Alpha King Wrecked And Reclaimed

Nora

The potion tastes like rotting bark and wet dirt, and it burns all the way down my throat like I swallowed a lit match.

"Drink it. All of it." Alpha Gregor's boot connects hard with the side of Maren's leg when she gags and tries to spit, and the girl crumples sideways into the mud with a small cry. The rest of us clutch our cups tighter and force the liquid down without another sound because we know exactly what happens when you disobey him, and none of us want to be the next one on the ground. I tip the cup back and swallow the last mouthful, and my stomach rolls so violently that I have to press my fist against my mouth and breathe through my nose until the nausea passes.

He walks down the line of five of us standing barefoot in the cold morning dirt, inspecting us like livestock at an auction. "The Silver Crown Pack hunting festival is the biggest event in the territories, and every Alpha under the King's rule is required to bring five females to assist with preparations." He stops in front of Maren, who is still on the ground holding her leg, and crouches down to grab her chin. "If any of you spit out that potion, if any of you let your true scent slip, I will beat you so badly you will wish I had sold you off years ago. Do you understand me?"

Maren nods quickly, tears streaking through the dirt on her face.

He straightens and looks at the rest of us. "These potions mask your omega scents completely. To the rest of the world, you will smell like high-ranking wolves, and that is the only thing keeping you from being snatched by some rogue or dominant wolf looking for a mate." His eyes sweep over us and he lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Our pack has very few females left, but the ones we do have are known for their beauty. I intend to keep it that way." He means he intends to keep trading us like currency, bartering girls to other Alphas for political favors and land, and every single one of us standing here knows it but none of us can do a damn thing about it.

I have not spoken a single word since I was seven years old. The silence started as a choice, a desperate, terrified decision I made as a child on the worst night of my life, and over the years it hardened into something I could not break through even if I wanted to. My voice is still in there somewhere, locked behind a wall I built with my own hands, but the wall is thick and the memories that hold it in place are thicker.

That silence is exactly why my pack keeps me around and tolerates my existence. A girl who does not speak cannot snitch on the dirty deals the Alpha makes in the dark, and everyone here believes I was born this way because it has been so long that the truth no longer matters. They treat me like trash and make me do the hardest labor. I have no say in my own life. My only real comfort in this miserable existence is a friend my own age named Tamara, an apprentice to a witch who lives deep in the woods behind our territory. I manage to meet her in secret by sneaking out, and she is the only person who actually took the time to learn sign language just so we could talk.

We arrive at the festival grounds before the sun is fully up, and we are immediately put to work. The place is massive, sprawling with heavy canvas tents and enormous dining pavilions, and wolves from every pack in the territories are flooding in by the hundreds. I haul heavy wooden crates of bottled alcohol from the supply wagons and string up thick decorations in the dining tents until my hands are blistered raw from the rough ropes.

I am busy scrubbing down a long wooden table when Maren bumps her shoulder hard into mine. I look up and she will not meet my eyes.

"The Alpha's son wants you." She keeps her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. "He is in his private tent and he looked angry. You should go now before he comes looking."

My stomach drops straight to my feet. I wipe my dirty hands on my apron and head toward his quarters because refusing to go will just mean a public whipping later tonight when no one is paying attention.

The tent is dim inside and the flap falls shut behind me, trapping me in the stifling air that reeks of cheap liquor and unwashed fur. I barely get a chance to bow my head before Ronan moves.

He does not say a word. He just lunges forward and grabs my wrist, yanking me roughly against his chest. His hands start groping greedily at my waist, tearing at the thin fabric of my tunic, and his breathing is heavy and fast against the side of my neck.

I shove both hands against his shoulders and try to twist my body away from him. He just laughs, and the sound is wet and cruel.

"What, you think you get to say no?" He pins my back against the thick wooden center pole of the tent and tries to force his mouth onto mine. "You are property, little mute. My father owns you, and that means I can do whatever I want."

Panic flares hot and sharp in my chest. I bring my knee up as hard and fast as I can, driving it right between his legs.

The satisfaction I feel when he lets out a strangled grunt and doubles over is the closest thing to joy I have felt in years. His grip on my arms loosens just enough for me to rip myself free, and I do not stick around to see how angry he is. I turn and sprint out the back flap of the tent, hitting the dirt running, tearing past the outer camps and heading straight for the thick tree line.

My bare feet slap against the cold ground as I run blindly into the woods. Branches whip across my face and arms but I do not stop, and I do not slow down, not even when my lungs start burning and a sharp stitch digs into my side because the only thing I can think about is getting far enough away that no one can drag me back to him.

The woods are incredibly dense and dark. I keep running for what feels like hours until the loud music and shouting of the festival fades into nothing but my own ragged breathing and the snapping of dry twigs under my feet.

I finally stop to catch my breath and I realize I am completely lost. I spin around in circles trying to find a familiar landmark, but every direction looks exactly the same. Thick black trunks and tangled roots and darkness.

A loud, aggressive snort breaks through the quiet right behind me.

