Denying the Alpha

by Sam Crescent

  I’ll tell Channing the truth tomorrow morning. At least this way I won’t have to worry about him running around out there tonight, looking for a serial killer. Maybe by tomorrow morning the feds will have found him.

  “Well, goodnight then,” I say to him, avoiding eye contact as I make my way toward my bedroom. “You know where everything is. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

  I close my bedroom door behind me. I’m tempted to lock it—not because I’m afraid of Channing, but because I’m afraid of the temptation he is, sleeping twenty feet away from me.

  I’ve missed him. In every way possible.

  Take a cold shower, Tala.

  I remove my uniform and do exactly that, the cold water reviving me. I slip on my nightgown and slide between the sheets, reaching under my pillow for the familiar comfort of my service weapon.

  Damn. There’s nothing there. Channing’s arrival messed with my routine and I’ve forgotten it, left it on the table next to the living room couch—where Channing has probably fallen asleep by now.

  Damn it. I can’t sleep without it. Especially now, with Bryce out there somewhere. I’ll have to risk waking him to retrieve it. I flip the lock and open the bedroom door, as slow as I can stand it. Then I slip through, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

  There’s some light filtering through the windows from the moon and I can see his body, stretched out on the couch as much as a man of his build can stretch on a couch, anyway. He’s covered, just barely, with the couch throw, and I suffer a stab of guilt for not taking the time to find him a better blanket. He is naked, after all.

  I try not to stare at his smooth skin and bulging biceps as I creep closer to the end table. My weapon rests there, so close. Two more steps. One more step.

  “I knew you couldn’t resist, babe.”

  Damn.

  His voice rumbles through the quiet room.

  “I’m here for my gun, Channing. I left it on the table.” I point to it. I need him to see I’m not lying. Otherwise, he will get the wrong idea, for sure.

  He glances at the gun, then at me, then he stands, the small blanket falling to the floor.

  “Come here,” he says quietly, gesturing to the couch. “Sit with me. Let’s talk for a minute. Then you can go to bed.”

  “Channing, I can’t…” My unspoken words die on my tongue when he steps in front of me and lowers his lips to mine, so close his breath whispers against my skin.

  “Channing.” What was I going to say? His scent surrounds me, enveloping me in memories; beautiful, delicious memories.

  Chapter Five

  Channing

  I watch her eyes. I want her to want what I’m about to do as much as I want it. Then I pull her into my arms, against my chest, and slide my hands down to her butt, holding her as tight as I can without hurting her.

  “Come on, Tala. Don’t you need some release?” Her eyes widen a little when I say ‘release.’ I’m encouraged. “I can make you feel so good. You remember.” I say this and press into her a little harder until I know she can tell just how badly I need her. “Tala,” I whisper into her ear, brushing her cheek with my lips—something she always loved. “Tala, remember.”

  Oh, she remembers, all right. I can feel her hardening nipples through her shirt. I grasp her tighter, grinding my hips into hers. She gasps, tilting her head back. Yes.

  “Tala.” Saying her name again, and like this. I swear I’d die for this. “Tala,” I say her name again, whispering it over and over again in her ear while I brush my lips over her cheek, her, chin, her neck.

  Her fingers skate across my naked back. Yes, this is happening. I knew it. She’s never stopped wanting me.

  I grind into her again, again. I need more. I’m desperate. Starving. My inner beast is raging under my skin and it’s all I can do to tamp it down. “Tala,” I moan, pleading.

  I capture her lips with mine, kissing, kissing, devouring her top lip, then her bottom. When I pull away to catch my breath, she’s panting breathily. Oh, fuck. She has no idea what she does to me.

  “Tala, please,” I beg. “Please.”

  Her hands move lower. God, yes. I pull away just enough to grant her access. Her fingertips slide over my hip bones, then graze over my swollen, aching cock.

  “Fuck,” I groan, thrusting into her hand. “I’ve dreamed about this. So many nights…”

  I can’t finish what I was going to say because she’s massaging me now, with both hands, her grip strong and confident. Fuck. If she keeps this up, this’ll be over way too fast.

