Wanted by the Alpha

by Laxmi Hariharan

  His lips, those sensuous lips, tighten. A pulse ticks to life at his temple, and his cheeks flush, as he looks down at me from his superior height.

  I should feel emboldened that I am having an effect on him, the most powerful alpha in all the land, but all I feel is a writhing need to challenge. To ask. To submit to his every demand. And that confuses me.

  I am an omega but am not a submissive; the warring of the two sides of my personality is a fact of life for me. One that has made me an anomaly in this world where genetic mutation has divided the human race into three sub-species. The same mutation equipped the alphas with the ability to knot the omegas in order to increase the chances of breeding. Nature's way of trying to compensate for a rapidly declining world population.

  That I am omega was established by the heat cycles that puberty brought on. I’d managed to hide myself away during the worst of them.

  Heat suppressants were outlawed in an agreement between the alphas of the most powerful countries in the world. Even black market supplies of the precious chemicals had been tracked down and burned.

  I should have felt more bitter about it, except that I have never felt even the remotest interest to lay with any alpha. So far. Not until this monster.

  I need him, yet I want to fight him.

  I must show him he can’t just take. Not without paying a price first. Not without begging, pleading, making me scream. The images in my head are so vivid that my knees quake, and I push my boot-clad feet into the dirt for purchase.

  He angles his head and peels back his lips. I am sure he can see every single emotion, every nuance of feeling that trembles over me right now.

  There is so much cruelty in his look… so much lust… so much everything.

  The hair on the nape of my neck rises.

  Every single emotion that I have fought against my entire life, denied myself, all of it drips from his gaze.

  I can’t look away.

  It's as if I am watching everything unfold in front of me from a distance.

  I clench my fingers, my muscles strain, and I try once more to move. It only sends another pulse of pain through me. It is as if simply being in this particular alpha’s presence is weighing me down, making me feel like I am already in his control.

  How is that possible?

  The General takes a step forward, and his scent slams into me. Earthy, woodsy, and liberally laced with pheromones.

  My belly clenches. My womb spasms. Slick pools between my legs and slides down my inner thighs.

  Setting my jaw, I square my shoulders, only for another burst of pain to radiate out from my center.

  I arch my back, thrust my breasts out at the keening need that grips me.

  I wrap my arms around my waist and cannot stop the groan that ripples up my throat. Even to my own ears it feels more like an invitation, a call to the alpha to do what he was born to do to an omega. To mate me, knot me, and make that pain inside me go away.

  To fill that emptiness that is once again writhing, gnawing, and tearing at me; growing inside me with every passing millisecond until it feels like I am just one big mass of yearning that will not stop. Not until he slams into me, and no, no, no! This can’t be happening.

  I’d starved myself of food for days to make sure my libido was at an all-time low; I'd also calculated the time of the month to make sure I was between heat cycles… I hadn't counted on the proximity to this particular alpha sending me straight into one.

  My head spins with the overload of endorphins that my overwrought nervous system is dumping into my blood. All brought on by his presence. Him. He’s the reason why my body is responding with such primal need. The omega in me recognizes him. Only him.

  My pulse thuds in my head; my vision blurs.

  Pain cramps my womb, and I double over.

  Over the years, the shortage of omegas has led to alphas exploiting them, taking them at will. As he no doubt intends to overpower me now.

  I will not let him do that. I straighten in time to see the General stalk toward me. His masculine presence tugs at my nerves, pushes down on my skin, sinks into my blood and makes my head spin.

  Heat sweeps over my skin and heads to my lower belly. My core weeps.

  All my life I have tried to hide what I am. An omega. The receiver, the nurturer whose insides are starved of an alpha’s touch, who has been deprived of the sensory stimulation that only comes from an alpha’s rut. Now, his scent, that concentrated testosterone, sinks into my blood, forcing a reaction.

  My womb cramps, and a fresh burst of slick gushes down between my legs to wet my pants. I don’t dare look down, don’t dare acknowledge the liquid pooling under me.

