Read Keeper of the Alphas - Complete Online
Authors: Morgan Rae
Keeper of the Alphas - Complete (22 page)
Marcus smelled fire.
He got home as soon as he could, expecting to see the house in flames. Instead, he could smell the harsh lingering gasoline and he saw the charred body of a car in the driveway.
He opened the door, closed it behind him. The house was empty, save Cami. She had her back turned to him, naked. She sat on the carpet in front of the crackling fire, fetal, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her hair was wet.
“What happened here?” Marcus said as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up.
“Jayce and I got in a fight.”
“I take it you won.” Cami said nothing. Marcus saw her clothes scattered around the floor as though she had ripped them off in a hurry. Traces of ash on them. “I leave you alone for two seconds…”
“No, Marcus. You left me alone for a week. You’ve barely been here.” She tucked her chin under her knees. “Jayce and I got back together. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“Well. After tonight, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“I guess not.” Marcus went into the fridge to snag a beer. It cracked as he opened it.
Cami looked back over her shoulder. “Does
anything
matter to you anymore?” She got up then, standing, and faced him. “Not so long ago, you tried to kill Jayce because you smelled him on me. Now I tell you we’re together and it’s just
whatever
?”
“You don’t belong to me,” Marcus said. His voice was plain, curt, but she could hear the strain in his tone.
“Then
do
something about that,” Cami said.
Nothing from Marcus. He just watched her, cold steel.
“Screw it,” Cami said, exasperated. “You know what? You and Lynn would’ve made a good pair. Gotten your kicks from ordering me around, telling me what to do, for
my sake
, like you’re protecting me. Never stopping for one damn second to ask me what I want.” She snatched her dress up off the ground.
“Put that down,” Marcus ordered. The tone of his voice stalled her, but it was nothing to the way he was looking at her. He stepped closer and said, thunder in his voice, “Anything between me and your body is going to end up in shreds.”
She stood still, frozen, like a deer caught in headlights as he pounced on her. His hand found her chest and he pressed her against the wall, covering her mouth with his. Cami had puffed herself up like a peacock, ego bloated with rage and firepower. But as soon as she got under Marcus’s grasp she suddenly felt small and vulnerable. His tongue pried her teeth open and tasted her, claiming her. She whined into his mouth, melting into him.
He ripped her dress from her hand like it offended him and threw it on the ground. His clothes went next, hurried. She felt his tight grip on her thighs as he lifted her up off the ground and pinned her against the wall. He was like a wall himself—a fortress, really—strong and impenetrable, and yet she could taste something more in his kiss under the layers of possessiveness and rage.
Love
. He cherished her even as she so often gave him reasons to destroy her.
She felt the sharp sting of his fang against her tongue and felt his claws dig into her skin. Her thighs clutched his hips as he shoved his cock inside of her. She gasped, ripping her own ribbons into his back. It had been a while since she’d felt him inside of her and she’d forgotten just how big he was.
“Shit, Marcus,” she whined, trying to adjust around his hips. “Gimme a sec.”
He took her chin in his hand—gently. He didn’t need to use force with her, not when he had her eating out of the palm of his hand like this. His voice was low, however, when he growled, “You wanted to know if I’m angry with you.”
She bobbed her head in a nod. Her heart beat the hell out of her ribcage.
He tilted in and then said, “I’m furious.”
The low tenor of his voice sent a tremor through her. Marcus grabbed her ass and carried her to couch as though she weighed nothing. There, he pulled out of her (leaving her feeling twice as empty as before) and hoisted her over the arm of the couch. She made a small
ooof
noise, the couch digging into her belly, and she shifted a little to get more comfort.
But comfort wasn’t in the cards for her. Marcus’s hand went to the back of her neck, pressing her down, before his other palm smacked her ass. Hard. She let out a startled squeak; even though she should’ve seen it coming, the pain reverberated through her bones. No foreplay; Marcus wasn’t holding anything back. The thought made her tremble.
