All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 271 - Chapter 280

A sharp growl erupts from his throat, and he crushes my curls as he grasps my head, holding me in place as he takes my mouth, stealing my breath, knocking my flower crown onto the floor. He tastes hungry and sweet and warm and like home.Prowling over me, as fierce and relentless as his wolf, he leans me back, lays me down, his lips not leaving mine for a second, his weight settling on my chest, his hard thighs parting my legs.“You’re mine,” he whispers against my cheek. “You’re mine,” against my temple. “You’re mine,” on my forehead, along my hairline.“Yes,” I exhale, my fingers fumbling at his waist, tugging his undershirt free, popping the button on his jeans. I want to touch him. I want him inside me, making my body believe what he says, that I’m his, that he’ll never leave me again.He bats my fingers away, shucking his pants and stripping me of my leggings, greedy in a way he wasn’t even when he was going into rut. Our legs tangle, smooth against rough, and his forearms pin mi

15DARRAGHAll those times I drove my ass out to Salt Mountain and let my wolf run, knowing he’d be too run down by the time we reached Quarry Pack territory to fight me for our skin—the fucker was paying attention.He’s been biding his time with his head down, waiting until I’d been up for almost seventy-two hours, pumped full of tranqs and descended into rut, until I’d made love to my mate twice and been forced to talk for hours to a human from the government named “Dan” and another named “Steve” who ask the same fucking questions over and over, each time like they’re expecting a different fucking answer—oh, did I notice tags on the truck bed? Why, yes. I didn’t tell you the first ten times because I’m a dumbass, but here you go—The whole time, my wolf was skulking, and the instant he smelled an opening, the second I nodded off on my feet for a split second, standing in front of the lodge for a breath of fresh air, he busted out of our skin like the Kool-Aid man and tore off for M

I hold my aching side, bracing myself to keep going, run it off, when I notice two things at once. A few feet away, under the tall oak where Mari had been perched, there’s a white rabbit, upright on her haunches, staring at me, frozen in place.And my wolf isn’t fighting me for our skin.The rabbit’s tiny heart flutters under its smooth fur, racing. Its pink and white ears point skyward.My wolf notes the little critter, his mouth instinctively watering, but he dismisses her as quickly as he notices her.Go back.There is no way. I’m not letting him near Mari.Go back.My wolf speaks louder, but still, he’s not pushing for our skin.I force myself to straighten, stretch backwards, deepen my breath despite the cramp. Cool air fills my lungs. A stiff breeze blowing down from the hills begins to clear the chaos from my mind.Mari’s safe. I got us away in time.You left her. Go back.Fury, hot and swift, rushes through me. My burning muscles seize with the force of it. I want to fight him

“No jeans?” I ask.He glances down at himself, surprised. “I had to borrow these.” He holds up the fabric he was carrying. He’d dropped it when he went to his knees. It looks like one of Annie’s long corduroy dresses. “I brought you this.”“Thanks.” I take it and slip it over my head. It’s definitely Annie’s, too long and too tight in the boob and butt. You’re supposed to wear it with a shirt underneath, but this is it, so I hook the loops, grateful for the cover.He rises to his feet and reaches for my dress straps, fiddling with the buckles even though the buttons are snapped in tight. He’s doing it because he wants to touch me.I want to be touched.“You didn’t bail,” I say.“I did.” His rough fingers move to smooth the corduroy straps on my shoulders. They’re already lying flat.“But you came back.”“I’ll always come back.” His fingers still, and his eyes find mine. “I will fuck up, but I’ll come back every time. If you’ll have me.” His jaw tightens. “I’ll come back even if you wo

FLORAAlec catches my eye from across the clearing and jerks his chin toward the woods. It’s so quick and subtle that no one but me would notice. My heart takes off. My gaze drops to my sneakers, and my cheeks burst into flame.I shrink into my sweatshirt, glad the hood is up. But it’s not like anyone’s paying any attention to me.The unmated males are clustered on the river’s edge further upstream, drinking beers and arguing about the game they just finished. They play a mashup of human sports with the ball from soccer, the scrum from rugby, the tackling from football, and no firmly agreed upon rules. Then they spend the next couple of hours before the pack run fighting over how the plays should have been called.The dams are packing up the leftovers while their males are gathered by the big furnace, smoking pipes. Pups are everywhere—splashing in the shallows, climbing on the huge tires that serve as a playground, crawling under the picnic tables over in the pavilion, annoying the