Her Broken Alpha - Isoellen Page 0,87

moment all that more special. Her alpha was an amazing, caring man.

But Naya remembered what her sister had said about alphas.

A sudden, inexplicable dark thought rose in her mind. Was that where he’d learned to touch her in all the right places? Was that where he’d gotten these ideas on how to take care of her?

"Or you... you had practice. With betas. Before. Like all alphas."

He grunted. "No. No practice."

"No?"

Another grunt.

"Who were you before you were the Broken Prince?" she asked.

Having washed one foot to the knee, he went to the other. "I’m not an alpha who fucked around with betas, but I played a couple times. When I was young, it felt empty. It was rough with my parents up till right before my mother got pregnant with my sister. They bonded during that cycle and it changed... everything. Changed how they treated each other. Like none of the bad shit mattered anymore.

“I didn't understand, but I saw how connected they were. At peace. Later, beta girls just made me more aware of what I didn't have. No peace. No connection. Only messed around when I was drunk. But I didn't like the loss of control from being drunk, and I didn't like the empty feeling."

"Phee says that all alphas, even her husband, take betas. I know you wouldn't. I can feel it."

"There were no women in my tower before you, Treasure. You made me lose my head. I hadn't smelled an omega since—"

She stopped him. "Did you want my bite just because of my heat? Is this all biology?"

"Interrupting me, Naya?"

"You do it to me."

"I'm an alpha."

She felt his claws, just a tap, on the inside of her thigh. The threat turned her insides to jelly. She relaxed into his touch. Only her handsome alpha had claws.

"I hadn't smelled an omega for years,” he continued. “The king and my mother paraded them in front of me for a while. All ages. Too young for mating, married before, and just on the edge of a heat, smelling of musk and lust. They made my cock hard."

Naya leaned forward, closer to him.

"My cock was always hard. It was you, little thing. You. Your scent. The code of your being made to match mine. The perfect soft to my hard, laughter to my growl. The animal in me knew it, even if the man clung to some old promise he never should have made."

"Promise?"

He drew that claw all the way up the inside of her thigh. She felt the hard outer curve of it slide along the seam of her sex to her belly, his hand opening there.

Leaning in, Monster kissed her, a sensual glide of lips and breath to her cheek and the shell of her ear. In it he rumbled, "I don't know if you have noticed, but I can be very stubborn about not letting go of things."

At the word “stubborn,” Naya giggled. She couldn't help it. The man was more than stubborn. He was a monument to the glory of alpha obstinance and grit, harder and more immovable than any metal known to mankind.

He washed her, kissed her—tender and careful—before taking her out of the cooling water and wrapping her in the linen so she couldn't move. In their sleeping chamber, Monster sat her in his lap and fed her again with her hands pinned down. He was relentless in his need to care for her.

Soon she found herself stuffed with food and unable to take another bite. He chased crumbs with his tongue, making her laugh again.

Later, she lay in their nest in a daze, watching him pad naked to the sleep room door and open it at a knock.

Nixon’s voice made her gasp. There was just enough time to pull the linens over herself before the man walked in with a weird wooden thing. He ignored her as he and Monster set it up in the middle of the room. Whatever its use, it appeared adjustable.

Nixon took a couple of moments to explain. Afterward he went back to the door as if to leave, only to return with a box in his hands.

"The restraints are in here, and a few other things I thought you might like. All new. A belated bonding gift," he said. His voice held a conspiratorial tone that caught Naya's attention. She looked at the bench again.

The weird thing had six legs and a padded raised center with two low, long sides. It wasn’t a chair for sitting on, that she