Page 103 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
Ethan is silent for a long moment, his hand still cupping my chin. “Then we give them every reason to accept us.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“No, but walking away from you isn’t simple either.” His fingers brush my cheek. “Turns out it’s actually impossible.”
“We might not have a future—”
“But we have right now.” His lips brush mine, light as a feather. “And tomorrow.” His gaze grounds me. “And whatever comes after that, there can be no more pushing each other away. We fight for this, for however long we can, until there’s nothing left to fight for.”
I nod. My wolf settles, finally at peace.
He pulls me against him, and I let myself melt into his warmth. “Even if that means following you into battle against a psychotic Shaman.”
Despite everything, I laugh. It comes out wet and broken from my tears, but it’s real. “You’re still an idiot for that.”
“I’myouridiot.” His lips press against my hair. “Always.”
Chapter 38 — Rhiannon
His breath ghosts across my lips, and the last thread of my restraint snaps.
I crush my mouth against his and kiss him like I’m trying to fuse him to me, tasting the salt from my tears on both our lips.
My wolf doesn’t hold back. She lunges with a possessive hunger that floods my chest and tightens every muscle in my body, recognizing what my stubborn mind has protested for weeks.Mine. He’s mine.
I grab the front of his shirt and pull. The fabric tears straight down the center, buttons scattering across the stone floor with tiny pings. I don’t apologize. He shoves my leather vest off my shoulders while I yank the ruined shirt down his arms, and we’re a tangle of desperate hands and snapping laces. My tunic catches on my belt and he fumbles with the buckle. I knock his hands away and wrench it free myself, pulling the tunic over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me.
When his bare chest presses against mine, the full force of his scent hits me like a wall.
It’s not the faint trace I catch from across the training yard or the ghost of cinnamon that clings to the corridors after he’s passed through them. This is the hallmark of Ethan in its most concentrated and devastating form. His musk is deepened by arousal, his skin fever-warm, his pulse pounding so hard it echoes against my own ribcage. My wolf revels in it, drunk and greedy. Every sense I possess laps him up: his stuttering breath, his racing heart, the low sounds he can’t contain.
I guide him backward. He hits the mattress and I’m on top of him before he bounces, pinning his wrists above his head. Driven by pure instinct. I hover over him, my hair curtaining us, and for a moment I’m exactly what I’ve been trained to be: dominant, fierce, unbreakable.
Then, he looks at me.
Those jade eyes, wide and dark, hold nothing back. Vulnerable, but powerful in a way no weapon could ever make him. This is Ethan, stripped bare in every sense, giving himself over to me with trust so absolute it makes my heart ache.
My palms slide down his chest, tracing the cut lines of his abdomen, every ridge of pure muscle tightening beneath my touch.
My fingers descend further. I cup his balls in my palm, rolling them with exacting pressure, and the groan of desire that comes out of him sends a bolt of heat straight through my core. I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke it once. Slowly. From root to tip. His hips jerk up from the mattress and I press them back down with my forearm, holding him still while I begin stroking him again, setting a rhythm designed to unravel him thread by thread.
“Rhi—” He stops short when he catches my eye.
I hold his gaze as I lower my mouth onto his cock, inch by torturous inch, letting him watch every inch disappear.
The taste of him floods my tongue — savory sweetness with that undercurrent of cinnamon that I will never be able to separate fromminefor as long as I live. My already-sharp Lycan senses become as pointed as a blade’s edge. I can hear the blood rushing through his femoral artery, his groans vibrate through his body and into mine, where my hand braces against his hip. His pulse pounds like a relentless war drum, and I match it’s rhythm with the movement of my mouth, pulling him in deeper, hollowing my cheeks.
Through our fated bond — that incredible tether neither of us thought possible — his pleasure pours into me like liquid fire. Raw, unfiltered sensation that mirrors my own courses through my body, pooling hot and low between my thighs until I’m aching with it. Every sound he makes stirs the magma in my core to burn hotter. His moans become my pulse. His tension becomes my hunger.
His fingers tangle in my hair, and the raw, worshipful look in his gaze tells me exactly how he sees me right now: powerful and devastating and pleasuringhim.
My wolf relishes in the satisfaction of it.
He’s ours.
“Rhiannon,fuck—”
There’s urgency in his voice. I feel him cresting. His steady breaths become shreds of short, desperate gasps. His thighs tense beneath my hands. I sense the exact moment his body begins to tip over the edge, white-hot pressure building toward release.
