Page 30 of Alpha’s Wife

“I should go,” I say, but I don’t move.

“You should,” she agrees, staring at my mouth in a way that makes my wolf surge.

So I kiss her.

It isn’t gentle, because I don’t have gentle in me this morning, and I’m not sure she wants that anyway, because the second my mouth finds her, she leans in, her hand fisting in my shirt. She tastes like coffee, and so much like the night I took her innocence, and the small sound she makes as I deepen the kiss goes straight through me. I move my hand to her hair, and she gasps before pulling me closer. For a few seconds, everything else goes out the window, and there is only us.

Then she pulls back.

Her hand is still tangled in my shirt, and she’s breathing hard. She drops her head for half a second like she’s gathering herself, and when she lifts it, her eyes have cleared, and the walls are already coming back up.

“Don’t,” she says, softly. “I can’t do this.”

I could push. I can feel how close she is and how little it would take to claim her again and take what I want.

But I let her go.

I step back and let her go, because I know this can wait; I know she’s going to give in to her desires again. She keeps putting up these walls, but her body betrays what she really wants. So do her eyes, so full of heat.

“Okay,” I say.

She blinks, as though she was braced for a fight, and seems almost disappointed she didn’t get one.

I grab my jacket, and I go, before I change my mind about walking away.

Walking down toward the docks, not even looking where I’m going, I don’t think about the island, the bond, the fight to come. I only think of her—the sweet taste of her lips, the way her delicate hand fisted in my shirt, and the way she lied when she said she couldn’t do this…she wants it too, and she knows it.

I want her. Not the magic. Just her.

I shove the thought down quickly before it can take hold, but it doesn’t go far. It sits in my chest the whole walk down, warm and thoroughly inconvenient.

By the time I reach the docks, I’ve managed to push it down so I can focus on the work ahead. Or at least pretend.

And the work, this morning, feels bigger than it ever has before, but there’s a strength building in me that wasn’t there a month ago. It sits just under my skin, almost like my wolf has grown too big for his shell. I’ve spent my whole life clawing for every scrap of power I have, and now more just keeps coming, building every day. She thinks she kept the bond from me—so did I, to start with—but now I’m not so sure.

I spot the early morning crews already moving, and the sight of it helps focus my mind the rest of the way. Boats riding low off the overnight runs, the warehouse doors rolled back, Cole out on the dock with a clipboard, running the operation.

“Tell me we’re set,” I say, approaching.

“We’re set,” Cole replies as he falls into step with me, walking the line of boats. “Fuel store, the wharves, in and out before they can scramble. Same as last time. Though if you want my opinion…”

“I don’t,” I tell him firmly.

“…you’re getting it anyway. We’ve hit that same stretch twice now. They’ll be waiting for a third.”

“Or they’ll assume we’ll move on. Either way, we hit them harder than they’re ready for.” I stop at the end of the jetty and look out to where the island sits low across the water. “I’m done with living off scraps, Cole. I want the harbor. The northern ports. The whole top half of that island by winter.”

Cole goes quiet, looking out at the island. “By winter.”

“Yes, and then the rest of the damn island will follow,” I say it easily, like it’s nothing, and watch him try to keep his face straight. “You think I can’t do it.”

“I think you’ve never said it out loud before, but that doesn’t mean I doubt you.” He sets the clipboard down. “I just question whether we need the island when we have business up and down this coast. We could stop these runs without suffering. We could stop tomorrow; we don’t need it.”

“This was never about needing it.” I look out at the water. “It’s about taking back what should have been mine. That hasn’t changed.”

“Hasn’t it,” he says, but it’s not a question. I can tell he’s been talking to Ryder; the sentiment is the same, and he’s known me long enough to know when to push and when to hold back. I know he’s loyal. He’d go to war with me, side by side, but he’s saying his piece. And now that he’s said it, he can fuck off. That much he senses, because he picks up the clipboard and gets back to work. He catches me looking and throws me a salute that’s half cheek. I give him a flat look that promises I haven’t forgotten the ass-kicking I owe him, and he laughs and goes back to work.

I turn back to the warehouse and see Davey coming out. He waves, still looking sheepish. I’m not sure what kind of reception he expected, but I didn’t tear him apart; he looked thoroughly shell-shocked and didn’t need to be told where he’d gone wrong. He’s a good kid, and he’ll make a great beta one day, when he finishes training—the dose of humility he got served by being captured will probably be the making of him.