THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Aiden had no intention of binding her to him actually, but every instinct in him, everything he was, forced the words out of his soul so that their hearts were one as they were meant to be. Their souls were finally united, their minds one.

But she was not Emma, but looked so much like her, even spoke like her.

Or was this her in the nearest future?

He didn’t know. He was confused.

She even allowed his words and the hot strength of his possession to calm her. Her body seemed to melt around his. He took them higher, bending his head to lap at her nipple, his hands cupping her small bottom possessively. She threw back her head, her hair flowing around them, over them, brushing their bare skin so that their flesh burned. She felt as if she truly was where she belonged. She felt wild and free. She felt like a part of him, his other half.

He moved harder, deeper, turning so that he could lay her half across the end of the bed, so he could drive them closer and closer to the edge. He felt her body ripple, tighten, drag at his, once, twice. She cried out with pleasure, felt as if her body was dissolving into his. There was so much pleasure, wave after wave until she couldn’t possibly stand any more.

He bent his dark head to her slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. His body continued to bury itself in hers, his dark eyes holding her blue ones captive. Mesmerizing, pleading, so in need.

She arched her body toward him, thrusting her breasts invitingly, offering to assuage his burning hunger.

His soft growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat, sent a thrill of excitement leaping in her blood. His body was aggressive now, his hands lifting her small hips for better access. She felt the brush of his lips so gently over her breast, her heart. His tongue slid over her skin, over his mark on her, erotic and warm. He surged into her powerfully, filling her, stretching her. He sank his teeth into soft flesh.

She cried out as white-hot heat seared her breast. She cradled his head to her, feeling the whirlwind of emotions storming through him as the fire in him built and built, higher and higher, until she thought they would both go up in flames. His mouth moved over her skin, devouring her as he took her, consuming them both. The feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced, erotic and burning.

He could hear her screaming his name in joy, in wild abandon, her nails digging into his back. She had a primitive desire to find the heavy muscle over his breast with her mouth. They were exploding together, disintegrating, flying to the sun. He lifted his head to give a throaty growl, dipped his head to feed more.

He was careful this time, just taking enough for an exchange. His body was still locked with hers. He gave one last flick of his tongue to close the wound, heal even the smallest of pinpricks.

Then he studied her face. Pale. Drowsy. He uttered his command, his body hard and eager at the idea of what he was doing.

Her body was still rippling with life, accepting his long, possessive strokes. He made the slash across his chest, pressed her soft mouth to his burning skin. It was ecstasy, his body convulsing almost painfully. The beast in him threw back its head and roared with pleasure, contentment, the terrible hunger temporarily assuaged.

He cupped the back of her head in his large hand, held her to him, stroking her throat, savoring the feel of her feeding. It was pure eroticism, pure beauty. He spoke softly, reluctantly, when he was certain she had taken enough for an exchange, enough to replenish what he had taken. He caressed the length of her hair, allowing her to surface.

She blinked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead.

“You did it again.” She rested her head tiredly against the quilt.

“Either that, or every time we get carried away, I’m going to faint.”

Before she had a chance to identify what it was, He kissed her, his tongue licking along her teeth, the roof of her mouth, probing, exploring, dancing with hers. Very slowly he eased from her body, his hands caressing her soft skin.

“I can’t move,” She admitted with a smile.

“We will catch a nap and face the world later,” he suggested, his voice pure black magic. Very gently he cradled her in his arms, placed her properly in the bed, and pulled up the blanket. Her long lashes caught and held his fascinated gaze. His fingertip stroked her throat, traced the valley between her breasts. She was still so sensitive, he could feel her shiver beneath his touch, and it flooded him with warmth.

“If I really wanted you to love me, I should have presented more of a challenge.” She burrowed deeper into a pillow. “My hair is a mess.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, took the mass of silk in his hands, and gently began to weave the red thick strands into a long, loose braid.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“If you presented much more of a challenge, little one, my heart would never be able to take it.” He sounded amused.

Her fingertips brushed the bare skin of his thigh, but she didn’t lift her long lashes. He sat for a long time on the edge of the bed, just watching her drift off to sleep.

He slid into bed beside her, dragged her hard against his body, wanting to feel every inch of her. She murmured his name sleepily, snuggled into him with the innocent trust of a small child. Instantly his heart somersaulted, and a curious warmth and contentment spread through him. Peace. He touched her because he could. His hand cupped the fullness of her breast, his mouth brushed her nipple, feather light, just once. After pressing a kiss to the vulnerable line of her throat, he sent the command for deep sleep, regulating his breathing to join her.

And then he woke up.

What the hell! He stuttered, already reaching his brother through their mind path.

Who was this lady? Why was she in his dreams?

Why was he even dreaming in the first place?

This must be the work of a witch. He thought, annoyed at the thought.

She was a stranger, yes, but they had been in one another’s minds, shared the same body and offered their lives for each other. The exchange of blood as they made love was the ultimate in confirmation of their commitment. Each literally offered his life, vowed to give up his own life to safeguard the other. It was a beautiful, erotic ritual. It was a oneness of mind, heart, soul, body… blood.

It’s true that it all happened in the dream, but still… he felt disconcerted, disconcerted and hard.

The decision to take a lifemate was not a conscious act; it was instinct, a hunger and need. They knew. They recognized their other half. He recognized the strange woman as his. She must be Emma. He concluded, even though he thought of her eyes which were blue and not green.

He had even fought the binding ritual in the dream, yet his animal instinct had overcome his civilized trappings.

“Aiden, what is the matter?” He heard his brother ask.

He sighed. He could tell that the latter was deep in the soil.

He had disturbed his sleep.