Alpha Bear Princes Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Again, she cried out. She seemed aroused but also like she couldn't believe he was doing what he was doing. Had no one ever kissed her here?

  He felt like an explorer, planting his flag. He wanted to loiter, show her exactly how she was supposed to be licked. But his mate was so sensitive, he feared she might come too soon. So he decided to tease her a bit.

  He licked the length of her crevice, and let his tongue keep going up--kissing over the scars on her stomach, detouring to suck her full breasts again, then trailing over her long neck to plunge back into her mouth. Her kiss was hungry, needy, and he satisfied it before heading back down.

  This time, he lapped her pussy in long, languorous circles. She moaned in pleasure, finally letting herself truly enjoy it, and his cock pulsed, growing even harder. He kissed her sensitive nub the same way he had kissed her lips--slow and full and deep.

  As he lingered there, pleasuring her, he felt her temperature rise, heard her moans pitching higher and higher.

  He was going to make her come, and he was going to make her come hard.

  He settled his mouth over her and sucked as he tongued her clit over and over and over. She immediately broke against him, bucking her hips so hard he nearly lost contact. But then her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, riding his mouth to secure her pleasure.

  Fuck, yes.

  He lapped and sucked until her spasms spread out and finally died away. Then he kissed her pussy one last time as he sat up.

  But he wasn't going to let her rest. He wanted her just like this--at her most sensitive, her most alive. He needed to feel his dick slip into her tight little pussy, and show her how the first orgasm he'd given her was only a taste of the real thing.

  He spread her still-trembling legs wide and hovered over her, but her eyes were still closed in bliss.

  "Look at me, Annika," he said.

  Her lashes fluttered open. Her eyes were cloudy with satisfaction, but she locked her gaze on his.

  As his cock brushed against her entrance, she sucked in a sharp breath. He pushed inside.

  She yelped in pleasure and opened even wider, wrapping her legs around his waist to let him settle into her deep.

  She felt incredible. Her pussy was slick from her orgasm and clutching him tight. He rocked against her, in and out, flexing his ass with each slow thrust to delve into her deeper.

  She moaned with every press of his hips. Her long fingers clamped onto his shoulders, holding on as he plunged into her.

  Best of all, she kept her eyes on his, and it felt like he could read every feeling lingering behind them: her strange mix of delicacy and strength, her pain and her desire, her intense need ... for him. In this moment at least, she needed him. Emotion flooded his heart.

  She was his.

  He understood that more fully with every passing second, with every thrust that brought their bodies closer together. He felt like he couldn't hold her close enough, couldn't stretch himself wide enough to cocoon her. He'd never felt anything like this--the simultaneous need to satisfy her and protect her all at once.

  All he knew was the feel of her, and the fierce desire to make sure no one harmed her ever again.

  She was tightening around him and crying out, and his own sensation was building so fast he wasn't sure how much longer he could last. He plunged into her deep, coaxing her past her breaking point.

  In that moment she came undone for him again, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him tight to her body as she convulsed over and over. Her rippling tightness sent him over the edge, and he gripped her close in response as his own orgasm overtook him. It was so hard and so intense he nearly lost all his strength, nearly collapsed on top of her.

  He rolled so he wouldn't crush her, holding her tight in his arms, the two of them panting as they calmed. The weight of her against him was delectable, perfect. He loved the whisper of her hair on his skin, loved the warmth of her breath against his chest, loved the smell of her still thick in his beard. He could feel the flutter of her heart through his palms as they clutched her back.

  He peppered kisses into her hair. "Annika," he said. "My Annika."

  She sighed and nestled into his chest. It was the best feeling in the world.

  They lay together like that for a moment before she slid off of him, taking away her delicious warmth. It was everything he could do not to hold her there, stop her. But it wasn't what she wanted, and so he let her get up.

  She stood and stretched and stared at the stream as it meandered gently by. She breathed deeply, seeming to draw in the scent of the air in order to savor it, capture it in her lungs. Was she trying to memorize this place and this moment the same way he was? He didn't want to forget anything about their first time together either.

  She turned to him. "Thank you," she said.

  "You don't need to thank me," he said. "It's me who--"

  "Forget me," she said. "You have to forget me."

  "What?" he asked. Had he heard her correctly?

  "Please don't follow me or try to find me again. I can't be yours. I can never, ever be yours."

  He sat up. "Annika, what are you saying?"

  But before the last word had left his lips, she was transforming in front of him. Her bear glanced at him one last time, then shot through the woods.

  Max scrambled up and shifted, racing to catch her, but he'd been right about her speed. She'd been lagging so he could keep up before. Now she was running full-out, and even at his fastest, she soon became a white blur that disappeared through the trees.

  Chapter Six

  Annika

  It had been hard to say good-bye, and so Annika had done it quickly. She'd always been fast, so it wasn't hard to leave him behind, not physically. The emotional toll was different. It was as if every step she took away from him was taking her further and further away from herself, too--from the only happiness she'd ever known.

