Fated Mates: The Alpha Shifter Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle) (Insatiable Reads)

by Hunter, Adriana

  I held my hands there for a moment, entangled in that thick hair, before I curled the fingers on one hand, and wrapped it around his shaft.

  He twitched in my grip. Not fully erect, but heavy with blood. I could feel it pulse beneath my fingers, as I held him tight. I ached for him--this mysterious stranger who might be something more than a man. I wanted him as much as I wanted him to want me.

  His body responded to my touch. A subtle roll of the hips, that I felt all the way along his back, accompanied by a growl from the back of the throat. Deep and low, I could feel the vibration against my whole body.

  And then, another roll of the hip,s as he tried to urge me into movement, but I kept my hand still. The fat girl that feared rejection screamed at me, telling me that whatever he wanted, I should give to him. But I denied her, as I denied him. I didn’t want to tease him, but I needed to make him want. I needed to make him aware of my presence, and want more.

  He growled again, as he turned to face me. My hand fell away from his shaft as he loomed over me, a wildness in his eyes, that I had caught a glimpse of, earlier. He pushed forwards, his hands on my flared hips, as he leaned into me. I gasped as my back hit the cold tiles, and then again, as he lowered his head, his mouth finding mine.

  Then, I was silent, breathless, as his mouth took mine. He kissed me with a ferocity that eclipsed my tentative explorations of his body. This wasn’t a man who feared rejection. This wasn’t a man who feared anything. This was… a man who wanted me.

  For what seemed like the hundredth time today, I felt myself welling up, but I ignored the tears, as they were washed away by the hot spray of the shower. I refused to give in to my fears of rejection, and instead returned his kiss. I could not match his ferocity, but I could match his hunger.

  Our tongues danced and fought with each other, as I became lost in him. His hands moved, exploring me, as we explored each other’s mouths. One slid round to my ass, fingers splayed, to cup a cheek and pull me closer. The other worked its way up from my hips, along the curve of my stomach. There was no hesitation--no sense of disgust or revulsion at the ample flesh he found there. If anything, the more he explored my ample body, the hungrier and more desperate his kiss became.

  He broke the kiss ,and we both gasped for air, as the water streamed down our faces. There was nothing playful about his grin, somewhere between a snarl and a smirk, as he edged me towards the shower door, with an unsubtle implication of lets-move-this-to-the-bedroom. But I resisted, and instead placed a hand on his chest, and pushed him back against the tiles.

  “No.”

  I wanted him. I wanted him on the bed. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to take me, with all the ferocity and desire that I could see in his eyes, but not yet. As hard as it was to deny myself, I didn’t want to be his last meal.

  I wasn’t even sure if it made sense. I wanted to be the promise of a banquet, when he returned triumphant from whatever private battle it was, that he had to face. I wanted him to know that I’d be waiting for him--hungry, and unfulfilled. That I needed him to return.

  I was probably crazy. We’d known each other for a matter of hours, and for all I knew, he just wanted to have his way with me, get on with it, and never see me again. But this felt right, and I hoped he understood that.

  I didn’t want to be his last meal… but that didn’t mean he had to go hungry.

  I grinned back at him, my palm still pushing against his broad chest. He could swat me aside like a bug,, if he wanted, but instead, he played along, allowing me to hold him there, as I turned the tables.

  I stepped closer, and pushed myself up on my tiptoes, forcing my breasts against his chest, the hair scratchy against my nipples. Again, I reached down to find his shaft. He was hard now, and impressively so--the warm, firm, flesh of his member jutting uncomfortably against my stomach.

  “Well, aren’t you just the Big, Bad…”

  “Don’t,” he said, grinning--teasing me. “Don’t say it. You’ll regret it, if you do.”

  I looked up at him and pouted.

  “Oh, you’re no fun. Don’t you want me to...”

  I released his shaft and cupped my pale, soft breasts in my hands, lifting them as if to offer them to him.

