Page 155 of Ruled By The Alpha

“Whatisthat?” she whispered, sinking into the rhythmic sensation as frustration and fear sluiced off her body.

Holding her gaze, his fists unfurled, and the tense contractions of his muscles gave way to relaxation. “It’s called purring,” he explained. “It’s something an Alpha can do, and something an Omega can…appreciate.”

Rosemary’s feet stuttered a few steps in his direction, drawn toward the pleasant rumbling by an invisible tether. She was so tired, and it was just so…soothing.

“I’m sorry,” she said, corralling her thoughts back in order. “Purring? Like a cat?”

The corner of the man’s wide mouth kicked up, the first glint of something that might be a smile. “Not like a cat.” His tongue darted out to glide over those sensuous lips. “Like an Alpha.”

Chapter 4

Samson

Samson wasn’t dead, but this seemed an awful lot like hell.

After sleeping very little, he’d woken upstilltied to the bed with Rosemary nowhere to be found. The crumpled bedclothes she’d vacated lacked any remnants of a warm, sleeping female, so she’d obviously risen long before and left him alone in the cold room.

He puffed out an aggravated sigh, the curl of his breath visible in the air. He’d thought they’d reached an accord in the darkest hours of the early morning.

Apparently not.

The purring had been a gambit, but a successful one. It had settled her down and established enough doubt that she’d listened while he explained how the human race had mutated during the collapse of the modern world, dubbed TheEnd, into Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Sitting on the floor with her hands neatly folded in her lap, her brow pinched as she took it all in. After asking questions through a series of increasingly sizeable yawns, she’d unceremoniously dragged her bedding over to the floor next to his bed and fallen asleep while he purred softly into the rising dawn. She’d not asked, but comforting her made him feel like a real Alpha again. He’d kept it up long after she’d drifted off, enjoying his nature in a way he hadn’t for a long time, or perhaps expected to ever again.

Cast out of his Pack, Samson had wandered for months, heading vaguely west and west and west, toward the next day, the next sunset, following Jezebel’s cryptic command:go west and seek the ancient tribe. You’ll find what you need.

As always, his sister’s premonitions made little outright sense, yet he’d followed her admonishment. But months later, he’d found himself no closer to… well,anything. What could he need that some mysterious ancient tribe would possess? How would he even know, if he couldn’t find them anyway?

In his opinion, what he needed was for his life to return to the way it had been before his father died. Before the usurpers weaseled their way into the Pack, undermining and insidiously siphoning power away from strong Alphas in order to consolidate it amongst their weak, corrupt members. Just twenty when his father fell, Samson had bided his time, waiting and growing until he could challenge Mitch and reestablish the more egalitarian governance they’d enjoyed.

Only when the moment had arrived, he’d failed. His would-be allies, after promising to have his back and follow his lead to take back their Pack, decided the risk outweighed the reward and had left him to be beaten and imprisoned by Mitch’s gang of miscreants.

He would’ve rotted there in the makeshift prison, likely until they got tired of tormenting him and decided to kill him outright, if Jezebel hadn’t busted him out of confinement and sent him on this dubious quest.

Rosemary’s voice trickled through the air, nearly inaudible. She was outside somewhere, talking to an animal, maybe the scruffy dog who’d slept next to her or the one-eyed cat who laid around and looked down its nose at him. Clearly Rosemary had been isolated and sheltered in this remote forest her entire life. Her papa, whom he strongly suspected was either dead or longgone, may have known the truth about their post-apocalyptic world, but he’d obviously kept it to himself.

That fact filled Samson with bitter resentment. Why keep his daughter ignorant of her nature when it was a thing that ought to be cherished and celebrated? Omegas were rare and precious creatures, Rosemary included. Another surge of anger rose in his gullet. Why hadn’t the man left his daughter somewhere more protected where she could be cared for and looked after? Not out in the woods to fend for herself with a geriatric dog and a half-blind cat.

Then again, where would that be? Samson knew intimately that Pack living could be wonderful until it wasn’t.

He’d come so close last night to begging her for release from the restraints. But he’d held back; she had no reason to trust him. In fact, her instincts to mistrust an Alpha—and any man, for that matter—made a great deal of sense. Yet how could he prove his honor while tied to a bed?

Not to mention now that he was awake and growing stronger, other complications would assert themselves—complications involving his dick. Last night he’d acquiesced to her handling it so he could relieve himself, but he wasn’t keen on a repeat. The idea of her small, delicate hand wrapping around his flesh again made him twitch with interest. What would she think ofthat? Was that somethingelseshe didn’t know about?

His vision blurred as he imagined Rosemary unashamedly scrutinizing his dick with her thoughtful little brow furrowed. He’d take her hand and wrap it around his hot flesh, showing her how to stroke, alternating hard and soft passes the way he liked. And when watery pre-come beaded on the slit, would her curiosity compel her to sample a taste?

Samson let out a miserable groan. Whatthe fuckwas he doing indulging in a sexual fantasy while a prisoner in this weird-ass cabin?

A scuffing noise drew his attention—the sound of something being hefted from the other room beyond where he could see. A minute later, Rosemary entered, dragging a large container of water and trailed by her soggy dog. Her eyes jumped to his and then quickly cut away, a pinking blush stealing over her cheeks. Her magical hair was swept back from her face in a long, tidy braid that left her shiny, clean face visible. In the bright daylight, she was a study in the hues of the forest: shimmering white hair like summer sun, golden brown skin like oak leaves in the fall, and dark brown eyes like the damp, rich springtime earth. His chest cramped with awe. On a whim, he zeroed in on the tips of her ears, assuring himself they weren’t pointed like an elf’s. She was too beautiful to be real.

Oblivious to his admiration, she moved about the room, pouring the water into a pot on the fire and setting a bowl aside for both the dog and the cat before wiping her hands on her skirt. Samson sucked in a deep breath, drawing her fresh, luscious scent into his lungs.

Startled by a subtle change, he sniffed again. It was still delicate and floral, but had deepened overnight, tinged by a new, earthy musk.

Slick. His brain supplied the answer and his body lurched in agreement, dick pulsing excitedly. Maybe she wasn’t so oblivious. Alphas and Omegas craved each other on a primal level. As an Omega, she affected him, and as an Alpha, his body, his scent, his presence similarly affected her.

The solution to his imprisonment unveiled itself in an inspired flash: he would seduce her.

Her Omega nature would wage half the battle for him. He only needed to keep his cool and bring her close enough, make her desperate enough for his touch, to free him from these aggravating bonds. Naïve, sheltered, isolated, she wouldn’t have the experience to withstand his attentions. And if he had tofuck her to seal the deal—his eyes catalogued the lovely swells and valleys of her form—it wouldn’t be a hardship. In fact, after months of abstinence, it would be a blessed relief.

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