just watching the expression of relief and euphoria playing out on his beautiful face.

  The rolling heat of their passion cooled to a simmer, their bodies twisted into a pair of fleshy vines. Afterglow had never been so sweet with anyone before. Almost as good as the act preceding it. He cleaned her, massaged her, combed his fingers through her hair, and bathed her in kisses. She fit in his arms like she'd been made custom just for him.

  Bo listened to his big, strong heart, comforted by its unending steadiness. "He will try again. You are a survivor and can ID him."

  "Yes. I can. He was at least six foot four. Over three hundred pounds with buzzed light brown hair."

  Skuld stopped her. "Lazy eye. Thick fingers."

  "And a pinky ring. I mean, who wears a pinky ring anymore?" The air went out of her lungs. What the hell?

  The man in her embrace shivered. Suddenly, his skin felt extremely warm to the touch. Maybe he was sick. He flew out of bed.

  "What's the matter? Was it something I said?" She watched him, his back to her, the long line of his spine, his beautiful broad shoulders, hair flowing down his back. He was shaking and looked like he was in pain. A sudden realization came over her. Bo knew what was happening. He was going to shift again. Terror gripped her. She didn't know what to do. Except…

  On her hands and knees, she scooted across the mattress and slipped out. She approached Skuld carefully, hand extended. He turned with a growl, and she jumped, her back against the wall. She watched his eyes change from the warm brown that seduced her into giving him every part of her to the fiery red she remembered.

  "Shh." She'd try a technique her therapist had used with her. "It's all right. You don't have to give into it. It's under your control. Just pull back. Put it back in the box. Close the lid, and look at me."

  She could have wept watching him struggle. Bo reached out and made contact, caressing the sides of his neck. The skin there was tight and strained, but she felt it yield to her if only a little. Taking that as a sign, she rubbed his arms up and down. She loved his arms. Her touch calmed him, his respiration growing even and steady once more. She'd reversed the change. Covered in sweat, he fell to his knees and grabbed hold of her around the waist.

  Skuld lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes had returned to the lovely shade of brown that did things to her insides. "Witch. What did you do to me?"

  Bo rubbed the angst and light perspiration from his forehead. She took his hands and returned him to the bed. Directing him to lie back, she straddled him. She kissed him, his head lifting to meet her. Their kiss deepened, their bodies basking in the familiarity of each other. She sheathed him in her tight womb and moved up and down on him. She came down slow and steady, their passion building with every breath.

  She shut her eyes and let her mind wander. A roaring ocean and cliffs. Fields of blood. The clang of swords and the stench of death like an impenetrable fog. Death rattles from dying men. She was in Skuld's mind. She saw him wield a massive sword fighting for his life, vanquishing enemy after enemy. He was a formidable, fearless warrior. The arrow of loneliness pierced her heart when she saw him witnessing the passage of time, so much time, all alone. Transient lovers, mortal friends. She would be one of them, she realized with a pang of overwhelming heartache.

  But not tonight. She'd restored him, and he'd done the same for her. She heard thunder but couldn't discern if it was in her head or outside the bedroom window. The headboard in his grip cracked and groaned. But she didn't care. Let them destroy the bed, the room, the entire street with their fire. A flash of lightning and they surrendered to their climax, Skuld's plentiful seed spilling down her inner thighs.

  "I saw you. I can't explain it, but I saw you." Bo trembled in his arms. "How was that possible?"

  "Because we have mated. A twisted joke by a twisted crone's curse."

  When they were still once again, he spoke to her. "You did not hallucinate. You saw me change. I am Viking. Berserker. I am over one thousand years old. The exact date of my birth is unknown. I made the mistake of cursing a witch, and she cursed me in kind. I have lived through the ages unable to die. Neither iron nor fire can kill me. But the death of the one I love has destroyed me many times over. I don't know if I can survive another."

  She did her best to smile through her sorrow. "You picked a fine time to leave my bed."

  He looked her in the eye. "Neither heaven nor hell could make me leave you."

  "Then what shall we do about my pesky mortality?"

  Skuld smoothed her hair. "For now?"

  "For now."

  "Savor what time has given us."

  "I knew there was something about you," she curled up on top of him. It was a glib answer. She knew that. But this wasn't the time for somber talk. Besides, she didn't care how old he was or what horrors he'd seen. She was here for him, like he'd been there for her. She was determined to repay him in any way she could.

  He ran his fingers up and down her sides, tickling her.
"Oh?"

  Bo sat up a little, cupping his cheek. "Yeah. A sadness. You've seen too much."

  "I see the same in you." He covered her hand with his.

