Aliana
So hungry.
He smelled so good.
So, so good.
I ripped the cover off.
Why was he hiding the good stuff?
I moved down, dragging my upper lip along his abdomen—hard muscle, thick hair, and that massive pole. The source of the motherlode. I sighed and wrapped my hand around it. Thick, warm, dripping for me.
One lick wasn’t enough. The taste of him on my tongue made me quiver.
Another.
More.
Stupid metal studs.
I sucked harder, working the magic pole up and down until his sweetness trickled down my throat.
The studs began to tease the inside of my mouth instead of getting in the way.
His knot was burning just like I was—I could feel the heat of it pulsing against my palm.
His fingers gripped my hair, tight enough to sting, and the sting only fed the fire.
I wanted to shout harder, but that would mean releasing his cock.
He flipped me onto my back as Malakh released a vicious growl, the sound rattling through my own chest like it belonged to me too.
“I’ll feed you, mate,” he snarled, moving over my torso.
I opened wide.
He gripped himself, and his meaty cock pushed past my lips.
It slid down my tongue and butted against the back of my throat.
I’d never stretched my jaw this wide. The stretch pulled, discomfort following close behind it.
It was worth it—to feel him spread my throat open, to feel him bury himself there.
I couldn’t taste him anymore, only feel him, feeding me.
The sticky heat of him dripped down my neck, pooling at my belly.
When he moved, I held onto those thick thighs, my nails biting into muscle that didn’t yield an inch.
I gagged when he thrust hard. He moved above me, hips pumping, and the room filled with the wet, obscene sound of it.
My hands found his knot, squeezing before I dragged my palm down over the balls hanging low and heavy, drawing another growl out of him that I felt more than heard.
More and more of him pooled in my mouth, joining my own saliva, until it began to ooze from the corners of my lips, thanks to the brutality of his movement.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he chanted, breath ragged, voice fraying at the edges.
I still couldn’t say much, so I gripped his ass cheeks and pulled him down harder—because I wanted the knot. I needed the knot. I craved the feeling of being filled by him.
When his knot began to slap against my lips, a massive gush of slick rushed out of me until my thighs were utterly drenched, the sensation blooming somewhere deep and unbearable.
This was nothing like last night. I’d never known hunger like this before. All I knew was that this Alpha could give me exactly what I needed.
The raging heat burned until my pussy began to spasm and clench. Empty and neglected. Anger ensued, hot and irrational, crawling up my spine. Zira growled.
With a mighty roar, he pulled out. His eyes were bright red, glowing in the dim room like twin embers.
Claws bit into my flesh as he whipped me around.
My face fell into the cool pillow—blessed relief against my burning skin—as he dragged my hips off the bed.
A hand fisted in my hair forced me upright onto my palms.
I was about to spread my legs when his knees bumped into mine, sliding them wider across the mattress.
“Yes,” he sighed, the word carried on a low, rumbling growl I felt in my core.
Zira was preening.
Malakh was providing.
I was just the conduit stuck between them.
I tilted my hips for him until the thick root of him brushed against me, the contact sparking through every nerve I had left.
“Give me your knot, Alpha,” I growled, my voice cold and unbending.
His answering growl was low, long and ferocious. He released my hair and spread me open. The tips of his claws dug in until I felt blood emerge, the sting sharp and bright against the fever haze.
I felt him bloom in my chest. The bond filled me up, warm and vast, pressing against the inside of my ribs like it needed more room.
This was our prophecy.
Our legacy would live.
He bumped into me, the head sliding along my entrance, only to hit my clit and fail. My claws emerged. The first of Zira surfaced through me, and I heard the fabric beneath me tear, the sound obscenely loud in the space between our breathing.
She snarled again. It was guttural, infuriated—drool spilled hot down my chin.
Deep laughter surrounded us. Dark. Manic. It seemed to come from the walls themselves.
Malakh.
My head snapped back over my shoulder.
His lips were curled to one side, revealing long incisors that gleamed in the low light.
Zira reacted.
My hand swiped, and three red stripes bloomed across his abdomen.
He pushed my face into the pillows, and I grunted, taken aback by the speed—no warning, no sound, just motion faster than thought.
His cock parted me. The head slid in, and I clutched at him uncontrollably, trying to draw him deeper. My whimpers muffled themselves in the torn pillows, the fabric damp against my cheek.
A hand pressed against my shoulder, heavy and possessive.
“Mine,” the voice snarled—rougher now, edged with something not quite human.
With a single brutal thrust, he tore into me.
The relief was so great I reached for his wolf, the connection sparking bright and immediate, like touching a live wire.
Yours.