Chapter 11 Primal Need
Primal Need
ELI
The words coming out of my own mouth actually make me want her more, like this primal need I know I shouldn’t have. It’s an out-of-body experience. I don’t even recognize my own voice.
Her hair alone would be a siren's call.
I want to tug it, pull her back to me, and then I want to keep her safe from the world while still making sure I’m the only Alpha in it.
Blood courses through my veins as she stares up at me, eyes locked on.
Shit, she’s going to quit on me, isn’t she?
I need to calm down. I need to run, but if I run, I know it will only be to chase her.
I try to get my breathing under control, but the world around me, my office, the large window—even the moon, it fades into tunnel vision.
I know it’s wrong.
But my soul screams her, right. Just do it.
I no longer want to resist and it’s been mere days.
I crash my mouth against hers, my hand holding her neck, her hair tangled between my fingers as I slam her against the wall. Books fall next to her and crash onto the ground.
She moans into my mouth, clawing at my chest, tearing open my shirt. Buttons hit the ground as my free hand finds her ass, frantically digging in. My incisors drip with need.
Her tongue comes into contact with one, scraping against it with her tongue. Our kiss deepens and then stops when I jerk away and taste blood.
Hers.
Control is a thing of the past. I have to run. I have to go. If I stay, if I stay I don’t know what I’ll do but her taste is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, it coats my tongue, brings me life.
Maybe it’s life itself.
I can feel myself changing.
All it took was her blood.
Not even a bite, but the craving I have to take her is more intense than at the gala, there's something special about her.
How cliché.
How ironic.
Did someone send her to end me?
Does someone else know what I am?
She moves toward me in a near drugged state, and that’s when I see the reflection of my eyes in hers.
A bright blue.
All because I tasted her, and she touched a fang.
“What, what was that?” Her voice is low, seductive, like a song.
Her head lolls forward.
Great. I made her pass out.
I catch her and lay her gently on the ground, then grab my cell and bolt from the office, passing Gabe on the way.
“Take care of it.”
“Be more specific with the it you’re talking about.” He pauses at the open door to my office.
“Her,” I rasp.
“Take care of her. Fire her. I don’t care. I need to get away, I can’t breathe when she’s around. I’m not sane. Just take care of it.”
“What did you do?” he asks calmly, but I see his eyes start to swirl dark.
I look away.
“Just fix it.”
I walk away and I don’t look back.
I don’t even remember taking my car to my apartment; I don’t think I can actually make it to my huge house, so the penthouse it is.
I walk in and walk over to the window. I stare at the moon and how it looks bloodier and bloodier, and how I have one more day before immense pain strikes again.
Physical pain.
Mental.
The full moon tries to wreck every cell in my body every time. I need an anchor, I always have.
But I’ve never found her, never even hinted at finding her until now. How ironic, it’s someone who doesn’t even know who she is, what she is.
Ad agency my ass.
Someone’s out to bring me down and I have no clue who it could possibly be, I stay in my lane, I’m no threat.
And yet, out of all the people they could have sent, they sent her. To me. Knowing my control would be weak.
Fuck, what’s it going to be like when the full moon strikes?
I’ll be screaming in my own home, bones breaking over and over again, like a thousand hits of lightning infused daggers getting shoved into every single bone, only for it to keep happening until the full moon ends.
The only answer?
Finding my mate.
Impossible.
I thought.
But hope has been lost on me so long, what good is it to try to find her, when I know in the end, I’ll just be disappointed.
And lonely.
In the end, isn’t that what my future is without my actual pack? A half-alpha trapped in a half- human body.
Whoever cursed me must be laughing.
Whoever cursed me to watch the moon and scream—must have been fucking threatened.