  I should be mortified, ashamed at my public display of what I am… an omega meant to be mated and bred, who cannot physically hold back her reaction, not in the presence of this prime male specimen, and yet the survivor in me says I need to fight. Fight! My shoulders shudder, and I straighten my spine.

  The General growls.

  It’s a long, drawn-out purr that seems to emerge from the very depths of his masculine body.

  The hair on my neck stands on end.

  Liquid need radiates out from my womb, bleeds through my skin, and flares up in the surrounding air.

  The General slams his fist to his chest, "Leave us." He roars. The aggression comes off him in waves, surrounding me, cocooning me as if he's trying to shield me from the sight of his own men. My knees threaten to give out from under me.

  Around me I hear murmurs, footsteps sound, then fade away.

  The doorway to the warehouse slams shut.

  "You scared?" His voice murmurs through the space.

  I shiver, I don't speak, I don’t need to speak. The scent of my fear is so strong I am sure he can smell it. "What do you think?" I intended to snarl at him, but the words come out a groan. I try to stagger away from him, trying to put space between me and that lethal, coiled, powerful male only for my feet to tangle in the carpet. I go sprawling on my back and stay there.

  "Get up." He snarls.

  I blink, then slap my palms onto the carpet for leverage and stagger back to standing. Thrusting my chin forward I meet his gaze. Those startling blue eyes burn into me. Concentric circles of aquamarine, teal and a wild blue, draw me in, and make me want to lose myself in them.

  "Kayden sent you to kill me."

  It's not a question, but a statement. And not one that demands a response.

  My chin quivers and I ball my fists at my side.

  His jaw firms. "I should kill you right here, Omega, for daring to burst into my stronghold and trying to assassinate me."

  "But you won't." Yeah, that would be too merciful of him. He's a monster and I don't expect any pity from him. But every alpha has an ego. And this predator has more ego than anyone else I have ever met. Perhaps I need to appeal to that.

  He tilts his head. "Feisty, aren't you?" His voice is soft, almost casual.

  My stomach churns. Whatever he has in mind for me, it's not good.

  "You bet," I set my jaw.

  His gaze narrows.

  My stomach twists and not just with arousal. My heart hammers and a bead of sweat trickles down my spine.

  "You are a big powerful alpha; me, I am just a helpless omega." I flutter my eyelashes and fuck, I am overdoing this, but what the hell, I keep going. "Why don't we make this more exciting for you?"

  He cants his head.

  What do you know? He bought it. A flicker of hope sparks in my chest.

  Then, his lips widen in a smile, and it's so predatory that I almost lose my will to resist, almost. I straighten my spine.

  "I agree."

  "Huh?" I blink. Why am I having this conversation with him? Just delaying the inevitable, that's all, but what the hell, I have to try, have to.

  His nostrils flare, "Run. You have until I count to ten to get a head start."

  "What do you mean?" I swallow.

  "You are losing precious seconds."
>
  No, it can’t be. This is not exactly what I had in mind when I had suggested to make things more exciting. Not.

  "Nine."

  The alpha is toying with me? He's going to hunt me? My palms begin to sweat. It can mean only one thing. He wants to increase the anticipation of whatever is to come. There is only one ultimate conclusion to this game, and it's not going to be in my favor. I close my fists so tightly that my nails slice into my skin. The scent of copper leaks into the air.

  "On the other hand, perhaps you'd rather we conclude this farce right now?" His eyes gleam.

  The bastard no doubt thinks that I don't have a chance of outrunning him. It's that which makes me square my shoulders and thrust out my chest. I will not submit, not so easily.

  His gaze sweeps over my breasts, down to my core and he stares at the space between my legs. There's no mistaking the anticipation that laces his features.

  It makes me want to scratch that look of satisfaction off his face, to deny that my insides tremble in response. More moisture gathers between my legs. What is wrong with me? I am here to kill him. Not to mate him. Not. To. Mate. Him.

  I turn and race to the exit of the warehouse and throw myself against the doors.

