Page 101 of Step Alpha

Rayne

I fight to regain consciousness.

Someone is stroking my feet. I try to kick, but find my ankles have been restrained now.

I manage to open my eyes and find Footlover at the foot of the bed, one hand stroking my bare foot, the other his dick. The stilettos are off, lying on the bed beside me.

“Rayne,” he moans when he sees I’m awake. He rubs his junk over my other bare foot.

The sight gives me a surge of adrenaline, which helps me get some feeling back into my fingers and toes.

“Get off me!” I snarl.

My indignation only seems to excite him, though. He pumps his fist harder over his cock, rolling his hips to stay in contact with my foot. He crushes my foot in his other hand.

“Ow! You’re hurting me,” I try.

“Use your toes,” he commands. “Use your toes on my balls.”

I don’t know if it’s terror or rage that makes my heat spike, but I’m suddenly burning up. I feel like puking and screaming at the same time.

Footlover pushes his finger in and out of the crevice between my big toe and second toe, and I nearly weep remembering Wilde. The way he’d sucked my toes. His tenderness with my feet.

Wilde, the guy I just broke up with.

If you would even consider us together to begin with.

Wilde, the guy I may never see again. It’s that thought that brings on a flush of grief and desperation so heavy, I’m blinded.

I fight to come back to consciousness. I fight and I fight. Somewhere, I hear a splintering pounding.

The tranquilizer must’ve had a second phase.

I don’t know how long I’m out or what I do to come back. All I know is that when I can finally see again–when objects and shapes come into focus, when I can see light and shadow and a human form–what I see doesn’t make sense. Because everything is washed in blood.

ChapterTwenty-One

Wilde

Something makes me break into a run. I trust the urge, bolting as fast as my human form can take me. I end up circling a motel. My phone is ringing, and I’m torn between answering it and–

No. No time.

Rayne is here.

I catch her scent faintly. Or maybe it’s just the memory of her scent, but I trust the sensation.

I want to shift, so I can follow the trail, but then my ears detect a sound.

A wolf snarl.

I hurl my body in its direction, slamming my shoulder against a motel door until it breaks from the frame and falls in.

It only takes me a second to understand what’s happened.

Rayne–my beautiful, sweet female–stands naked on a bloodied carpet, broken tethers around her wrists and ankles. Blood covers her face and chest. Her blue eyes are wide and frightened as she stares at the dismembered man on the floor.

The scent of blood overpowers the room but under it–oh fates. Under it is Rayne’s scent. Her new shifter scent.

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