Alpha's Desire Page 9

  “Jared,” she whimpers, fingers tearing at my hair.

  It won’t take long to make her come. If I were feeling more dommy, I’d make her suffer longer, but it seems I’m in a generous mood. I spread her wide and rim her asshole, making her shriek and shudder. I lick a long line back and forth between her anus and clit until she’s sobbing with need, her inner thighs trembling where they clamp around my ears.

  I affix my mouth over her clit and suck.

  She screams.

  I slide two fingers inside her and find her G-spot on her inner wall. “You may come,” I say softly and return my mouth to her clit.

  I never said she couldn’t, but it’s like she was waiting for my command. The second the words leave my mouth, she’s clamping down on my fingers. I suck her clit and stroke her G-spot until she finishes.

  Her body’s shaking, so I wrap her up in the bedspread and spoon her as she comes down from wherever she went orbiting. After a long moment, she says, “I’m starving.”

  I laugh. “Me too, baby. Should I go get us something? Or can I take you out? Anything you want. You name it.”

  “Street tacos? On Congress?”

  I get up, fully prepared to run the errand, but she gets up, too, pulling on her clothes. I can’t deny the small satisfaction of keeping her near me. Of taking her out and buying her food. Providing.

  You’re still the knight. I mean, you are to me.

  No matter what happens between me and Angelina, I’ll never forget those words. Not for as long as I live. Hearing that she sees me as a hero not a waste? It rearranged something inside me.

  I can’t do it now, because I’m still too full of Angelina, but I’m looking forward to reviewing that conversation. Dissecting it. There’s something important there—some clue about what’s been missing in my life. Angelina may have just brought it into focus.

  7

  Angelina

  The casting list for the faculty show is posted outside the auditorium. All the dance students are gathered there when I arrive, my six foot five shadow ambling behind me.

  He took me out to dinner and slept in my bed last night. He’s acting like my boyfriend, and it feels too good to tell him to quit.

  Even though I know it’s going to end.

  He knows it, too. He’s been quiet—not exactly brooding, but thoughtful. The line between his brows hasn’t gone away since dinner last night. I’m a coward, because I haven’t had the will to broach the subject of us.

  Somehow, I know that tonight he’ll be back to sleeping on the couch. And that thought causes an ache right behind my breastbone. Even worse is the thought that at the end of two weeks, he’ll leave.

  Even now he hangs back, giving me space. Gone are the teasing smirks of yesterday.

  I try to push the dilemma from my mind and check the cast list. One ballet dance. One modern. Rehearsals start tomorrow.

  I should be grateful. Some dancers nearby are trying not to cry. I note Talya got in the modern dance piece with me. Remy didn’t get into anything. She comes up behind me to check and I squeeze her hand.

  “Did I get dissed again?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Remy shrugs, but I know it bothers her. It’s one of the reasons I asked her to do the Eclipse thing. No—that’s not true. I asked her because I like her and I knew she’d be great. But I also feel like she could shine so much brighter than she does in school. If they would see past the fifteen pounds they told her to lose. Yep, she got the dreaded “fat letter.” The one I’m always on pins and needles about getting. It comes with a recommended visit to a campus nutritionist and certain number they want to see by a deadline. Or you’re out of the program.

  I’m not kidding.

  So yeah. I haven’t received one yet, but it’s always on my mind. This threat looming over me. It’s part of why I don’t think I fit here. Not that I haven’t achieved everything I’m supposed to want to achieve. But it’s like this is a life I don’t want to live anymore. It’s the one my mom wanted. The one my dad thought was practical.

  It was never my dream.

  I turn around and find Jared still hanging back, but watching me intently, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to decode. I sling my dance bag over my shoulder and walk up to him. Strains of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet drift out of a nearby classroom and I have the sudden giddy urge to dance up to him. But no. As much as I’m already loving having him beside me twenty-four hours a day, I should cut this short. Because seriously—if I get used to this, it will kill me when it’s over. I’ll probably be begging to have my memories wiped.

