An Alpha Torn (Nights Of Lust Book 1) Page 3

  Like with Livía. Why was everything about sex with these damned creatures?

  His erection didn't seem to mind. And the brush of her toes against his groin sent a shudder of need through him.

  Diving under, Joséf swam toward her. Deeper underwater, he noted how sandy the bed was, saw Kissa swimming away while facing him. Her toes dug into the silt below, then pushed her further away from him. He lunged up through the surface, caught his breath and dove back down after her, moving hair out of his face as he did so.

  Joséf reached out, caught her by the ankle and dragged her to him with the vixen protesting playfully all the way back into his arms as they surfaced. She remained in his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, nudging at his erection. Water sluiced down their faces. He glanced at Kissa, her curls a thick damp mass against her face. Parting her hair with a single hand, he stared into her passion-filled eyes and waited.

  One breath between them passed. Her ruby red lips were millimeters away from his.

  "You want this," she murmured low.

  "I…" a breath caught in his throat. "I do-"

  Kissa’s just a fling. It doesn’t mean anything. Please, Livía…

  "You need this.” She rubbed her hips against his, slid a hand down his back. When her hand circled around to cup his crotch, he straightened. "Say yes, my prince."

  Instinctively, he pulled her tighter against him. “I’m no prince.”

  Soft laughter echoed in his ear. Her fingers gave him a squeeze. Her feminine scent wafted past his nose. He shook his head in defiance, but Kissa wouldn't stop. The wanton look in her eyes begged him. Her other hand held onto him while they floated in the lake. She leaned closer, parted her lips. Her movement only intensified the smell of her arousal on the air.

  Needing a taste, Joséf slanted his mouth over hers while shoving his tongue past her lips.

  She stroked him with her tongue, mimicking the way her fingers caressed his cock.

  Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice screamed at him. You're a liar, Staganov. She's more than a fling.

  He closed his eyes and felt her mouth mold to his. He'd get no relief from the heat he felt from her, despite the cool water surrounding them.

  Pulling away from their kiss only for a second, Kissa's lips locked again onto his, her mouth hungrily devoured his. He never would have known she’d be able to take such control. Her lips tasted of iron, of power as she began to glow reddish-purple in the water. Her hand cradled the back of his head as he tried to pull away. Her body melting into his made him even harder.

  The aches in his joints slowly faded, replaced by a painful throbbing of his cock. His clothes became too heavy and he longed to strip them off, plunge into her as they swam back to shore, then take her on the sand just a few feet from the dock.

  Hard, fast, wanton, just the way her lips begged him to. Sure fingers gripped his scalp, held him to her, and began to massage the soreness from his body, replacing it with comfort, ease, and a state of relaxation that Joséf couldn't afford to be in right now. He blinked, swore himself right into another kiss.

  Kissa nibbled his lower lip, tugging at it. When he caught her gaze, he saw flames of lust dancing in the silver of her irises. She seized his mouth again, hungrily.

  He broke from the kiss and met her gaze. "Kissa, wait.” He searched her face and found her wanton desire to be with him, her aching need for him to protect her, shimmering there behind the lust that drove her, and her obvious need for something he couldn't give her.

  "Joséf, please farkas. Please, please, please," she whispered against his ear, her breath tickling him just so. Nobody had called him wolf in Hungarian but Livía. Even Isabella's name for him wasn't special like that.

  "Kissa.” He cradled her ass in his hands, squeezing her, listening to her gentle moan.

  "Please, Joséf…I need to heal you, and have you complete me."

  What did she mean complete her? He already had a mate. He frowned. "I'm not what you think I am. I have pledged my love to Livía. I left her in San Francisco to come here, to learn to control my wolf. Instead I’m getting my ass kicked and spending time with you.” The self-loathing in his voice was clear.

  "But you are everything I think you are. Even if you do love another, there is room for more than one. There is room for me. You need this, my prince. I do not seek to replace her."

  Her silver-blue eyes tore at his common sense, replacing it with arousal. Pure need raced through him, swelling his cock, making his heart pump faster.

