Page 109 of Ruled By The Alpha

Something in my body unfurls and accepts his command. The ball of worry remains in my chest, but tendrils of comfort and a sense of rightness infect my marrow. His words end, but his rumble does not. It morphs into a deeper, less angry vibration, notes of approval woven within.

He lowers my head under the water and kneads my scalp until every ounce of sanity leaks from my mind. Air brushes across my face, too cold after the luxury of the bath, and a few seconds tick by before I react to him pulling me to my feet. I lift my arms to cover my intimates, but he grabs my wrists and pins them against my lower back with one hand.

Dripping and shivering, I try to turn away, only to meet his hard tawny eyes.

“Be very still, little omega.”

My eyes widen at the quiet threat. I turn to stone.

He picks up the soap, turning it over in his gigantic hand until lather bubbles between his fingers before he sets it back onto the ledge. His slick hand wraps around my throat. My pulse quickens, pounding against his goliath palm. He smirks and runs his hand down my arm, leaning so close his shirt almost clings to my wet flesh as he inspects my every bruise and scrape. I sense the fury boiling in him and stand as still as possible, hoping he won’t unleash his anger on me.

A shiver steals through me when he massages the web of skin between my thumb and forefinger, and I bite the inside of my lip to muffle a groan as he tests the rest of my fingers. Anxiety vibrates through me, our hands too close to my rear for myliking. He smooths his palm up my arm, highlighting our size difference before giving my other arm the same treatment.

Flecks of light brown shine from his almost orange irises, the intensity of his stare capturing my attention. He returns his attention to my shoulder and slides his hand down until he cups my breast.

Streaks of lightning arrow through my veins as his roughened palm grinds against my sensitive nipple, the peak turning hard and needy despite my growing panic.

The odd combination of slick and rough, cold and hot, mean and gentle, and unwanted, yet wonderful, sets my senses to electrified confusion. I stare in wide-eyed shock at the first alpha to ever explore my naked flesh. He never looks away, stroking and plucking under the guise of soaping my breasts.

Still holding my gaze, he continues down my torso, probing my flat stomach and testing the resilience of my hips. He bends his knees, bringing his face closer to mine and grazing his shirt across my soapy front. His hand lowers, a finger teasing along the edge of my intimate hair before he gives my thighs a few long, slow sweeps of his hand. Then he dips his fingers into the bath and rolls the soap in his fist again, white bubbles dripping into the dirty water. In my periphery, I see them floating along the surface, but the darkening of his brown eyes holds my attention.

He sets his palm on my knee and glides it up my outer thigh before swooping it behind me. His fingers dig into the globe of my ass, silky and sensual despite the hard set of his mouth.

Unable to tell which way is up and at the mercy of a lethal alpha, I clench my fists and swallow, nearly fried by the shock of his caresses. He shifts closer still, until the heat of his breath ghosts across my lips as his hand moves to my other butt cheek, his rumble dropping impossibly lower.

His fingers tease the bottom swell of my ass, inching closer to the folds between my legs.

Despite the danger of incurring his wrath, I press my thighs together, desperate to deny him access to the most damning part of my body. His lids lower in warning half a millisecond before he moves.

Pain snaps through my scalp as he releases my wrists and yanks my hair back, exposing my neck to him. His other hand leaves my backside and delves between my legs, covering my entire pussy and bypassing my defenses with one quick motion. I claw and push at his wrist to no avail—his fingers sink into the hair and weave between and around my folds.

I whimper as lightning sears every nerve ending in my body as he grinds his hand against me more intimately than anyone ever has before.

Trapped in his grasp and fighting nausea and pleasure alike, I tremble at the myriad sensations blasting through me. The moan I fought so hard to suppress breaks free, relaying how broken I am on the inside. A glint fills the tanker’s eyes and his purr drops so low my chasing stomach can’t follow it, the metal floor preventing its descent.

He flexes his fingers, soap easing his exploration as he inspects every inch of my labia.

Without warning, he hooks his forearm under my knees and dunks me under the water.

My mind drowns in confusion while my body jumps into fight-or-flight mode. Water splashes everywhere as I choke and flail, helpless against his greater strength.

One moment I’m underwater. The next moment I’m sucking down air, only to repeat the process again and again until the roaming of his hands no longer registers. He touches every part of me, leaving no crevice unexplored as he rinses the soap frommy flesh. I thrash and seek the surface, spitting out bathwater the moment air wafts across my forehead.

Gravity makes my exhausted limbs too heavy to lift when he scoops me from the tub. Sputtering and heaving, I try to knock his hand away as he sits with me in his lap, a towel draped over the hand not supporting my back—but my attempts look weak and inconsequential, even to myself.

He dries me with quick, efficient motions before dropping the towel on the bench and surging to his feet.

Dazed and cold, I notice the electric lights for the first time, noting how they cast a dim, gentle glow throughout the bathroom. The same lights extend into the next room as he opens the door and stalks across to the raised bed tucked against the far wall.

I search for strength, wanting nothing more than to run as far away from the bare mattress as possible, fear closing my throat as the cruel alpha leads me to my inevitable death.

He’s too strong. Too big. I’ll never survive a rutting by him, even if my body were in full estrous, which it isn’t. Despite the itching under my skin, I know it’s too soon—everyone says omegas in heat turn mindless, seeking nothing but knots and alpha seed.

My back thumps against the mattress, knocking the breath out of me.

Even though I tell myself to fight tooth and nail—for I’d rather enrage him and quicken my death—my limbs merely tuck themselves as close to my torso as possible as I roll onto my side, seeking to protect myself for a few seconds longer, no matter how futile the act may be.

White teeth gleam as he reaches for me.

---