Alpha's STOLEN Mate (by Abigail Hayes) novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

His hands moved to his belt, eyes never leaving my face as he spoke with deadly calm. “Doing the only thing I want to do to you right

now.”

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I launched myself toward the edge of the bed, my restored strength surging through my muscles. But Kaius was faster–had always been faster. His hands slammed down on my shoulders, pinning me back against the mattress with overwhelming force.

The weight of him, the heat radiating from his bare chest, the familiar scent that had haunted my dreams–it all crashed over me at once. I should have been terrified. Should have been fighting with everything I had.

Instead, I felt my wolf rising to the surface, not in defense but in recognition. The mate bond, strengthened by his blood, pulsed between

us like a living thing, whispering lies about belonging and completion and home.

No. Absolutely fucking not.

I had the strength to push him off–I could feel it burning in my muscles, my supernatural abilities fully restored. One good shove and I

could send him flying across the room. But my body betrayed me, responding to his proximity with a heat that had nothing to do with

anger and everything to do with four years of suppressed longing.

My wolf wasn’t helping. Instead of snarling for his blood, she was practically purring, pressing closer to the surface, drawn to his dominance like a moth to flame. The treacherous bitch wanted to submit, wanted to arch

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Chapter 9

beneath him and offer her throat in the most primal gesture of trust.

“Get off me,” I managed to growl, but even I could hear how breathless the words sounded.

His grip on my shoulders tightened, and I felt the exact moment he realized I wasn’t fighting as hard as I could. His eyes darkened

further, pupils dilating as he scented my body’s unwilling arousal,

“Your mouth says one thing,” he murmured, leaning down until his breath ghosted across my ear, “but your body tells a very different

story.”

The bastard was right, and we both knew it. Every instinct I possessed was screaming contradictory messages–run, fight, submit, claim,

escape, surrender.

His eyes, predatory and knowing, burned into mine. “You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was a low, dangerous growl, a challenge and a

statement of fact.

I shook my head, a frantic, desperate gesture. “No. I don’t feel anything for you.” The lie tasted like ash in my mouth.

A cold, mirthless smile played on his lips. Without a word, his hand, still on my shoulder, slipped lower, gliding over my hip, then delving beneath the thin fabric of my medical gown, beneath my ragged underwear. His fingers found my labia, tracing the swollen, sensitive folds, slowly, deliberately. A gasp tore from my throat, raw and involuntary, as a jolt of pure, agonizing pleasure shot through me, hot and

swift as a wildfire.

My hips arched, a traitorous, desperate twitch I couldn’t control, responding to his knowing touch. The heat

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Chapter 9

was unbearable, a burning itch spreading through my core, making my entire body tremble.

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“Get… get off me!” I choked out, my voice weak, ravaged by the inferno he’d ignited. The words were a futile protest against the storm

raging within me.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that vibrated through my bones. “Before I enter you, Elowen, you can curse me all you want. Scream.

Fight. Let me enjoy your struggle.”

Then, his mouth was on mine, not in a kiss of affection, but a brutal, possessive claim, tearing at my lips with a ferocity that matched the burgeoning chaos in my body. His other hand ripped the gown from my chest, the flimsy fabric tearing with a sound like thunder, exposing me completely. His lips moved from my mouth, trailing a searing path down my jaw, along my throat, to the hollow between my collarbones, teasing, biting, licking. Each touch, each flicker of his tongue, sent waves of unbearable heat through me.

Just as the burning need threatened to consume me whole, just as I felt myself rising to meet him, a groan escaping my lips that was half protest, half desperate plea… he stopped.

Completely. His body went still, his hand freezing on my throbbing core, his mouth lifting from my skin. The sudden cessation of sensation was a cruel, exquisite torture, leaving me writhing, breathless, and achingly unsatisfied. My eyes flew open, wide with confusion and a renewed, profound humiliation.

His gaze was cold, sharp, and utterly merciless. “Now,” he said, his voice as calm as a frozen lake, “tell me. Where are you from?”

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! The silent curses tore through my mind. He was playing me, using my own body against

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Chapter 9

me, weaponizing my most primal urges.

“Go to hell!” I spat, my voice hoarse, desperate to reclaim some semblance of control, some dignity.

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Alpha’s STOLEN Mate