  And what did it mean to be a person if you weren't happy? It was a question she'd never dared to ask herself before, because real happiness simply hadn't been an option. She hadn't known what was possible. She didn't even know what it felt like. But now she did.

  Maxwell had shown her what it felt like to be loved, and she was scared that without it she might never be satisfied with anything in her life again.

  But what choice did she have? If her father discovered Maxwell was the true Emperor, he would kill him. If her father discovered he had bonded with her, it might be even worse. Her only option was to go.

  As she approached her pile of clothes, she could already hear the cell phone ringing--the one her father had given her strictly for this purpose--but she didn't have time to answer it now. She snatched the bundle of her belongings in her teeth, and took off running again. She couldn't be here when Maxwell caught up. How would she explain?

  She set off again through the woods, following the highway back to the little hotel she was staying at. Then she changed in the trees before rushing back to her room. The whole time, her phone screamed at her.

  The warning was dire. She had to hurry.

  "Sorry, Papa," she said, answering the cell the moment she shut the door behind her.

  "Did he bond?" her father asked. His voice grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. She could almost see his grotesquely scarred face through the phone.

  "No," she said, slipping out of her shoes and sitting on the stiff, cheap bed.

  "Then where have you been?"

  "He asked me to go for a run. I couldn't answer. But I'm alone again."

  "A run? Did you see his bear?"

  "Yes. And it's not him," Annika lied.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "I was bigger," she said. "By a lot. He was too small."

  She heard her father's breathing across the line. Her heart beat so hard it felt like he might be able to hear it. This was the moment. His reaction would decide her fate.

  "He could be a runt," her father said. "Maybe that's why they're stil
l hiding him."

  "Then why wouldn't they just ask him to abdicate?" she asked.

  "What do you know about it?" he snapped.

  She hated challenging him on anything. It always made him angry. The last time she'd challenged him--begging him not to drug her when she left the compound--she'd ended up with a black eye. That was nearly six months ago now--six months of meeting candidate after candidate and keeping her head down. But she couldn't stay quiet now. She couldn't let her father believe there was a chance Maxwell was the Emperor.

  "They need him to ascend or abdicate before his birthday, or the throne goes to you, right? So why would they--"

  "I don't need to explain my reasoning to you."

  "Sorry, Papa," she said. "He just didn't seem like the other brothers."

  "Quiet! It's not for you to decide," her father said. "It's for me to decide, and I think he's the one. The resemblance is too close. You're staying there until his birthday. Two weeks."

  "But, Papa! You said--"

  "I said you're staying. And that's final. Maybe he didn't bond, but he obviously had some sort of connection with you. Right now it's the best we've got."

  "We had an agreement. I did what you asked."

  "And you're going to continue to do what I ask unless you want to go straight back to the compound."

  "Papa, please."

  "Stop your pathetic begging, child. You're going to distract him until we know the ascension rights have passed, like Zara did with the fourth prince. Meanwhile, your brothers and I will look into some of the candidates we eliminated earlier just to be sure."

  "Please don't make me do this," she said again. "I'm not like Zara or Blanca. I can't--"

  "You will. You will do absolutely anything necessary to keep him happy and in one place because it's what I command. Do you understand?"

  There was no convincing him now, not with that tone. If he'd been anywhere near her, she would have been slashed already. Her heart sank.

  "Yes, Papa," she said.

  "He is not to be distracted by any other women. You are to keep him close at all times. He must be so taken with you that if his mate walked in the door, he wouldn't even see her. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, Papa," she said, but it was a lie.

  She knew what he meant, and it ripped her open inside. She felt her mind retreating back to her time in the woods with Maxwell. She felt herself trying to build a moat around the experience, to keep it clean and pure from her father's awful words. Because it had been clean, it had been beautiful. And no matter what he was insinuating she should do now, she refused to lose that.

  "If he wants you to cook for him, you'll do it. If he wants you to clean for him, you'll do it. If he wants you to lick the dirt off his boots, you will do it. You will satisfy his every need."

  In her mind, she dug a deep, wide ditch around Maxwell, one her father could never cross. She wouldn't do what he asked. She would never do what he asked. Even if it meant never touching Maxwell again.

  "And if you don't do a better job than your foolish sister did, you'll end up just like her."

  Dead.

  That's what he'd meant. Her sister Zara had protected Prince Elliott in her final moments, and their judgment had been swift and merciless. Her father was threatening to kill her, just like her brothers had killed Zara for her betrayal.

  It would be worth it. Dying would be easy compared to living under his roof.

  "Yes, Papa," she said, but she didn't mean it.

  "Good. I already sent Fritz. He should be there soon. You'll have to get Maxwell to shift again. The size isn't the only thing. It's the species too. And your judgment clearly can't be trusted."

  "Yes, Papa," she said again, her heart racing. Fritz was already on his way?

  There was a click on the line, then nothing. He'd hung up.