  Sighing heavily. He knew he’d give in to her. "Okay. But not now."

  "Come with me, after tonight?” Her eyebrows rose as those eyes begged.

  Joséf looked down at the water, at her chest and nodded ever so slightly. He licked his lips.

  "Oh, yay!” Kissa giggled. "Joy and happiness!” Throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tighter than before, she clung to him. He felt her heartbeat thudding against his chest. Her heat was enough to drive him mad. It would if he let it, but he figured he'd have to defend himself, go through more training tonight. That meant more fighting, more destruction, and someone might die.

  Floating in the water with Kissa, Joséf realized the bond between them had already been created, and he couldn't tear it down, no matter how hard he tried. He'd agreed to be her champion, and to protect her. A defenseless person was being harmed against her will. That had never settled well with him.

  Kissa was a shifter, and could probably leave if she wanted to, but could she survive outside the pack? Damn Livía, and the things she'd instilled in him. Running out on Livía wasn't any more acceptable than running away to leave Kissa to fend for herself.

  You're getting the hang of this ‘annoying feelings’ thing, aren't you, wolf?

  He really wished Isabella wouldn't keep tabs on him. It was bad enough she'd helped him change forms earlier.

  "Come on, Kissa. We need to get out of the water and dry off."

  "Okay," she laughed lightly, letting him pull them out of the water and onto the sand. Stumbling over her feet, she fell toward the ground.

  He reached out and caught her in his arms. "You're a klutz, aren't you?"

  Spinning around in his arms, she sent him an anxious look, long curly tendrils stuck to parts of her face; she looked like some little kid who'd been playing along the shore, and gotten in trouble for it.

  "It's okay, Kissa.” He smiled and she smiled back.

  "Okay, my prince."

  Frowning, Joséf eyed her and growled. "I'm not your prince."

  She giggled. "Yes, you are."

  “No. I am no one’s prince. I am here on the premise of learning what I need, then I’m out.”

  Kissa’s lips turned downward and her eyes widened. “But you’ve protected me.”

  “So?” He shrugged. You’re clearly no better at this than I am.”

  Kissa stiffened and took a couple steps away from him.

  “What, hit a nerve? I’m only one man, Kissa. I’m not a hero, I’m no prince. When I leave, what will you do?”

  Her eyes filled with tears and Joséf suddenly felt like an asshole. Asking her what the problem was would be tantamount to admitting to her that he cared.

  Which, a sliver of him had to admit, he did. “I…” he sighed, rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. Look, just let it go.”

  Indeed, you are hero and prince to them, wolf. Or you will be.

  He looked up at the cloudless sky. "Shut up Isabella!"

  "Who is that?"

  “Isabella is Livía’s companion.” He shrugged at the questions in her eyes. "Never mind. Let's go, little girl."

  "I'm not a little girl!" Standing firmly, squaring her shoulders and putting her hands on her hips, Kissa taunted him, her breasts jutting out proudly. His focus found her perfectly proportioned body, the luscious curve of her hips, tantalizing. She was shaved. Again, he licked his lips and cursed himself.

  "I mean it; I'm not a little girl!" Wide eyes showed the fu
ll effect of her pout.

  Laughter poured out of Joséf when he realized what she looked like, a defiant teenager.

  Then it hit him. She was naked. Yes, she was definitely a woman, indeed. "Where are your clothes? You’d better get dressed."

  She headed to the rocks where she’d left her clothes, sending him one more pouty look over her shoulder.

  After dressing, she emerged from the rocks. Her hair was parted down the middle, and her eyes sparkled. "Come on, let's go find food.” Kissa tugged on his arm.

  "Do you know where we can find food?"

  She grinned wickedly. Bowing her head, strands of hair fell over her face. Her shabby clothes stuck to her body, emphasizing her assets. How had he ever thought of her as a child? "Of course, my prince."

