Page 63 of Ruled By The Alpha

Syra bit her lip and dipped her head, pinching her thighs together as he nudged her up the hill in front of him, backside swaying right in front of his face as she scrambled up the rocks.

It was going to be a long fucking trip.

Riden only hoped he had the decency to get her back where she could nest before he lost control.

Chapter 8

Syra struggled down the hillside, panting and miserable.

Focusing on walking in her current state was a monumental task, and one she wasn’t managing gracefully. More than once, Riden had to steady her or take her hand as she stumbled along, and it was all she could do not to beg him to take her right where they stood.

As good as that sounded, the idea of being in camp, surrounded by his scent and nesting in blankets saturated by it sounded better. Enough so that she continued putting one foot in front of the other despite how arduous a task it was.

From the look of it, Riden wasn’t much better off than she. Not only were his wounds still seeping blood, his cock remained rock hard and his pupils blown, his tension obvious in the clench of his jaw and stiffness of his shoulders. While the bitterness of aggression had faded from his scent in the fight’s wake, his smell was still overpowering. Delectable, mouthwatering, and full of enticement, Syra couldn’t think of anything that smelled more delicious to her than he did right now.

Syra doubled over as another cramp took her, forcing more slick into her already soaked pants. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the contractions, her discomfort only made worse by the continual humiliation of Riden seeing her this way.

Riden rumbled a low noise of frustration, and suddenly Syra was no longer on the ground. Swept up in his arms, he cradled her against his chest and buried his nose in her hair. He groaned against her ear, and Syra whimpered as another tremor of pleasure snaked through her aching body.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she turned her face into his chest and sniffed. The coppery scent of his blood was still of concern, but Syra knew Alphas were uncommonly resilient. If he wasn’t worried, she didn’t need to be.

“We’re almost back, but I think we could both stand a quick wash.”

Syra frowned, but didn’t argue. The water that tumbled down over the rocks near camp was frigid from the melted snow in the peaks above. It sounded about as pleasant as getting teeth pulled. But at least she’d be clean.

He picked his way carefully over the slick stones near the trickling falls, and set her on her feet at the water’s edge. “Can you undress, or do you need me to help you?” He rumbled against her ear, his hand dipping to her waist to steady her.

Syra’s pulse fluttered as the warmth of his breath ghosted over her skin. She wanted to say she could do it on her own, but she felt so unsteady and hazy, she was afraid she’d slip and hurt herself. She certainly didn’t want to give him something else to worry about by injuring herself. He’d been inconvenienced enough on her behalf already.

“Can you help me?”

Riden shifted in front of her, smiling wolfishly as he cupped his free hand against her cheek. “I certainly can. Here, let’s sit you down.”

Syra let him help her onto a nearby boulder, where he knelt and lifted one of her feet to his thigh and began unlacing her boot. Syra meant to take off her shirt, but the sight of Riden on his knees in front of her stayed her hands at the hem. It had been ages since she’d fantasized about an Alpha, but in the moment, she couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to have his head between her thighs. He gently removed her boot and sock before switching sides and doing the same for her other foot. But still, Syra couldn’t seem to move. It wasn’t until his hands ranup the back of her calves and along the outside of her thighs, coming to rest against her hips, that she realized she’d been staring dumbly as he completed his task.

“Seems you aren’t having much luck with your shirt.” He noted, a hint of humor tainting his voice. Syra blushed and averted her gaze, but Riden only chuckled. “Shall I do the rest for you as well?”

“Maybe.”

Wordlessly, he unfastened the button and zipper on her pants and folded his fingers under the waistband, tugging in gentle suggestion. Syra knew he could have ripped them off her with little effort at all, but ever the gentleman, he refrained. She lifted her hips, and he peeled her pants down and off in one smooth motion. His hands then retraced their prior path up her legs, spreading goosebumps over her skin as the heat and roughness of his palms stimulated every nerve ending they passed over on the way to her waist.

Her underwear was even easier for him to remove, vanishing from her body in a flash of movement that left her bare from the waist down. Riden hummed a throaty noise of approval and bent forward, inhaling deep as he pressed his lips to her inner thigh, so close to her aching center that she could hardly resist the urge to push his face where she wanted it.

“Soon, Sweetheart.”

Syra finally found the motivation to lift her shirt over her head.

He helped her unclasp her bra before discarding the rest of her clothes in the pile beside the boulder. The way his eyes dipped and lingered over her body made her skin flush hot where the cool air had previously soothed it. By the time he stood and began undressing himself, Syra was eager for the cold water.

She took in every inch of flesh he bared with intent appreciation, admiring each dip, curve, and bulge of muscle she’d never been privy to before. His wounds were worse than he claimed, and already the dark coloration of bruises mottled his ribs and thighs, but the congealing blood and angry injuries did nothing to detract from the raw, masculine beauty that was Riden.

He discarded his clothes alongside hers and extended his hands to help her up, standing nude so casually before her that one might have thought it was a common practice for him. Syra placed her hands in his and whimpered when he pulled her against himself, trapping his rigid, angry cock between them. The velvety flesh was so swollen and dark it looked painful. It dug into the softness of her belly in a way that made her insides clench and flutter. Riden leaned low and nuzzled against her ear, his tongue flicking out against its soft shell in a tease.

“Let’s hurry, before I lose interest in being clean.”

Syra nodded her agreement and let Riden lead her into the freezing water. As much as she enjoyed looking at him, she wanted him inside her more. If an icy wash was what stood between her and knowing what it felt like to have Riden fuck her, it was a discomfort she would gladly bear.

Chapter 9

---