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Revulsion cuts through my body’s eager reaction. No matter how enticing my omega self finds this alpha, his cruelty only solidifies my hatred for him.
“You have two choices: wash me with the soap or wash me with your tongue.”
The bar squishes between my fingers as I fight to regain my control. I swallow and close both hands over the soap and resist the urge to sink my nails into his eyes.
He sits naked before me, but nakedness for an alpha like him doesn’t equate to weakness or vulnerability. No, the virility of his body sits on full display, and I fight against the longing to study him.
He’s terrifying. Huge. Broad shoulders. Massive cock. Thick thighs.
Scars decorate his entire body. The newer cuts from today’s explosion sit red and inflamed on his tanned skin, and the stab wound on his hip sends a trail of thin crimson down the seat. Despite the injury, he doesn’t act wounded.
The stony expression on his face promises retribution. I shove away my fear and rub the soap until white froth drips between my fingers. I balance the soap on his thigh and place my hands on his shoulders.
He grabs my wrists and moves my fingers to his head. Silky strands of salt and pepper tease my palms and curl around my digits. As he guides my hands deeper into his hair, yearning steals my breath.
My appa loved washing my omma’s hair. The joy and love they expressed in the daily routine always filled my heart to overflowing.
I swallow the lump in my throat and pray the deluge washes away my errant tear before Alpha Fore scents it.
I want what my parents had. Their devotion and worship of each other never needed to be expressed in words.
I’ll never have that with this alpha. Our hatred runs too deep.
I bite the inside of my mouth and try to blank my mind, but horror rips through me when I realize I thought of my parents’ relationship in the past tense.
They aren’t dead. They’re still alive and are suffering because of the male in front of me.
In a desperate attempt to pull myself together, I bite the inside of my mouth harder and focus on scrubbing my enemy’s hair. If he wants a meek omega, he chose the wrong female, but I’m at a disadvantage, so I’ll be on my best behavior while I keep an eye out for opportunities.
I’ll only get one chance, so I can’t make a move unless I know for certain I’ll come out the victor.
When soap slides down his forehead and into his eyes, he growls in warning. I tilt his chin back and finish scrubbing his head, wanting to ignore the brush of his chest hair against my nipples, but too entranced by his size to hide my body’s reaction.
I rinse all traces of soap from his hair before working a lather onto my hands and resting my fingertips on his shoulders. Déjà vu strikes me as he grabs my wrists and lifts my hands again, but he flattens my palms on the sides of his face instead of raising them to his hair.
“Is my scar that ugly, tiny scorpion?” he growls.
His derisive tone bursts the bubble of lust building in me.
“The scar doesn’t bother me, only the sneer behind it.”
I should shove the soap in my mouth. My stupid tongue was never good at staying silent.
Fore’s growl drops dangerously low. My stomach bottoms out and terror rattles my bones.
“Your father gave me this scar before he left me for dead. This sneer stems from his betrayal, so blame him for the view.”
“Don’t use my father or my mother as an excuse. You’ve probably always been a grouchy asshole.”
His thick fingers wrap around my throat in the single most terrifying gesture I’ve ever experienced, but his words invoked my omega need to protect my family and I can’t stop my mouth. Also, a tiny sliver of me wonders if a quick yet painful death would be better than what he has planned for me.
“I don’t blame my omma for choosing my appa over you,” I hiss through the growing pressure in my head as he compresses my jugular.
In a shocking contrast to his brutal grip, he gently runs the fingers of his other hand down my face, mirroring the scar on his otherwise handsome features.
“You brought this upon yourself, tiny scorpion.”
Unlike the raging fury he usually exudes, his expression offers only cold resolve. Fear coils so tight around my spine my entire body becomes brittle. I don’t shatter when he pushes me onto my knees and pulls me forward by my throat, but I wish I would.