  Joséf stood over the body of his defeated opponent, amongst a crowd of onlookers. Angry scowls marked the faces of some of the onlookers hoping to see the foreigner bested again. Istvan was scratched, a bloody mess from head to toe. The scent of blood and iron mixed heavily on the breeze, and bite marks covered his legs. If he got up tonight, there was a good chance he'd walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

  He’d managed to knock Dave out earlier. Two other wolves were being tended to on the sidelines. He was damned tired of fighting this hard to prove something he wasn’t even sure he wanted to prove.

  Joséf spat blood at Istvan.

  The injured wolf rolled to his side and grabbed his stomach; his disheveled hair was matted against his forehead. He had a broken arm, a few missing teeth, long gashes down his torso, and a large open wound in his throat that was already healing as Istvan stayed in wolf form.

  Sapporo stood by the crowd, watching. Waiting.

  The attacker tried to get up, but fell back onto his knees before rolling to his side.

  "That should put you in your place, you damn dog.” Joséf . He used the trick Kissa taught him earlier, extending large wolf claws from his human hand, and made for his opponent.

  Istvan shook in earnest fear.

  Joséf stumbled but held his ground, looking at the rest of his audience. No one said a word or made a move. He glared at the Ancient that watched with an impassive face.

  “Call it, Sapporo, or I'll kill him."

  The Ancient simply shrugged.

  My prince, no! Please do not kill him, I beg you. Kissa. That was the first time she’d spoken to him all night. We need him.

  Joséf summoned what remaining strength he had and shoved his foot into the thigh of his opponent.

  Istvan screamed bloody murder.

  Joséf lunged at Sapporo and saw the wild look in the Ancient's eyes when he grabbed his collar. Power spiked around the oldest of the Ancients, flaring between him and Joséf. Despite the stupidity of his move, Joséf refused to back down. Looking hard into the blank eyes of the Ancient, Joséf growled low. "Call it.” He held his clawed hand back, poised to strike Sapporo, even though the rational part of his mind knew that would be signing his death warrant.

  "Winner, Staganov," the Ancient's arms rose to his sides and he clasped his hands together above his head.

  No one else moved. Point for them.

  Releasing Sapporo's collar, Joséf held the sigh of relief in. Any show of weakness, even toward the Ancient, would get him killed. He’d seen how the other Ancients pounced on weakness, back in San Francisco. He’d learned the lesson well.

  He stared at Istvan, who stared back at him.

  "Have you no loyalty?” Sapporo's voice drew Joséf's attention from his opponent.

  Even with his superior vision, Joséf found it difficult to read Sapporo's expression. "I have no loyalty to those who would challenge me."

  Sapporo cocked a brow. "So your loyalty is self-serving?"

  "Yes.” Joséf growled his reply.

  The Ancient let out a heavy sigh. "You're growing in strength because we allowed you to visit and learn the secrets of the wolf. There was," he paused, as if searching for the right word, "an understanding that you were aware of pack mentality."

  “I’m growing in strength because you practically begged me to come here to learn. I wasn’t exactly given much of a choice. And pack mentality?” Joséf spat more blood and wiped his mouth. "I understand it. It's fucking ridiculous. This type of ‘pack mentality’ doesn't bring solidarity on anything other than how many times you can get knocked down before you stop getting up. You guys have it all wrong.”

  "We're counting on you to fix that.” Sapporo crossed his arms over his chest.

  He hated the rage that still bubbled up from within, but he could feel it now. Recognizing it was half the battle; controlling it was the other half. The itch, the urge for violence, felt like his need for LS-13, the horrible drug the Syndicate had gotten him hooked on before Livía and Isabella had broken the drug’s strangling leash.

  “Bullshit.” Still, he couldn’t hide the hatred in his voice. Nor could he do anything but stand with his fists up, feet spread, and glare at Sapporo, knowing that his inability to fall in line with the Ancient was asking for death. "You're counting on the wrong man.” He turned to those watching. “I see now that most of you have no desire to do anything but die. With the way you've treated me, and your intense hatred? I say bring it, and I'll kill each and every one of you.” There were a few gasps from the crowd.

  Joséf swung around, glaring at the crowd before turning his fierce stare on his opponent, who had changed back to a man.

