Flame of the Alpha Page 2

  She needed something more than she could give herself with a godemiché and her own hand. No matter how attuned to her own body, Sophia couldn’t come on command.

  Not even for her Saint.

  Frustration invaded her system, skimming over already frayed nerves. She thrust the fingers of her left hand farther back, easing her ass cheeks apart, bending low enough to the ground so her nipples brushed the tips of the dewy grass.

  Her fingers slid in the damp crack, drawing some of her cream over the puckered hole, teasing the forbidden region with the tip of her thumb. Excitement traveled a swift path through her body, culminating in the heat rising between her legs. She opened herself wider, grinding her clit against the inside of her wrist, plunging the dildo harder, deeper, faster.

  The statue of Saint Valentine gazed down upon her, his features benevolent, his full lips quirked in a sexy smile. She knew what he wanted from her…what she wanted from herself. And yet she hadn’t been able to give it to him.

  She’d failed him in every possible way. Not only had she been unable to find a suitable off-world traveler at the erotic festival for the Lighting of the Flame ceremony due to occur in seven days’ time, but now she couldn’t even offer her patron what she owed him. Her allegiance. Her body.

  Her essence.

  Sweat ran down in rivulets over the curve of her throat to drip into the valley between her breasts. It traveled lower, pooling in her navel and sliding lower still, until it dripped and matted her already damp pubic mound.

  An uneven groan echoed through the clearing as Sophia pumped the godemiché harder, releasing a waft of musky scent redolent with the aroma of her cream. She stilled, momentarily thrown off balance.

  The groan hadn’t come from her throat.

  Blood roared in her ears and the sweat trickling down her skin turned to ice. Tendrils of fear crawled up her spine. She was exposed. Watched. Hunted.

  Saints, where had that last thought come from? No one at the Academy would be foolish enough to step foot in the High Priestess’ private sanctuary. The patrons knew the rules as well as the pleasure servants and the other priestesses, and none would dare risk the consequences of spying on the High Priestess in the midst of her offering.

  Deliberately, she turned her head and gazed over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. A tanned, muscular arm wrapped around the side of a large tree trunk. From her vantage point, she had a perfect glimpse of the left side of a man’s body, sculpted to perfection. She gasped, taking in the planes and valleys of his perfectly proportioned form, her gaze lingering on his ridged torso, broad hips, and lean waist.

  A dark blond thatch of pubic hair peeked out from behind the trunk, though the man’s cock was entirely hidden from view. Awareness crept in with a potent rush, boosting her throbbing arousal from a mere thrill to raging hunger in the span of a shuddering breath.

  Then he moved, and his face came into view, knocking the rest of the air from Sophia’s oxygen-deprived lungs. Long eyelashes fringed golden, slitted eyes that peered at her from beneath a tumble of honeyed curls. His mouth had begun to shift, giving her a brief glimpse of full lips as they elongated, turning into a full muzzle before her eyes. He tightened his grip on the trunk and her gaze darted to his, the black claws scoring the wood, leaving deep gashes in the tree.

  They stared at each other as Sophia’s mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. She’d spent enough time around Alphas to recognize one when he invaded her sanctuary, but she’d never encountered another panthera leo before now.

  The full impact of that realization made her stagger. Her pussy pulsed around the godemiché, tightening around it, pulsing with heat. The animal inside her responded to the stranger’s presence with a heady, intoxicating wave of pure lust. Her nipples beaded tightly. Her clit throbbed and her own impulse to shift zinged through her veins, daring her to push past her fear and do what she hadn’t been able to in years.

  Electricity zinged between them with the force of a corporeal entity, binding them, keeping her rooted to the spot. And then he took a step forward, baring all of his masculine splendor in one graceful move that carried him away from the tree.

  Reason crashed through her mind at the exact moment her gaze landed on his solid cock, thrusting proudly against his belly. His shift was incomplete. The powerful sex organ shimmered, thickened, and lengthened before her eyes, a drop of precum dripping unimpeded from the bulbous tip onto the dewy grass.

