Page 22 of Alpha Unchained (Wolves of Wild Hollow #2)

He stalks in like a storm on two legs, his presence so thick it feels like the air might crack.

Every instinct in me pulls tight, caught between flight and free fall.

His broad shoulders are tense, muscles coiled tight with restraint, as if holding back a storm ready to unleash.

The scent of him—pine needles, fresh earth, and a hint of salty sweat—fills the space, claiming it as his own.

The air crackles with tension, a live wire sparking with anger, need, and a longing that has gone unspoken for too long.

When Luke speaks, his voice is rough and raw, like gravel crunching under heavy boots. "I had to see you."

I try to keep my distance, to build a wall of self-preservation around me, but it crumbles like a house of cards in a breeze. "You can't keep showing up, Luke," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It hurts too much."

In a heartbeat, he's crossed the room, his powerful hands gripping my shoulders, eyes burning with an intensity that steals my breath. "I'm not walking away again," he growls. "Not from you. Not from our baby."

My anger fizzles out, replaced by a deep, aching need and a vulnerability that makes my heart pound. I lift my chin, defiant, even as my body yearns to melt into his. "Then prove it."

His mouth claims mine with a fierce, unrelenting hunger—a demand and an apology, all tangled together.

He backs me up, his hands gripping my waist, and I can feel the strength in his fingers, the need in every rough touch.

I gasp as his teeth scrape my bottom lip, and he swallows the sound, kissing me harder, deeper, until my world narrows to nothing but the wild, aching need between us.

We stumble together; the bed bumping against my calves, and I sink down onto the quilt.

Luke follows, looming over me, his eyes burning so hot I can barely breathe.

He presses me into the mattress, his body a wall of heat and muscle, pinning me with his weight and intent.

His hands move to my wrists, holding them above my head, and his mouth drags wet, desperate kisses down my throat.

I arch up, helpless under the onslaught, shivering as he tongues the old love bite at my neck.

The sensation is electric—a jolt of memory and desire that has my body tightening, ready for more.

"You're mine, Elena," he rasps, his breath hot against my skin. "I won't let you go."

"Then make me believe it," I whisper, my voice trembling with equal parts defiance and want.

His eyes flash, hungry and wild. He slides a hand beneath my shirt, callused palm dragging up my ribs, and then with a single, determined motion, he pulls the shirt over my head.

My bra follows—unhooked and gone in a blink—along with his own clothes.

The cool air kisses my bare skin as his mouth descends, tongue circling a nipple before he draws it between his teeth, making me cry out.

His free hand maps my body, slow and deliberate, tracing every dip and curve, caressing my belly before sliding down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties.

He drags them down my hips, knuckles grazing sensitive skin, baring me inch by inch to the cool air and his ravenous gaze.

I shiver, every nerve alive and waiting, pinned beneath him and aching for whatever he’ll give.

Luke's gaze rakes over my naked body, eyes dark with hunger and a tenderness that undoes me.

His hands slide beneath my knees, pushing them wider, baring me to his view—and then he drops down, broad shoulders fitting snug between my thighs.

The air leaves my lungs in a shudder. His hands grip my hips, anchoring me, and then his mouth is on me—hot, relentless, tongue flicking and circling, licking a line through my slick heat that has me gasping, hips arching off the bed.

He makes a sound—raw, feral, deeply satisfied—then pins me tighter, holding me wide open as he feasts, tongue stroking, lips latching onto my clit, sucking until I cry out.

Each stroke is ruthless and gorgeous, each flick making me shudder and beg, every nerve exposed and desperate for more.

He devours me like a starving man, taking everything I give him, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating against me, driving me higher until I’m nothing but sensation, writhing under his mouth.

When I come apart, it’s violent and devastating—my thighs shaking, his mouth still on me, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I’m limp and trembling.

Only then does he let go, the taste of me on his lips as he finally looks up, wild and triumphant.

He releases my wrists and gathers me into his arms, hands gentle as he strokes my hair, his breath warm against my cheek.

He whispers, "I love you," the words so raw and vulnerable I almost can't bear it.

I look up at him, every wall down. "Then stay," I say. "No more running. No more excuses."

