Page 50 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
And I don’t know if I can give her freedom, or safety, or a future where she gets to love someone who doesn’t scare her. I don’t know if I can undo this bond or ever deserve the way she just looked at me.
But Idoknow one thing.
I can take out the bastard who ruined her life.
I can end the man who stole her name, her mother, her choices—who turned her whole world into a cage and called it holy.
I might not be able to save her.
But I can make sure he never touches her again.
So yeah.
Before I leave this rig…
Gideon Vinton dies.
11
JAVI
Morning presents us with our first challenge: what works when we’re alone won’t work when we’re with the others.
For one thing, it’s made clear to us from the minute we step outside of the room that there are certain rules omegas must follow and that it’s looked down upon for alphas to indulge any breaking of those rules.
First, Peaches has to stay collared—which neither of us likes.
Second, she’s not supposed to wear normal clothes.
And third, she’s supposed to stay indoors unless explicitly told to leave by the Prime.
I have to go down to the dock to talk to Boyd before he hightails it out of here, but I can’t leave Peaches at the Citadel. Our mating is purely cosmetic, and a single bite isn’t enough to fend off encroaching alphas. I can sense her, sure, but the way the men at the Rig behave, it would be too late for me to get to her if something happened while I was gone.
Given how embarrassed she’s been this whole time, I don’t intend on following most of those rules. She’s still wearing my t-shirt, leaving me bare-chested and looking more than ready for abrawl. I don’t mind it; I want the others to know how dangerous I can be.
And when we’re inevitably questioned on why she’s not running around naked, I’ll need the skill of intimidation to get away with it.
I may have agreed to be part of Gideon’s pack last night, but I’ve never considered myself a very honest man.
“So what’s the plan?” Peaches asks, plucking at the hem of the shirt like it offends her, even as she sniffs at the collar. “I don’t think they’ll let me wear this.”
“They’ll let you wear it because I say you’re wearing it,” I growl, sharper than I mean to be—but fuck if I can help it with her standing there in nothing but my clothes, looking at me like that. I stalk to the window, needing the distance, peering out at the platform for any sign of Boyd. The sky is still heavy with storm clouds. The Rig isn’t done with us yet.
“I want my scent on you,” I say, voice low. “It’s the only way to keep the others from fucking with you.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I swear the earth tilts beneath me. Her brown eyes find mine, wide and searching.
“The bite won’t be enough?” she asks.
I glance at her throat. Atmymark.
It’s mostly healed now—pink and delicate, two punctures just barely open, a little kiss of blood still staining her freckled skin. Right over her heartbeat.
Mine.
My wolf wants me to drag her down and put more marks on her. Everywhere. My teeth on her shoulder, her hips, the inside of her thighs. She’d look so good covered in me.
I force those thoughts back. Chain them down with guilt.
