Feral Love (Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Shifter Romance)

by Walsh, Alison

  “Remy.” His voice brought her eyes to him. “Your Alpha has lied to you. He has turned you into nothing more than a household dog, made to wag her tail at his command and beg for a treat at his fancy.”

  “I’m not a dog!” Remy stared back into those steely blue eyes but found her willpower eroding. If you’re not a dog, then why are you afraid of going with your real mate? Her wolf demanded an answer and Remy could not give her one.

  “You’re not.” He agreed. “But you also can’t see the collar around your neck, squeezing the life out of you because you’ve spent your entire life wearing it.” His hand—warm and gentle—cradled Remy’s face and pulled her closer to him. “But I can take the collar from your neck and show you how to live. The way you’re supposed to live. The way we are supposed to live.”

  Her wolf goaded her to him and their lips touched once more. Remy found herself falling to the snow, falling into his arms. Her hand found him, hard and insistent. The red tip throbbed with heat and a drop of wetness hung at its eye.

  “Not here.” he whispered.

  “Then where?” she asked back, squeezing him gently.

  “I know a place. You’re free to follow.” He pulled away and shifted back to the beautiful black wolf he was.

  Standing in the snow, Remy knew she had a choice. Go! Follow him! Go! Go! Go! Her wolf urged her. Free to follow. Follow. Free. His words came again to her mind, so intimate that she swore she could feel his warm breath tickling her ear. It was true, wasn’t it? She had spent her whole life wearing a collar. And what exactly would she be returning to? A captive life as a mother to the pack?

  She closed her eyes.

  She remembered the look on Justine’s face when she asked if the girl had come to love her mate. She remembered her friend’s hesitant answer. Free or collared? Her wolf asked her but it wasn’t just her wolf anymore. Blake was right there besides her, whispering in her ear even as he pulled away further into the dark.

  When her eyes opened, the night brightened all around and she no longer felt cold or scared or hesitant. She made her decision.

  She chose freedom.

  Together, silver and black wolf circled each other, savoring each other’s scents before the black one dashed fast through the woods, kicking up white powder behind him for her to follow.

  Her heart sang. Remy threw her head back and howled as she sprinted after him. Aaaroooooooooooooooooo! Aaaroooooooooooooooooo! Aaaroooooooooooooooooo!

  In the distance, Blake joined his howl to hers and the night came alive with sounds and smells of the wild.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The two of them ran, chasing the moon until they came upon a meandering stream in a clearing. Remy’s heart leaped to her throat as she watched Blake shift and stand on his legs, naked in the snow.

  The night was darker now and the rich scent of the forest faded to a not-so-distant memory as Remy joined him.

  “I’ve seen this place…” She whispered and took his hand. The surge of warmth from his fingers chased away the cold. “I ran with you here in my dreams.” I bowed and lowered my head and let you… She bit her lips at the memory.

  Blake seemed to read her mind as he led her past the stream beneath a row of pines that grew so thick that no snow reached the ground. A bed of fresh needles, fallen leaves, and winter moss softened the earth.

  “Remy.” His voice was thick as he turned to look at her. The steely blue eyes pierced her own green ones and Remy Clearwater felt as if her insides were being set on fire.

  He moved back against her, wrapping one hand around her back and one through her hair. It was a kiss that nothing could mimic. It lifted Remy upwards. Suddenly she stood on her tiptoes, almost floating in the air above everything she ever knew, tasting his lips and his breath and his tongue.

  Her hands explored his arms and chest. He was harder than he looked. The beautifully fit body was stiff with muscles against the supple, lovely flesh. Rich arms and body so exquisite that Remy felt a natural urge to squeeze it the way she might squeeze herself on those nights when her fingers crept between her thighs.

  She wanted to feel that pulse beneath her fingertips. From his shoulders to his back, she massaged him and pulled him close against her. He pressed his body tight in response and suddenly, both his hands were around her waist, lifting her higher.

  She squealed and gasped. “Yes.” She insisted between his kisses as he gently laid her onto the mossy ground, pulling his body to hers. “I want… I want…”

  He knelt over her, one thigh draped over hers. Her body was warm as desires washed over her, bathing her in a dark, heavy wave.

  “You are mine, Remy. Never forget that.” His voice rasped against her ear and he was on top of her. Every place he touched lit a fire in her veins and shook her so deeply that she didn’t even realize his lips had claimed hers.

  Her mouth couldn’t get enough of his. Her hands couldn’t grab hold enough of his body. Her thighs ached and then itched—a scratch just beneath the surface reachable only through deep kisses, lip nibbles, tight squeezes, and caresses—as he pressed his body against her.

  His hand caressed her hair, her cheeks, her breasts, and suddenly between her legs beneath the tantalizing curls of light brown hair that covered her sex. She moaned against the touch, moaned against him as his hand found her slit—wet and waiting—and slowly rubbed that soft nub of skin until her body writhed and twisted and shook.

