Chapter 4 The Wolf's Hunger
Malach
I make it back to The Hollow just as the last of the drunks are staggering out. The air still stinks of stale beer, sweat, and that metallic tang of blood. My boys are already cleaning up, dragging bodies, hosing down the octagon.
I nod at Jed, my Beta. He’s a good man. Loyal. Follows orders without asking questions. He has a wife and two kids in a small town down the mountain, humans who think he works in construction. We might be a pack, but I'm not a monster. At least not to my own kind. Not always.
“Boss,” he says. “All settled. Two broken arms, a dislocated shoulder, and a ruptured spleen. But they’ll live. Mostly.”
“Good,” I say, my voice a low rumble. “Get everyone out. Lock it down.”
“You got it,” he says, then he hesitates. “You all right, Malach?”
I just looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
Jed knows better than to push. He lowers his gaze and starts herding the last of the crew out.
“You heard him! Clear out!”
When the doors are sealed, and the only sounds are the dripping water and the hum of the old tunnels, I walk past the cage, ignoring the bloodstains, and head to the stairs leading down to my private rooms.
It’s more of a sanctuary than a bedroom. Concrete walls, a massive bed with a dark wood frame, and shelves lined with books. My collection of Bibles. First editions. Not for God, but for her.
Her.
I walk into the adjoining bathroom. I turn the water on as hot as it can go and step into the shower. The scalding water ran over my skin, washing away the grime, the sweat, and the blood, turning the water at my feet red.
But it's her scent I can't get off my skin.
My body responds, my cock hardening again, a traitorous, desperate thing that has been denied for far too long. I lean against the tiled wall, the water pounding down on me.
I shut my eyes, and she’s right there, so goddamn beautiful it hurts.
That face, pale and furious, braid snapping behind her like a battle flag while she ran from me tonight, fear pouring off her in waves, thick and sweet, the best drug I’ve ever had.
My hand drops to my cock like it’s got a mind of its own.
I grip hard, slow at first, just letting the ache build. Then my thumb drags over the head, rough circles, and a growl tears out of my chest. My hips jerk forward, chasing a mouth that isn’t here.
Tomorrow night she will be. On her knees because I put her there, hair twisted around my fist like a leash, those frost-blue eyes spitting murder while I feed every inch past her smart-ass lips. Her cheeks hollow, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on her face, still biting, still clawing my thighs, still swallowing me down like it’s war and surrender in the same breath.
That’s all it takes. My balls pull up tight, aching, ready to empty years of want straight into the fantasy of her throat.
I come with a snarl that echoes off the concrete, the first spurt hitting the tile hard enough to splatter. The second rips her name out of me like I’m tearing my own heart out.
I keep going until my knees nearly fold and the last shudder leaves me empty and still starving. I stay slumped against the wall, forehead on my forearm, and my chest heaving.
It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