  "Thank you for saving me."

  "I'm glad I was there to save you."

  He'd shared his body with her. Now he was sharing his heart. She'd never felt so fulfilled. "Me, too."

  She helped him pull the blankets back over them. They kissed, and she savored the taste of him, wanting to keep it on her tongue and lips forever. "Skuld?"

  "Hmm?"

  She snuggled against him, her head to his heart. "How do you know so much about the man who attacked me?"

  Skuld let go of a deep breath, laced with spiritual weariness. She was almost sorry she'd asked.

  "Because I know him."

  Chapter Four

  Her withdrawal pained him. There was a part of her that didn't trust him. In that moment, he made a promise to himself, to Bo. He would win her trust. All of it. And if he was lucky, someday he might win her heart. In between times, he'd take her anyway he could get her. And often.

  Regardless of whether she knew it or not, their encounter had tapped into his medieval male mind. He'd thwarted his enemy, and she was his prize to claim. His treasure. No man was going to take her from him and live.

  He loved watching her sleep, a beautiful image of serenity he wanted to look upon forever. But he had to make her safe. He hoped this would be the last time he'd have to wake her for such a reason. Especially when there were better ones. "Wake, min skatt."

  "Hmm?" Bo stirred drowsily against him, the soft skin of her plump ass waking his cock to full hard vigor. He couldn't get enough of her.

  "He's near."

  "How do you know?" Fully alert, Bo looked over her shoulder at him, tilting her head. There were things about him she didn't understand. That was all right. If he had anything to say about it they would have plenty of time for explanations—among other things. The very thought of it lit a fire in his groin.

  "I can smell him."

  Skuld gestured with a slight nod. "Go."

  He sensed her reluctance, her aversion to hiding, as she donned a nightgown and stepped inside her closet. A woman after his heart. Bo's fear radiated off her in soft waves, providing him the requisite fuel to do what was necessary. Stop the bastard who tried to hurt her from doing any more damage. Skuld crawled into bed, pulled the sheet over him and waited.

  It was just after three in the morning when he heard the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen. The windowpane closest to the doorknob on the back door. Then the wood floor in the hallway creaked under someone's weight. Someone big, uninvited, and reeking of lechery. Skuld knew who it was. Bastard had always liked night raiding. It was a dead giveaway.

  A cold shiver ran up his spine. That's how it always started. He broke out in a blanket of chills. A million needles pricked his skin. Joints popped, and tendons cracked all over his body. No matter how many times he endured it, the agony of the shift was always the same—like dying and being reborn. The bones in his hands grew and hardened as if he wore brass knuckles. The transformation owned every cell of his being. His beast demanded nothing but full surrender. Concentrating on staying relaxed, he kept his teeth apart and his hands open. Anything tense would hurt much worse, and the pain was already beyond comprehension. He prepared for the violent eruption set to take him over, welcomed the liberating, cathartic rage that followed. Skuld hoped the fucker was ready because he was itching to fight.

  The monster crept into the room, his footfall softened by the fluff of the carpet. It stalked a straight path for him while he pretended to slumber in the bed. Skuld could almost hear its hateful heartbeat as it approached. He let the intruder take hold of the sheet and rip it back.

  "Surprise." Skuld grinned at the man's widened eyes as he jumped to his feet quick as a leopard.

  "You." The man at his bedside spat as if he'd uttered a curse word.

  "Kjellsson." How many years had it been since he'd called his old comrade by his first name? He was one of the seven men cursed by the witch to walk the earth for all time. There were only a few of them left. To most people he was Kettle, a loose translation of his ancient moniker. A name that suited him. And Kettle was as burned out by blood and battle as any of his old brethren. In ritual, the cauldron or kettle stored sacrificial animal blood. Ironic since Skuld would be sacrificing Kettle's blood in mere seconds.

  "Skuld Shapechanger." The name of yet another ghost.

  "I told you we would come to this."

  Kettle had the gall to chuckle. "We're a long time from our berserker days."

  Skuld frowned miserably. "Not long enough."

  Enough talk. Time for a beating. Skuld grabbed Kjellsson by the throat and charged. Their big bodies crashed into a dresser, splitting the drawers down the middle. Knickknacks toppled to the floor, rolling away from the melee.

  It was a matter of betrayal. They'd known each other longer than most people had been alive, and Kjellsson had turned on him like a snake. That wasn't what made him the angriest however. The loudest, darkest, ugliest rage was reserved for hurting Bo. The thought of losing her, his special someone, just when he'd found her made him come apart at the seams.

