Page 26 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
I took the payment.
She isn’t my problem.
She shouldn’t be my problem.
But the thought of Abel touching her makes my fucking skin crawl.
I clench my teeth, rolling onto my side, fighting the instinct to get up, to go to her, to rip her out of that cage before some bastard lays claim to what’s mine.
Because that’s what this is.
That’s what my fucking gut is telling me.
She’s mine.
And I should be the one claiming her.
Not some posturing fuck like Abel.
Not some coward who needs a hunt to take what he wants.
She should be under me, writhing, begging, marking me up with her nails while I sink my teeth into her throat and make her mine for real.
A low growl rolls through my chest, barely controlled, barely suppressed.
My fingers dig into the thin mattress, my claws threatening to tear through the fabric.
I don’t even know if she wants me.
But I sure as hell know she doesn’t want them.
The wind howls, shaking the bunkhouse. The ocean slams against the Rig, waves crashing hard enough to make the metal groan. And through it all, I hear voices outside.
Loud. Excited.
They’re gathering.
My stomach turns to iron.
I sit up, heart pounding, my ears tuned to the noise outside.
This is it.
I don’t think.
I don’t hesitate.
I move.
I swing my legs over the edge of the top bunk, dropping down quietly, my boots hitting the floor. The second I stand, I feel eyes on me.
Boyd is awake.
His gaze glows slightly in the dark, his pupils thin, his expression unreadable.
“Don’t,” he mutters.
I pause.
