My mouth settled in a frown. I supposed I had to take his word for it, much as the thought disappointed me. “Wait—if I have Kara’s blood, does that mean…” I began, realizing that the question I was about to ask was pretty close to insane.
Just then, Kara walked into the room, a smile on her face. “It doesn’t quite make you a Valkyrie, if that’s what you were about to ask,” she said. “It does bring you a step closer, but I don’t think that’s what you should focus on right now.” She glanced over at Tristan as if to ask if he or I needed anything. He smiled at her and shook his head, and she turned to leave.
“Kara,” I said weakly.
“Hmm?” she replied, turning to look at me.
“Thank you for what you did. It seems that everyone’s saving my ass these days.”
“You’re welcome. I…I know I can’t replace the sister you lost. But I thought you might like to have a thousand new ones.”
“New ones?”
“The Sisterhood of the Valkyrie,” she said. “You’re one of our blood now.”
With a quick smile, she left.
“She knows?” I asked Tristan. “About Grace?”
“I’m afraid everyone knows, after what Jack did,” he replied. “Word’s gotten out that it was your step-father who assaulted you.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over now. I think it’s really over.”
I tried to climb out of bed, but Tristan stopped me, laying a firm hand on my shoulder. “Not yet,” he said. “You’ll need a few days to recover.”
“How long was I out?” I asked.
“Opening night was two days ago,” he said. “You’ve been in this bed since I found you and brought you here at intermission.”
“How did the play go?”
Tristan chuckled and shook his head, a look of disbelief widening his glorious eyes. “Really? You get attacked, nearly die, and you’re asking me how the play went? You really are dedicated to the theater, aren’t you?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Fine, then,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “It went very well. The critics loved your sets, by the way.”
“Well, there’s that, then,” I laughed.
He moved closer and slipped his arms around me, pulling my body close to his. It was the best feeling in the world.
Well, almost.
I could only hope that the best was yet to come.
“We never had our special date,” I told him, remembering his promise. “Never had our special night.”
“Soon,” he said. “Very soon.”
“You know, soon is a four-letter word I’m learning to hate,” I muttered into his shoulder.
He pulled away and looked into my eyes, then kissed me gently, a much-needed reminder of how good his lips felt on my own. “I’ve been waiting for you for over two-hundred years,” he said softly, “so you can imagine that I’ve learned patience. In two days, if you’re feeling all right, I promise you that we’ll have our special evening together. Candle-lit dinner and all.”
“You really, truly promise?”
“Promise. As long as you don’t go opening the door for any psychotic creatures who want to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry; I’m never opening a door again.”
“Good.”
He rose to his feet and walked over to the door. “Meanwhile, you should get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back in a little to check on you. Could I tell Marcus that he can come see you? He’s very worried.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d love that. Oh, and I have a favor to ask of you.”
“You want a job for your friend.”
I nodded. “Is it possible?”
“Consider it done. I’ll double his salary and make sure he has a nice corner office.”
“Thank you, Tristan.” He turned to leave but I stopped him again. “Wait!”
“Mmmm?” he said, spinning around.
“What happened to Jack?”
My lover grabbed the door frame and gripped it so hard that I thought he was going to tear it away from the wall. “Once we’d picked up the scent of the person who’d been to see you and left you for dead, Rourke trailed him and caught him,” he said. “He’s currently being held at my detention facility underneath Manhattan,” he said. “When you’re better, you can tell me what you’d like done to him.”
“I’d like to see your wolf tear him limb from limb, to be honest,” I said. “But I’m not as cruel as he is. So I’ll probably tell you to let him go. He can live a miserable life with my miserable mother.”
“He nearly killed you, Ariana. He doesn’t deserve a life.”
“He’s a shit-head, for sure,” I said. “But he wasn’t trying to kill me. He just wanted money.”
“Oh, so he’s just an extortionist, then.”
I smiled. “Whatever he is, as long as he’s out of my life, I don’t care,” I said. “As long as I have you, nothing else matters.”
“You have me,” he said. “Like I told you, I’m yours as long as our relationship doesn’t put you in danger.”
“Good.”
“Now sleep,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
Within two minutes, I’d done exactly as he suggested.
Chapter 29
Two nights later I found myself standing at an enormous window in Tristan’s penthouse at the top of Wolfe tower, wearing a red silk robe.
I hadn’t realized at first that this was where my lover had brought me after Jack’s attack. Now that I’d gotten to know the massive penthouse a little bit, I was growing to love it more and more. Looking out for me as usual, Tristan had forbidden me from walking around much, but I’d strolled enough to discover five bedrooms, a gym, a swimming pool, and the biggest living area I’d ever seen.
I was still regaining my balance and confidence. My body felt perfectly fine, but my head was still foggy at times, possibly from the transfusion of Valkyrie blood. It seemed that Kara’s power had overwhelmed me just a little, though not in a bad way. If anything, I felt better than I ever had in my life.
But definitely different.
