Chapter 12
TWELVE
SOL
I can’t believe the old codger was right.
There really is a storm rolling in. Granted, it’s not looking set to be that bad, but I can understand why Pete would close the restaurant tonight – if only for the safety of his staff getting home later.
I can admire him for the way he treats his staff well.
Begrudgingly, I guess.
I never wanted to be a surf instructor, working for the family empire.
But then again, I never really wanted to be a university lecturer either.
Our parents are hard asses – or at least, they were back then.
Follow in the family’s footsteps or become a lawyer, doctor, or teacher was their demand.
The twins don’t realise how lucky they have it; our parents have definitely relaxed the rules and lowered their expectations a lot compared to how they raised me.
I guess a large age gap between siblings will do that.
If given a chance, I would have been a chef. Maybe I would have ended up back here anyway, working at The Beachside Grill. But at least I would have been doing something that I loved.
As the sky turns a macabre shade of grey and the wind picks up to gusting, I’m full of restless energy. Thinking about what ifs tends to do that to me, but so do storms. I find them invigorating.
Tonight, I want to go hunting.
I’m not talking about hunting foxes or rabbits, as they love to do around here, but rather a different kind of prey.
The human, female kind. I want to hunt for someone to share this storm with.
Someone who shares my excitement for the wildness of nature, who will let their hair fly free in the wind, and who won’t mind getting wet and dirty.
Not for connection. Not for bonding.
This is why I stick to betas – no heat, no aftermath, no mistakes that follow you home.
And I know just the woman.
Pulling my phone from my jeans pocket, I open the Beta Bait app and navigate to my messages.
My brothers – well, mostly Kai – are arseholes who would love nothing more than to hack my phone and uncover my secrets.
Which is why I never save contacts and always delete my message threads.
Instead, I type in BetaBeachBabe23 from memory and begin my message.
TidalDominance: Do you like storms, little prey? I’m done waiting. It’s time. Come to Silver Sands at nine and be prepared to run for your life. I’ll be the stalker in black. Avoid me if you can. I can’t wait to devour you.
It takes a few minutes for the reply to come through, and when it does, my heart pounds hard in my chest.
BetaBeachBabe23: You’re on. Looking forward to it.
I grin, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation that always comes before a hunt. I quickly type out a response, my fingers dancing over the screen.
TidalDominance: Good. You won’t regret it.
I hit send and pocket my phone, taking a deep breath of the salty air. The storm is getting closer now, the wind howling and the waves crashing against the shore. I can’t wait to be out there in the thick of it, pursuing my prey.
I have a few hours to kill before it’s time, so I decide to take a walk along the beach.
The sand is cool and damp beneath my feet, and the wind whips around my body, rippling my t-shirt. I love the feeling of the storm, the raw power and energy that it brings. It’s revitalising, like being alive in a way that nothing else can compare to.
As I walk, I scan the beach for my prey.
She’s not here yet, but I know she’ll come.
She’s always up for a challenge, always ready to push herself to the limit.
We may not have met in person yet, but we’ve been talking for a few weeks now.
It’s time. We’re ready. I know that tonight, with the storm raging around us, we’ll both be pushed to our limits.
The wind picks up, and I can feel the first drops of rain beginning to fall. It’s not heavy yet, but I know it will be soon. I turn my face up to the sky, letting the rain wash over me. It’s cold and stings my skin, but I revel in the feeling of being alive.
As the minutes tick by, I pace back and forth, my eyes scanning the beach for any sign of movement. It’s nearly nine o’clock now, and I’m starting to get impatient. Where is she?
Just as I’m about to give up and head home, I see a figure emerging from the darkness.
My prey. Instinctively, I know it’s her.
She’s small and lithe, with long hair whipping around her face in the wind despite the dark hood she has pulled up.
That hair, so long and wild and free, will be fucking perfect for wrapping around my fist.
I can’t see her face, but something about the way she moves sets my blood on fire. I can see the determination in her stance from even this distance. She’s the perfect catch.
As she gets closer, I observe the way her body moves with the wind, the way she holds herself with confidence and strength. She’s a challenge, but that only makes her more enticing to me.
She stops walking and a moment later my phone beeps. A grin stretches across my face before I’ve even read her message.
BetaBeachBabe23: I’m here.
TidalDominance: Are you ready?
BetaBeachBabe23: More than ready. I’ve been waiting for this.
BetaBeachBabe23: Catch me if you can.
TidalDominance: Run, little rabbit.
My grin turns predatory. Oh, it’s on.
I pull on my mask and stalk towards her, making sure to keep my pace slow and steady.
The thrill of the hunt is coursing through me, and the storm is making me feel more alive than ever.
She doesn’t let me get close enough to discern the details of her face, but that just fuels my excitement, my desire to catch and conquer her, and then finally reveal her visage – if I so desire.
I close the distance between us, and she bolts in the opposite direction, her hood falling and hair flying behind her like a wild banner.
I growl and give chase, my heart racing with anticipation.
The rain is coming down harder now, and the wind is knocking me off balance, but I power through it. I’m determined to catch her.
I can hear her breathless laughter as she sprints along the beach, dodging driftwood and jumping over patches of seaweed.
She’s making her way towards the dunes, probably thinking the hills and dips will afford her places to hide, but she doesn’t know that I know this beach inside out; that it’s my back garden.
She’s fast, but I know I’m faster. I close in on her, grabbing onto her hair and yanking her back. She cries out, stumbles, but regains her footing as I loosen my grip. She starts running again. It wouldn’t be fun if I caught her too quickly.
I let her go. Just for a moment. Just enough to make her believe she’s slipping through my grasp.
