Page 7 of Alpha Hunger

“And what have you done for me?”

Shit. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“But I did. Stay still, Anna.”

My name from his lips sounds like he ordered me to remove my clothes and climb onto his cock so he can show me the happiest place on Earth. I bet he’s like eleven inches long, thick as my wrist, and there’s that knot thing everyone talks about. A shiver runs down my spine. It’s not a bad kind of shiver like the one I get from the hounds, but the kind I get when I near one of these aliens. The horny shiver.

The Horde male returns to his hound and pats the beast. He throws a wide black fur over the she-hound, then reaches into the pockets sewn on the fur and pulls out a tube. His arm slices the air. A white slash marks the black leather throw on the hound. I know that mark. It’s the same mark Hunger used to leave on the doors of the homes where he’d found Omega females. We were labeled and marked like fucking cattle. I didn’t think those markings happened anymore. The Human Alliance fought against this practice for years. The Regha king sought out Omegas as if it was the only thing on his agenda. Ruthless and merciless, he marked us, and they bred us.

I remain calm, hoping against hope this is an Omega hound and that’s why they’re marking her. I know there are Alpha hounds. The Horde male climbs on his animal and returns to the gate.

The she-hound opens her mouth, and her tongue falls over her razor-sharp teeth. She stares at me, pitch-black eyes literally forcing me to look away. I glance up at the window where I think the prince’s office might be.

“Yes?” he says.

“That’s not right, and you know it.”

“Which part?”

“The marking.”

“It is very much within my right.”

I open my mouth to argue, but remember I need the job.

“Proceed to the laundry room,” the prince says in my ear.

I’m too scared to turn my back on the hound, so I walk back a few steps, hoping she won’t follow.

“Anna, turn around and walk to the laundry room now.”

“I’m fucking scared.”

“Of the hound?”

“Why yes, genius.”

“Language.”

My heart pounds in my chest, sweat breaks out on my palms, and I wipe them on my suit. “Call off the hound.”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“The hound is for you.”

I’m gonna freak out. He is not paying me enough for sure. “Nah, I don’t want one. I have nowhere to put it.”

“You will have her anyway.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As a PA, I get transport. I get a car.”

“You will receive what I give you, and it’s a hound.”

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