She understood one thing, though—something new and important—that this very large alpha was her alpha.
He was hers, and she didn't even know his name.
He soaped up Naya’s hair and back with his woodsy-smelling soap. The quick and efficient strokes left delighted tingles in their wake, raising bumps on her skin.
Then he took the rag away. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that he was washing himself now in a constant process of fresh water from the bucket: wring the cloth, soap, fresh water.
Naya pulled the cloth from his fingers, eager for an excuse to touch him. "Turn. I can help with your back."
She could help. A little, anyway. There was sticky red everywhere.
He gave a rolling growl of agreement. That sound. She needed it inside her. Now.
Trembling, leaning against him so that she could stand, his butt pressed against her abdomen. She pressed back, her breasts against him. It felt lovely.
She washed what she could reach, fascinated by the sexy hills and valleys she found. Such gorgeous skin to taste and bite, and it was hers. She’d claimed it with her teeth.
Finally she wrung out the cloth and gave it back to him to rinse. The process was slow. There was a lot of him to wash, but she didn't mind. Her fingers pressed the soapy cloth into the round muscles of his backside, exploring crevices.
Her alpha. Her alpha. The new mantra stuck in her head.
She wanted to wrap herself around him. Wrap herself into him.
He had to pry the cloth from her hands before he dumped the bucket and refilled it. Distracted by his body, she could almost cry for need of him. Why wouldn’t he let her finish what she'd started?
He was huge—bigger than any alpha in her family—and bulky, with heavily veined muscles that bulged under her hands. Saliva pooled in her mouth for want of all the things she wanted to do with his body.
The flesh on his right side was pitted and textured. He had ropey scars over his arms, pectorals, and thighs, as well as round scars, some concave and some convex. He looked like he'd stood in the middle of an explosion, then had to be sewn back together like a well-loved stuffy.
He was older too. His command held a hard, seasoned authority that only older alphas exhibited.
He was a strong alpha. A good alpha.
But who was he? Where had he come from?
Dark hair, black eyes, sharp features—this alpha was not handsome in the soft, cute way Crispin was. He looked vaguely familiar, though. Had she met him before?
He must have defeated Crispin, fought for the right to have her. Naya couldn't recall seeing her intended in the last couple of days and felt certain he must have challenged this man and lost.
That was what the blood was about. It was archaic and old-fashioned, but she loved it.
Hopefully poor Crispin wasn't dead. She wouldn't love that at all.
While the savagery of her claiming was not part of her planned bonding ceremony, something inside her insisted this was normal and natural behavior. She wanted to preen and brag. This powerful alpha had fought for her. He would make a good protector.
Naya was smiling up at him when he turned the handle and water rained down for the third time. His brows lowered over his eyes and big hands cupped her face, a thick-clawed thumb brushing across her cheek.
"Look at you. Higher than the clouds in your heat. Were you drugged before? Or have you always been so calm?"
His voice was smooth when he wasn't irritated, like velvet over steel. Pushing the wet strands of hair over her shoulders, he turned her so that every part of her body was rinsed. Then he guided her out of the shower so he could do the same.
"I'm always calm. Usually. Maybe I was drugged? My heat? That's why I feel so empty. Can we..." Naya stumbled over her thoughts and words, babbling senselessly, until finally she landed on a concrete idea.
"Wait. What's your name?"
He grunted at her like a beast, and not in a good way. It sounded contemptuous. She didn't know there were still animalistic males who made such crude noises in answer to perfectly good questions.
"You wouldn't know the likes of me."