  I lay a hand on his chest, loving the way his belly dips at the contact. “I have classes again all day, big guy. You really don’t have to stay.”

  His throat works as he swallows, his eyes on my lips. “I do.” His voice is rough.

  “Jared.”

  His gaze lifts to my eyes.

  “You can trust me with your secret.”

  He draws in a sharp breath. “I know.” The words fly from his mouth, as if he hadn’t thought before speaking. “I know,” he repeats. His face closes. “I have orders…”

  “I’ll still be here at three when you pick me up. Nothing’s going to happen in the meantime.” I lift my pinkie. “Promise.”

  When the corners of his mouth lift in that familiar grin, my heart picks up speed. He hooks his pinkie in mine, then pulls it to his lips and kisses my fingers. “I’ll be waiting out front.”

  I nod, satisfied. Not because I mind him here, but because I know I need to cut him loose. This is too intense for both of us.

  Jared

  I heave a long section of chain link into place and wait as Trey secures it to the poles we already bolted to the cement floor. After I left Angelina at school, I wasted no time getting ready for the first fight. The fates know I’ve had enough down time hanging around with Angelina to make my plan.

  “Does Garrett know you’re not with her right now?” Trey asks, even though he knows the fucking answer.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Thought he told you to stick to her like glue.”

  “Yeah, he did. And I have. But I trust her. She’s not gonna tell. Besides, I have shit to do, or else we won’t be ready for this fight. Which is supposed to happen during the two weeks I’ve been shackled to her. You think Garrett wants me to bring her here for it?” My voice is laced with scorn and Trey tosses me a lopsided grin.

  “That would be a mistake.”

  “We both know it’s not about me babysitting her.”

  “Right,” Trey agrees. “It’s about you figuring out if she’s your mate or not.”

  Hearing it out loud does all kinds of scratchy things to my esophagus. Trey stops moving and looks over at me, trying to read my expression.

  “And?” he prompts when I don’t spill.

  “I don’t fucking know!” I shout.

  Trey shakes the chain link to make sure it’s secure, then hooks both hands thru the links and hangs on it. “I’m thinking you do.”

  I hurl the pair of wire cutters in my hand at his face, knowing he’ll dodge in time. The two of us have been best friends since childhood. We know each other inside and out. I glare at him, my heart slamming against my ribs.

  “I’m not gonna fucking wipe her.”

  Trey’s brows shoot up, which gives me pause. Does that mean he thinks Angelina’s my mate? Or he thinks I think so?

  I give my skull a hard shake, as if it will dislodge the looping thoughts in my head.

  Trey walks over and hangs on the fence beside me. I adopt the same pose, staring at a spot on the concrete floor.

  “I don’t have the urge to mark her,” I admit after a long moment of silence.

  This is the fact I’ve been trying to push to the back of my mind since last night. The torment. It should make everything easier, but it doesn’t. It only makes it worse.

  “I… claimed her last night. No serum on my teeth. No desire to bite.”

&n
bsp; “Huh.” Trey sounds surprised.

  I flip around to hang the other way on the fence, facing out.

  “Maybe it’s different with humans.” Trey sounds doubtful.

  “It’s not. Remember Garrett with Amber?”

  “Yeah.” Trey flips around, too. “Well, the moon was full then. Maybe that’s why he gave you two weeks. Moon’ll be full by then.”

  “Maybe.” I’m slightly relieved by Trey’s suggestion.

  But that means I must want Angelina to be my mate. Which is stupid, because I still can’t have her. I mean, I won’t. I don’t want to ruin her. But still, knowing she’s my mate would explain why I’m having such a hard time walking away. Cutting her loose and just wiping her.

  “You thought I was going to say she’s my mate?” I have to ask. I need to know what signs he saw, other than me being protective of her.

