The Fury Pack Alpha's Secret Mate

Chapter two-TheHeir

"No," I whisper, as if it's a prayer, but it's destined to go unanswered because I know without looking up.

My body knows. Comes alive. Awakens.

The scent punches straight through the air, like woods after rain, leather warmed by skin, and something electric that rips my spine. It’s so familiar my knees damn near give out, and I grip the counter before I embarrass myself in front of the two customers at table four who’ve been so quiet I almost forgot they were there.

No. It can’t be, I think, but my heart’s already racing and my brain is screaming don’t turn around, even as I find myself turning and looking up.

And there he is.

Six-foot-four of raw, sculpted fury. Dark hair. Ice-blue eyes. Broad shoulders stretching the seams of a black jacket like he was made to be dangerous.

Adam. f*****g. Fury.

My lungs stop working. My throat goes dry. And I swear, my soul tries to climb out of my Goddamn body. He stands just inside the door like he owns the air I’m breathing, and the truth is, he does because the moment I lock eyes with him, I can’t breathe. The bell above the café door is still ringing, and everything feels too loud, or maybe too quiet.

I feel a clamoring within and that voice, that Goddamn voice that’s plagued me for five years, gets so loud I almost slap my hands over my ears and scream.

It’s been five years.

Five. Goddamn. Years.

And the man who disappeared after one week of toe-curling, body-shattering s*x, the same man who ghosted me after leaving me naked, aching, and so emotionally wrecked I didn’t speak to another man for nearly two years, is suddenly just standing there like he’s ordering a Goddamn latte.

And didn’t leave me wrecked, broken, and damaged.

I force a smile and grab a clean mug, ignoring the voice that demands I do something I won’t. Run to him. Cling. Beg him to ease the ache that’s lived in my gut, in my heart, in my womb for five years.

“Welcome to Moon & Bean. Can I interest you in our specialty today, or are you just here to rip my heart out again?” I ask, cursing myself for that last part

His jaw tightens, just slightly, and I feel myself seethe with hate, with fury, because he’s still stoic. Still unreadable. Still an asshole.

“Hi, Rogue,” Adam says, his voice like whiskey over gravel. “You look... good.”

God. That voice. It coils in my gut like a memory I’ve tried to burn out of me.

“Sure. Abandonment looked great on me.” I growl, flinching when my voice comes out as a deep snarl that sounds so angry, so…pathetically bitter, I want to yank out my voice box to shut myself up.

I swore to myself, years ago, that if I ever saw this man again, I wouldn’t react. I’d pretend I don’t care, that nothing happened, that he didn’t matter. And here I am, doing the exact opposite.

His eyes flicker, and I snort. He’s surprised? Guilty? Adam steps forward. Too close. And I catch a whiff of that scent again, causing something in my lower belly to twist hard. The ache I thought I’d buried slams back into me so suddenly, I nearly double over.

I grit my teeth.

Not now.

“Sit down,” I say, pointing to the stool at the counter. “You want coffee, I’ll give you coffee. You want anything else? Get out.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches me like I’m a puzzle that used to be his favorite, and he’s realizing he lost some of the pieces. His gaze drops to the ring on my hand, a ring that’s not real but something I wear because it beats explaining that I had a baby out of wedlock. It’s a stupid thing and I hate it, but people judge those kinds of things when you live in a small town.

I want him to say something. I want him to suffer. But he just lifts his head and says the words that make me want to crawl over the counter and slap him.

“You don’t seem to have suffered too much from the looks of things. Looks like you moved right on, honey. You didn’t tell me, honey.”

My hands still, the mug almost slips from my fingers, and for a second, I consider tossing the scalding liquid in his face and screaming that I did suffer. After he left me, I literally cried for a week and couldn’t get out of bed.

I was so heartbroken it felt as if my heart had been ripped out, as if there was a gaping hole in my chest that wouldn’t quit bleeding, and then, when I discovered I was pregnant—

I stop those thoughts dead, and my heart starts to race because I realize I have bigger problems than my emotions to deal with. Jackson. Oh, God. Adam can’t find out about Jackson.

