Alpha's Strength

  “I do.” He held up the necklace. “This is a very old necklace. A totem. It’s travelled through a lot of different people to get to me. Your sister wore it for a while. But it’s always belonged in our family.”

  If she noticed the use of “our family”, she didn’t respond. Ordering himself to relax, he took a deep breath. Calling her family before they’d even slept together would probably be presumptuous among humans.

  “It’s beautiful.” She took it from him, running her finger down the length of it. “Is it a werewolf?”

  “The first one. Her name was Lily. Or so the legend goes.”

  She stared up at him, meeting his gaze straight on. There were no tears in her eyes, which was a huge relief.

  “Legend?” She wanted to hear more, and it seemed as though he was going to have to tell her. The creation story, the one he had rolled his eyes at since the death of his parents, had taught him not to believe in fairytales. Still, she looked at him so expectantly; he thought perhaps for that evening he could tell it like it had been told to him.

  “There are many versions of this story. I think every werewolf knows it slightly differently. What changes is that there are variations in the number of people and the exact details.” She sat back a little. Shit, he’d already lost her. Maybe qualifying it had somehow dimmed the mystic element of it. He needed to do better. “But I’ll tell it to you the way it was told to me. How does that sound?”

  She nodded. “I feel like a small child, but, yes, I’d really like to hear it the way you know it. Where did werewolves come from?”

  He almost answered “alterations in DNA over time”, but instead, he stood up. “Can we sit on the bed while I tell it? I can’t stay on my knees like this indefinitely.”

  “Oh.” She jumped from the chair, moving toward the bed. Truth was he could stay like that all day, but he wanted to be closer to her, and kneeling in front of her chair did not get the job done.

  Betsy sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. He tried not to look too pathetic as he eagerly accepted her invitation and joined her. They were still too far apart, but anything short of deeply pressed inside of her was going to feel too separate at that point. He’d have to deal with it for the moment.

  “There was a woman named Lily, and she was human. Lily was beautiful. More beautiful than the other women in the town, but not wealthy or well connected, and the other women were jealous of her because of her beauty and didn’t include her in their circles.”

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “Some things never change I guess. I never went to high school, but they’re always talking about this stuff on the news.”

  “You’re right. Some nastiness is universal.” He tried to remember where he was in the story. It was hard when he was so close to Betsy that all he wanted to do was reach out and hold her. “Um. Right, okay. The men all desired her, but none understood her. She was creative, strong, and brilliant. Not necessarily qualities they wanted in a docile wife.”

  “This feels ominous to me.” Betsy scooted back on the bed until she leaned against the headboard. He followed her back, positioning himself on his side to look at her. There were dark circles under her eyes, but the tension around her mouth had lessened. She was relaxing, and it was a beautiful thing to witness.

  “It should. Lily went out into the woods to get water from the stream, and a group of villagers watched her go. Some of the men decided to follow. They didn’t have good intentions, and while her back was turned, they jumped her.”

  Betsy gasped. “No.”

  He wished he could tell her differently. “They raped her, and when she resisted, they beat her and left her to die, alone in the woods, with only the moon for company.”

  A tear slipped down her face, and he brushed it away. “Or so she thought. Lily was actually not alone. There was a pack of wolves nearby. Three male wolves came across her as the men were leaving. They attacked and killed her assailants.”

  “Good.” There was a growl to her voice that made him grin internally. The wolf wasn’t far from the surface with Betsy. She hadn’t yet learned to conceal it. Eventually she would have to, but, for now, he loved seeing it develop. There was nothing wrong with craving a little violence when appropriate.

  “And then they turned back to her. She touched something in them, something that wasn’t purely animal. The need to have her, to help her, and to possess her overwhelmed them. The Alpha wolf prayed to the god of the moon to hear them, to save her, to let them be with her.”

  “The moon listened?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “He did.” Cyrus smiled. Somehow, in the midst of telling the story, he’d discovered he could see it again as he had when he’d been able to believe. The cold night. The light from the moon. Lily’s beautiful face marred —she would always appear as Betsy to him now in his imagination—and the wolves that wanted her more than anything. Cyrus could understand them now. He’d beg any power in the universe to give him Betsy.

  “And he changed the wolves to men, well, animals and men, and he changed Lily too. They were the first werewolves. The other two wolves would eventually find worthy women to love, and, through all of them, we became as we are now.”

  “And Lily was the Alpha’s?”

  He stroked a side of her face with his fingers. “That’s right, princess. Lily belonged to only her Alpha. Forever.”

  Chapter Eight

  Betsy fingered the beautiful necklace Cyrus had given her, the one of Lily, the first female werewolf. It felt old, and beyond that, it felt…powerful, which was ridiculous because she wasn’t two years old and she knew that objects only held the power assigned to them by people. She gently tapped the blue eyes of the representation of Lily. Someone had assigned this totem power, and even though it hadn’t been she who had done it, she could still feel it resonate from within.

  Cyrus hadn’t said anything for a minute, and she found him regarding her with an unreadable expression. She preferred the open intimacy he’d shared when he told her the story earlier. The sound of his voice, coupled with the way his gaze had bored into her as though the story belonged to only the two of them in the universe, had given her the shivers.