He spanked her again, another blow of pain. Cami cried out, fisting the cushion in her hand. Tears stung her eyes, but not all from the pain of it. It was as though she’d been holding something locked tightly inside of her and Marcus had taken a grenade to the damn thing, blowing it wide open. It was a release, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take, not now when she was feeling so small and exposed, like a raw nerve.
“Please,” she whispered.
“One more,” he said, his voice soothing, even now.
She nodded, hanging her head.
“Spread your legs,” he instructed.
She did as he was told. And then she felt it—
Smack! A stinging slap against her pussy. Cami cried out and her knees buckled from the burst of pain. But just as quickly as the pain had come, it settled, leaving her tingling, her pussy on fire.
“Stay still,” he said. She whimpered and forced her legs back upright, feet apart. She was panting now, sweat already breaking out along her back. She heard Marcus’s footfalls as he walked around the couch. “Lift your head.” She felt him push something soft—a sofa pillow—under her head.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, surprised by how soft and small her voice sounded. His fingers grazed her face, just briefly, and she placed a kiss to his large hand.
“Stay right there,” he said. She heard him step around her and listened as his footsteps made their way to the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened, then shut. He walked back around until he was standing behind her.
“Getting a snack?” she teased. Even here, she couldn’t help but be a little brat.
“Something like that,” he said. She felt his hands on her thighs, spreading them apart, and then she felt his breath. Hot, ghosting against her where she was most wet.
She gasped and tried to push her hips back against his face, but his strong grip wouldn’t allow it. “Still,” he ordered, sounding like he had something between his teeth.
Then she felt it. Cold. Very cold. Ice cold. She gasped, then broke into surprised, nervous giggles. Her punishment wasn’t over yet, not when he had an ice cube pressed squarely against her cunt.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“No, sir,” she said, though she still could stop herself from giggling and shoved her face into the cushions to try to muffle the noise. Her hips squirmed in his hands, trying desperately to get away from the cold. When it hit her clit, she cried out, laughter cut short. He held the ice cube to her with his hot tongue and the contrasting temperatures were making her positively clinically insane. Worse, she liked it, and she could feel her pussy burn twice as hot as though to make up for the difference.
She gasped loudly when she felt his fingers press the cube inside of her. Deep. She could feel her pussy throb around the cold intrusion, trying to push it out, when she heard him growl, “Hold it.”
“Oh God.” She was hot, so hot, and now her body was working against her, drawing it even deeper. Her legs trembled violently as she felt it melt quickly inside of her, leaking out.
Marcus wasn’t wasting time. He pushed his cock inside her and she felt anything left of her sanity scatter. His cock was hot, hard, and she took him in easy now, soaking wet. He thrust into her, hard, his hips slamming against her sensitive, smarting ass.
Cami trembled all over now. Feeling him inside her was enough to put her over the edge, almost, and she felt her body clutch him, hanging tightly onto that knifepoint of release. The ice cube had melted away completely now, obliterated by the heat of her passion, and she cried out as Marcus slammed into her, again and again. She could hear him grunting, panting, and she felt his claws when he grabbed the back of her neck. He was struggling to keep his Beast at bay.
And, suddenly, she didn’t want him to. “Do it,” she said between pants.
“What?” His voice had been reduced to a low, throaty growl.
“Mark me. Make me yours.” Another thrust, another gasp from her. She was close, so close. “Please, Marcus.”
And, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t argue with her. She felt him pull her hair to one side, his hard, warm body flush against her back. His lips brushed against the side of her throat and he sucked a small spot there before murmuring, reverently, “I love you, Cami.”
“I love you too.” She reached up, grabbed a handful of his hair, and felt his teeth graze her throat. Then, quickly, he sunk them in, deeply. Violent and rough, like everything he did. She cried out and then felt something more than pain—a swoon. And for a second, she felt blinded by pleasure. She heard her heartbeat thumping in her ears, or maybe it was his, and she was spinning, swimming, as a pleasure so deep, so intense, so unlike anything she’d ever felt exploded inside her and sent tremors all throughout her body. “Marcus,” she mumbled, and felt herself coming down, a rabbit-heartbeat fluttering in her chest. Her eyelids drooped, she gasped, “Marcus…”
She didn’t realize she’d passed out until she woke up. The fire had burned to a low, dark crackle—she must have been out for hours. Marcus slept heavily behind her, the warmest comforter she’d ever felt, with his arm tucked tightly around her. She snuggled in tighter, feeling the scruff on his chin graze the side of her face. She felt reborn, like a baby lamb tucked in against a hulking lion. She shifted just enough to press a small kiss to his mouth and noticed a hint of crimson on the corner of his lips.
