Alpha's War

Chapter 3-1

3

Nash

The address leads me to a little house in Temecula. I pull up and idle a moment. My hand shakes as I park. Excitement? Or the last stages of madness?

It’s a mistake to come here. I know this as soon as I step onto the little porch, and her scent hits me. Blackness curls from the edges of my vision, pulling me under.

The guards have guns on her. My lion surges to the fore, angry. It’s been so long since he’s killed. But when the naked female stumbles forward, I catch her. My arms close around her body and I pull her soft form against my hard one. She’s tall, her head coming just under my chin, soft, dark hair a cloud in my face. The cinnamon scent hits me again, until I taste it.

“Another one for you, Nash.” The guard’s voice is harsh, mocking. They see what I do with the females they bring me. There are cameras in the corners of the room. They watch. I know what they’ll do if I refuse: hurt the female. They’ve learned I don’t give a s**t what they do to me, but I can’t stand to watch someone else be tortured as a result of my choices.

For some reason, this one sends an extra blast of protective fury through me. My grip tightens around her. She stiffens.

“You know what to do. Get to it. Or else.” The threat hangs in the air. I want to tear them apart with my teeth.

The door scrapes as they leave.

I don’t want to move. I could hold her like this for the night, and never feel wanting. But desire’s there too, bubbling up, the first hint of warmth after a long winter. With the other females, I had to focus to get myself hard enough to breed them. I spent a long time on foreplay to make sure they were ready and get myself into the right mindset. I’ll do that for this one, too, but it won’t be for me. My lion’s already rumbling for her.

She glares up at me like I’m the enemy. I sense anger in her, rising, matching mine. Frustration. A spirit uncowed. Brave. Naked and defenseless, but not afraid.

Because I’m angry for her, because I’m furious such a beautiful, fresh lioness would be forced into this awful situation, I snarl.

She jerks back, out of my grasp.

I immediately reach for her. “I won’t hurt you,” I promise. My lion needs to soothe her. It’s a primordial instinct, like eating or killing. I try to push down the need coiling below my waist.

“What are you supposed to do?” she asks. The wariness in her expression tells me she already knows. Her body knows it, too. Her cocoa-tipped n*****s stand up, hard and pointed.

Filling my lungs with her delicious scent, I tip her face up to mine. “What’s your name?”

“Denali.” I whisper. Inside, my lion waits, patient on this hunt. I follow the cinnamon scent on the air to the screen door.

And I see her. Long, lean limbs, flawless mocha skin. She’s barefoot at her kitchen counter, weight on one hip, pert ass encased in cutoff shorts. Her elegant neck curves as she looks down at what she’s doing.

Unable to stop myself, I push the door open and enter silently. I’m back in the jungle, a soldier, a predator stalking my prey.

Her head turns slightly.

My lips move to form her name.

Her chocolate brown eyes flare to blue-grey. “Nash?” she chokes.

I walk toward her. She rears back.

“It’s all right, Denali.” I stop and lift my hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.” That’s the truth, even if my lion is a crazy mo-fo.

A tremor runs through her. Once, twice, and the spiced scent rises between us.

Mine, my lion snarls. My mate.

“Denali, I—” my voice cracks but it’s too late. She whirls and runs out the back door.