Page 141 of My Unhinged Alphas
That knowledge hits like a drug.
I kiss her once, filthy and slow, then pull back enough to watch her face while I drive into her and Vale pushes her over with his fingers.
She breaks with both our names in her mouth.
I thrust through her orgasm, feeling the helpless pulse of her around my cock, and that strange, quiet thing happens in my head again. The static drops. The usual itch, the usual restless, violent charge under my skin, all of it easing under the weight of her, the heat of her, the way she looks at me like I’m not just hunger wearing a man’s shape.
It’s enough to wreck me completely.
I come with a groan into her neck, biting down softly there while my hips jerk through it, spilling into her in thick pulses as she’s still trembling from her climax and Vale keeps kissing her like he’s trying to soothe the overstimulation out of her.
When I finally stop moving, I just stay there for a second, forehead pressed to her shoulder, breathing hard.
Not peaceful. I don’t think I know how to be peaceful.
But quieter.
And that might be more dangerous.
Because lying there half on top of her, Vale still at her side, all three of us tangled in sweat and heat and motel-sheet darkness, I know exactly what changed.
Earlier, I wanted her because she was hot and feisty and made for a fun kind of trouble.
Now? Now I’ve had that impossible little moment of silence in my head while I was inside her, and I’m sick enough to want it again.
That is going to be a problem.
Chapter 22
Knox
It’s notlong after dawn when my phone starts vibrating against the motel nightstand.
I wake instantly.
Not the slow kind of waking. No drift, no confusion. One second asleep, the next fully conscious, hand already moving before the second buzz finishes. Old habits. Bad ones. Useful ones.
The room is dim and sour with stale air and too little sleep. My neck aches from the angle I fell asleep at. At some point I must have gone under for an hour, maybe less, still dressed, boots on, back half-twisted because I never meant to sleep in the first place.
The screen lights my hand blue.
Unknown number.
I’m already answering before it stops vibrating. “Yeah.”
There’s a beat of static.
Then a voice I know. “Rise and shine, Knox.”
I sit up straighter at once. “Voss.”
Gabriel Voss.
The Shepherd Vale and Havoc talked to at the club.
His voice is low, controlled, still carrying that same dry edge, but there’s something different under it now. Less resistance. Less performance. But I don’t trust him.
I don’t like it, because men like Voss do not change their minds for free.