  Myriad questions dashed through her mind, but she couldn’t give voice to any of them. He was advancing, closing in on her. Soon, he’d be upon her, able to trap her with his muscular body and pin her against the statue of her patron Saint, where he’d thrust ‑‑

  “Oh, mon patron. What have you brought me?”

  Before either the stranger or the stoic Saint could answer, Sophia staggered to her feet, pulling the godemiché from her folds in the process. She lunged sideways and grazed the edges of her discarded robe with the tips of her fingers, lifting it as she broke into a sprint toward safety.

  “Wait!”

  Dante’s voice came out hoarse and strained, barely recognizable to his own ears. The woman gave no indication of hearing him as she disappeared into the leafy mass that enveloped the tiny clearing. Sparing only a cursory glance at the statue of Saint Valentine, Dante tried to ignore the nagging feeling that the Saint’s smirk widened just a fraction as he scampered through the bushes after her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Branches scraped Dante’s skin as he stumbled through the foliage, trying desperately to keep up with the flashes of bare flesh guiding his footsteps through the garden.

  The way she’d looked at him…there’d been something in her eyes that hadn’t resembled fear, though he was certain he’d startled her. No, she’d assessed him as though through a shocked stupor, but there was something else in those deep black orbs. Something that looked a lot like longing.

  He ducked to prevent a particularly large branch from making contact with his forehead. For a brief moment, he thought he’d lost her trail, then a streak of blue silk had him changing direction, turning right. She’d picked up her pace, and soon Dante found himself darting between tree trunks and stepping on lush orchids in his mad dash.

  “I just…want to…talk ‑‑”

  The plea echoed through the garden, punctuated by grunts and heavy breaths as he struggled to avoid any large objects in his path. His erection still raged, and it took considerable control to navigate the wild bushes with their thorny branches unscathed.

  His scramble toward the mystery woman came to an abrupt end when he careened around a thick tree trunk, jerked sideways to avoid a spiked plant that came up to his waist, and slipped in the dew-sprinkled grass bordering the edges of the garden. His solid, two-hundred pound frame landed with a thump and he skidded on his bare ass all the way into a clearing, which stretched out in front of an instantly-recognizable structure. A groan ripped from his throat even as panic rose in his chest.

  Saints be damned.

  As if being abandoned on a planet whose government wanted to destroy him wasn’t bad enough, he’d had to take shelter at a pleasure slave training facility.

  Realizing where he was caused his raw stomach to churn, banishing some of the raging lust pouring through his system. Would he never be free of the mistakes of his past? Was he doomed to spend his life running away from the memories that haunted him only to rush face-first into them again and again?

  Of all the places in the Universe where he could find shelter, a slave training base would provide him with nothing but pain and misery, the same things it offered to those who inhabited its stark, dreary walls.

  Only there was nothing stark or dreary about the tall building that spread out before him. Like every other Saint Valentine Pleasure Academy, this one was housed beside the Temple that guarded it. The main entrance, surrounded by a protective wall, stood elevated from the courtyard by a short set of steps. Sculptures
of Saint Valentine contorted in a variety of sexually suggestive poses guarded the heavy doors leading inside. The sight made bile rise in the back of his throat.

  Dante gritted his teeth hard enough to feel his jaw ache. Perhaps Vance had been right to push him into seeing a licensed counselor. They’d nearly come to blows the last time Enigma’s second-in-command had suggested such a thing. Hell, even when Dante had been part of the Mars General Alliance Space Squadron he’d turned down his Colonel’s order to report for his mandatory psych evaluation after his last disastrous mission. He couldn’t imagine what would make Vance believe Dante would listen to his thinly-veiled suggestion.

  Silence descended over the courtyard as at least a hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Soft gasps and sudden murmurs broke the spell, jolting Dante to the present. He hustled to rise to his full height.

