Page 32 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
Javi.
The growl that rumbles through his chest vibrates against my skin, and I let out a shaking breath, my fingers gripping his arms now instead of pushing him away. I’ve never felt anything like this, his cock grinding aginst my bare pussy, his body poised with a level of control that seems impossible during the full moon like this.
His breath is hot against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, hovering at the place where an alpha is meant to claim what’s his.
But he doesn’t bite.
He could.
But he doesn’t.
His breath comes ragged, uneven, and when he speaks, his voice isn’t like the others. It isn’t triumphant or mocking or cruel. It’s low and guttural, a command that’s almost a plea.
"Stop struggling."
His lips brush against my pulse, a shiver running through me, my body trapped between his heat and the freezing storm around us.
"I’m not going to hurt you."
A sob escapes me, but this time, it isn’t fear…because I know it’s true.
Because for the first time tonight, I feel safe.
I hear the other alphas edging in around us, wind howling with them, and Javi puts his weight more firmly on top of me—like he’s preparing to resist being pulled away. He snaps his head up and snarls at the nearest alpha, Abel watching from the fringes.
He doesn’t have to say the words for me to know what the growl means: Mine.
The thought sends a fresh rush of slick between my thighs, my body betraying me in the worst, most humiliating way possible.
Javi’s attention snaps back to me, his nose dragging over my pulse point, over the bare skin of my throat, the place where a mate is supposed to bite.
Where he’s supposed to own me.
Where he’s supposed to sink his teeth in deep and make sure every alpha here knows I belong to him.
I feel lightheaded, dizzy, drunk on something I don’t understand.
I should hate this.
I should fear it.
But instead, I’m panting, arching, trembling, because every single one of his touches is making it worse.
Every press of his fingers against my hips, every brush of his mouth, every inch of his weight keeping me pinned, keeping me helpless, keeping me under him.
A shuddering breath rattles out of me, my body going still, waiting, my throat bared, exposed, mine to give but never to take back.
His tongue presses to my skin.
I gasp.
He laps at my pulse, slow, unhurried, as if he’s tasting me, savoring me, like he’s dragging out this moment just to punish me for wanting it.
Like he knows.
Like he feels it too.
Heat coils low in my stomach, turning thick, molten, unbearable.
