Page 31 of Traded to the Alpha Wolf

He senses me before I make a sound. Maybe he hears the shift of my breath, or maybe he just knows when I’m watching, because he turns around, and there’s a split second where his face softens, like he’s relieved to see me standing there.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “You’re up.”

The words are simple, but I hear the emotion in them. I’m up. I’m alive.

“Yeah,” I say, and my own voice surprises me, a little hoarse but otherwise strong. “Weird, right?”

He turns away again and starts plating some of the food while I drift to the table and sit, folding my legs underneath me on the bench. It’s early enough that the light in the kitchen is still pale, and I glance out the window, almost surprised at how calm the world looks out there.

Cade doesn’t say anything at first. He finishes the eggs and piles them onto a plate, along with enough bacon to feed a small army. He pours me a full mug of coffee, black with threesugars, just like I take it, and sets it in front of me. The smell alone is enough to make my stomach rumble loudly.

He sits across from me with his plate, and we say nothing, but I can’t help remembering what he said at the clinic about wanting to be with me, properly, not because I’m an omega, but for me. He wanted me to stay. He said it so simply, so like he meant it, and I was so doped up and out of my mind from blood loss and pain that I don’t even remember what I said back. Or if I said anything at all. I wonder if he regrets it now. Or maybe he’s waiting for me to say something.

I set the fork down and push the last of the food to the edge of the plate. “You’re staring,” I say. It comes out lighter than I mean, almost teasing.

“Eat,” he says, his lips twitching, but it’s not a command. It’s much softer than that.

“I remember what you said,” I blurt, and then immediately wish I could die. My face goes hot. “At the clinic. You said you wanted me. Not because of the…omega thing, but because you wantedme.” I can’t look at him, so I stare at my plate and push the food around. “I don’t know if I said anything back.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Eventually, I look up and find him watching me, his jaw working like he’s chewing on words. “You didn’t have to,” he says, voice almost a rumble. “You’re alive. That’s all I wanted.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. For a second, I’m afraid I might start crying, and that would be the most embarrassing thing possible, so I focus on the food, the warmth of the coffee, the steady beat of my heart.

“But I do want to say something,” I say, finally, “and I want to say it before I lose my nerve.”

Cade’s face doesn’t move, but I see the way his shoulders tense, the slight flare of his nostrils as he waits for me. For a split second, I wonder if he thinks I’m about to say goodbye, that maybe I’ll run the second I’m strong enough to make it out the door. But that’s not it. Not even close. I take a deep breath, and for once, I just say the truth.

“I want to stay,” I say, and the words come out calm and clear and a little terrifying. “Not because you saved me, not because of the mate bond we seem to have, not because of the omega heat or any of that. I want to stay because I…” I almost choke on the word, but I let it through. “Because I want you. Because I can’t imagine going back to the city, or the Order, or anyplace else as long as you’re here. I don’t care if I’m not a real shifter. I want to stay.”

He goes very still, like a wolf scenting danger, and I’m suddenly so anxious that I have to keep talking or I’ll explode. “I know I’m not a shifter, and I know you could have anyone you wanted, and maybe you’ll regret it, but I just…I need you to know that I want this. I want you.”

There’s a long silence, and then Cade pushes his chair back and moves around the table so fast I barely see it coming. His hands are on either side of my face, gentle but inescapably firm, and he kisses me, slow and deep and so careful that my heart cracks open. After everything, after all the blood and violence and pain, it’s this, his mouth on mine, the warmth of his hands, the way he breathes my name into me, that makes me feel like I’m finally home.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t care that you’re not a shifter. You’re not exactly human, either, and none of it matters,” he says, voice low and rough. “And you’re not going to regret this. Not ever.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to get self-conscious, doesn’t let the silence creep back in. Cade lifts me right up off the bench, hands under my thighs, plates and coffee sloshing as I yelp in surprise, and then he’s carrying me down the hall like I weigh nothing. The world falls away until it’s just his body, heat and muscle, and the feeling of his stubble against my neck as he pushes open the bedroom door with his shoulder.

