fate of the alpha - episode 1 (10 page)

He took her face in his hands and gave her a look of great intensity.

“Is this what you want?”

Grace was almost past understanding.

Instead of trying to speak, she reached for the button of his jeans.

He laughed out loud.

“Oh, no, you little minx. You first!”

Before she knew what was happening, he was lifting her shirt over her head.

Though she knew she had a strong, healthy body, Grace dreaded the moment when Landon would see that she was built like an ironing board. No bra had enough “wonder” to change her body into the soft, voluptuous form that made men think of sex and fertility. If it weren’t for the magic making her wild, she would have insisted on the lights being out.

But as things were, the dread was a tiny twinge in a sea of pleasure.

The heels of his hands caressing her ribcage as he lifted the shirt felt like a thousand tiny kissing mouths. The hard door at her back chilled her deliciously. The air in the room seemed to be swirling on her skin.

“So pretty,” Landon sighed as he revealed her sky blue bra.

Grace could feel her nipples hardening painfully against the friction of the lace. She arched her back, begging for his touch. Her whole body was drowning in desire.

Landon had other ideas. He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her body.

At least in this area, Grace felt confident he would not be disappointed. Though she was short, she knew she had fabulous legs.

Landon didn’t take the time to notice them, though. He nuzzled the junction of her thighs and then groaned with need.

The feel of his hot breath through her panties against her most sensitive place was maddening. Grace whimpered and her legs began to quiver.

Standing, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

“Where is your bed?”

Grace knew he was speaking English, but she was too far gone to turn the words into a meaningful question. Instead she grabbed a handful of his hair again to pull him in for another kiss.

He gave up on talking and strode toward the sofa.

Unfortunately the slope of the ceiling was low. Landon’s head bumped against it and he bit down hard on Grace’s tongue.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” he asked, holding her in one arm while he rubbed his head.

Her tongue hurt but not as much as other parts of her were aching and crying.

“Fine. You?”

“Fine!”

He laid her gently on the sofa and pulled his shirt up over his head.

His lean body was lightly muscled.

Grace felt herself heating up, like butter melting and bubbling in a pan. All dignity lost, she squirmed on the sofa. The supple suede cushions seemed to press and caress her from beneath.

Landon groaned in response, and hurriedly unfastened his jeans and let them fall to the ground. He peeled off his boxer briefs, releasing a very eager member.

Grace reached for him with beckoning fingers.

He stopped to remove a sock, but her fingers reached his cock before he could get the other.

He groaned as she gently explored him.

It must have been the magic. Somehow she was already so attuned to his responses that she knew the exact moment when he gave up on his sock and focused on her hands.

After a minute of torture he pulled her hands away.

“No, I’ll come,” he whispered.

Then he knelt at her feet and hooked his fingers under her sky blue panties.

He pulled once, twice, and then she assisted him.

It helped that she was in a cloud of wanting. Grace was not exactly experienced and she knew she would normally have been nervous.

Landon was stroking and marveling over the muscles of her thighs. Then his hands approached her silky mound. He stroked her curls with his long fingers.

Grace arched up frantically.

His breath caught and he leaned close, spreading her open with his hands. He paused for a fraction of a second to gaze adoringly at her.

She wiggled her hips and he chuckled and got down to business.

Grace had never really liked a man’s mouth on her. It was over-stimulating and under-stimulating at the same time - too much soft wetness, and not enough friction. And it was so intimate it made her self-conscious.

And men expected women to like it. A lot.

She was prepared to produce a killer fake orgasm just to get it over with when his mouth came down over her.

The first lash of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing over her.

Then he got down to work.

Grace could feel every stroke, ever swirl as though he was burning his mouth into her. She could feel herself swelling on his tongue.

Landon felt it too and growled his approval into her.

The sound reverberated through her and she felt herself, soaring, tightening in response.

She lifted her hips to him and he clamped his big hands on her to hold her still while he teased and coaxed her over the top.

In utter disbelief, Grace felt herself fly to pieces on his mouth.

She heard her own scream as the pleasure pulsed and squeezed from her.

Landon didn’t let go, even when it was over. And as he continued his explorations, Grace found herself shifting and moaning under him, desperate to come again.

Landon wrenched his mouth from her and crawled up to look her in the eyes.

He was too lost to ask the question again, but she heard it nonetheless.
Is this what you want?

She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips in reply and pulled him to herself.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Instantly she felt the tip of his stiff organ against her opening. She was so wet and swollen from his attentions that she wondered if it was possible for him to find entrance.

He sighed, his hot breath caressing her ear, as he pushed into her excruciatingly slowly.

Grace held her breath, waiting for stretching pain that never came. Instead she felt her body clamp down on him.

He clenched his jaw and eased himself slowly out of her and then back in.

It was too much.

Grace sunk her nails into his back and angled her hips up to him.

He groaned in surrender and began to drive in and out of her.

As ecstasy approached, Grace bounced herself up, bucking her hips to help him.

Landon breathed through pursed lips, beads of sweat formed at his brow. It was obvious he was making a desperate effort not to climax.

“Again,” he urged her, looking straight into her eyes.

She screeched like a cat and came, hard.

He gasped and pulled out of her to explode in his own hand all over her stomach.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Grace finally felt the self-consciousness she had been dreading and smiled with downcast eyes.

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry!” Landon said, looking down to her belly, which shimmered with the evidence of their passionate encounter. He probably thought she had been looking down at the puddle on her navel.

“No, no, I’m a little shy. I’m not mad about that.”

“You’re
shy?”
he asked.

Uncertainty played on his features. Even his curls looked inquisitive.

Grace laughed.

“Hey, do you have a towel somewhere, Grace?”