  But damn, I don’t want her to stop. I close my eyes and thrust into her hands, trying to ease this terrible ache. And then, suddenly, she lets go. My eyelids are heavy with lust, but when I open them—oh God. She’s taken me into her mouth. Her full, lush red lips are wrapped around my cock. I’m dead, I think. I must be. There’s no way this is really happening. It’s like all this time apart—it’s like it never even happened.

  She hums a little, creating a vibration I remember all too well. She’s sucking, hard.

  “Tala,” I’m practically whimpering as I say her name. She sucks harder, her hands wrapping around my balls, kneading them. Oh yeah, she knows what she does to me.

  I nudge deeper into her hot wet mouth, my hips thrusting harder, faster.

  I can’t hold back. I want to. I planned to. But I can’t. I can’t … she’s … oh, God.

  “Tala, wait.”

  She stops, staring at me with those dark eyes of hers, shining with lust.

  I grab her hand, guiding her over to the sofa. I pick her up, lay her on the leather cushions, then fumble with her nightgown. I think, no way I’m going to make it, when my fingers find bare skin where her panties should be. Yes. I dip my fingertips inside her, teasing, rubbing. I want to do more to her, but there’s no time.

  “Now, now.” She gasps.

  She grabs my cock, guiding me into her. I push, push, all the way in. “Channing.” She cries out my name, her inner walls closing tight around me. “Oh, damn. Oh damn. Oh—oh!”

  Holy shit. This. Oh, God. I can’t think. She’s coming, hard. I thrust. And thrust. More. More. More. “Tala,” I moan. “Tala, I’m—”

  She wraps her legs around me, latching on, locking me against her. She cries out, finishing me. I release on a shout, and then another, as wave after wave of ecstasy swallows me. Fuck, I can’t breathe. I’m seeing stars.

  I come back to myself slowly, and find Tala staring up at me, studying me. Her fingers are brushing over my forehead in soft, comforting strokes.

  Thank God, she’s not looking at me with regret. No, there’s a certain sadness in her eyes, I think. Don’t analyze it, Channing. Just enjoy the moment. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  I stand, taking a second to catch my breath.

  “Channing, what are you do—”

  Before she can finish, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her into the bedroom.

  Chapter Six

  Tala

  I awaken before Channing does. He’s naked and on his back, his left arm flush against my body, his hand cradling mine, his fingers interlocked with mine. We’ve slept, for who knows how long, like this, hand-holding while we dreamed. The thought makes my heart flutter in my chest.

  How could he ever think I stopped loving him?

  Some slight movement catches my eye and I realize Channing must be having a very certain sort of dream. His cock is swelling, stiffening, as his grip on my hand tightens. A low groan rumbles from deep within his chest and his back bows, ever so slightly, off the mattress.

  A powerful jolt of lust punches through me, stealing my breath. Instantaneous, searing heat sizzles through every cell in my body.

  He groans in his sleep again. I start to rise to my knees, trying not to bounce the bed. His grip on my hand tightens. “Mmmm.”

  My gaze snaps to his face, still serene and sleeping, but there’s a tightness to his jaw as he murmurs while he dreams.
/>   That does it for me. I manage to slip my hand from his as I shift my body until I’m straddling him. His hips suddenly jerk a little, lifting, enough that the tip of his cock rubs against me. My skin burns and heat rages through my blood.

  I move my hips. Hijacked by desire, I grind against his hard shaft, savoring the sensation of silk over hard steel.

  Channing moans incoherently as he thrusts his pelvis upward, his tip nudging inside me. Damn. I’m dizzy with need. I lower myself an inch, then another, and when he thrusts up from the bed again, I’m partially impaled by him. A sharp intake of breath bursts from me before I can stop it.

  His eyelashes flutter open, his gaze colliding with mine in the dawn-lit bedroom.