He sets me down on the bed with a gentleness that feels surprising considering his size, but the look on his face is anything but gentle. All the restraint he showed in the kitchen is gone. There’s a hunger in him, something truly wild, and I feel it burn through me, aching in places that still remember the last time he touched me.

He doesn’t rush. He kneels on the edge of the bed and slides his hands up my legs, thumbs stroking the insides of my thighs, not even bothering with the pretense of being casual. He wants me, and it’s written all over him, from the way his eyes track every inch of skin where the shirt rides up to the way his hands flex as he reaches for my hips. He tugs me closer, and the shirt bunches up around my waist, exposing the healing bruises on my skin from where the hunter dragged me out. When Cade sees them, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flash gold. He leans in, mouth at my collarbone, his breath hot against my neck, and when he touches the fresh scar there, he kisses it, slow and reverent, then looks up at me, and in his eyes, I see everything he can’t say…fear, relief, possession and desire.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice so rough it barely sounds human.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and wrap my hands in his hair, pulling him closer. He slides my shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the floor, then runs his palms up my sides, mapping every inch of me, slow and deliberate. His hands are so big theyspan my waist easily, and when he cups my breasts, the calluses on his thumbs scrape my nipples and make me arch hard off the bed. He grins, wolfish, then ducks his head and bites gently at the curve of my breast, sucking until the heat in my stomach turns molten. His hand slides down my body, and when he slips inside, I moan, shameless and loud. I’m already wet, slick and ready, but he takes his time, working me open with slow, careful circles until I’m panting, begging, clawing at his shoulders.

He doesn’t let up. He slides down the bed, mouth trailing kisses along my belly, then dips lower between my legs. He hooks my knees over his shoulders and drags me down until my ass is balanced at the edge of the mattress, legs spread, and my whole body is open to him. The first flick of his tongue is so slow, so careful that I almost miss it, but then he licks again, broad and hot, and this time I can’t stop from moaning his name. He doesn’t tease, doesn’t hold back, just lavishes me with attention until I’m shaking, hips bucking so hard I nearly come off the bed.

He’s got me pinned, his hands wrapped around my thighs to hold me still while he devours me. He’s relentless, his tongue moving in tight, merciless circles around my clit, then dipping inside me, then back up, fucking me with his mouth and moaning into my skin. The vibration runs straight through my bones, and I can feel myself getting wetter, soaking his face, my own voice echoing off the walls. Every time I think I can’t take more, he redoubles his efforts, sucking my clit until my whole body tenses.

I come hard, and it’s so intense I see stars. I barely even notice his hand moving up between my legs, fingers sliding inside me knuckle-deep, stretching me open while his tongue keeps working me over. He slides two fingers in, then three, and I arch up, helpless under the steady, overwhelming pressure. I’m already trembling, but he doesn’t stop, just watches my faceas he scissors his fingers, opening me wider, and fuck, I can’t believe how good it feels, the perfect sting of too much and not enough.

He shoves in a fourth finger, and I cry out, half in shock and half in need. I’ve never taken that many, never even thought about it, but my body is hungry for it. I watch him, the look on his face, and it’s pure reverence. He adds his thumb at the base, grinding into my clit at the same time, and the pressure is so intense I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but clutch at his wrist and ride the next wave. When he pushes in the fifth digit, I gasp, my body stretching around him, and then I feel my whole center seize, the orgasm tearing through me so violently I scream. He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t ease off; he just keeps going, wrist deep, fucking me slow and intense with his hand, his mouth latched onto my clit.

I come again, and this time I lose control completely. My body convulses, and I feel a sudden, hot gush, the unmistakable wet explosion of squirting all over his hand and the sheets beneath me.

“You’re so incredible,” he breathes, his hand slipping free as he pulls his cock out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabs me by the hips and yanks me to the edge of the bed, so hard my shoulders almost leave the mattress. There’s nothing gentle now, nothing slow; his cock is heavy and flushed, already slick with precome, and when he lines up, the head drags hot and thick along my slit, making me whimper. “You ready for me?” he asks, but there’s no question in it. Just the knowledge that he could ruin me and I’d beg for more.

“Yes, please, Cade, fuck—”