  Sheer force of will alone kept her from begging him to rip off his clothes and take her hard right then and there. But she had to live with herself in the morning. Besides, he smelled…tired. His cinnamon scent had dulled since that afternoon.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Thanks for asking.”

  “You’re welcome.” Cyrus always seemed so genuinely grateful for small niceties. All she’d done was ask if he was fine. Her mother had always cared about her, in the only ways her mother could show affection. Someone had at least cared, most of the time. “Thank you for the necklace. Would you help me put it on?”

  “Ah…sure.” He sat up. “How do I do that?”

  She raised her hair off her neck. “Just attach it for me.”

  “Okay.” His scent altered slightly, becoming sweeter.

  Had she made him nervous? When he’d come home and not instantly made a beeline for her, she hadn’t known exactly what to do about it. She’d watched the minutes tick by on the clock. It had taken more than seven minutes for him to come to her. An eternity. What was the purpose of hiding in her room if he wasn’t going to seek?

  Cyrus finished fumbling with the necklace, and she dropped her hair back down before turning to look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  She stretched sideways until they were face to face. Stifling a yawn, she forced herself to stay awake. She had questions, and he was being quiet and accommodating. It was too good an opportunity to let slip away. Who knew if she’d ever see him this free from tasks again?

  “Why is this starting to feel okay? I liked when you said that the wolves killed her attackers, and earlier tonight, I…wanted something that seems really silly now.”

  He took her hand in his and stared at their join
ed fingers as though they were the most interesting things in the world. “The violence attracted you because it was a justified kill. Don’t misunderstand me. It is not okay as a werewolf to kill indiscriminately. One of my jobs as Alpha of New York is to hunt down and destroy those types of werewolves if they enter my territory. Not only is that kind of murder immoral, it is also one of the ways we get discovered, and we can’t allow that to happen. I can’t know for sure, but I’d hasten to guess that Nathan, your captor who is caged for the foreseeable future, or someone connected to him, came into contact with an out-of-control wolf in the past. Discovery can almost always be traced to something like that.”

  “So the fact that it made my mouth water doesn’t mean I’m sociopathic?”

  He grinned, meeting her gaze. The heat in his eyes left her mouth dry. “No. You’re not sociopathic, Betsy. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Anything to get her eyes off his mouth. Maybe talking was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

  “Is Betsy short for Elizabeth?”

  She shook her head. “You’d think so, but I’m just Betsy. I’ve never been, that I know of, Elizabeth.”

  “Betsy suits you. It’s…sweet and sexy at the same time.”

  She blinked rapidly. He thought she was sexy? “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles and she forgot to breathe. “What was the second thing you mentioned, the thing you wanted but were so vague about?”

  He would remember she had mentioned a second thing. Why had she? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth closed when she needed to?

  “I don’t want to tell you.” There, she’s said it. He could be a gentleman and leave it alone.

  “Why not?” Shit.

  “Because it’s embarrassing.”

  He tugged her against him until her head rested on his chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear. The urge to snuggle deeper overwhelmed her, and she gave into the urge. When had she last been held? As a baby?

  “I’m sure it’s not embarrassing. It’s probably a wolf thing.”

  He was warm, like heat from the sun on her cold skin. “Do you promise not to laugh or think less of me for it?”

  “I promise not to think less of you. I can’t promise not to laugh if it’s funny.”

  Fair enough. At least he seemed to never lie. “When I was hiding in here, I was kind of hoping that you’d come home and chase me.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if he hadn’t heard her or if she had actually stunned him into silence. His scent changed. The dull aroma of cinnamon roared back to full blast. Cyrus no longer smelled tired.

  Well…all right… Her words had certainly garnered some attention. Even if he had yet to answer.

  Cyrus sat up and moved away from her. Oh hell. She hadn’t considered that he’d be so turned off by her odd thought that he wouldn’t even want to touch her. She felt bereft of his warmth. Why hadn’t she made something up? Oh, Cyrus, I don’t know. I was thinking that I really wanted to eat raw meat. Is that a wolf thing?

  No, she’d gone and opened her stupid mouth.

  “Betsy.”

  She raised her head to look at him. “Yes?”

  “Run.”

  “What?” His command didn’t immediately register with her. Had he told her to run?

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Run.”

  He wanted her to run? Her blood pumped faster—he meant what he said. That must mean he was going to chase.

  Happiness burst inside of her, and she took off running. The apartment wasn’t that big, even if it was huge for Manhattan—three bedrooms, one being used as a home office, and three bathrooms, kitchen, eating area, and an outdoor balcony that ran the length of the place. She didn’t want to go out there. It was cold. That would be a last-resort hiding place.

  She dashed into his bathroom, looking for anything with a scent. There was some Lysol under his sink, and she sprayed it around the room. Anything to throw him off from finding her right away. She rushed through the hall spraying the Lysol everywhere before running into the kitchen.

