Chapter 7 Syra

Iheard the words Markus just said to me, but my brain is struggling to process them.

He wants me to use him.

He wants me to use his body while he's asleep.

If any other alpha had presented me with such an option, I would have assumed it was some kind of a trap, but I don't believe Markus would trick me like that. Okay, apparently he's been stalking me for the past four years, and that's more than a little weird, but he did admit everything as soon as I asked him about it.

There are many other questions I want to ask him. Why he left his pack, for example. Or why he started stalking me in the first place. But I know those questions are going to have to wait, because I can see the medicine is already having an effect on his body.

He's already half asleep.

I move forward and kneel beside him on the bearskin he spread out on the floor. Even lying down, his body is enormous, and his hard, smooth muscles seem to invite my fingers to stroke them. I place one hand atop the alpha's chest, and he stirs lightly at my touch.

"Use me, Syra…" he murmurs, his voice slurred from the medicine. "Use my… body… use my… my…"

His voice trails off, and his eyelids flutter closed.

"Markus?"

I give him a shake, but his eyes remain closed. His breathing takes on the easy, relaxed cadence of sleep. He's out cold.

Now what?

I look at my hand, which is still resting atop Markus's chest. I can feel his powerful heart thumping beneath my palm, like a drum beating out a slow, steady rhythm. My own pulse beats a little faster in response, and my hand starts moving of its own accord. My palm slips over the hard, smooth muscles of his chest and shoulders. His skin is still damp from when he rinsed himself off, but it feels hot to the touch, as if he had come in from the hot summer sun. The night air is laced with his rich alpha scent, and it calls to me on a primal level, sending tendrils of warm arousal coiling deep into my aching core.

I need him. I can see that now. There's a fire burning inside me, and the only thing that can put it out is him.

My hand travels lower.

The hard muscles of his abdomen ripple under my fingers. I trace the grooves between them for what feels like hours, as if searching for some secret meaning hidden within their contours. At last, my fingertip enters one of the two deep slashes leading to his groin and follows it all the way down, slipping beneath the waistband of his loincloth until my entire hand is out of sight.

I just learned something new about alphas. They can be aroused, even when they're unconscious.

Markus is fast asleep now, but his cock is very much awake. The shaft of it feels as hard as an ax handle wrapped in a layer of supple leather. It twitches and throbs in my grasp. I begin to stroke it, slow and deep, and my core clenches at the thought of that rigid male arousal sliding in and out of my body. It's not something I've ever wanted before, but I want it now.

The alpha rumbles softly.

Like a cat that's been caught trying to steal supper, I snatch my hand out from beneath his loincloth and dart my eyes toward his face.

As far as I can tell, he is still asleep. His eyelids are still closed, and his expression is serene, but now there is the faintest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his lips.

Could he feel me touching him, even in his sleep?

If so, it seems like he was enjoying it.

And Source help me, but I was enjoying it too. I've never touched an alpha in that manner, and I want to do it again…

But not with my fingers.

Trembling with lust, I throw a leg over the alpha's sleeping body and straddle his hips. Then I lower myself onto his crotch. I'm still wearing my loincloth, and Markus is wearing his, so there are two layers of animal skin separating his arousal from my own, but I can feel the shape of his hard length pressing against my aching center, and I can feel it throbbing with the rhythm of his blood.

My body is throbbing too, throbbing with heat, throbbing with desire. I need a release, and I need it now. I need it more badly than I've ever needed anything in my life. More than air, more than water.

And Markus is going to give it to me.

I begin moving on top of him, rocking my pelvis, rubbing my crotch against his. At first my movements are slow and uncertain, but soon my inner omega takes control, and I start to grind on him hard and deep. It doesn't even feel like it's me who's doing this. It's as if there are an invisible set of hands guiding my hips, showing me exactly how to thrust and stroke my body against his.

It feels good—too good.

I brace my hands against Markus's rippling abdomen and start to hump him even faster, riding the alpha with a frantic, almost violent rhythm. I can feel my impending orgasm building up inside me, rising like a thunderhead on the horizon of my senses. With every fresh stroke of that delicious friction, it expands and blooms inside me, until my entire being is one dark, rumbling, pleasure-soaked haze. When my release finally comes, it hits me like a bolt of lightning. A desperate cry breaks from my lips and echoes through the shadows of the mausoleum.

As the storm of my climax passes, I look down at the alpha lying beneath me. He's still sound asleep, completely oblivious to what just happened, totally clueless about how good he just made me feel.

And yet, as good as that orgasm felt, it seems to have done little to quell my heat.

If anything, it has only made things worse.

I need more.

My hard nipples push painfully against the tight confines of my top. I try to untie it, but my heat-crazed fingers fumble with the laces. With a growl of annoyance, I draw the obsidian dagger from the sheath on Markus's thigh, and slice the laces open, not caring that I'm damaging my garment. Tomorrow, I'll probably be upset with myself for doing that, but right now all that matters is getting these clothes off.

My clothes, and Markus's too.

