Page 47 of Ruthless Alpha Beast
It’s strange to see her like this, so vulnerable. Some part of me wants to protect her, but I don’t know what from.
“Now you may kiss,” the elder says.
The place is dead-quiet; there isn’t even a gust of wind or the sound of birds. Just me and her.
She turns to face me, with vulnerable eyes and slightly open lips.Those lips.
I remember how they tasted, and here I am, willingly letting myself be corrupted again.
It’s for the pack.
I place my arms around her waist and carefully edge her closer to me.
For the pack.
Then I close my eyes and lower my lips to hers.
As her wet mouth meets mine, and I taste one inch of her sweet nectar, I go fucking insane. Something wakes up inside me, and I pry her lips open with my tongue.
I pull her closer.
My mouth massages hers as I take the kiss deeper. She feels so unbelievably good.
Her arms hang over my shoulders, and suddenly, very quietly, very subtly, I hear her groan. That sweet groan—I’d recognize it anywhere.
Oh my God, I want her.
She kisses me back, and I almost let myself slip into oblivion before I stop.
This is not for my wolf—this is for the pack.
Tara’s lashes lift along with her glittery lids. Those hazel eyes are wearier now, marked once again by me.
***
I have my arm around Tara’s waist, where we agreed it could be. But still, for my wolf, even this is too much.
I can feel her warmth beneath the thin satin fabric that barely covers her curves. Just touching her, I’m thinking about ripping everything off and taking her from behind.
But instead, I’m supposed to be talking to a couple of coven witches about the first time my fake wife and I met.
“Tara is better at telling the story,” I say with a polite smile.
“Oh no,” Tara chimes in, “I don’t think my memory is as good as yours.”
Ultimately, deciding what to say when asked about how we met is something that we should have discussed.
Of all the things we ran through ahead of the wedding, surely this should have been one of the most important?
I think we both didn’t want to discuss that night. But now, without a clear alibi, the truth feels like the only option.
“She just likes it when I talk about it,” I laugh. “We met at a bar, you know, The Howling Smoke nearby? I saw her and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
Tara tenses; she edges away from me a little.
“Oh, that’s so cute!” One of the witches says, “So it was love at first sight?”
She’s looking at Tara now, who I can sense hates this conversation even more than I do.