  Annika threw her things into her suitcase. She didn't have much, which was good. It wouldn't take her long. She had to warn Maxwell. She had to convince him to run.

  Then she had to run herself, and hope this time would be different than all the other times she'd tried.

  But before she had zippered her suitcase closed, there was a knock on her door. Her heart stopped. Was Fritz already here? Was she too late to save Maxwell?

  Chapter Seven

  Maxwell

  Max knocked on Annika's door, more nervous than he'd been when they'd thrown him in the pool with his hands tied behind his back in training. Thank Christ she'd mentioned where she was staying or he might have lost her for good, she was so damn fast. He only hoped she hadn't left already.

  The guy at the desk hadn't wanted to give her room number out, but Max had made it worth his while and he'd done it. Which really pissed him off now that he thought about it. Did the asshole give his mate's room number out to anyone with a hundred bucks in his pocket?

  He heard footsteps pad to the door, but it didn't open.

  "Annika?" he asked. "It's me. It's Max. Open up."

  The door flew open. "You can't be here," she said. "It's not safe. You have to go right now."

  "Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly on high alert. "Is someone trying to hurt you again?"

  She shook her head, but he could tell he was close to the truth.

  He lowered his voice. "Is someone holding you against your will?"

  Again, she shook her head. "No." But again, her eyes told him something wasn't right.

  "Open the door," he commanded.

  "I told you, I--"

  "I'm not leaving until I know you're safe."

  "I'm fine."

  "Open the door, Annika," he growled. "Or I will force it open."

  She opened the door with a huff and stepped back. Maxwell charged through. He opened the closets, looked under the bed.

  "What are you doing?" she asked. Her voice sounded irritated, which was good. If she was irritated, then he'd probably been wrong about somebody being in here. But he was sure as shit going to be certain.

  "I need to know you're okay," he said, pulling back the shower curtain.

  "I told you I was fine," she said. "There's no one here."

  "Then what's got you so scared?" he asked, turning on her.

  "You're in danger. You have to go. Please. Right now. You have to run as far as you can and never look back."

  "What are you saying?" he asked. "I'm not going anywhere, especially not without you."

  And especially not with the way she was looking at him. Something had her really scared.

  "You have to. There's no time to argue about it. You're in danger."

  "Tell me exactly what's going on, Annika. You're afraid of something, and there's no way in hell I'm leaving until I'm absolutely sure you're safe."

  Her eyes were pleading with him, but he didn't know whether she wanted to tell him the truth, or whether she wanted him to stop asking questions and just leave. It didn't matter. He wasn't going anywhere.

  "Please, Annika. Please let me help you."

  "You can't," she said, her voice breaking a little at the end. She slumped onto the edge of the bed. "No one can."

  Max stepped toward her. He knelt down and took her face in his hands. "You're wrong about that. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you again."

  She averted her eyes from his. "You don't know what you're saying," she said. "You can't know."

  "So tell me."

  "He's going to kill you," she said. "He's going to kill all of you, and maybe me too."

  "Who?"

  "My father," she said. "He knows who you are. And he has supporters. He's going to kill you and all your brothers."

  Maxwell furrowed his brow. "I don't have brothers," he said. "Not anymore."

  But the very word unlocked something deep inside him, something he'd buried for a long, long time: the memory of a playroom, of three other boys, all younger. It had been ages since he'd thought about it. He'd had brothers. Brothers who had died just like his mother.

&nb
sp; Only his mother had survived. Could it be possible they'd survived too? That she'd kept them but thrown him out? The realization cut deep.

  "You do," she said. "You have three, and they're in almost as much danger as you."

  He had so many questions. What did she know about his life? And where did her information come from when he hadn't even known about his mother's survival until this morning? But one question boiled to the top of all the others.

  "Why?" he asked, though in his heart, he already knew the answer to this one. "Why does your father want to kill me?"

  "Because you're the Emperor, Maxwell. And he wants your throne."

  Chapter Eight

  Annika

  Annika stared up into his eyes, her whole body trembling. He'd be gone after this--racing back to the palace to take his rightful place on the throne--but the truth was the only way she could protect him. It was the only way she could protect him and stop her father.

  "He's a bad man, Maxwell. He can't have more power. You have to go back to the palace right away."

  "Your father--is he the one who hurt you?" Max asked.

  She could only manage a nod.

  "And does he know you're here right now, telling me this?"

  "He knows I'm here, but he doesn't know I'm telling you. He would kill me too if he knew. He might anyway."

  "Get your things. We're leaving."

  "I can't just go with you," she said.

  "Yes, you can. We're leaving right now."

  "Your mother will never let me come to the palace, Max."

  "Palace? We're not going to the palace. I haven't been there since I was a kid. I'm taking you somewhere safe."

  "But you have to," she said. "You have to go back. It's the only way to stop him."

  "Annika, I'm sorry if it sounds cruel, but the palace isn't my priority. I have no interest in them and they've had no interest in me since my mother sent me away. My priority is you."

  "Max--" she protested.