Rise of the Dark Alpha
Chapter 202 - Forever Mine

If you enjoy music while reading, try "Lonely" by Nathan Wagner while reading this and the next two chapters. It's what I listened to while writing them!

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~ ZEV ~

Desire hummed in Zev's bones.

When Sasha pulled him back into the kiss it was a frantic fight with himself not to tear her leggings off and take her like the beast within him that yearned for release.

He gave in to the temptation to pull her head back, to taste her throat, to graze his teeth along the arch of it, then latch onto her skin and suck until she gasped and clung to his shoulders.

Sasha was bent backwards, fingers digging into his shoulders to press herself against him, her legs hard against the bed. He longed to pick her up and throw her onto the furs, to cover her and take her, to give his wolf's voice to his love and possession.

But something coiled within him that wanted—needed—more than a simple joining. It made his hands tremble, and his breath shallow. It made his skin hum.

Dropping his chin so his lips brushed her ear, he rasped, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm not," she gasped. "I'm here, Zev."

Whining in his throat, he opened his mouth on her neck, laving the skin with his tongue until goosebumps rose on her shoulder.

"Turn around," he whispered harshly.

Sasha's breath rushed out of her, but she turned in his arms to face the bed and Zev whined again.

She was still wearing her leggings.

Reaching around her, he took the ends of the laces in both hands and snapped them with a short growl. Sasha sucked in, but Zev was careful to be gentle as he slid his hands down her sides, under the waistband, and pushed them down until they puddled at her ankles.

"Get onto the bed. Don't turn around."

He smelled the spike of her desire—laced with the tiniest touch of unease. Swallowing back the Alpha within him that was snarling for release, he put both hands to the hollow of her waist as she crawled up onto the bed, helping lift her onto the bed that was higher than her hip.

Once she had her knees on the furs, she started to turn, but he caught her. "No, stay there," he croaked.

Sasha, on all fours, looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide—but dancing.

Humming his approval, Zev tore off his own jacket and followed her up onto the bed, touching, stroking from her hip, up her stomach to cup her breast as he crawled over her, his chest against her back.

Combing her hair aside with his fingers so he could replace her neck, he latched onto that spot under her ear again, the one that made her shiver. His hands never stopped moving, never stopped seeking her, stroking. And her skin pebbled under his touch as her desire for him rose. Then he kissed his way down the center of her back, slowly, following that soft hollow, his lips soft and open, his tongue replaceing the grooves of her spine.

Sasha seemed to be trying to speak his name, but no words came through the rush of her breath.

Conversely, Zev's breath thundered through the room, tearing in and out of his throat, though he'd barely touched her yet. But his guts twisted, tingling with desire, his body yearning, every inch of his skin burning.

Then, as he reached the tiny hollow of her back, just above her buttocks, Sasha sighed and leaned back into him, and Zev moaned her name as her soft ass—and even softer skin—rubbed the length of him.

He shuddered and straightened, gripping her hips and pulling her hard against him as he leaned back and gave voice to his heart's song. Then he relaxed and Sasha dropped her head, before pressing back towards him again, seeking him.

Groaning, pleading, Zev stroked her back and shoulders, painting her contours with his hands as they rocked together, letting his body play over hers until she was slick and twitching with each pass, her hands fisted in the furs.

He shuddered again when she said his name in a tiny, high voice, her head tipped back as she leaned back on her hands and knees, seeking him. "Zev. Please!"

"Oh god, Sash."

They rocked again, but he couldn't wait and, gripping her shoulder in one hand, and guiding himself with the other, he took her in a single, hard thrust.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Sasha cried out. "Zev! That's… holy shit."

But he was shaking with the fight for control, his senses heightened until he was overwhelmed with the soft smoothness of her skin, the rasping cries in her throat, the waft of her scent when she flipped her hair over one shoulder, and the intoxicating sensations of the joining that he could feel to the soles of his feet.

He fought a war within himself—part of him yearning to plow and plunder, to take her as quickly and hard as she could enjoy, to burn this desire out of his guts with sheer heat. The other part seeking and soft, aching to show her, to cover her, to draw her into himself and keep her apart from the harsh world.

As he drew almost all the way out of her, then thrust back in, she clenched around him, calling his name, and he felt his body crackle for the shift, but he snarled it back.

He had mated countless women in his wolf—using the instinctive form to separate his heart from every single one of them. He would not devalue Sasha that way. She was his mate. His love. His heart's song. She would have all of him, every time their bodies met.

She would have the real Zev.

Aching with love, thrumming with desire, he leaned forward, sliding the flat of his palm up her spine as he plunged into her. Then his fingers found her hair and twisted into the soft waves.

With a groan of pleasure, he slowly twisted his hand into her hair, curling the mahogany strands around his wrist and palm until she felt the tug and dropped her head back with a moan.

Then, still thrusting into her, his breath jagged and demanding, he leaned over her, curling around to replace her lips, their breaths mingling as he plundered her mouth.