“I didn’t tell you what?” I snap, blushing with rage and a mix of pleasure at the sound of his old nickname for me.

Honey. Oh, God—

Stop it. Don’t do this, Rogue. Don’t get your head all twisted up with this bastard.

“That you had someone else lined up so fast. Maybe on the sidelines while we were together.” Adam says softly, his eyes flashing silver fire at me.

My spine snaps straight, and I swallow, but I bury the fear that engulfs me as I slide his coffee over and shrug as nonchalantly as I can. Inside though? I’m a swirling, seething storm of bitterness that pours out before I can stop it.

“I don’t see why I would have, Adam. You and I spent a few weeks together, dating, and then you f****d me and left so fast I had to remind myself you weren’t just a hallucination.” I mutter, praying Jackson doesn’t wake up soon and come out here.

I can pull off the lie with others and tell them about some fictitious baby daddy, but there’s no denying who fathered Jackson once Adam sees my son, and the thought of it is…it’s horrifying to me.

He flinches — it happens so fast it’s gone before I can blink— but it’s more reaction than I ever got five years ago. Hell, it’s more emotion from this asshole than I got outside our one night together.

“That’s not what happened,” he says softly, and for a second, I’m so startled, I lose all thought before emotion rages back, and I laugh, that's a bitter, horrible sound.

“Oh?” I lean in, eyes narrowed. “Because from where I stood, you stuck your d**k in me, made me feel like I mattered for a hot second, and then vanished. That about right?”

He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak because I can’t. My emotions are raging, my worry is mounting, and the arousal I woke up with this morning is rising so fast I can feel my heartbeat between my legs, reminding me that I haven’t had an orgasm in over four years.

“You don’t get to walk in here five years later and act like you’re owed anything. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing back here, Adam, but you need to leave. There’s nothing here for you. If you’re here to take a walk down memory lane, I’ll help you out. You flirted, you charmed, and you got me into bed so you could pop my cherry, and then you left me holding the emotional baggage. I’m over it. I got over you and the head game you ran on me. So leave. Again. I don’t want you here.” I snarl and I mean it.

I need him to leave, now, before I do something crazy like leap over the counter and kiss him. My body’s on fire, my p***y feels like it’s going to explode if I don’t get some kind of satisfaction and all I can think about is the way he filled me five years ago and made me come so hard I thought I was losing my mind.

I remember every kiss. The way he licked me all over and ate my p***y for an hour while I fought against the satin ropes he used to tie me to the bed. I remember the stroke of his tongue as he sucked on my c**t until I was so wet and desperate I begged him to f**k me and then…

The heat, my inner voice purrs, the growled delight so wild I shudder and shake my head to get rid of the images I’ve lived with, suffered with, for five years.

Adam’s whole body goes still, but unlike the man I knew five years ago, he’s not angry. Not defensive. Just… tense. Caged. Like a predator choosing not to pounce. And for the first time, I notice something else.

His hands are shaking.

“You don’t feel it?” he asks, his voice a raw growl that hits me between the thighs and calls to a part of me I’ve been trying to kill.

“What?” I snap, hoping for disgust, but what I feel is so far from it, it’s hard to breathe through the s****l need that fills me.

He leans closer, and that scent, his scent, fills my lungs again. Something inside me claws at the walls of my chest, and the voice, low and feral, whispers from deep within.

Mine. Ours. Touch him. Bite him. Claim him.

I blink hard, shocked by the urgency, by the demand, and shake my head because what the ever-loving hell!

“What the hell…” I croak, the pain intensifying until I’m shaking and so turned on, I feel like I’ll snap at any moment.

What’s happening to me? What is…this? What…?

“You ache,” he says, like he’s reading my thoughts. “I can smell it on you. You think it’s just you, losing your mind, don’t you?”

I stumble back because he’s hit it right on the nose.

“Don’t f*****g gaslight me—” I start, determined to get him out.

“You’re not crazy, Rogue,” he growls. “You’re mated. To me.”