She tears across the dunes again, breath ragged, limbs wild with adrenaline. But she’s tiring – I can hear it in the choppy rhythm of her steps, the way her knees falter in the soft sand. Not many can keep pace with me, especially not in this terrain.
Lightning forks across the sky, casting everything in stark, electric silver.
And then I move.
A final push. A burst of speed. I close the gap in seconds.
This time when I grab her, it’s with both hands – one fisting in that wild, rain-slick hair, the other clamping around her waist as I drag her back against me.
She lets out a strangled gasp, twisting hard in my grip, but it’s instinct more than protest. I feel the moment her body yields – tense, trembling, then slack with anticipation.
I don’t let her go.
I manhandle her down to her knees, twisting her hoodie up around her ribs, baring skin that glows pale in the rain. She braces on her forearms, face turned away, hair stuck to her cheeks and neck like seaweed caught in a current. Her breath hitches, and I hear her whimper – soft and wanting.
Fuck.
I kneel behind her, grinding the hard length of my cock against the curve of her arse through the soaked fabric of her shorts. She arches into it like she’s been waiting for this all night.
“Still want to be caught, little rabbit?” I murmur, voice rough and wrecked.
She nods, frantic. “Yes. Please.”
God.
I fist her hair tighter, tugging her head back just enough to expose the long line of her throat, rain sliding down it like tears.
“You ran so well,” I rasp. “But you were always going to end up on your knees for me.”
She moans – guttural, shameless – and pushes back harder against my cock, soaking herself in the pressure and weight of me.
I drag my hand down the dip of her spine, then lower, cupping her cunt through her shorts – heat radiating like a fucking furnace. She’s soaked, and not just from the rain.
I groan. “You’re dripping for me already, aren’t you?”
She nods again, fingers digging into the sand. “Yes.”
My hand stills.
“Say it properly. Out loud.”
“I’m wet for you,” she breathes, trembling. “I’ve been wet since the second I saw you.”
Fucking hell. Why does she have to be a beta?
Betas are supposed to be safe. Clean. No pull, no bond.
She’s perfect – and that’s exactly why this should stay simple.
The storm screams overhead, and I swear the thunder cracks to match the snap of my restraint finally breaking.
I press my body fully to hers – clothes still on, heat radiating, breath ragged – my hand sliding down the waistband of her shorts as I murmur, low and reverent:
“Then let me ruin you, little rabbit. Right here in the fucking rain.”
Our bodies are soaked through to the skin, and I can feel the warmth of her under me. It’s a heady sensation, and I can feel myself getting even harder.
I pin her beneath me, leaning in close, my chest plastered to her back, the storm howling around us like it’s part of the moment. She writhes beneath me, grinding back, wordless and wild, and I know – know – she wants it just as fucking badly.
“Keep your hands right there,” I growl against her neck, my voice rough with need as I slide her wrists forward in the sand, pinning them in place with one broad hand. “Don’t move them unless I say.”
She nods, breath hitching.
With my other hand, I yank her soaked shorts down to her thighs, exposing the curve of her arse, her cunt slick and swollen and glistening even in the dark. My breath punches out of me in a groan. She’s dripping.
“Fuck, look at you,” I rasp. “Already ruined, and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”
She gasps as I press the thick head of my cock against her entrance – no teasing, no warm-up, just raw want. The stretch is immediate and overwhelming, but she pushes back like she needs it. Like she’s aching for it.
I thrust into her hard.
Her cry is swallowed by the wind, but her body takes me like she was made for it, like she’s been waiting to be filled and claimed and used.
I hold still for a moment, buried deep, grinding my hips into hers as the rain pounds down on us both, soaking our skin and dragging every movement into something filthy and slick and raw.
Then I pull back – and fuck her like the storm demands it.
My hips snap forward, again and again, and she takes it all.
Her moans are guttural, broken, choked against the sand as I slam into her from behind.
Every part of me is wound tight, feral. My hands are everywhere – gripping her hips, tangling in her hair, dragging my nails down her back as I chase the edge of my own destruction.
She clenches around me, so fucking tight, and I can feel her getting close – shaking, trembling, panting like she’s barely holding on.
“Good girl,” I grunt. “Take it. Take all of it.”
And she does.
She fucking does.
Her climax hits like a wave – hips jerking, thighs shaking, cunt fluttering around me as she cries out, face still pressed to the rain-slick sand.
That’s when I lose it.
The scent of her orgasm hits me like a drug – sweet and slick and intoxicating. I snarl, hips pounding even harder as the shift snaps inside me, feral and consuming.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
I don’t knot. Not with a beta. I don’t cross that line.
Instead, I drop forward, chest to her back, and sink my teeth into the soft curve of her neck.
Hard.
She screams – pleasure and pain and shock all tangled into one ragged sound as my teeth pierce her skin, drawing blood. I don’t stop. I can taste her now – copper and rain and something distinctly her – and it drives me over the fucking edge.
I roar into her throat as I come, cock pulsing inside her, knot swelling thick and fast – though I’ve just about enough control not to push it in. She cries out again, body locking around me, hips jerking, cunt milking every last drop as I empty myself deep inside her.
I pull back too fast, breath ragged, the taste of her still on my tongue, thunder shaking the sky above us like it’s echoing my release.
I freeze. What the hell did I just do?
She’s—
Fuck.
She remains still and panting beneath me.
Wrong. This is wrong. I’ve fucked up. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She’s beta.
She has to be.
So why the hell does it feel like—
No. This doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.
The storm rages around us. And for the first time all night, I don’t feel in control of anything.