  To find out what happens next get TAKEN BY THE ALPHA, Knotted Omega Series #1, here

  "One heck of a primal read, this alpha is a sex god." - USA Today Bestselling author, Lee Savino

  Hang on there’s more!

  Love bad boy alpha-holes? Look no further...

  The sexy Dark Fae of the FAE CORPS, are the heroes of the Fae’s Claim series.

  "★★★★★Reading this book is like burning in flames of passion, lust, and danger. A turbulent race to an explosive climax." Amazon Top 250 bestselling author Skye Jones

  Read an excerpt from Dante and Gia’s story

  Gia

  “Incoming heat missile.” The bartender stares past me.

  I turn, and he clicks his tongue. “Don’t be that obvious.”

  Right. I bite the inside of my cheek, then straighten to peek in the mirror above him.

  A group of men talking, two women conversing at the far end. Everything seems normal. Exactly why I’d chosen this watering hole at the edge of Red Square in Moscow.

  Then, one of the women points to the entrance of the bar.

  I follow her gaze.

  The figure of a man fills the doorway. He’s tall enough for his head to graze the top of the frame.

  The hair on the nape of my neck rises.

  Sunlight pours over him, and his features are in shadow. Yet there’s no mistaking the sense of danger that radiates from him.

  The bartender lowers his voice. “Good luck.”

  I grip the bottle of water, the skin over my knuckles stretching tight. “What do you mean?” I swig from the liquid, wishing it were something stronger. But I can’t afford that, not when I have to return to duty with the Bureau of Shifters later today.

  “Alpha-hole headed your way.” He chuckles.

  “Wait. What?” Every instinct in me snaps to attention.

  He jerks his chin in the direction over my shoulder, then moves away.

  Don’t look, not now. I hold my breath. Then heat slams into my back. It’s as if a furnace has been switched on behind me.

  My mouth goes dry.

  The scent of the first rain on parched earth teases my nostrils. My blood thumps.

  I raise the bottle of water to my lips again, when arms cage me in on either side.

  I peer out of the corner of my eye and see a corded forearm peppered with dark hair.

  Muscles flex under the tanned skin and flow down to meet long, tapered fingers.

  Hands that could trail over my skin, grasp my curves, squeeze my flesh, and massage them and… Heat flares in that secret place between my legs. I clench my thighs.

  A flutter of lust licks my belly.

  I lower the bottle. My fingers tremble, and my palms go slick with sweat.

  I swivel around on the barstool and stare at the widest pair of shoulders I have ever seen. The man is massive; his big body blocks out the sight of the rest of the bar.

  He doesn’t move. Just stays, hunched over me. He’s all around me.

  His perfectly sculpted pecs are accentuated by a plain white T-shirt that clings lovingly to every single muscle. Dog tags nestle between those hard planes, and his nipples are outlined against the fabric.

  My mouth goes dry.

  I want to lean in and lick the valley between those chiseled planes, then drag my tongue over his skin, across to that nipple and bite it.

  I swallow and raise my eyes.

  The tendons of his beautiful throat flex as I move my gaze up to his square jaw. There's a shadow of a dent in the center of his chin. My fingers twitch. I want to reach up and trace the furrow.

  One side of lips turns up in a smirk.

  Bet he knew exactly what I was thinking just then.

  A shiver runs down my spine and my nerve endings stretch with anticipation. He won't be gentle, this man. He'll take without regret, and... I want him to do just that. I want to nip on his pouty lower lip, then swipe my tongue over his cruel mouth… A mouth made for snarling, for sucking… for taking… Heat sweeps my skin.

  I tilt my head back, and farther back, forcing my gaze to climb over that hooked nose to the furrow between those hooded eyebrows and… I gulp. Blue eyes blaze at me.

  They are turquoise and sea blue with a hint of green, and there are amber flecks that ebb and flow in them. It’s as if there’s a fire that’s lit inside, one which is reflected in those irises. Yet his pupils are so dark. Empty. Cold. So cold. A shiver ripples down my spine and… whoa! Is it possible for one pair of eyes to have so many conflicting emotions?