  “Oh my…” She whispered as scorching lips kissed her neck, tracing a line down her ear, her collar bone, past the furrow of her breasts, and the wide expanse of her torso.

  Then he was moving back up until those soft lips closed around her nipples and he sucked—gently at first but then with greater urgency. Just like that, another fire was lit inside Remy, a fire that burned so hot that she forgot it was winter, that she forgot the cold all around them.

  He was drawing something from deep within her, something that grew more sensitive each time his lapping tongue passed over her flesh—tight and expectant. His fingers explored between her legs and every touch, every stroke drew her into the wild world that he belonged. Her body stretched to meet his and urged him to continue.

  Her own hand snaked its way down and her wolf whispered. Touch him. Feel him. She ran over the muscled lines of his torso and hesitated for a skipped heartbeat before cupping him in her fingers. She heard his sharp breath and felt his lips tighten against her breasts. Then she was lost in his kiss, his carnal hunger.

  The head throbbed in her hand and she slid down, drawing a single drop of pearl with it along the length of his thick hardness.

  He pulled back and those steely blue eyes looked at her again. There was something else in them, something more than just desire.

  “You’re a collared wolf.” He strained, voice hoarse with need.

  “And you’re a wild wolf,” she replied honestly.

  Did she say too much? Did she cross a line? The look in his eyes was unreadable but when he smiled, her heart hammered against her chest and the sight. Her hand tightened along his shaft and he gasped, his pulse threading between her fingers.

  “Yes…” And the wild wolf found himself caught.

  ***

  Her scent was intoxicating and drove him wild. Her body fit to him so perfectly and her ever-growing boldness excited him, pushing him to an edge he never thought any other wolf might have taken him.

  He finally understood the stories he heard his entire life from the old wise wolves. He always knew that when he found his mate, he would be washed in a torrent of desire and emotion. Yet he never expected something like this. Remy Clearwater made him feel.

  But most importantly, she made him hunger after her in a way that nothing and no-one else had ever done. He was starved for the love she promised and famished for the feast her body offered. He bent low and claimed her lips again as her fingers tightened around his manhood, tugging insistently.

  He kissed his way down again, tracing the familiar pat
h that his lips and tongue already made but branching out every so often to explore elsewhere. He drank in the smell of her hair, took in the taste of her skin, and when he found himself face-to-face with the beautiful heat between her thighs, he heard nothing but the thunderous pulse of her heart matching his.

  Mine.

  ***

  Her eyes closed as he kissed her only to flutter open when his fingers pressed against her. She trembled and tried to catch her breath, her mouth opening again and again yet no sound would escape.

  How could she have been so scared of him when they first met? How could she have feared him her whole life when this—all of this—had been exactly what she was looking for. Her fingers twined in his hair and pulled him closer to her.

  His fingers probed forward and Remy gasped. Hot and thick, they reached to touch her somewhere private, somewhere no other man has touched or hoped to touch her before. Her pulse raced as Blake pushed further, stretching her ever so slightly. She bit her lip and turned on the soft bed of moss and leaves, a tiny moan escaping her nose.

  Suddenly he pulled his finger away and Remy felt a lonely emptiness seize her. She whimpered and arched her back slightly.

  Please… her wolf begged… Take me… Take me now…

  Slowly, he took hold of her thighs and leaned forward, curling his tongue to get between her legs, flattening his tongue until it pressed—hot and wet—against her clit.

  Oh my… Remy gasped. The itch was rising inside her again, slow at first but intensifying with slow delicious throbs.

  The warm tongue probed—wet and languid—testing Remy’s endurance. She bit her lip again to hold back the cry of pleasure threatening to escape her throat. But when the tongue stiffened to a point and insisted against her clit again, Remy couldn’t take it anymore. Gasping, she slid down as sweet surrender drew breathless moans from her again and again.

  “I can hear your wolf. I can hear her thoughts.” He slid up and stroked her hair.

  “And what’s she saying?” Wolf and woman asked as one.

  A kiss was his answer, so deep and hard that it drained the air from Remy’s lungs. She raised her hips, opening herself completely to him, submitting to his desire, his wildness.

  Blake pressed his warm lips against Remy's neck and kissed slightly. His breath left a tingling sensation along her skin. His hands came back up again, tracing the contours of Remy's body and running up her arms until they clasped her fingers.

  “Mine.” Man and wolf answered and in one quick stroke, he entered her and took the gift that she could give but once. Pain flashed briefly but faded when he kissed her again. His fingers tightened in hers and she held on for dear life as he moved.

  She gasped and cried out in pleasure as he set a pace, slow at first but gradually building and pushing deeper with every thrust until he buried himself completely. His hand slowly moved down to Remy's waist and held her close to him as his hips rocked forward.

  The sound of flesh on flesh echoed in the clearing. Remy gasped and moaned. Beads of wet heat trickled down her spine but the fire continued to burn inside her. Steam curled and rose into the dark night sky, drawing intricate shapes in the wintry air.