I turn around just in time to see a massive wild boar charging straight at me. Its small eyes are locked on my body and its tusks look thick and sharp enough to skewer me right through the middle. I scramble backward in sheer terror and trip hard over an exposed tree root, falling flat onto my back in the mud, and I throw my arms up over my face and wait for the impact.

It never comes.

A massive blur of dark clothing and pure muscle drops from the thick branches above and lands squarely on the beast's back. The man is caught in a terrifying half-shifted state, somewhere between beast and human, and he slashes the boar's thick neck with long extended claws that tear right through its flesh with brutal efficiency. He leaves the huge animal dead in the mud before it even has a chance to squeal.

He stands up slowly and I watch in stunned silence as his massive half-beast frame snaps and shifts seamlessly back into a fully human form. He wipes the blood from his hands on the sides of his dark pants. Then he turns to look at me.

The very second our eyes meet, it feels like all the air is violently sucked right out of my lungs. The pull hits me so hard and so fast that my vision blurs for a full second, and it is a wild, heavy drag right at the center of my chest that makes my inner wolf scratch frantically at the edges of my mind, begging and clawing to get closer to him.

He is incredibly tall and broad, with dark hair that falls across his forehead and eyes that are so deep they look almost black. Even through the thick layers of my scent-masking potion, I can smell him. Pine and rain and dark earth and heavy musk, rolling off his skin in waves that make my head swim.

He stares at me for a long moment, like he is trying to figure out what I am doing alone in the middle of the woods, and then he opens his mouth to say something but a loud crack of thunder shakes the ground beneath us and cuts him off. The sky breaks wide open and dumps freezing cold rain in heavy sheets, soaking my thin clothes right down to the bone in seconds.

He does not hesitate. He steps forward and grabs my hand without a word, his large palm burning hot against my freezing skin, and he pulls me up from the mud. He takes off running through the thick brush, dragging me along behind him, and I stumble and trip but his grip on my hand is solid and unbreakable. We run until we slide into the dry opening of a small rocky cave tucked into the side of a hill, getting inside just as the storm really starts to howl and tear at the trees outside.

We are both dripping wet. I am shaking so hard my teeth are literally rattling together. I back into the furthest corner and wrap my arms tight around my knees, trying to hold on to whatever body heat I have left. The rain outside sounds like a wall of white noise, hammering the rocks and the mud and the leaves.

He stands near the entrance for a long moment, watching me in the dim light, and then he reaches down and strips off his soaked shirt, tossing it aside. He moves closer to where I am huddled on the hard stone floor and sits down right next to me.

"You are going to freeze to death if you keep shaking like that." His voice is deep and rough but not unkind, and he does not wait for an answer. He just reaches out and pulls my trembling body flush against his bare chest, and his intense natural body heat starts seeping into my freezing skin immediately.

I know I should push him away. He is a complete stranger. But the cold is absolutely unbearable and the heavy pull between us is driving my mind completely insane. I lean all my weight into his warmth and tilt my head up to look at his face.

He looks down at me. The dim light from the cave entrance catches the sharp angle of his jaw and the wet strands of dark hair stuck to his forehead. He runs a rough thumb gently over my bottom lip, and the look in his dark eyes is so raw and hungry that I completely forget how to breathe.

"Tell me to stop." His voice comes out in a tight rasp, and I can feel his chest vibrating against mine with every word. "If you do not want this, tell me to stop."

I cannot tell him anything. I cannot speak. But the heavy pull between us makes my choice easy. I look right up into his eyes and give him a firm, deliberate nod.

He lowers his head and his mouth crashes down onto mine.

The kiss is messy and desperate. I open my mouth to him immediately and our tongues slide together in a hot, frantic rhythm that makes my entire body arch against his. His large hands drop down to map the curves of my waist, pulling my hips flush against his lap, and there is no hesitation from either of us. We strip away the rest of our damp, ruined clothes in a messy tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. The freezing air of the cave is completely forgotten the second his bare hot skin presses directly against mine.

He shifts his weight and settles his body over me, but he suddenly stops moving. His dark eyes search my face as his breathing goes heavy and ragged.

"Are you sure?" He asks in a rough, tight whisper, refusing to push any further until I give him a real answer.

I look right up into his eyes and nod again, harder this time, and I pull him down to me with both hands on the back of his neck.

It is my first time, and the initial pain is sharp and tearing, but he freezes the instant my body tenses. He waits, completely still, his forehead pressed against mine and his breath hot on my lips until my muscles relax and the pain fades into a deep heavy ache. He starts to move again, slow at first and then steady and demanding, and I throw my head back and gasp silently at the dark ceiling of the cave while the storm rages outside.

He watches my face the entire time. His eyes track every silent gasp and whimper I make, adjusting his pace to my reactions until the pleasure builds so high that my vision whites out. I shatter completely around him, my body bowing up off the cold stone floor, and his own release follows just a second later as he groans low and collapses heavily against the crook of my neck. His chest heaves against mine as we lie there in the dark trying to catch our breath.

I fall asleep listening to the rain and the steady thud of his heart against my ribs.

When I wake up the next morning, early golden sunlight creeps into the cave, but the spot where he laid is cold and empty.

He is gone.