I toss my top away and groan with satisfaction as my bare breasts make contact with the warm night air. Then I stand and remove my loincloth. Thankfully, I'm able to get that piece of clothing off without needing to use the knife.

Now it's the alpha's turn.

I kneel between his muscular thighs and bow my head over his loincloth and the long bulge that just made me come so hard. I'm tempted to use the knife on that loincloth too, but I figure Markus might be angry at me if I do that, so I slip his dagger back into its sheath and set to work untying the knot on his hip.

When it's undone, I pull cloth aside, and his cock rises to greet me.

I stare wide-eyed at that long, naked shaft limned in the pale silver moonlight filtering in through the windows. Thick veins twine over its surface like vines on a column, and the plump, rounded head of it glistens wetly from the fluid leaking out of the tip. My heart races at the sight of it. My mouth waters. My core flutters with excitement.

None of the artificial tools I lost in the fire could ever compare to Markus's perfect anatomy. Some of those tools were bigger, and some were specially shaped for a woman's pleasure, but none of them could compete with the real thing, hard and hot and alive.

I dip my face and brush my cheek against it like a cat. Markus's dirty alpha scent fills my lungs. I lick my lips and whimper.

This,says my inner omega. This is what we need. This.

My fingers wrap themselves around his girth, and I stroke him, slow and deep, all the way down to the base of his shaft, and all the way up again, to his leaking tip. A thin, slippery serum bubbles out of him, staining my fingers, and adding some lubrication to my stroking. The alpha purrs happily in his sleep.

He likes it. Markus likes the way I'm playing with his cock. He wants to come.

So do I.

I climb onto Markus's lap and straddle him again. His erection presses against me. I work my hips forward, until his cock is lying flat against his lower abdomen, and my lips are nestled against the underside of his shaft. I can feel his pulse thumping against my wet vulva.

I start to ride him again, not taking him inside me—I'm not ready for that yet—just sliding my cleft back and forth along his rigid length. Warm slick pours out of me, lubricating every hard inch of him, and I feel his pulse quicken, and my own quickens to match his pace.

"Markus," I whisper.

His eyes are still closed, but when I look closely, I can see them moving behind their lids. The alpha is dreaming. How much of the real world is bleeding into those dreams, I wonder? Can he hear me when I talk to him? Can he hear me talking dirty?

"You feel so good, Markus. You're going to make me come. You're going to make me come with your hard cock."

The alpha grunts softly. His muscles tense ever so slightly. His shaft twitches beneath my sliding sex.

"Do you want to come with me, Markus? I want to see it. I want to see what it looks like when you come."

Another, softer grunt.

I can feel a second climax building inside me, and I sense that this one will be even bigger than the first. Bigger, because this time we are touching skin on skin, heat on heat. We're not quite mating, not really, but we're close, we're so fucking close.

"Come with me, Markus," I whisper. "Show me. Please. I want to see it."

The sleeping alpha purrs from deep within his chest, a low rumbling sound that vibrates deep into my core. The base of his shaft expands, forming the thick knot that would lock our bodies together if he were inside me. I focus all of my attention onto that hard bulb and grind against it harder, deeper, faster.

"Yes!" I gasp. "Yes, Markus! Oh Source, yes yes yes…

The alpha's cock pulses beneath me, and semen erupts from his tip, covering his stomach in long white ropes. The sight of that sticky climax sets off my own release, and I come all over Markus's knot, shuddering and moaning as the intense orgasm works its way through my system.

Source, that feels amazing.

When my body finally stops quaking, I bow my head and look down at the alpha who just gave me so much pleasure without even trying. My eyes go first to his face—he's still asleep—then to the puddle of white fluid covering his abdomen.

"Oh Markus," I whisper. "There's so much."

The air is thick with the smell of it, dirty yet intoxicating. Without even thinking, I draw my index finger down the centerline of his stomach, gathering some of that thick cream. Then I lift my soiled finger to my lips and suck it clean. The flavor is saltier than I expected, but there's a sweetness underneath that makes my mouth water.

I need more.

With a hungry growl, I dip my face to the alpha's taut belly, and I begin to lick the seed from his skin. There are still a few dribbles running down the shaft of his cock, so I clean that too. Then I clean his smooth, heavy balls for good measure.

By the time I'm finished bathing him with my tongue, my entire being is saturated with his flavor.

An intense weariness steals over me. I feel as though I've been running for days on end without stopping. My heat is not finished—I can still feel it smoldering deep within me—but it has been sated for the time being, and now my body needs to rest.

There's just one thing I need to do first.

I climb the alpha's body and lie on top of him, with my naked breasts pressed against his broad chest, and I stare down at his handsome, sleeping face.

"Thank you," I whisper.

I don't know if he can hear me, but I hope he can, just as I hope he can feel the soft kiss I press against his perfect lips. Then I slide off his body and curl up beside him on the warm bearskin. I close my eyes, and almost instantly, I feel myself drifting off to sleep with the sweet taste of Markus still lingering on my tongue.