“Yes, grab one from the kitchen,” she inclined her head to indicate which way the kitchen was.

He stood and gave her a view of his lanky form as he padded into the kitchen with one sock on.

The sex had been incredible. He was handsome and sweet.

But when he stood and left her, she didn’t feel empty or cold, or whatever you were supposed to feel when you longed for your lover’s embrace.

What had she done? This stupid magic.

Landon returned with a towel. He had wet it with warm water. He stroked her belly with it gently.

To her horror, Grace felt her libido rev up even more than before. Her hips moved of their own accord and her nipples crinkled into stiff pebbles.

“Mmm,” Landon murmured, placing the towel on the floor and returning his attention to Grace’s bosom.

He ran his hands up her ribcage to press her breasts together. It would take more than that to create cleavage, but it ached pleasantly and Grace didn’t fault him for trying.

Landon lowered his face and licked one nipple into his mouth.

Grace was pierced with a pleasure so sharp she almost lifted off the sofa.

Encouraged, he sucked the other nipple.

She cried out helplessly.

It was too much for Landon, he fell on her again, kissing, licking, sucking and tugging on her nipples with his teeth.

The pleasure blasted through Grace. She ripped his head off her breasts and sat up. Then she wrapped one leg around his waist, straddling him where he knelt.

He pulled her on top of him and she felt him squeeze into her again. His breathing was harsh already.

The pleasure radiated out of her body and made the air seem to pulse. She rode him frantically, rocking so hard that the lamp on the side table crashed to the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces.

They ignored it and continued to ravage each other.

After all, magic always had a price.

CHAPTER 12

A 
insley followed a few steps behind Grace, taking in the sights of the forest as the rising sun struggled to banish the chill of the night.

Heavy mist illuminated the shafts of sunlight filtering through the trees, making the college woods look like a scene from the cover of a Bible study pamphlet. A cloud of fog lifted a foot off the path leading to the amphitheater.

Ainsley usually felt her best in the early morning, but today she was off to a rough start. She tried to take comfort in the soothing presence of her best friend.

But Grace’s heart was beating a little faster than normal. And she smelled like that guy she had been dating.

And Erik’s wolf was gone.

It was hard to stay tuned in.

“So…will he be okay?” Grace was asking.

No. No he will never be okay again, I can feel it.

“Yes, he’ll be okay. But he can’t shift.”

“Is it like what you did to Clive? And what Julian did to you?”

“No, this is different. That spell just… held the wolf in check for a few minutes. I could still feel her banging at the bars. Erik says he can’t feel his at all. It’s just gone.”

The hollow feeling that had followed Ainsley since Erik’s first scream of agony threatened to encompass her. She took a deep breath of cool, wet air and tried to push it aside. If not for herself, then for her mate, and for her pack.

Optimism was a necessity now, not a luxury. She was going to have to keep things light.

“What does Julian say?” Grace asked.

“I don’t know. His tongue was pretty busy last time I saw him…” Ainsley teased, trying to bring back some sense of normalcy.

Grace’s lips tightened.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Ainsley was mostly just messing with Grace. She knew the magic revved Grace’s engine.

But… with Julian?

It had been beyond weird to see Grace going to town with him.

In part, it was because they seemed to dislike each other so much. (Which in itself was an oddity, since Grace was so likable and accepting.)

It was also because she had never seen her friend display affection in public. Never. Not even handholding at prom.

And it was probably against some sort of girl code to get with a guy your best friend had been with - though Ainsley was not one to stand on ceremony.

Because the whole thing had happened practically over the body of Ainsley’s injured mate, she knew it was the magic. But was it all really a side effect?

“What’s going on there?” Ainsley asked.

“Nothing.” Grace’s heartbeat said otherwise. “You know what the magic does to me.”

Ainsley didn’t like using her heightened senses to gauge the truthfulness of her friend’s claims. It felt like cheating somehow. But it was hard to tune out.

“Yeah,” Ainsley said. “But I’ve
never
seen you act like that.”

“I’ve never used that much magic before.”

Fair enough.

The weight of what had happened hit Ainsley again and she took another deep lungful of morning mist.

“Thank you for what you did, Grace. You saved his life.”

Grace smiled and shrugged.

“How did you know what to do?” Ainsley asked earnestly, thinking of her own magical failings.

Grace shook her head.

“I had no idea. I just trusted my instincts, and hoped the magic would guide me.”

“You can just do that?”

“Of course. You have to trust the magic, and trust yourself.”

Ainsley bit her lip and studied the mist hanging on the surface of the creek. She thought of the energy she had sent Julian’s way when she thought she was defending Erik. It didn’t seem very trustworthy.

“That’s not what Julian says.” Ainsley pictured the tree she blasted into oblivion. “He says I need to learn to control it.”

“Ha!” Grace laughed. “You can’t control magic. It’s like a living, breathing thing. You can use it, shape it, and it can flow through you. But you could no more control magic than you could change the course of a river by dipping your toe in it.”

“He says if I master my mind, body and spirit, bring them to harmony, then I can master the magical energy too.”

“What do
you
think of that?” Grace asked.

Ainsley thought. The familiar earthy smell of the bright leaves turning back to soil grounded her in herself.

“It seems to work for him,” Ainsley replied after some consideration. “But it takes years of training and practice and sacrifice. I don’t think I can manage all that and still be alpha of the pack. It sounds like he wants me to lock myself up in a monastery or something.”

“He’s talking out of his ass.”

“Wow.”

“Sorry,” Grace said. “I just think he’s way off base. No one in my family has ever had any formal magic training. How does he explain that?”

Ainsley paused, not wanting to offend her friend, but hoping to be honest with her.

“He says your magic is…different.”