Page 39

Char

Scarred knuckles wrap around the steel bars.

Too scared to scream, I reach through the porthole, find the nearest pit in the rust-eaten hull, and duck my head and shoulders through.

Metal screeches as the brute bends the bars of my cell with his bare hands.

I curse my budding curves as my breasts prevent me from climbing through the porthole, but after finding a foothold on the inner wall with my toes, I push myself through.

Shards of agony spear through my chest, but I twist, find a second handhold on the hull, and press my elbows against the pockmarked iron of the ship.

I pour everything into escaping, but my hips refuse to fit.

Thick fingers wrap around my thighs, scorching my flesh through the thin material of my shorts and drowning me in terror.

The cool, salty wind and bright, warm sunlight do nothing to ease my fear. Nothing to suppress how my skin lights up from the male’s enormous hands. Nothing to stop me from being at the mercy of a brutal alpha.

I scream and fight harder, wishing I could climb free, wishing for the harsh bite of freezing water and angry waves. I’d rather die by drowning than suffer whatever this alpha has planned for me. Drowning would be quicker and less humiliating.

He tugs my thighs, sliding me backward through the porthole.

I kick and flail, scraping my elbows and staining the hull with my blood.

Sliding over my hips and their horrible flare, his massive hands encircle my waist. Despite how easily he could crush me, he pulls me toward him with gentle pressure until the undersides of my breasts catch on the porthole.

I hiss and kick, but his low rumble infects my bones and steals my strength.

“Come back in, little omega.”

My fingers ache as I tighten my hold on the hull. Wind tugs at my hair and abrades my tear-stained face.

I don’t want to die, but the waves look so enticing compared to suffering this alpha’s wrath.

He splays his long fingers over my entire abdomen, digging into the trapped undersides of my breasts and pressing into my hip bones.

He’s bigger than I thought. Much bigger than Alpha Trik.

Caught like a rat in a trap, I struggle to breathe. Tendrils of heat sink into my body from his hands, causing a disconcerting itch just below my skin.

When I don’t move, the brute shifts his hands until one encompasses my right butt cheek and the other rests just above my pelvis, poised to slide where no man has ever touched.

“Come back in or I’ll knot you right here, right now, your readiness be damned.”

Trembling so hard I fear my bones will shatter, I go limp, trying to convey my compliance. I can’t wriggle through the hole with my breasts wedged like this, but I don’t know how to tell him. The sharp edge of the porthole threatens to pierce my flesh, my clothes doing nothing to protect me.

A tense moment passes. I stay as limp as I can with my bones shaking.

With movements too efficient to be called gentle, he pushes me forward, then guides me back through the hole one terrifying inch at a time.

Tears spill from my eyes and join the blood oozing from my elbows as he slides me down the wall and pins me in place with his bulk.

He weaves his fingers into my hair and pulls my head back, forcing me to look over my shoulder and meet his scowl.

Tawny brown eyes surrounded by sharp features and dark brown hair fill my vision.

He says nothing, but a vibration rumbles from his chest. My fear dances away until it hovers on the outskirts of my mind, still active, but unable to control my thoughts.

The same itching heat created by his hands buries itself under my skin and sinks deeper, infecting my organs until I long for relief.

His lips tilt in a smirk.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Continue reading Taken by the Tanker (The Knottiverse: Alphas of the Waterworld Book 1) .