Marcus had been by to see me a few times. He’d expressed his regret at not protecting me, but I’d assured him that no one could look after me all the time. I wasn’t a toddler. It wasn’t his job to protect me from an ass like Jack. That was my job, and I’d failed.
I’d also told him about Tristan’s job offer, which had resulted in one of the biggest hugs of my life.
Now, I simply stared out the window, happily awaiting Tristan. Tonight was to be our special date, our candlelight dinner, and whatever was to come afterwards. Tristan had spent the last two nights by my side, but he’d refused to take advantage of my slightly weakened state, even when I’d offered to share the bed.
But by now I was aching for him. For his lips, his touch. For everything I’d wanted for so long. The hunger was all but eating away at me, and if he pushed me away tonight I was slightly worried that I might tear his clothes off anyhow.
I stared out at the night sky, relishing the way the clouds passed over the full moon, and basked in my happiness. For once, everything was perfect. Truly perfect.
The door opened after a minute, and I turned to see Tristan wheeling in a cart with a capped silver tray on top, two champagne flutes by its sides. So, the toast we’d never gotten to make in Colorado was finally going to be ours. This was a night to celebrate.
Tristan left the cart by the foot of the bed and walked over to peer outside with me.
“Want to eat?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“The moon is so beautiful tonight,” I said softly, my eyes exploring its glowing contours.
“It is,” he replied. “It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful, though.”
He backed away when I turned to look at him, those piercing, seductive eyes of his focused on mine as they had been so many times. I could feel his hunger hanging
in the air between us, intermingling with my own. An electricity that I could all but taste emanating from us both.
I took an eager step towards him, but he shook his head.
“Don’t you dare say no to me, Tristan Wolfe,” I scolded.
“I won’t. I wouldn’t be so stupid as to turn you down.”
“Yes, you would.” But I stood patiently and watched as he dropped his chin, crossed his wrists over his stomach, and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt. Slowly, he pulled the garment up over his torso, revealing for the first time everything that lay beneath.
My heart stopped when I saw what he’d been hiding from me.
Yet another of Tristan’s secrets was unraveling before my eyes.
The scars stared back at me like vicious pieces of a puzzle I was still far from solving. The evidence of a secret life that he’d once led, of stories he hadn’t yet shared with me. Of an era of cruelty, drawn on his chest like the scrawled handwriting of a historian.
I was seeing the road map that was Tristan Wolfe for the first time, and it frightened me.
He looked into my eyes, no doubt assessing my reaction. The sadness, the pity, the pain in my face. But still, he turned his back to me slowly, wanting, no doubt, to show me everything.
The angry red slashes that criss-crossed his muscular torso were multiplied on the ridged muscles along his back, in an inhumanly cruel trellis pattern. I knew without asking that the scars weren’t from an animal’s claws, but from the weapons of men.
“Those are lash marks,” I said, my voice catching hard in my chest. “From a whip?”
He nodded. “Yes. From long ago.”
“But why…” I began, but he turned around and put his hand up to stop me.
“Not now, Ariana. Come with me to bed,” he said. “Tonight, I don’t want to talk about the pain of the past. I only want to experience a little heaven, and think about the future.”
I forced my eyes to shift from his torso to his face. To those gorgeous, ethereal eyes that had seduced me so many times in my mind, and exposed my soul.
He reached a hand out and I took it, slipping over to the bed with him. He spun me around and pushed me backwards playfully so that I landed on the mattress. He tore the robe open, only to groan when he discovered that I was entirely naked underneath.
Falling to his knees, he slipped his tongue between my breasts, kissing his way up to my collar bone. Easing down again, he drew my left nipple into his mouth, lashing its tip with his magnificent tongue. I buried my fingers in his thick hair, pulling my thighs apart to welcome him between them. Without missing a beat, he pushed himself to his feet, reached down and undid his jeans, dropping them to the floor.
He pulled himself over me again, his lips meeting mine briefly before trailing their way down my body, stopping only when they’d reached the spot between my legs. He nudged me once with the tip of his nose, moaning with coarse pleasure as he took in my scent.
“This was so worth waiting for,” he growled. His lips explored my sex for a moment, teasing, peppering me with erotic kisses. He sucked gently on my clit, then dipped his tongue inside me as my hips rolled forward to greet his mouth.
“I’ve wanted you so much,” I moaned. My core was frantic for him, a deep agony penetrating me, begging for his length. The closer we were to ecstasy, the more I needed him. “I need you now. Please, Tristan…”
He slipped his torso over mine and looked down at me, his eyes going icy bright with lust. “Who am I to say no to a request like that?” he asked.
An instant later, I felt his cock head press into me, then the anguish of a violent thrust.
I cried out, tracing my fingers along the lines of his scars, the raised marks on his back guiding me to spots of smooth, unassaulted flesh. He drove inside me, deep, hard, and all I could think was that if the life he’d lived hadn’t broken him, and if mine hadn’t broken me—then we could get through anything together.