  Scanning the area for possible exit points, his gaze swept past two dozen pleasure slaves, marked as such by the broad leather collars around their necks. The men and women were slender and delicate, specially crafted to be aesthetically pleasing to their patrons. He knew that even their voices had been carefully designed to be as arousing as possible, especially when lifted in cries of ecstasy.

  Or in screams of agony.

  Saints, he still heard those screams in his nightmares. He could even smell the smoke, thick and gritty as it clogged his throat. The sound of the horrific crash still boomed in his ears every night, along with whispers that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  You killed them. You killed them all.

  He forced himself to look away from the pleasure servants, unable to face the truth of what they were ‑‑ of what he’d done to others like them ‑‑ and his gaze fell on the mystery woman.

  She stood at the top of the steps leading into the Pleasure Academy. Fully dressed in a silk robe and no longer kneeling, the confident stance of authority in the way she held herself upright was unmistakable. Her black hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders to tumble over the low neckline of the garment molding to her lush curves. The fabric hung all the way to her ankles, hiding the bounty of her body, reminding him of the way she’d trembled when she’d shoved the dildo inside her and circled her anus with the tip of her finger.

  Damn. There had to be something severely wrong with him. His cock throbbed so hard, it ached. When he should have been thinking about ways to escape, he was spellbound by the haughty way she stared down her nose at him. Her chest still heaved from exertion, pulling the fabric of her robe tight across her breasts. Her nipples pushed the material, tenting it slightly. Dante’s mouth watered. He wanted to taste those beautiful nipples, to nip and lick them, to swirl his tongue around them until she cried out in pure ecstasy.

  The sexual rush streaming through him was so potent it nearly kept his gaze from shifting behind the woman as the doors swung open to reveal four Central Command officials marching into the courtyard.

  A warm hand slipped into his right palm. He jerked his hand back, but the fingers held him tight, as another grabbed his left. Pleasure servants lined themselves in a semi-circle, trapping him between the hard, well-oiled bodies of two men that might have well been twins.

  “Showtime,” one of them said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Dante spared them a quick glance, but didn’t reply. The top of their heads reached halfway up his bicep. Mirrored frowns assessed him with thinly-veiled curiosity, but Dante’s attention kept darting to the woman on the steps and his pursuers.

  One of the officers leaned in to whisper something in her ear and the relaxed, confident stance she’d exhibited only moments earlier dissipated in an instant. The rigid posture that took its place only served to intensify the dread coiling in Dante’s gut.

  Whatever the officers told her had obviously made an impact. If he didn’t find a way out of here, this woman would serve him up to the Terran authorities on a silver platter. She’d already run from him once. This was her chance to get rid of him for good.

  Jerking his hands out of the tight grips of the men who held him, Dante bolted back into the safety of the garden. He’d scaled the wall once. He could do it again.

  He’d barely taken twenty frenzied steps before the feel of leather around his neck choked him, sending him sprawling backward. His fingernails clawed at his throat in an effort to dislodge the collar that had been strapped to him, but the leather only tightened in response.

  He dropped his hands and raked his fingertips through the ground beneath him. Desperation set in, tearing at his chest and summoning forth the beast within.

  “Bring him back here.” He recognized the silvery, authoritative command. Despite his captivity, the sound of her voice sent a rush of warmth to pool in his groin, stiffening his cock to the point of agony.

  A sharp tug on his collar jerked him to his knees, then up to his feet. His gaze skittered to the side, where a woman nearly as tall as he was held what looked to be a remote control in her right hand. Her left hand was clamped around a laser weapon she pointed at his chest.

  A current of electricity ran from the device in her hand to the collar around his neck, jolting him toward the blue-robed goddess who’d climbed off the steps to head toward him.

  He inhaled deeply, stifling the urge to shift, knowing he’d be signing his death warrant if he as much as summoned forth a sharp claw.

  “Showtime indeed,” he murmured between clenched teeth as he struggled to force what he hoped was a charming smile onto his features.

  Surprisingly, summoning a seductive grin wasn’t as difficult as he’d feared.