  “Huff…”

  I lowered myself, sliding my chest along his, and down his torso, my soft skin against his hard muscles.

  “And puff…”

  I slid until I was on my knees, my breasts against his hardness. I wrapped them around his impressive member, cocooning him in the ample soft flesh of my bust. I looked up at him, a sly smile on my lips, as the tip of his member peaked through my cleavage.

  “And blow?”

  He groaned, a deep vibration in the back of his throat, as I pushed my breasts together to create a warm, snug, and deliciously soft home for his manhood.

  I could smell the heat. A deep, natural, masculine scent that could not be masked by a hot shower. He was real. I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. Not just the fact that I was kneeling in front of a man like this, but the fact that I had been the one to initiate it--that I had come on to him, and he hadn’t resisted. I was, for now, the one in control.

  There was no doubt in my mind, that he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes. I could feel it in his breath. He wanted me. He actually wanted me! And, I planned to make sure he remembered exactly why he wanted me.

  I had to grin to myself, as I began. This was one treat that required some real womanly curves. I rocked back and forth, enveloping him with my breasts with every stroke. The water on our skin helped me slide smoothly, and allowed for a slow steady rhythm.

  He was hot. I mean literally hot. Far hotter than normal. I parted my lips for a groan that he echoed, as I contemplated just what he would feel like inside me. That big cock warming me from the inside out… I squeezed my legs together tight to try and eke out a little sensation, as I resisted the urge to abandon the whole “last meal” idea.

  On the next downstroke, when his head poked out, I bent my neck to give his tip a single lick, and was met by a grunt, and a thrust of the hips, that almost knocked me onto my back. I let the single drop of delicious, salty liquid I found there slide down my throat, and that acted as my cue to stop teasing, and give this beast of a man what he needed.

  That one taste was enough for me to know, I wanted more. I released my breasts and wrapped my arms around him to grip that amazing ass. It felt as good as it looked: firm, tight flesh, with just a hint of give.

  His member bobbed around in front of my face, defenseless and desperate. I don’t know how universal it is, but I’d always gotten a special thrill from giving a lover what they wanted, and asking for nothing in return. Even though I was on my knees before him, it wasn’t a submissive act. When I took him in my mouth, I was the one taking control.

  What I may lack in skill and experience, I made up for in enthusiasm, as I pleasured him with lips, mouth, tongue and teeth. As I grew accustomed to his size, I squeezed his ass tight, and pulled him deeper.

  He demonstrated his appreciation with a series of growls, grunts and groans, before I felt his entire body tense. I pulled away, and eased off, trying to tease him a little, and make it last a little longer, but I was too late. He tensed again, and then came--his body twitching and convulsing, as he howled with pleasure.

  By the time he was done, I was dripping. My face, my hair, my breasts, were all blasted with his seed. It was not something I had experienced before, and I felt like I was in a cheap porn film, or something. I wondered if this was an aspect of his physiology, like the accelerated healing, or, and this seemed more likely, it had just been a while. Either way, I was glad we were already in the shower.

  Afterwards, we dried, but didn’t bother dressing, as we made our way to the bed. He, as I expected, made a half-hearted attempt to indicate that he was willing to return the favor, but I made it clear that it was neither required, nor expected.

  I had thought it would take a lot of willpower to
resist, but was surprised to find it did not. I wanted him. I ached for him. I was so turned on, it felt like my whole body was singing. But I needed to wait. I needed him to come back for me, when he had taken care of whatever it was he needed to do.

  - X -

  Chapter 7: James

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the human woman, Carrie, made cute little snoring sounds beside me.

  For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt some approximation of peace. Who was she, and why did we seem to drive each other crazy with desire? No one had ever made me feel like that before. Not even Charlotte. This was how I imagined finding your true mate must feel, but that couldn’t be it. She wasn’t a shifter. She was something else, entirely.

  Not that I was complaining. She was… incredible. Her body was… incredible. Some wolves prefer a lean, athletic mate--a partner to hunt with. Not me. Call me old-fashioned, but I liked my bitches with enough meat on their bones to survive the winter.