He drew himself up and bent to kiss me hard, rolling his hips slowly, in, out, in, out. Each time he pulled away, his cock eased clear of my opening, ramming itself back in, renewing my pleasure as though for the first time.
He kissed my neck, my breasts, his thumb finding my clit and stroking me in tight circles. So much was happening to my body at once that I worried that I might explode. Yet somehow, I stayed whole. I slammed my eyes shut, reveling in the sensation of him. The perfection of his broken, sensual body.
It was a body that had been through wars. A body that had been lashed with cruelty and malice. A body that was so strong that it had survived centuries of conflict and come out powerful enough to rule Manhattan, and maybe even the world.
A body that was mine to care for now. And care for it I would.
“Tristan,” I moaned as he buried himself deep again. “I don’t think I can hold back…”
“Don’t,” he growled, pushing himself up to stare into my eyes. “Never hold back with me.”
I let the rush sweep over me, my body taking hold of his in a series of convulsions that made me feel so out of control that I wanted to laugh with pure, unrelenting joy.
He drove himself faster now, wanting to meet my ecstasy with his own. My thighs grabbed hold of his hips as he rammed his thick shaft deep, letting out moans that sounded more like the snarl of an animal than of a man. Then I felt the rush of heat meet my insides.
My channel tightened hard, taking full possession of him. My arms drew my lover to me, never wanting to release him again.
Tears streamed down my temples into my hair, the emotional anguish of it all too powerful to hold back.
I knew in that moment that I loved Tristan.
I loved him, and it terrified me. Yet it was the best feeling on earth.
Epilogue
Several hours later, I found myself staring out over the flat summits of skyscrapers once again. Now the full moon had risen high in the cloudless sky, so bright that New York City seemed to pale in comparison.
The silk robe was draped loosely around my body. As Tristan slept in the bed behind me, I stood still as a statue, mesmerized by the perfection of the glowing orb in the sky, and by the bliss that I felt at the start of my new life.
I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. My world had changed so much in the last week. Everything had moved at light speed, my emotions dragging along as fast as they could, adapting and evolving at every turn. I felt as though a bandage had been ripped away from my flesh only to reveal the rawness beneath. My heart was exposed, but it was healing, too.
I was about to turn away, to look back towards my lover, when a massive shadow passed over the moon. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or if I really saw a flying beast with wings the size of two mountains, so I looked again.
No, I thought. It couldn’t have been what you think you saw.
It had to have been a raven, or even a bat. Some sort of optical illusion that made a small flying creature look huge. But whatever it was, it had sent a cold, penetrating shiver down my spine.
The feeling that all was not going to be well after all.
I stepped backwards quickly, my eyes still fixed on the world outside. And then I saw that ominous black shape again, highlighted against the night.
Now I knew that it hadn’t been my imagination.
The monster was coming at me fast, growing with each beat of its massive wings. Two eyes pierced the dark of night, each fixed on my own. Two light blue, glowing irises, locked in the midst of a pattern of dark scale, exquisitely iridescent in the moonlight, but menacing, foreboding.
The creature was driving through the air towards me like a missile set to shatter the world.
But at the last second, he swerved away from the building, his body flipping sideways to negotiate the curve.
I wasn’t sure how or why, but somehow I knew that I’d just met Tristan’s brother.
I’d stared into the eyes of the man known as Krane for the first time.
But it wouldn’t
be the last.
Wolf’s Secret
Alpha’s Hunger, Book Two
Introduction
I’m pretty sure I realized the first time I laid eyes on Tristan Wolfe that I loved him. I knew in that moment that there was something hidden deep within him—a power that few had ever possessed.
Tristan is my lover.
He’s my everything.
But he’s still a mystery, even to me. A perfect, sexy, handsome mystery who turns me on more than anyone I’ve ever known.
When I’m around him, I’m happy. I feel like my life makes sense for the first time in a long time.
I can’t say if this perfect, blissful existence of ours is real or an illusion.
I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.
Because the fact is, Tristan still has secrets.
Then again…
So do I.
Chapter 1
“You’ve got to tell him,” Marcus said, a note of stark reprimand shading his voice.
He and I were sitting on the couch in the living room of our shared apartment, just as we’d done a thousand times. The TV was blaring some reality show about amateur bakers creating monstrosities that looked more like melted gray sausages than delicious cakes.
The show should have been funny. Normally my housemate and I would have been on the floor, howling with laughter at the competitors’ epic fails. But right now, I was too busy swallowing guilt and tension to find anything—even semi-liquid baked goods—particularly amusing.
“Come on, Marcus,” I moaned. “You’re well enough acquainted with Tristan by now to know that if I tell him I saw Krane, all hell will break loose,” I replied. “It could set off a shifter war in Manhattan.”
“So you’re just going to keep it to yourself, then? You’re going to go about your business like nothing’s happened? You do realize that Krane probably wants to kill you both, right? He’s not exactly Mr. Friendly.” Marcus dug his fingers into the couch, his knuckles turning bone-white. “He hurts people for shits and giggles.”
Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 17