Page 11 of Stolen By the Submarine

A sweet and citrusy smell tingles my nostrils.

“Drink,” he demands.

The cold rim of a container presses against my bottom lip. I open my mouth despite just wanting to sleep.

Cool liquid shocks my tastebuds into overdrive, and I suck down the beverage as fast as he allows.

As my body absorbs the sugar, I sigh as yet another realization hits me.

The Submarine recognized my dehydration before I did. After hours of straining in my cage, surrounded by alpha stink and sweating in the blistering sun, my body used up all the water I drank this morning. My oncoming estrous only compounded my dilemma.

He knew. That’s why he didn’t knot me.

It’s also why he offers me a second drink, this one plain water, but the crisp flavor baffles me.

I’ve never had such clean water before. Even without my sight, I know it lacks the reddish tinge of what The Sisters hauled into my room each day.

I lift my lids to check the container but drown in intense amber eyes. Whoever gave him such thick lashes has earned all my praise and worship.

“Name?” I manage despite the heaviness of my tongue.

“Port. My name is Port. And yours?”

“Coral.”

His deep rumble turns my bones to slush, and I close my eyes to savor the sensation. My heart thuds against my sternum. Need pulses deep in my abdomen, but I wince from the swollen tissues between my legs.

Thick fingers grasp my chin. I open my eyes.

“Be careful how you wield it, little angel,” my alpha says.

For a moment, I stare blankly up at him.

Wield what? I don’t have a weapon, and even if I did, haven’t I already proven I won’t hurt him? One knife remains in his holster while the other teeters on the edge of the bench beside his shoulder.

His eyes dip to my lips and understanding dawns.

He chuckles and rubs his thumb along my lower lip.

Emotions too big to understand swell within my chest.

He gave me something no one else ever thought of giving me. I never imagined I’d receive such a precious gift, no matter how warped it may be.

By telling me his name, he gave me power over him. He willingly offered me a way to leave my mark on his soul.

He stole me. Terrorized me. Hurt me.

He also slaughtered his way through a crowd, showed me a gentleness I thought couldn’t exist in this world, and proved himself more humane than any other alpha on the surface.

The Submarine is mine. My alpha. My Port.

As he shifts around to remove his holsters, boots, and pants, I bury my face in his shirt and breathe through the storm whirling through my soul. My heat returns, and because of the hydration my alpha offered me, fresh slick accompanies each painful cramp. His hard cock grinds against my ass and encourages more wetness from my depths, but he ignores the calling of my body and yanks his shirt over his head.

I slip further into madness as his bare chest spans the width of my gaze. I need him. Every inch of him.

He’s mine.

The only doubt left within me is the niggling worry of being nothing but a broodmare. If I attach my soul to his and he steals my younglings from me, my omega heart will shatter into a million irreparable pieces.

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