  “Stupid,” she muttered to herself. There were not that many places to hide in the kitchen. But it at least would give her cover while he searched elsewhere.

  She kneeled on the floor, watching him when he stepped out of the guest room. Cyrus sniffed the air, looking every bit the predator. Would he fall for her trap? Would he go the way of the Lysol?

  “Clever maneuver for so little time, princess.” His gaze turned to the kitchen, zooming in immediately to where she poked around the corner. “But I hunt for a living. I thought you wanted to run.”

  He rushed toward her, and she yelped, dashing down the hall as he rounded the back end of the kitchen. All she could think about was getting back to the guest room, back to where he had held her on the bed and…

  Two strong arms heaved her upward. She yelled when he slammed them both down on the soft bed, his body above hers. Betsy’s heart beat frantically, but Cyrus still seemed to be in control.

  His face was above hers, and heavens, she craved him. She’d never known the meaning of that word before, but she did now. She craved Cyrus like she needed to breathe in air.

  “Two things.”

  He wanted to talk? “Yes?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to run and hide from a werewolf so that, if you ever need to, you can.” He licked his lips, and she watched the movement of his tongue, fascinated. “And this desire to run, to be chased, is very wolf. Not weird. Not funny. It’s part of the mating dance. If you had been born to a pack, if you had known what you were, when we encountered each other for the first time, and recognized that we were mates, this is what we would have done. You would have run—and run—until I caught you.”

  “And then what?” She lived for his next words. Please don’t let them be I would have left you alone and not touched you for weeks.

  “I would have hauled you up against me.” He’d done that. That’s how they’d landed on this bed.

  “And?”

  “I would make you mine. Mark you. Put my scent up against you. Ravish your body until any thoughts of ever being with another fled from your mind. I would fuck you until neither of us could stand again.” He panted, and his pupils were huge. She was glad to see she wasn’t the only one affected by his words. “But you don’t want that. You’ve already told me no, and I need to respect that. I’m not an animal. Not entirely anyway. I can dictate what instincts I give in to. If you want that, if you want it now, you need to tell me that. Say yes.”

  He wanted her to speak? To form words? It took her half a minute before she could. “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “How many times are you going to make me say it?” She pounded on his chest, but he didn’t move. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  “No regrets tomorrow. I won’t allow it.”

  Ever the Alpha. She leaned up and bit down on his bottom lip. Of course, if anyone could dictate how someone else would feel, it would be her Alpha. And she had no doubt that, after what they were about to do, that is what he would be. Her Alpha.

  His mouth crushed hers. There was nothing gentle about Cyrus in that moment. He commanded her mouth to acquiesce to his, and she did. She softened beneath him, wanting to be complete in the way she could be only if he claimed her.

  She clawed at his chest, wanting him naked, wanting no barriers between them.

  He stopped her movements. “Not so fast. We’ll get there. I promise.”

  His words did stop her frenzy and she took a deep breath. Cyrus was right. There was time. She could savor this. When he kissed her again, it was gentle, and she sighed against his mouth.

  The heat she’d experienced earlier when she lay against him rushed back. Her body felt languid. He lifted his head, planting kisses all over her face and down onto her neck. “You taste just like I knew you would.”

  She hoped that was a good thing and de
cided it must be because he didn’t stop kissing her. Instead, his hands fumbled with her buttons, a sign that perhaps Cyrus wasn’t as composed as he pretended. Task completed, he removed her shirt and stared down at her.

  “What?” Her cheeks heated up. She wasn’t super skinny—she could probably afford to lose a few pounds. Did he not like what he saw?

  “You are the single most beautiful woman I’ve ever beheld.”

  “Stop it.” She shook her head. Not that she wanted to even consider any of the other women he might have beheld, but she didn’t need pretty words to fill her mind with non-truths. It wasn’t that she thought herself unattractive, but Cyrus was rich and handsome. There was no way some drop-dead-gorgeous werewolf or human hadn’t been where she was.

  “You don’t believe me?” He seemed surprised. “I think we’re going to have to do something about that.”

  “No, that’s really not necessary.”

  “Oh. I think it is.” Cyrus hauled her up against him, and she gasped. Where was he going to drag her off to now?

  “Are we going somewhere?”

  “The bedroom.” He rounded the corner back into his bedroom. She could still smell the Lysol she’d sprayed earlier and now wished she hadn’t. Cyrus dropped her on the bed and walked to window. He must have had the same thought as she because he cracked it, letting fresh air into the room.

  “Weren’t we in a perfectly good bedroom?”

  He shook his head. “No. This is our room. That’s for guests. You’re not a guest. Guest implies impermanence. You live here now.”

  While she waited on the bed, he yanked open his closet door. On the other side of it was a full-length mirror. “Cyrus, what are you planning?”

  He didn’t speak and, instead, walked over and picked her up again. She never would have thought she’d liked being handled this way, but she loved it. Anytime Cyrus wanted to pick her up and bring her somewhere, she’d gladly go.

  “Look at yourself.”

  She shook her head and tried to squirm in his arms. He set her down on her feet, holding her still in front of the mirror. “I’d rather look at you.”