  "You would kill one of us?” Istvan held up his hands in defense, his voice raspy from nearly having his throat torn out.

  "Until you prove you want to live and act in a logical manner, there is no point in bothering with you.” He didn’t mention the desire to kill for the sake of murdering and smelling the blood.

  "Even you want to die.” Istvan slumped back against a large rock.

  "When all you know is pain, caused not just by the world around you, but by those who should love and care for you, when you realize you've caused that same pain to your loved ones," he shot a quick glance at Kissa, "then you realize you shouldn't be allowed to live."

  Istvan straightened. "What if you place your hope in something outside yourself, Staganov?"

  "Verily, as you have already done.” Sapporo pointed a bony finger at Kissa. "The wolf princess has found favor with you, despite repeated attempts to pull you apart."

  "Kissa is only my concern.” By now, Joséf’s energy had waned, and if someone were smart enough, they'd attack him.

  "She's placed her hope in you to fix what she loves, Joe."

  He glared at Dave before turning to Kissa, slow panic blooming inside him at being the instrument of someone else’s hope. "How can you love this? All of this?” He spun around and spread his arms out, making sure to point at not just the wolves on the ground groaning in pain, but the ones behind them tending to their wounds. "How can you enjoy this?"

  "Because," she stood and sauntered to him, "we were broken, and now you can fix us.”

  "Whatever.” Sliding his hands in his pockets, he headed toward the forest.

  "You are going to leave, even after a victory? Too proud to hang with the losers?” Istvan shoved himself forward, only to fall back against the rock.

  He looked tired of the bullshit too, but Joséf couldn't be bothered. He scowled. "When don’t I head to the forest after a fight? Am I done?"

  "Indeed. But…” Sapporo stopped.

  Joséf turned his back on them, facing the darkness underneath the trees. He'd proven himself king, superior, whatever. Blood trickled down Joséf's face, from his eyes, and from scratches that ran down his arms. Blood soaked through the cloth on his legs. Dried blood and mud clung to places on his skin, making his clothing sticky. He'd still won. And Istvan almost died earlier. If he hadn’t pushed Sapporo to call the win for him, he’d have taken Istvan’s life.

  The relationship he’d developed with these two men, first in San Francisco and then over the last two weeks, had become more solid than with
anyone else in the pack. Joséf saw in them trust, albeit tentative. Loyalty to an ideal worth working for, both wolves came at him hard in various fights, but always fought with a sense of righteousness, rather than recklessness.

  For once, tonight Kissa had stayed back, letting Joséf fight, just like she promised she would. Until she begged for Istvan’s life. He realized then she would be his conscience.

  "We leave to find food in the morning, Prince Joséf. Please join us.” Sapporo's voice echoed in the woods.

  He was no prince. And fuck their shit. He didn't need this. Joséf waved a hand and continued walking.

  "Where are you going, little farkas?” Sapporo had a lot of nerve, apparently.

  "To lie down. I'm fucking tired," Joséf shot back. "And don't call me little wolf."

  "Fine. We await your return."

  "Kissa," Joséf called over his shoulder, "Come along.” He didn’t need to hear the scuffling of dirt to know she trotted proudly after him in wolf form. Whispers rose from the pack, but Joséf ignored them.

  When they were far enough from the pack not to be seen or disturbed, Joséf fell to the ground on his hands and knees. He dropped his shields, felt the pain in his stomach, the burning sensation of his flesh wounds. His vision blurred and his head spun from the flurry of punches he'd taken earlier.

  "Too much blood loss…"

  He coughed, spat more blood.

  At this point, he wasn't sure he could keep this up, even if he won more of his fights. All it meant from a fighter's standpoint, was that the pack would adjust to his fighting style, while he learned theirs.

  In the end, the reward of moving without effort from human to wolf and back again wasn't enough to justify the bloodshed. There had to be a smarter way.

  He coughed, struggling to maintain the contents of his stomach. Rushing to his side, Kissa helped to steady him, returning him to his feet.

  "No," he muttered, clenching the open wounds in his stomach. "I need to lie down."

  “Let me clean you up. Let me heal you.”