  Chapter Two

  That morning, the idea of a muscular stranger appearing out of nowhere inside the protective walls of the Pleasure Academy had seemed preposterous to Sophia, but it hadn’t kept her from fantasizing about the possibility. Only she’d never imagined her patron Saint would grant her wish. Or that he’d send her an Alpha panthera leo for the Lighting of the Flame ceremony.

  One who was wanted by the Terran officials, at that.

  “He’s secure, M’Lady. The collar will trigger if he attempts to do anything ill-advised.” Brianna, one of the Academy’s guards, stepped back a few steps as Sophia neared the captive.

  Out here, in full view of the pleasure servants and the Academy’s patrons, she was in complete control of the situation. He couldn’t hypnotize her with that austerely masculine body of his. And since she knew who ‑‑ or what ‑‑ he was, glimpses of his gold-flecked eyes shouldn’t disturb her either. Only now, the golden feline eyes had dimmed to a pale green, and no hint of his leonine features still existed.

  Yet, Saints, he was beautiful. That head of tousled golden curls framed chiseled cheekbones, a square jaw, and a nose that was a touch too long for the dimensions of his face. His nose also looked to have been broken a time or two, as evidenced by a thin scar running all the way across the slightly skewed ridge.

  That wasn’t the only scar marring the delectable structure of his face. Another ran from beneath his ear to the tip of his jaw, as though a knife’s edge had been drawn across the sensitive skin. A third silvery strand divided his right brow in two but did little to hide the frown that wrinkled his forehead as he watched her, completely at odds with the cocky smile tilting his full lips.

  He opened his mouth as though to speak. Frantic to silence him before he could mention their previous meeting, Sophia placed both palms along his cheeks and lowered her mouth to his in a lightning-quick move. He gasped, a soft, tumultuous sound that rumbled through her lips. She’d intended to hold him there for a fraction of a second and throw him off balance, in order to keep him from attracting the attention of the officers before she was ready for them, but the man had other ideas.

  As fast as she’d been, her captive was faster. He opened his mouth slightly and darted the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, stripping the measure of control from her as though she’d never had it at all. A tremor of heat hummed along the seams of her mouth and
sizzled through her veins, tempting her to open to him, teasing her with the promise of more to come.

  He tasted of musk and male determination. The scent of sweat mingled with his natural odor to cause a flood of delicious warmth to course through her body. It pooled in her pussy, slicking her wet labia with more cream as a shudder spiraled low in her belly.

  The intensity of her attraction to the man sucked at her, threatening to pull her into an inferno of lust and confusion. She braced her palms on his shoulders and pulled away before he could delve deeper into her mouth and taste the desperation that lingered on the tip of her tongue.

  “Listen to me and listen good.” Saints, was her voice really that husky? She drew back a little more, fighting to put some much-needed distance between them.

  “With a mouth like that, I’d figure you’d have the attention of any male within a twenty-foot radius.” His smile widened. To her surprise, it wasn’t a fake, deceiving grin, but the genuine, self-satisfied smile of a man who had the upper hand.

  He glanced down at her breasts, and the weight of his stare seemed to coax them into fullness to press against the material of her robe.

  Sophia blew out a breath to ruffle her bangs, wishing she could lift herself to her full height. Since he still knelt, his head would come up to her shoulder, putting her in the position of authority. Exactly where she needed to be.

  Unfortunately, she needed the intimacy of close proximity to say her piece even more. And she had to do it soon, before the officers grew restless and decided to ignore the sanctity of the Temple garden by marching into it fully armed.

  She narrowed her gaze. “Those men over there want you, and I have no problem turning you over to them.”

  He glanced up at her, green eyes the picture of innocence. “You don’t want to do that.”

  Damn him. “You’re right. I don’t. But I will, unless you follow everything I tell you to the letter. Understood?”

  His smirk grew wider. In a flash, he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him so her breasts crashed into his chest, her nipples rubbing through the thin material of her robe into the sleek, masculine perfection of his muscles.