  Trey shrugs his shoulders, which makes him do a pull-up of sorts. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why. You’re acting crazy. Wrecking your bike. Defying our alpha.” He’s silent for a moment, and I keep quiet, too. He’s the problem-solver between us. I’m the brute force, he directs it. “Was anything different when you fu—claimed her?”

  I appreciate his word choice because I would have to beat him senseless for speaking disrespectfully about Angelina.

  I hesitate. Trey’s the only male in this world I would admit this to. “Yeah. It was different. The opposite of what I thought it would be, actually. I didn’t go agro on her at all. In fact, I was…” I give an embarrassed laugh and kick the chain link with my heel. “Fucking tender. It was the first time in my life I made love instead of fucked. Never thought I’d say that, either.”

  Trey’s silent but this time it kills me not interrupting his thoughts. I just hung myself out there, and it feels fucking exposed. “Maybe,” Trey says slowly, “Your wolf calms down around her. You’re more violent than most. If you got more amped up around her—a fragile human—you could kill her.”

  “I know.” I start doing backward pull-ups on the fence to work out the violence growing in me, fueled by frustration. “That’s why I don’t want her to be my mate. I could never claim her.”

  “You’re not listening. What if your wolf knows better? He calms your aggression when you’re around her. He’s keeping you in check, including the desire to rip her shoulder open to leave your scent.”

  “Then why did I try to break Fox’s neck for wiping her? I knew I was wrong doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Duh, dumbshit. The wolf always protects his mate.”

  I’m relieved at Trey’s goading me by calling me dumbshit. I’m on him in a second, getting a solid punch in before he dodges and kicks my ass. I tackle and take him to the ground, wrestling until I have his head in a chokehold.

  Trey slaps the floor and I release him. Both of us stand up grinning. “Asshole,” he mutters without any rancor.

  “So how do I figure out for sure?”

  Trey clomps around to setup the last section of fence to make the cage. “Wait until the full moon.”

  “And if I still don’t want to mark her?”

  Trey slaps the fencing in place. “Dude. Don’t be an idiot.”

  “What?”

  “You already want to mark her. And you’ve already made some decision about why you can’t. Why don’t you just let that decision go? Just until the deadline. Things might become clear.”

  “I hate you.”

  It’s a mark of our friendship that Trey’s face lights up with a surprised grin and not hurt. “Why?”

  “Smart fucking asshole.”

  He looks far too pleased with himself as he hooks the fencing to the pole. “You gonna help me here, or do I have to put you in this ring and show you a thing or two about fighting?”

  I laugh, because we both know I’ll win every fight I enter in that cage. “I’m helping, I’m helping.”

  For the first time since I claimed Angelina last night, the heaviness lifts from my chest.

  I have two weeks. No need to come to any conclusions until then.

  Angelina

  Jared’s waiting for me outside the dance building and I can’t deny the pleasure that blooms in my chest at seeing him waiting for me. I remember in high school the popular, more socially well-rounded girls—girls who didn’t have ballet five nights a week—got picked up by older boyfriends from school. It seemed so exciting and romantic. Something I’d never have.

  In college I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve even had a couple hookups, but never the formal dating. I haven’t had the guy who wants to drive and take me out to dinner and pay. I didn’t even know I wanted that.

  Turns out I find it pretty hot.

  Or maybe it’s just because it’s Jared.

  I’ve changed into my shorts and he gives me that look when I get in the car—the one that says he’d like to eat me alive.

  Instantly, my whole body lights up, as if my very cells are vibrating and heating just being close to him. The memory of sex last night—the best sex of my life—almost makes me blush.

  “How’d it go, baby?”

  I shrug. I definitely don’t want to talk about school right now. Or anything real life. I’d rather know everything there is to know about werewolves. Too bad he won’t tell me.

  He rocks his large hand over the steering wheel. “I always love watching you dance, angel. From the first time you got up on those boxes at the club I was hooked on you.”

