Page 60 of Alpha Exile

The irises are a shocking, nearly white ice-blue, with silvery pupils that reflect the moonlight like water. Though his gaze focuses on me, it feels almost as if he's lookingthroughme or beyond me.

And I can feel the restless ancient spirit inside him, full of trembling rage, pushing to get out.

"We're going to help you, Roarke." I grab his shoulders and heave him up, pulling him to me chest-to-chest in a fierce hug. "Lance and the others are on their way here. I'll do what I did for Bastian... maybe it'll help you too."

Maybe it'll do nothing, but I have to try.

He doesn't answer, his arms hanging limply by his sides. Turning his face towards my neck, he inhales deeply, his breath stirring my hair as he breathes in my scent. The thin pants hanging around his hips are torn and dirty. I can feel his arousal stirring within them.

A low moan leaves his parted lips, he presses his hips against me, suddenly grabbing onto my waist and jerking our bodies tightly together. I gasp, sensing his arousal through my powers, feeling the desire that stirs within him, mixed up with rage and confusion.

"It's—it's okay." Sliding my fingers across his neck, I pull my head back to gaze into his face, my heart sinking at the lack of recognition in his expression. "You must recognize my scent."

Roarke grunts, licking his lips. His mouth opens, and he makes a sighing sound, his brows twisting together. I get the sense that he's trying to speak, but struggling—and it's frustrating him.

Hands digging hard into my waist, he suddenly pushes me back against a nearby tree trunk, his hips canting. His arousal presses up against his pants, and he snarls suddenly, face twisting towards rage.

I grab onto his shoulders and do my best to hold on, my pulse quickening, blood rising to the surface as my body responds to his frantic desire.

Grabbing my thighs, he hefts me up and presses his lips against mine. The kiss is harsh and claiming, his unshaven jaw rough against my skin, his fangs pressing into my mouth. Despite myself, I moan against his lips, my fingers skittering against his muscular shoulders.

He reaches down to tear his pants from his body, the thin fabric parting easily. His aroused length presses against my inner thigh, then hits the denim of my shorts—and he growls into my mouth, pulling back to glare at me and snarl.

"It's—it's okay." I don't know if I'm talking to him or to myself. Reaching down to my hips, I feel the hilt of the dagger against my fingers, but know that I don't want to use it. I'm not afraid—not for myself, anyway. "Is that you in there Roarke? Is this—is this something you want?"

It occurs to me that if we mate, the mating bond between us might wake up enough to bring him back to me.

That's all I need to know that I want this too. So I open up my shorts and pull them down my thighs, wriggling around his waist as the fabric hits his body and stops. He huffs in frustration, reaches down, and tears them aside with a loud ripping sound.

There goes my favorite summer bottoms. Here I thought one of the benefits of how we shift is the fact that we get to take our clothes with us. I never factored horny lost mates as a danger to my wardrobe.

Roarke's fingers dig into my bare thighs, pulling them wide expectantly. His hips cant forward, and our mouths meet. I open my lips against him, preparing for some teasing a little foreplay—only to gasp, then whimper, as he lines himself against me and pushes in all at once.

The spark of discomfort is quickly replaced by pleasure as he rolls his hips forward and in, a grunt of arousal leaving his lips. Pressing his forehead against mine, his blond hair falls forward to tickle my skin, and he makes an appreciative noise as he works himself in and out of me.

He's warm and thick inside me, his hands pressing into my thighs, his length hitting me in all the right places. And he doesn't take his time, doesn't warm me up or go with care. All I can do is hold onto him and surrender to the feelings inside me, my awareness reaching out to curl around him, desperate to awaken our bond, my body growing slick and tight with increasing pleasure.

At some point I forget to think, and become only feeling. Only the sound of his moans and the twist of his hips, the press of his body into mine and the wholeness that comes of being reunited to him.

I come with a whimper, biting my lower lip and digging my fingers into his back. His eyes fly open, the irises and pupils nearly completely whited out, and he watches the pleasure twist across my face. Then he shifts his weight forward, pushes himself inside me, and leans forward to bite my neck as he comes.

Slick blood slides out of my pierced skin, and he licks it with abandon. I shudder as an odd, pain-tinged pleasure slides through me. The wolf inside me rises to the surface and gasps out her pleasure at the feeling of being reunited with her alpha, of having him empty his desire out inside her.

For a moment, I remember that we didn't use protection, and I tremble against him, knowing it's far too late to care.

He snaps his hips back from me suddenly, dropping my legs. I stumble to the ground, naked from the waist down, scowling up at him.

"You can't just—"

A blank expression slides over his face. His body is stiff, his nakedness stark in the moonlight, as he turns robotically around and begins to march out into the woods. Panicking, I reach my awareness out towards him, desperately scrambling for the bond—and find it missing completely, like it was never there at all.

She's taking him back. Delphine is stealing him away from me.

Twenty-Five

Delilah

Iwon't let her have him.

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