The Alpha's Surrogate Bride

Issues to resolve

ARIA BLACKWOOD

When Rohen leaves the room, I stand sitting there, completely lost, not understanding what the f**k just happened. He marked the entire room with our scent. I remain leaning against the cold wall, my whole body throbbing like I’d been struck by lightning. The air is still thick with his smell and my own mixed in, sweet and dangerous, the kind Nyra releases when she decides she wants to play with some male, but that hasn’t happened in years.

My legs shake so hard I slide down to the floor, the nightgown still open, my breasts exposed to the cold night air. I hugged my knees and bury my face in them, trying to breathe without every inhale reminding me how close I came to begging him to f**k me against that wall.

What the hell is happening to my life? I clearly feel something for him, and he feels it for me, so why do we keep running from each other?

The mark under my rib burns like someone shoved a hot knife in there and is twisting it slowly.

"Come back to me," Nyra growls low, pissed off, offended. She doesn’t understand the refusal. She doesn’t understand, “not yet.” I know she wants to sink her teeth into his throat and mark him back. She wants him to bleed for us.

"Shut up," I whispered to her, my voice hoarse from all the moaning. "You’re going to get us killed."

I drag myself to the bed, my body heavy, my p***y still pulsing empty, soaked, and ridiculously needy. I lie face down and press the pillow against my face to muffle the whimper that escapes when I rub my thighs together without meaning to. His scent is soaked into the damn fabric. I breathed him in deep, no shame at all, and let my whole body shake while I slid my hand down to do what he wasn’t man enough to finish.

I hate him.

I want him.

I need him inside me.

I hate this.

I roll onto my back and stare at the high ceiling of the bridal suite. The scented candles are almost burned out, the light flickering on the stone walls. The bed is way too big for one person. I ran my hand over my neck where he bit me without actually breaking my skin. The skin still burns. His teeth marks are there, not deep enough to bleed, but enough that I feel them every second.

"You son of a b***h," I whisper into the empty room as the orgasm hits me, nowhere near as intense as it would’ve been if he’d stayed and done his job like a real husband. It’s infuriating. "Come back here and finish what you started."

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ROHEN BLACKWOOD

I storm out of that room like hell itself is on my heels, my footsteps echoing down the dark castle hallway like gunshots in the dead of night. My c**k throbs painfully against my pants, hard as iron, begging for relief, and I clench my jaw so tight I taste blood. Her scent is glued to me; sweet, wet, like honey mixed with liquid fire. It’s like she dug her claws into my soul and ripped apart everything I thought I had under control.

Fuck, I almost took her right there. Against the wall, on the floor, on the bed, it didn’t matter. I wanted to spread those perfect legs and bury my c**k so deep inside her, she’d forget how to breathe without me. I wanted to hear her moan my name for real, not that Lyria bullshit.

"She’s ours," he roars inside me, claws raking my ribs from the inside, dying to break free and drag her back here. "Mate. Mark her. f**k her. Now."

"Shut the f**k up," I snarl back, slamming my bedroom door so hard the wood groans in protest.

The alpha’s quarters are bigger, darker, thick stone walls and a fireplace burning low, throwing dancing shadows like ghosts. I collapse into the old armchair by the window, breathing hard, hands shaking as I unbutton my pants and free my c**k. It jerks in the cold air, the tip already slick with pre-c*m, and I close my eyes, hating every second of this.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be in there with her. I should be licking every inch of that soft skin, sucking those hard n*****s until she cries from pleasure, opening her up with my fingers and then my tongue until she’s begging for more. I picture her now, alone in that huge bed, legs spread, hand sliding between her wet thighs, moaning softly while she touches herself thinking about me. Thinking about what I almost did. What I should be doing.

My hand wraps around my c**k, gripping hard, and I start stroking slow, pretending it’s her. I imagine her mouth around me; hot, wet, swollen lips stretching as she takes every inch. I imagine her riding me, t**s bouncing, nails digging into my chest while she f***s herself on me hard, eyes glazed with lust.

I speed up, pleasure building like a wave, but it’s hollow. It’s a f*****g shadow of what it would be with her. My wolf howls in frustration, desperate for the real thing, desperate to sink his teeth into her neck and mark her forever. To taste her blood on my tongue, her scent mixing with mine while I fill her up, knotting deep inside until she can’t move without feeling me.

But I’m not going back. I can’t. Not while this curse pulses in my veins like poison.

I stop for a second, panting, c**k throbbing in my fist, and glare at the dark ceiling. The curse. That ancient s**t my father carried before me. He was strong, the most powerful alpha this pack had ever seen. Until he found his mate. The Moon Goddess blessed him with her, but the black rune curse, burning in Blackwood blood for two generations turned it all to hell.

I remember it like it was yesterday, even though I was only twelve. My father was slowly losing his mind. At first, it was just extreme possessiveness, constant growling, jealousy that made him attack any male who even looked at her. Then came the madness. The beast taking over, no control, tearing through everything in his path. He slaughtered half the pack on a full-moon night, convinced they were all threats to his mate. And in the end… he killed her. Ripped her throat out in a rage, thinking she was betraying him. Then he turned his claws on himself, leaving a trail of blood and pain that still echoes in these walls.

I inherited it. The curse that turns love into obsession, desire into destruction. I swore I’d never get close to a mate. That I’d never let the beast win. But then she came. Not Lyria, the perfect alpha I was supposed to marry for peace.

She wants me. I feel it in the air even from here. I can smell her touching herself, the lonely pleasure that should be mine. My c**k jerks harder, and I start jerking off again—fast, almost punishing myself. I picture her moaning, arching her back, fingers slipping inside her while she thinks of me. I come with a low growl, the orgasm exploding like a bomb, but it’s bitter. Empty. My c*m spills hot over my hand, useless, and I wipe it on my pants, hating every second. My wolf howls in rage, slamming against the bars of my mind, desperate to go back to her. To claim her before the curse destroys us both.

But I won’t. Not while I know I could destroy her the way my father destroyed everything. She’s my mate, yes. But that doesn’t mean salvation. It means damnation. And I’m not dragging her into the abyss with me. Not yet. Not until I figure out how to break this f*****g curse running through my blood.

I stand, walk to the window, and stare out at the waning moon, pale and indifferent. The castle is silent, but I feel her. I feel her heart racing, her scent still hanging in the air like a taunt. Tomorrow I’ll face her again. I’ll pretend I’ve got everything under control. But inside, I’m burning. Frustrated. Starving. Cursed.

And may the Goddess forgive me, because if I give in… I’ll destroy us both.