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For someonethat’s been stuck in a military camp for years, he’s ridiculously good at kissing.
He kisses her as if it’s the last time he’ll do it, as if he’s a man starving, desperate for her taste.
She kisses him back just as eagerly, because she knows he’s right.
Shedoesfeel the pull. There’s a primal part of her that longs for him and is desperate for more of his scent and taste.
Would it be like this with another Alpha? She doesn’t know, and the thought of doing this with someone else makes her ill.
His scent is all over her and, secretly, she enjoys it.
She gets to have this. She gets to havehim,and he wants her and wants to give her all of his attention.
What that says about her, she’s not sure.
But she can’t stop kissing him. The waves crash in the distance, the air smells like salt, sea, and Julian, and her mind is at ease.
He’s the one to pull away, gasping for breath, and he smiles at her. It’s not the crazed one; it’s the one she’s come to recognize as tender.
The one that she knows without a doubt is just for her.
“You’re much more pleasant when you’re not denying us,” he says, and the moment is ruined.
Her eyes narrow, and she’s ready to say something snarky, but her gaze falls on the scars that run across his neck. Her hand reaches out and her fingers lightly dance across the pink skin. His scent darkens as she traces the deep lines.
“Someone tried to kill you twice?” she murmurs. “I’m surprised it wasn’t more than that.”
He chuckles. “Someone only tried to kill me once. The other was from me.”
Her fingers still. The top scar is jagged, while the bottom one looks to be a clean cut.
Like someone had held his head back and dragged a blade across his neck in one smooth motion.
It makes her ill, seeing his wounds up close when she’s not blinded by arousal.
“You tried to kill yourself?” she whispers. “Why?”
His expression grows soft, and he takes her hand in his own, bringing her fingertips to his lips. She finally notices the scars there too, faded and slightly off-white against his skin.
“Pain tolerance training,” he says, squeezing her fingers tightly as he mumbles his words against them. “It broke a few of us.”
She shivers, and not just from the chilly air.
“What did they do?” she asks, even though she knows she should stop.
But she wants the truth. She wants to knoweverythingthat her government did to them under the guise of protecting the rest of the country from Alphas.
Even if it makes her sick, her morbid curiosity and thirst for knowledge overpowers her nausea.
He drops her hand and intertwines their fingers. “Everything you can think of,” he answers, his voice soft. The same unblinking, frozen expression from the first night she met him is on full display. “Shock training, bone breaking and resetting, waterboarding—all so we could be super soldiers.” He chuckles, but his eyes are still dark. “I couldn’t take it anymore. But they found me before I bled out. Or maybe I just didn’t cut deep enough. Either way, they forced me to do it to others after that.”
She tries to break out of his grip, to step away from him, but his other hand grips her waist tightly. “And the best part, baby? Ilikedit after that.”
He finally lets her go, and she backs away from him slowly. But like the predator he is, he advances towards her.
“Stop,” she whispers.
“I pissed everyone off. I startedvolunteeringto put bullets in my brothers when they were out of line.”