  “Tala,” he hisses, wrapping his hands around my hips, his fingers clutching me like a lifeline. “I thought I was dreaming.”

  “You were,” I whisper. It’s hard to speak, hard to find the breath for it. “But,” I gasp as his hold tightens, pulling me down onto him even more. “You’re not dreaming anymore.”

  His eyes widen and he smiles. “I want to wake up like this every day.”

  So do I. But I can’t. We can’t. This—this is just for fun, it can’t mean anything, not anymore.

  “Fuck,” he wheezes, pulling me from my thoughts.

  He pushes against my pelvis, then starts to withdraw, leaving me aching, empty. “Channing,” I whimper, desperate.

  “What’s the matter?” he teases, his smile growing as he pulls away from me almost completely. “You want me?”

  I lift a hand to his face, cradling his bristled jaw. “You know I do.”

  I press my lips to his to prove it. He devours my kiss, biting my lip and slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He thrusts his tongue against mine, again and again, until he breaks the kiss with an anguished groan. “Show me.” His voice is rough, rumbling within his chest. “Show me how much you want me.”

  I grasp his cock as I straddle him, sitting back on my heels. I take my time, my limbs trembling, as I lower myself over him. He’s hard and hot and throbbing as I start to slide down over him. It’s not an easy thing. He’s almost too big, really, and I’m only halfway down when I need to stop.

  “Come on,” he murmurs. “You’ve done this before, sweetheart.”

  Ah. How I’ve missed his voice, especially his impassioned sex voice. Heightened desire flares within me. I lower myself another inch, then another. His breathing is labored as he holds steady.

  “I need,” he rasps. “I—ah. Tala.”

  He’s thrusting, ever so gently, moving his hips up and down in an undulating rhythm.

  He’s so deep inside me, every tiny move he makes fills me, his tip teasing against my clit. There is no pain, only building heat and pleasure every time he thrusts.

  His hands move from my hips to my breasts. He fondles them, squeezes them, his thrusts increasing in strength until he’s pushing us both up off the bed. His fingertips brush over my nipples, then skim the undersides of each breast slowly, the sensation sending prickles of electric heat straight down between my legs.

  I cry out a little, riding him harder, tightening my inner muscles around his pulsating cock.

  “Fuck,” he breathes. He lowers his hands until he’s holding my hips again, slamming me down on him with an almost aggressive force.

  That does it for me. “Channing,” I whimper, still struggling for breath. “Channing.” I’m unable to utter anything else.

  He pumps harder, faster, impossibly deeper. I clench him tight as a climax crashes over me. I shout something incoherent, riding wave after wave of raw, burning pleasure. He keeps driving upward into me, his eyes closed and his lips parted. I want to make him come, hard, like he did me. I clasp him again, swiveling my hips, shoving him inside so deep it hurts.

  “Oh, Oh shit,” he moans, writhing beneath me. “Holy sh—”

  He comes, and so do I—again, when his liquid heat bursts into me. We both keep moving against each other, rocking our bodies back and forth, riding the aftershocks, one right after the other.

  “Tala,” he whispers, wrapping his hands around my arms, guiding me off him and onto the mattress next to him. “Just marry me already.”

  Oh, Channing. No.

  I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet to my chest. “Honey, I told you—”

  “I know what you said.” He rises off the bed, standing over me. Then he lowers himself to the floor on one knee. “But I don’t care. Marry me, Tala.”

  I grip the sheet so hard my knuckles ache. Here we go. His heart is going to break all over again.

  “No.” I almost choke on the word, knowing what it will do to him.

  “We aren’t over, Tala. If last night and this morning have taught you anything…” He stands and strides across the room toward the door, then stops, turning to me. “You can’t tell me we’re not perfect for each other.”

  Damn it.

  “I’m not saying that. But how perfect we are for each other is irrelevant.”

  “Irrelevant?” He runs his hands over his scalp, then smacks the doorframe with his hand. “Fuck relevant, Tala. Do you love me or not?”