  Her thoughts faded away as she moaned softly. All of her fears, her uncertainties, and lingering questions simply disappeared. She wasn’t even sure where her wolf ended and where she began. Animal and human desires mixed into one and the only thing she wanted was to be filled, to be claimed, taken in every way she could and could not imagine.

  His hands pushed her hair aside to reveal her throat. She gasped when he pressed his face against her flushed skin and muttered incomprehensible words.

  Sweat dripped down from his chiseled body and bloomed when they fell on her and she clenched him tight, hugging him closer as he filled her. Her legs wrapped behind him as he moved and she matched him stroke for stroke.

  Snow swirled around them and it seemed the trees did too. The sharp sliver of the moon dangled in the sky overhead and Remy found herself pushed to breathtaking heights that left her dizzy and gasping.

  The thrusts turned harder and quickened their pace. Remy took it all in, welcoming every push and savoring every tug. She closed her eyes, rising higher, higher, still higher until suddenly she was pushed over the edge of the knife that she stood on.

  Her world turned to an explosion of pleasure and giddiness as she arched up to meet him, to let him inside—truly inside. She grew languid in his grasp, succumbing to his desire, and crying in pleasure as he hugged her close.

  Then she felt it. Scorching spurts that filled her deeply—seeding her with every pulse—and turned her insides molten with his passion as her wolf howled.

  Their lips locked together once more and Remy heard her own wolf growl in pleasure. A single word echoed in her mind but two voices breathed life to it.

  Mine.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sun rose and woke Blake with its golden rays. Remy was asleep in the crook of his arm, her body curled close to him beneath the massive fur pelt that covered them. After their first ride, they rushed through the snow to a nearby grove where his pack kept the hides of their prey: trophies that they carried with them since the days of old when the pack came from the forests of Siberia thousands of years ago on the heel of mammoths. He showed each one to her and she listened in rapt attention as he explained where each had come from.

  This one, a great buck in the Yukon. He blinded Emma in one eye before we took her down. And Remy’s eyes widened at the vast expanse of tanned leather and thick furs. When he showed her the youngest fawn that the pack brought down for sacrifice to the moon years ago, tears welled in her eyes where reverence might be found in a fellow hunter for the soft unbroken skin.

  Her soul was not wild. She was collared. A slave through and through.

  Yet…

  When they fell into each other again in the presence of the trophies and pelts, she became wild in her own way. She nipped at his neck in her passion and for a moment he thought she might break the skin. The thought that she would draw blood—his blood—as she rode him dry made him tremble and shake in anticipation.

  It was everything he wanted. But for the good of his pack, he knew he could not give it to her so he pulled her into a kiss. Not yet. Not yet. He had to remind his own wolf. There were still many things she knew nothing of, things that her collared mind could not—would not—accept.

  The closer they came near the rest of the pack, the more hesitant Blake Christensen became. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all a few moons ago. He was an Alpha—their Alpha. He fought Yaroslav the Old for the right to the pack in the endless expanse of the Alaskan tundra. He forced the hot-headed Jason to bow to him by the belching fires of the Yukon Mountains, with bone and sinew crunching between his powerful jaw and thick red blood flowing hot in his mouth.

  He risked losing it all should they see a mark on his neck from Remy. But more importantly he risked losing her. In the Old Ways, an Alpha’s mate was an Alpha as well. Should an upstart Beta wish to take control of the pack, he or she can fight any Alpha of their choosing.

  Before he met Remy, he always assumed that his Alpha would be someone strong and powerful like he was. For the longest time he thought it was Emma but when her touch incited nothing in him, he was forced to concede that it would be someone else.

  A collared wolf. He thought silently. Was this some divine punishment?

  The sunlight pierced the grove, spilling gold in Remy’s wavy hair, and Blake’s heart stopped. She was beautiful, more beautiful than anything else he has seen.

  To some, she might seem too fat, her eyes too far apart, or her teeth too rounded and dull. But he saw none of that. He saw the spirit of her wolf buried deep within; he felt her wild nature fighting against the restraints she put around her own mind. A few times in their lovemaking, that wildness came out fighting and even threatened to overtake him. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  She was his mate and an Alph
a by right.

  Her eyes opened and his heart skipped at their deep mossy green. Clear as water and shimmering mysteriously as if she knew some great secret that goaded him to guess. How could he ever be away from her? He smiled at her and bent to kiss her forehead.

  “Morning.” She stretched into him and raw desire snaked through his veins.

  No words could express his feelings for her so he continued grinning at her like some poor lovesick pup.

  She reached up and traced a single finger to his neck. The trail pulsed hot and delicious in the cold morning air. The impish smile on her face had him stirring. “Did I do that?” she asked.

  The heat seared at him and he reached for his neck. His hand reached up and touched the tender raw flesh. Panic flared through his eyes and he pulled back. She almost marked me…