  Wait.

  I made a mental note never to use the “b” word in front of her. She wasn’t a wolf, and, as I’d discovered the hard way, regular women weren’t too fond of it.

  But, yeah, I guess I was an old-fashioned kind of guy. Most alphas are. I was made to hunt, to provide for my mate, my pups, my pack. It was what I was born to do, and I had no interest in a hunting partner. When I returned, I wanted to return to something a little more luxurious, and womanly.

  Since the fire, I’d kind of shut down that side of my brain. I needed release now and then, and I’d never had any trouble picking up willing partners, for some mutually-beneficial relief, but it was never like this. In the shower with her… and my… That had been something new.

  “Jimmy?”

  Joseph? I must have fallen asleep. I could hear the old packmaster’s voice in my head, as clearly as if he were standing right next to me.

  “Jimmy, you don’t have much time. I had to do it this way. Do you understand?”

  I understood. Joseph couldn’t let me kill Travis while he led the pack. It would shame him to let a traitor like me do his dirty work for him. He had to make an example of me, which is why I didn’t fight back. Travis, on the other hand…

  “He’ll kill you, Joseph. He’ll kill you, and then they’ll kill him, and your pack.”

  The old wolf nodded. He looked tired, as if all the hate had drained him.

  “I know, Jimmy, but it’s my time. I’m ready to die. I’ll try and buy you some time, but you need to hurry.”

  “I’m sorry, Joseph. I’m sorry about Charlotte. If I could have…”

  “I know Jimmy. I know you two weren’t fated, but you still loved her. It was just easier for me to blame you. To hate you.”

  “I’ll find the people who did it, and I’ll make them pay.”

  “You know who did it, Jimmy.”

  The Daughters of Diana.

  A myth. Shifter folklore. A story that Joseph used to tell me, and the other pups, around the campfire.

  “But why? And, why now?”

  “Your new bitch is the key.”

  I bared my teeth. Even if I were packless traitor, I was still an alpha, and I wasn’t about to let anyone call her that, again. Ever. Even in a dream.

  I had a hundred questions for Joseph, but it was too late. He was gone, and I knew he was right. I didn’t have much time.

  - X -

  I hadn’t bothered dressing. I stood in the moonlight, in full view of the cabin. I think part of me wanted her to see me. To see the side of me I usually kept hidden from human eyes. I willed her to be awake and watching out the window. It was my alpha’s pride, again. I wanted her to see the man become a beast. Basically, I wanted to show off, but there was no time for theatrics.

  I ran.

  I was on all fours within half a dozen strides. Nothing more than a momentary discomfort, as I let the beast out, and hit the tree line at speed.

  The woman’s scent lingered. I couldn’t get it out of my head. There was a texture to it-- something different… Something I had never felt before. I’d gotten used to feeling incomplete. I ran without a pack. I’d never had a true mate.

  Even Charlotte, who I had loved, in my own way, as she loved me in hers, had been a political arrangement. Her death had been devastating. Her death had been the first shot in a war. Her death had been the beginning of the end. And, yet, even while I mourned her, I knew she had not been The One.

  I was used to being alone. I liked being alone. And now, all of a sudden, that had gone out the window. I was incomplete. I felt it, in a way I had never felt it before.

  There was something about her; something about this woman, and that lingering scent.

  Cute, too. Well-padded, sure, I had no problem with that, but those curves. She was like something out of an old movie. A damsel in distress. I guess she had baggage, and those curves seemed to be part of it. Maybe I could change that. Maybe I could…

  Woah!

  My padded feet slipped on a patch of gravel, and I almost flew headlong into a tree. I needed to get her out of my head. I needed to concentrate, to get the job done, or we were both dead.

  I put my head down, and I ran. The trees became a blur, as I focused on the forest floor in front of me. I suppressed the man, and let the wolf take over.

