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Mindless. Bodiless. She was pure sensation, pure pleasure burning in his arms as he thrust into her full-length and that deep, burning swelling filled her until she was shooting into the stars and exploding into a white-hot center of pleasure.
She was aware of him following her. The way he growled her name, jerked her to him and bit into her shoulder again. To hold her in place, she thought hazily. That bite held her body in place where he wanted her, in perfect alignment with his, his seed spurting inside her, filling her so deep, with such hard, burning spurts that she knew she would never be the same.
She collapsed against his chest when his teeth finally released her. His tongue licked over the wound, each caress sending a racing shiver through her as she shuddered in his arms, his cock still locked inside her.
“I need to hold you,” he whispered, his lips caressing her neck. “Just like this, Anya. Just in my arms.”
Her head rested on his shoulder, turned away from him as she fought back her tears. Just like this, just in his arms, and separate everywhere else.
It was like being torn in two. Always on the outside staring into what had been or what could have been and knowing he wanted nothing more than this.
Del-Rey watched an hour later as Anya moved from the private bathroom attached to the office—dressed, she was beautiful but her expression was somber.
That was what was missing, he thought, her smile.
“I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, fiddling nervously with the hem of her sweater as she pulled it over the low-rise waist of her jeans.
“Tonight,” he promised.
“Maybe we could shower together?” There was something lost in her voice, something that cut him to the bone.
“Are you okay?” He moved from the desk to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand. “Do you hate me, Anya?”
Her lips trembled. “I love you, Del-Rey,” she whispered, staring up at him with those sad blue eyes. “I’ll always love you.”
He dropped his hand as she moved quickly away from him then and escaped as he stood in shock and surprise. He had known she loved him; he could feel it in every touch. He had known it since she was sixteen, had burned for it when she was twenty. But he hadn’t expected her to admit to it.
Following her to the door, he opened it and watched her leave. From the shadows across the wide cavern that led into Communications, he glimpsed someone else.
Ashley.
She stood, eyes narrowed on him, a knife sheathed on her thigh, the olive gray uniform he had rarely seen her in giving her a harder, merciless look as she turned her head and stared back at him with a cold, level gaze before moving to follow her coya.
He didn’t like seeing Ashley in drab olive green. The next time he saw her, he’d have to ask about that. He much preferred the flirty Ashley in color and tripping around with her pretense of ditzy fun.
This Ashley, he sighed heavily, like Anya, reminded him of everything he could feel he was losing.
CHAPTER 22
Anya had hoped to delay a confrontation for herself or between the now opposing factions of Coyote soldiers. She felt as though she and Del-Rey were in the middle of a very silent war. Hers against his. She could feel everyone’s determination, like her own, to leave the alpha out of it. It wasn’t his fight. It was hers.
A fight to keep the Russian Coyote Breeds within the alliance that had formed and to hold on to the tenuous peace she could feel unraveling around her. A peace she had worked eight months to ensure. The battle between his and hers. The Coyote soldiers that had followed Del-Rey for so many years and the ones she had fought tirelessly to gain freedom for.
As long as she had been coya, peace had reigned. Now those of the Russian pack saw an insult in the reversion of rights and her lowering of status. She saw Del-Rey’s reasons, almost understood them, but to make them work there was no way that the packs could know the reasons.
That left them at a stalemate she feared wouldn’t last much longer.
It was evening by the time she made it into the kitchen. There had been an attempt made to load the dishwasher. It was haphazard at best.
The kitchen was the biggest problem in the whole facility. None of them wanted to clean up their own messes. Soldiers were always in a rush, teams rushing in to eat, then back out. Some came in weary and tired, fixed what they could, then went to sleep, exhausted. She couldn’t fault them, but she couldn’t keep up with them either.
At least someone had tried.
She was straightening the dishwasher when Jax stepped into the kitchen. Tall, light blond, with darker streaks and dark blue eyes. He was as handsome as the others. Breeds were created to be perfect in every way.
He wasn’t cruel with it, or even mean. But like the other soldiers, he pushed and he tested his boundaries. He hadn’t tested her as coya, but it seemed he was determined to test her now.
“You didn’t make biscuits,” he noted as he moved to the fridge and set out a plate of thickly sliced sandwich meat. “Morning teams missed them.”