He holds my face in his hands, forehead pressed to mine. "I'm not leaving, Elena. You have me—all of me."

He kisses me again—slow, deep, and claiming—and then I feel the hard heat of him poised at my entrance, his body pressed full length against mine, heavy and grounding.

He holds my gaze as he sinks into me with a single, steady thrust, stretching me until I gasp, my fingers digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders.

There’s nothing hurried or tentative about the way he fills me—he moves with certainty, with need, his mouth catching mine and swallowing every sound.

Our bodies fit together so perfectly, it almost hurts, pleasure and relief tangled so tight I can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins.

His hands are everywhere—tangled in my hair, bracing my wrists above my head, then sliding down my arms to grip my hips, holding me still as he starts to move.

Each thrust drives me deeper into the mattress, his body a furnace against mine, sweat and heat slicking our skin.

The room is a riot of sensation—our ragged breaths, the slap of skin, the scent of sex and longing.

My entire world narrows to the relentless rhythm of his body inside mine, the edge of pleasure drawing tighter and tighter until I feel like I might snap from wanting him.

He drops his head to my throat, mouth hot and desperate as he sucks at the mark he left there, his teeth scraping the skin until I whimper.

“You’re mine, Elena,” he growls against my skin, voice hoarse, as if the words are being dragged out of him. “No one else. Only ever you.”

He surges harder, grinding deeper, every muscle in his body straining as he drives into me with a hunger that borders on desperate.

The heat between us spirals higher—his mouth finds mine, swallowing every gasp and cry as pleasure knots and snaps inside me.

My legs lock around his waist, body arching into every relentless thrust. I can feel him everywhere—his hand gripping my thigh, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice rasping my name.

The pleasure builds in a slow, burning wave, cresting higher with every grind of his hips.

When it finally breaks, it’s raw and devastating—I convulse around him, nails digging into his shoulders, crying out as my orgasm rips through me.

He holds me pinned, eyes locked to mine as he drives me through every last pulse, making sure there’s no escape, no holding back.

I’m still trembling, every nerve buzzing, when I feel him lose control—he buries himself deeper, his body stiffening, a guttural groan torn from his chest as he lets go.

The sensation of him pulsing inside me, filling me completely, pushes me into aftershocks that have me clutching him tighter.

For long seconds, we’re both caught in the storm, tangled together, hearts pounding in unison.

Only when the last shudder leaves my body, do I realize how desperately I’ve needed this—needed him.

He stays over me, not letting up, his mouth at my ear, breath hot as he murmurs my name, claiming me with every whispered word, every possessive touch.

When he finally eases back, he gathers me up in his arms, rolling us so I’m sprawled across his chest, sated and utterly his.

We stay like that, bodies locked together, breath mingling, my heart racing against his chest. When he finally moves, it’s only to gather me closer, his arm strong around my waist, his hand spreading over my belly, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles that anchor me in the here and now.

I melt into his embrace, boneless and shaky, every part of me alive and tingling with the memory of what we’ve just done.

Afterward, he pulls me close, his hand resting over my belly, cradling both me and the child growing inside. We breathe together, tangled and spent, and I know—truly know—that I'm not alone anymore.

I turn to face him, searching his eyes. “If you want this—me, the baby, all of it—you have to promise me you’ll stay. No more lies, no more half-truths. I want all of you, or nothing.”

He goes quiet, thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “You have all of me. Every piece. I was lost without you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

For the first time, I let myself believe him. I let myself hope. I press my mouth to his, slow and sweet. “Then never make me regret it.”

We lie together, the world outside fading to nothing.

But as I start to drift, a prickling sense of unease crawls up my spine.

Something moves in the shadows beyond the balcony—a flash of movement, a glint of eyes.

I tense, holding my breath, but when I look again, nothing is there.

Just moonlight and the hush of the woods.

Still, I pull Luke closer. I may have found my mate. But even as his arms wrap around me and I listen to the rhythm of his breathing, a cold shiver coils through me. This peace isn’t real. It’s borrowed time—and something out there wants it back.

I can feel danger circling, closer than ever, waiting for the moment we let down our guard. And as I close my eyes, I know this night is only a lull before whatever comes next—a promise or a threat—breaks over us both.