  This man could rip me apart and not care. He would own me, possess me, make me scream with pain, he’d bring me so much pleasure. Damn!

  My thighs clench. My fingers tremble, and the bottle of water slips from my grasp.

  I keep waiting for the crash of the bottle hitting the floor, except this gorgeous, otherworldly, heat-inducing, moisture-drawing, perfectly beautiful hunk of a guy swoops down and catches it.

  His muscles uncoil as he straightens. Every move of his seems to be etched in sheer poetry. I try to move, and it’s as if my body is weighed down.

  He raises the bottle and holds it right in front of my nose. “Yours?”

  “Mine.” I force the word out through a throat that feels it’s lined with shredded glass. Does he realize that I am staking my claim on him already with that word? “Impressive catch.” I jut out my chin.

  “I know.” His voice is low and husky and tugs at my nerve endings.

  There’s no mistaking the innuendo in his tone. He’s so damn self-assured, so confident of the impact of his nearness on me. It should annoy me, but the truth is that his arrogance is a turn-on. Sheer charisma oozes from his every pore, threatening to overpower me with the dominance of his personality.

  My belly flutters. Heat flushes my cheeks. I reach out and grab the bottle from him.

  One side of his lips quirk.

  A kind of know-it-all, I-know-the-effect-I-am-having-on-you kind of smirk. The kind of smile that does not quite reach his eyes. The kind that promises that lurking just under the surface is a male who will take without permission.

  It’s bad and oh so good.

  Every part of my body seems to wake up and scream for attention. For his attention. His very careful ministrations on every inch of my skin, my body, my soul.

  Someone opens the bar door at the front. A breeze sweeps in and flows over me, bringing with it more of that fresh rain scent. It's laced with a hint of something dark. Forbidden. Out of bounds. My heart stutters.

  He tilts his head. His hair is cut close to his scalp. The strands rise, spiky in the front.

  I have a sudden image of my thighs framing his face as he dips his head between my legs.

  My belly tightens. My pussy is instantly wet
.

  “You are not human,” I state the obvious.

  He’s too well built for us to belong to the same species.

  He could be a shifter… except for the way he moves, it’s too smooth, too fluid, not like their more deliberate gait.

  “What are you?” A ripple of apprehension slithers down my spine. And yet I can’t stop staring. Can’t take my gaze off that perfect face.

  “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” he purrs.

  Goosebumps flare on my skin. I gulp. I’ve never had such an intense reaction to a complete stranger, not like this.

  “You okay?” He peels his lips back.

  It’s not a smile but a declaration of intent. A promise to take without mercy. Anticipation tightens my skin. My scalp tingles.

  No. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I tilt the bottle to my lips and take a sip before lowering it.

  Perfect white teeth flash at me, setting off that honeyed tan of his skin. That, combined with the lines that stretch from the corners of his eyes, tells me he spends a lot of time outdoors.

  The man reaches out with his finger and touches the corner of my lips. “You left some behind.”

  Heat flickers out from that whisper of a touch, down to my core, and I stiffen. Every muscle in my body tenses.

  The man brings his finger to his lip and sucks on it.

  The sight of those gorgeous lips closing around his digit sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. My belly quivers. My heart stutters. More moisture slicks my core.

  What the bloody hell?

  Who is this man? And why am I reacting like he is the last male I’ll ever see? Probably because it is true? Because I am about to embark on the most dangerous part of my mission, and I don’t want to die a virgin? Because I want to know how it is to be taken, possessed… by him? No way am I letting that happen, not by a complete stranger.

  I sidle off the barstool, still holding the bottle in my hand, then duck under his arm. He lets me go and my breath comes out in a rush.

  Don't turn around. Don't look at him. I stumble up the corridor. When I reach the ladies' I lunge for the door and fling it open. I cross the floor of the restroom and lurch to a stop in front of the sink.