  The world around me became a kaleidoscope of colors, scents and sounds. Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass, every stone… I was part of it. I didn’t need to think. I let instinct guide me, as I increased my pace, and felt the burn in my flanks.

  Even when I heard the howls, I didn’t slow down. I was too late. I knew I would be. My sensitive ears were assaulted by the gut-wrenching outrage, and despair, of a pack mourning the death of their leader. It was not the first time I had heard it.

  Joseph. I’m sorry Joseph. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time.

  Tears stung my eyes, as I altered my course and headed towards the mournful howls. He was too proud. They all were. They clung to the old ways. They wore tradition like a shield, even as their world came tumbling down.

  Now, it was up to me. Travis was a murderer and a rapist--a child-killer. He wasn’t fit to live, let alone lead a pack. They wouldn’t let him. They’d send the helicopters. They’d rain down fire on the entire pack, and everyone would die. Everyone, from the oldest bitch, to the youngest pup, would die screaming, and there was nothing I’d be able to do to stop it happening, if I didn’t bring them Travis’ hide.

  I ran. I put my head down, and became a streak of gray fur sliding between trees, like a ghost.

  I was banking everything on the element of surprise. It was why I hadn’t fought back at the bridge. I let them take me down. I let them kick my ass, as I cowed and cringed, like a pup. Travis would send the pack, his pack now, to track me down. He’d have to kill me, and the woman. He couldn’t risk either of us getting out. I wasn’t planning on giving him the chance.

  I smelled the camp, before I saw it. It reeked of squalor and fresh blood.

  I couldn’t help feeling a sense of shame, when I finally came upon it. Half a dozen trailers mounted on blocks. Peeling paint, rusting metal, and piles of rotting garbage.

  This is what they had been reduced to. This is what they called home. They did this to us. They forced us into hiding. They caged us, knowing that we were beasts. And when we acted like beasts, they used it as an excuse to burn it all down. I didn’t know exactly who they were, but I had their scent now. I was getting close. And once I’d dealt with Travis, I was planning on getting right back on their trail.

  He stood upright and naked in front of a roaring fire, fresh blood on his chin and chest, Joseph’s corpse at his feet. The rest of the pack weren’t happy, but, by the only laws they knew, he was their leader now, and they would be loyal to him…. while he lived.

  When he saw me, he stood back, with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He was waiting for me to shift back. He was waiting for me call him out. He’d spit in my face, and call m
e a traitor, and order the pack to take me down. Most of them were sorry excuses for wolves, but with numbers on their side, and Travis waiting in the wings to deal the killing blow, I wouldn’t stand a chance… So, I didn’t give him one.

  Fuck the old laws.

  I hit the campsite at full speed, and headed straight for Travis. The pack barely had time to register my presence, but Travis saw me coming. He saw me coming, but didn’t have time to react. I like to think, he knew he’d fucked up. He’d expected me to play by the rules. I like to think, that he knew he’d underestimated me. I like to think, that in that split second between when I jumped and when my teeth ripped his throat out, he felt a fraction of the fear that sixteen-year-old Dorothy Ludd had felt, when she had met her untimely end, at the hands of the big, bad wolf.

  Travis was dead where he stood, before I landed on the ground next to him.

  Perhaps, he had been expecting something more. Some kind of ritual, or challenge. An epic battle for the hearts and minds of this pathetic excuse for a pack. But, in the end, he got what he deserved… An execution.

  I took no joy in his death. I took no joy in the fact that, for a packmaster to die in human form, shamed both him, and his pack. For a moment, I stood on all fours, my back to the rest of them, panting and sweating.

  I allowed myself to enjoy the taste of his blood. Sweet, thick and fresh. The animal in me wanted more. One taste was never enough. We always wanted more. I fought against the animal. I embraced the man. I stood on two legs, and turned to face the camp.

  It was worse than I had ever thought possible. In the past, this had been a noble pack. One of the biggest and most prosperous on the continent. I hadn’t realized quite how fast they’d fallen, or how far.