  This is it. My chance to break it off with him once and for all, my chance to protect him. Because I love him more than I can ever make him understand.

  I’m a terrible liar, something he used to always tease me for. But now—now I have to lie better than I’ve ever lied before. His life may depend on it. I look him straight in those unearthly green eyes of his.

  “No, Channing. I’m sorry. I did once, but—I don’t love you anymore.”

  His gaze hardens, his jaw a rock-hard line. “You’re lying.”

  Hold it together, remember what’s at stake, I remind myself.

  “No, I’m not, Channing. I. Don’t. Love. You.”

  His eyes flash and he studies me, like he’s committing my face to memory, like he’s never going to see me again. Then he turns away and bolts out the door.

  A sense of unease shivers down my spine.

  God. What have I done?

  Chapter Seven

  Channing

  I shift the second I’m out the front door. Goddamn, but she hurt me bad this time. Why did I expect one night with her would change her mind?

  You’re a fucking idiot, that’s why.

  I run, my four feet eating up the distance like it’s nothing. I’m grateful for this animal skin, grateful it doesn’t let me feel the burn of shame and humiliation and unbelievable pain my human body would.

  I’ll grieve over her all over again. What the hell was I thinking? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I run faster, hitting the ground in time with the beat of my thoughts.

  Maybe I should stay in my shifted form, living in the endless acres of forests, avoiding Tala and other humans forever.

  The thought is tempting. No more exposure to anyone who can hurt me. Just rise, eat, run, sleep. Tempting.

  In the distance, I can see my truck parked, nestled in the trees. Once I get there I’ll put my clothes back on, check my phone, get ready to head back into work tomorrow, and then go home to my silent, lonely house.

  Or not.

  I hesitate, standing at the edge of the road, switching my gaze between my truck and the stretch of forest behind me.

  I’ll go back to Tala’s, I decide. I’m not giving up on us so easily. All I need to do is prove it to her.

  I should’ve kept going, or turned back, or never left the warmth of Tala’s bed in the first place. Because one second I’m paused by the roadside, contemplating this insane decision, and then—after it’s already too late—a strange, dangerous smell hits me full on as the sound of bootsteps rushes up behind me. I hunch low and twist my head toward the source of the smell and the sound, but it’s too late. All I catch is a glimpse of a man in an orange prison jumpsuit, with a huge mesh net in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other.

  Shit! Run! My inner human voice screams.

  But I don’t get the chance to even begin t
o shift before the baseball bat comes down, bashing me full in the face.

  ****

  Now

  I close my eyes and open them again. Nothing but inky blackness as far as I can see.

  God, my head. My jaw. It feels like something shattered it.

  And fuck. Why can’t I see?

  “Wakey, wakey, you filthy dog.”

  Dog? I don’t recognize the voice coming from somewhere behind me. I’m lying down on my side. I stretch out my hands, trying to push myself up, trying to remember how I ended up on the ground in the first place. There’s a smell of dust beneath me, so much it’s almost a soft layer under my body.

  I remember the forest—I was in the forest—no, on the edge of it. And I was in my shifted form. But not anymore. I blink again and realize I can see my hands, bound together by links of chain.

  Fuck. This.

  The beast within me rolls under my skin, raging to escape. Be calm, be calm. The last thing I need to do is go full out coyote when I don’t even know where I am.

  I blink, trying to let my eyes adjust to the thick darkness. Focus.

  I can make out the shapes of some sort of barricade around me. I inhale, breathing in the scent of hay and old wood. A barn? A stall? I blink again, trying to see better, but I can’t. Either it’s simply dark as pitch in here or whoever attacked and kidnapped me hit me hard enough to damage my sight.

  My stomach does a twisting sort of flip-flop at the thought. I don’t feel good at all. And I don’t remember shifting back into my human form, which makes me hard-core uneasy.

  “Did you hear what I said, you fuckin’ mutt?”

  Every muscle in me tenses and goes still. If I’m in my human body, and this crazy-ass dude is calling me a dog and a mutt—shit.