  Now I do blush. Because it’s Jared. Admitting he’s had a thing for me.

  “And I loved watching you yesterday in that ballet class.”

  I sense a but coming, and I stiffen, as if he’s my mother getting ready to offer constructive criticism.

  Like usual, he’s too damn in tune with me. He glances over, a startled wrinkle between his brow.

  “Is there a but?” I ask. Might as well make it easy for him.

  The way he turns his focus back to the road and rolls his grip on the steering wheel tells me I’m right.

  What could it be? I’m not as skinny as the rest of the bunheads? Too uptight?

  “There was no joy. When I see you dance at the club, you’re alive. Shining. What I saw yesterday? Made me want to throat punch your professor for sucking the life out of you.”

  The sound that comes out of my mouth is a half-laugh, half-sob. How is it possible that in five minutes Jared saw what my mom couldn’t see in eighteen years? What I couldn’t bring myself to admit out loud for the past four? What my dad would never even understand?

  He pulls up in front of my house and reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No.” I pull my buns out of my hair. “I’m upset because you’re right. And it’s the center hub my life spins around. This thing that doesn’t work for me.”

  I stare at him, hopelessness rising up and drowning me.

  He narrows his eye. “So I do get to go and throat punch your professors?”

  I let out a watery laugh. “If only that would fix this.” I push open the car door, suddenly way too constricted inside.

  He follows me out and opens my front door. “Fix what?” His voice is sharp, like he’s determined to fix my life any way he can.

  I shake my hair down, walking away.

  “Hey.” He catches me around the waist and pulls my body back against his. “You don’t get to turn your back on me when you’re upset. Not for a goddamn second.” His voice is a growl in my ear, the rough stubble of his face scraping my cheek.

  Everything I’ve been bottling in that’s been straining to get out as my graduation approaches jostles up into my throat.

  “I hate it!” I admit. “I don’t fit the mold and I can’t make myself want to fit it anymore.”

  Jared drops me and spins me around. His green eyes bore into me. “So don’t.”

  The laugh-sob comes up again.

  “Who are you doing this for? Your teachers? Your
old self? It’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to veer from the path you set for yourself.”

  A tear leaks out of my eye. “See that’s the thing. I don’t even think I set this path. I think my mom did.”

  Jared’s lip curls but he doesn’t say anything.

  “I think she wanted to be a ballerina but her parents couldn’t afford lessons, so she’s living vicariously through me. I don’t even know if I ever liked dance, or if she just told me I did.”

  Jared shakes his head slowly. “You love it on Saturday nights.”

  “That’s not really dance,” I mutter.

  “The hell it’s not.” He gets right up in my face, but it doesn’t scare me.

  Instead, I square off against him. “What do you know about dance?”

  He blinks and swallows. Backs off. Shoves his hands in his pocket.

  Have I hurt his feelings? Crap.

  “You’re right. I don’t know dance. But I know you. Whatever it is you do on Saturday nights, you love.”

  I step into him, my need to soothe him apparently as strong as his for me. My hands hit his chest and the sizzle of contact runs through me. “That’s about… the joy of creation. It’s my baby. I dreamed it up. I staged it. I got Garrett to agree to it.”

  He covers my hands with his. “Yeah?” It’s a prompt. He wants me to go on.

  I draw in a breath, following the thread. “It’s the only place in my life I got to be in charge. To execute my vision. Do you know what I mean?”

  He nods and pulls one hand from my chest. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  “Why?” I ask, but follow his lead out the door.

  “When I need to work through stuff running always helps me.” He leads me at a brisk pace. It’s beautiful out. I love spring in Tucson, when the air is warm and everything starts to bloom. The sweet smell of citrus blossoms perfume the air. Pink penstemon are making their bell-flower appearance just in time for Easter.

  I have to admit, walking feels good. Like I can leave the shit pile of my situation behind. “So what other visions do you have?”