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The line disconnected as he growled furiously. He was horny, discontent, and he’d be damned if he knew how to fix any of it at this moment.
She didn’t understand. Brim didn’t understand. Losing her would kill him. He was ensuring her safety, that was all. Attempts were made against Hope and Merinus regularly. He couldn’t imagine the hell their mates went through.
A small knock at his door moments later had him tensing. He could smell her. Sweet, so soft.
“Enter.”
She stepped into the room and closed the door. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater. Boots. Her hair was as soft as always, her creamy flesh looked as silky. But there was something different. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. As though something inside his precious Anya had been snuffed.
“Did you need me?”
“Lock the door.” He was suddenly impossibly aroused.
Her gaze flickered as she locked the door slowly and he darkened the room’s windows. His tongue throbbed to kiss her, to taste her. Nothing mattered but the hunger razing his body and mind now. The ache in his arms to hold her, the chill that seemed to spread through his chest.
He’d been too long without her. Too long since he had touched her. Loved her. He rose from his desk and drew his T-shirt over his head, his hands going to his belt.
“Undress,” he ordered her desperately. “Now, Anya. Give to me.”
Give to him.
She had given him everything, and he wanted more. Anya wondered if she had more to give after the hell she had trudged through today.
She unlaced her boots and slid them from her feet before undressing slowly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would all end. He would learn how she had conspired against him.
He would turn against her then. He despised Breed scientists. He tolerated Dr. Armani because she had managed to hide from the Genetics Council; she had refused them through the years she was also doing her own research into what they were doing.
He would never accept Chernov and Sobolova. And he would hate her for bringing them to Haven. For exposing his people to them.
Naked, aroused herself, she moved to where he stood by the desk, tall and golden, powerful in his sexuality and his nudity. One large hand was wrapped around the shaft of his cock, stroking it leisurely as his chest moved with heavy breaths.
She loved his body. She loved the man. She understood what she didn’t want to understand, and she ached for both of them, because she knew it was going to blow up in their faces soon. Until then, she wanted her mate. Her lover. Her alpha.
“My coya,” he whispered as she came to him, breaking her heart with a title that would never be hers.
“Alpha.” She accepted him for who he was, what he was as she moved against him, rubbing her forehead against his chest, letting her lips drift over the hard muscles as she felt his palms curve around her hips.
She touched him, smoothed her hands down his chest, his abs. The fingers of one hand gripped his pulsing cock as she lifted her head for his kiss.
It was sheer power. Black magic. He kissed her with a hunger that sank inside her as surely as his tongue pushed between her lips.
Heady spice filled her senses. The taste of the mating kiss, smooth and whiskey-hot. It wrapped around her senses and reminded her of hot Colorado summer nights when she had lain alone, thinking of him, dreaming of him.
But this was no dream. This was Del-Rey. So powerful. So much hers and, yes, so separate from her.
She moved back, tearing from his kiss to find a breath. Her lips moved from his lips to his chest. That fine sprinkling of chest hair mesmerized her. Light, lighter than the dark blond on his head. Almost a burnished gold. It was soft to the touch, tempting, warm.
She rubbed her cheek against it and felt the small grumble in his chest. Not hardly a groan, a rough sigh of pleasure as his hands threaded through her hair.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered.
She needed to touch him. Everything was spinning out of control. He was the only thing she had left to hold on to
as the world unraveled around her. Around them both.
“Touch,” he sighed. “Sweet baby. My coya.”
His coya in private. His whore to his men, nothing more. How much longer could she bear this?