The Mark.
Right
. She unraveled herself from him, carefully, and got up to her feet. She had all the boldness of walking in a dream; appropriate, since her earlier ordeal with Jayce now felt surreal, like something from a nightmare. She pattered to the window, looking out, and she could see the warm glow of her reflection in the foggy glass. Her fingers reached up to touch the wide bite mark. It throbbed with a little pain, but just the sight of it made her chest swell with warmth.
She was in this now. For better or worse. No turning back now. There was something incredibly freeing about that. Refreshing. She wasn’t Cami, the stranger. Cami, the fish out of water. Cami, the little girl who only got in the way.
No, she was Cami, the Keeper. Marked by her Beast. And she had to make things right.
Outside, she could see the trees twisting their skeletal fingers towards the inky night sky. No sign of red eyes in the bushes, but she knew he was out there. Watching. Waiting.
“Come at me, Aldric,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
Tamed and Claimed
(Keeper of the Alphas: Part 5)
By Morgan Rae
Lichtown, Oregon. Comprised of three decrepit wooden houses that seemed to sink into the overgrown weeds. Once it had been a populated mining town; now, only ghosts kept it warm.
Ghosts and animals. Which was why Aldric had traveled thirty miles from Tyburn to knock on the door. He waited for a response. Nothing. Afternoon sun beat down on him, making him sweat under his clumps of black hair. Even in the clothes he’d torn off a stray hiker, he felt bare in the daytime.
Exposed
.
Then he smelled it.
Shifter.
Aldric whipped around. A man sat on the porch across from him, long raven hair tied back, layered in a mismatch of sun-bleached floral patterns. “This here’s a ghost town, brotha,” the man said. His vowels hung low in a deep, near Cajun drawl. “There ain’t nobody home.” As he spoke, the house behind him crawled with life, a mix of human and coyote eyes all fixed on Aldric. The gypsy lifted his dark eyes from under a violet derby hat and smiled crookedly. “Least, nobody you be wanting to tangle with, if y’catch my drift.”
Aldric’s jaw set. When he spoke, it was a low bark. “Do you not recognize when you’re in the presence of your Alpha, Remy?”
The coyote-man’s cocky grin faltered. The figures behind him quickly ducked into the shadows. Remy stood, regained his smile, and instantly dipped into a bow, tipping his hat off to the higher-ranking shifter. “Pardons, sir, didn’t recognize ya without your fur. Y’know us coyotes, we’re always a lil’ sick in the head. Moon chasers. Now”—Remy clasped his hand over Aldric’s shoulder. “What can a low-down drifter like m’self do for you?”
“I need you to kill someone for me. A girl. The Keeper’s daughter.”
“Well now,” Remy said, smile intact. “Y’don’t beat ’round the bush, do you?” Behind the act, there was
intelligence
in those eyes. Aldric hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Remy’s pack was well known for their mercenary achievements. If you had a job that needed doing, you went to
them
. But it came at a price. “What’s in it for us?”
“Your lives. Spared,” Aldric said.
“Mm, ’fraid no one really values our lives much, nor do we—ain’t that right?” A couple coyotes on the porch answered with resounding yips. Remy leaned on Aldric, dropping his voice. “How’s ’bout a scratch for a scratch, eh? Y’see, we’ve been getting some unfavorable attention from hunters ’round here. Can’t have that. So we’ll take care of this
ghel
for you, brotha, you take care a’ our hunter problem, we call it even.”
Aldric drew his lips in a thin, vicious smile. Even Remy took a step back, fear flickering in his eyes. “It’s done,” Aldric said, then turned, leaving the coyote pack.
“Always a pleasure, brotha!” Remy yipped in the Alpha’s wake.