  "I knew you were a skitur, but I never dreamed you stank this bad," Skuld growled through his teeth.

  "Meyla."

  Little girl? He'd show him a little girl. It was too bad he didn't have his sword. His fist would have to do. Skuld drew back and struck Kettle across the face. A spray of blood splattered across the wall. He could tell he'd loosened teeth, maybe cracked his jaw.

  They tore the room apart like a pair of twin tornados, grappling and punching each other in the face and body. They swiped framed posters and photos off the wall, wood splintering and glass crunching under their feet like snow.

  Skuld put his hands around Kettle's fleshy throat, but the bumbling ox continued to swipe at him, turning various shades of pink then red, slobbering and wheezing like a fiend. "I'm going to kill her, Skuld. I'm going to rip her fucking heart out and feed it to my dog."

  Something snapped inside him. Picking up the bench at the foot of the bed, Skuld bashed Kettle over the head with it. Kjellsson fell to the ground, and Skuld climbed on his back, drumming his head into the floor over and over. On his knees, Skuld rolled him and pummeled his face until Kettle groaned for mercy. He took hold of Kettle's pudgy fingers and broke each of them one by one, the telltale crack bringing him immense satisfaction. "Touch her again and I will break them off and eat them myself."

  Kettle pawed a ceramic music box into his hand, bashing Skuld over the head with it. Like singing cartoon birds, the tinkling melody brought him down like a razed building. A lucky strike. If he was going to black out so was Kettle. Fueled by adrenaline and anger, he grabbed his opponent by the balls and squeezed. The big bastard fell back to the floor beside him, crying in misery.

  Skuld put Kettle in a choke hold and squeezed. Skuld couldn't black out. Bo needed him. He blinked hard, forcing himself to remain conscious. A sharp pain stole his attention. He glanced down and saw a shard of mirrored glass buried in his side. Shit that hurt! Pushing past the pain, he saw nothing but darkness. His mind searched for Bo's face, but couldn't find her. She was lost to him. What remained was a deathless horror. He lost his grip on Kettle and fell the floor.

  Bo screamed. So much for staying hidden. She leapt out of the closet, baseball bat in hand, his very own female berserker. "I'll kill you!"

  For her efforts, Kjellsson laughed, and his beer gut shook. "You want a piece of me, tik?"

  Bitch. He was calling her a female dog. If she only knew, she'd kill him. Skuld wished he could see that. She'd get the gist of his meaning though. Stakkars faen. Poor devil.

  "I don't want a piece. I want all of you—dead!" She howled like a maniac and lunged at Kettle. He recalled that she'd nicknamed him Bub. Big ugly bastard.

  He wasn't dying, but if he lost consciousness, Bo would be
all alone with Kjellsson. If he lived another thousand years he could never endure that. He would use his last moment of cognizance to save her. Skuld pulled the glass shard out of his side and plunged it into Kettle's foot, providing Bo the distraction she needed. "Now, Bo!"

  Without hesitation, she struck Bub over the head, felling him like an enormous tree. He collapsed in a lifeless heap, and the room went quiet. Bo rushed to his side and applied pressure to his wound.

  "Bo," Skuld muttered, his eyes on Kjellsson. "Help me stand."

  "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "I feel better already." It was a half-truth. The puncture in his side stung and throbbed like a sonofabitch, but he felt immensely better about knocking the shit out of Kjellsson. And no matter how bad an injury bled or ached, he would never die from it. He wouldn't bring it up now, but there were moments in his long past when he'd tried. The worst thing he'd experienced was a prolonged sleep whereupon he awoke rejuvenated and more alive than ever, as if blood loss and pain possessed some kind of healing properties that had the opposite effect from the one desired. Bo helped him to his feet. He would heal quickly, as would Kettle. Fortunately, Kettle would do it behind bars.

  Bo opened the small drawer on her nightstand, retrieving a small handgun. The one she'd bought after her attack. She'd learned to shoot it at the local gun range. He'd seen the license and registration for it on her desk. Skuld watched her walk around the bed and rejoin him, his hand on her shoulder for support. "Are you hurt?"

  Bo shook her head. "I'm okay. Can't say the same for him." She kicked at the unconscious man sprawled out like a bloody starfish on her bedroom floor.

  Skuld smiled a little, despite the pain.

  Her hand shook as she aimed the weapon at Kettle's big, bald head. Skuld watched her vision blur with tears. Overcome with empathy, he put his hand on top of hers and pressed down gently. He'd slain enough men to know the guilt that came with killing. He didn't want that for Bo. Never mind that Kettle was like him and couldn't die. "You're no killer, min skatt."