My Female Alpha

TWENTY THREE

lenora

I've never liked the taste of blood.

In my lifetime, I've had my fair share of the gagging, metallic taste; usually, it's been my own.

During my rise to Alphahood, I fought many wolves. I don't even have a running number. I had to prove I was worthy of such a prestigious position, and far too many thought my femaleness made me weaker or even ill-fit for the job.

So I have suffered and delivered enough blows to know I despise the acrid, metallic flavor of life.

But here I am, for the first time in all my twenty-nine years, licking scarlet beads off my mouth. I don't hate her taste.

How could I hate anything about her? She's perfect.

A rumbling feeling rolls through me and I realize what it is.

My wolf.

Her power courses through me, heady and alive as our mate's life source seeps into our veins. I have never felt so close to her before now. I can feel her breathe, hear her powerful heartbeat matching mine.

It feels as though some barrier between our souls had been removed and now we were truly one creature, one beast.

I can see my wolf clearly now, like my reflection in the mirror.

But there's more. I feel a keen awareness, a radiating warmth, from the body nestled into mine.

As I lap off the final droplets of Emery's blood, I study her unconscious face. Her lips are parted slightly as she breathes steadily. Unlike me, her pulse is a calm throb. I move my hand to her chest and listen to her heart pound inside her.

Our connection is powerful. This girl is my entire world. Everything else could blow to fucking bits but I would be alright as long as she was with me.

She is a part of me, a part of us. She is ours.

My wolf hums again in agreement.

Her eyelids twitch and she sucks in a sharp breath. She must be dreaming.

I wonder where she's gone in her dreams. Somewhere with me, I hope. Somewhere beautiful and peaceful.

My nose twitches at the scent of her blood. I look again at the puncture holes in her neck. The holes are clean now and in the processing of scabbing over, thanks to healing enzymes in my saliva.

A bandage would probably be good measure to make sure she doesn't get an infection, but I don't want to cover it. Wolves proudly bear each other's marks like they were lavish diamond necklaces. Covering it up would be a sign of shame and disgrace.

What do other wolves do for their human mates?

Come to think of it, I can't think of anyone I know who is mated to a human. Interspecies mating is not unheard of, though. It's just rare.

Very few wolves interact with humans on a regular basis anyway. We coexist—unknowingly to humans, of course—but they are still very different from us at the end of the day.

The likelihood of meeting a human who you're attracted to and compatible with is simply far less.

I don't want to wake her up, but I have only gotten half of my fill. Still staring at her peaceful sleeping face, I lean over to the nightstand and open the second drawer. I retrieve the eight-inch rubber vibrator and flick the button. It trembles to life in my hands. I haven't used it in ages, but I need this right now.

Stripping out of my clothes, I stretch out beside Emery and run the vibrator up and down the inside of my thighs. My pussy clenches needily. Her face glistens in the sunlight seeping through the curtains. I imagine her down, between my thighs, eyes glinting up at me. She's never eaten any girl out, so it's fitting her first will be a woman. I am soaking just thinking of it.