Her Tyrant Alpha [EXCERPT]

Chapter Three

Nolan gently pushed Ashelin's hood from the top of her head. She quivered with desire but stayed as still as she could as he leaned down, nuzzling his nose into her unruly crimson hair.

He inhaled deeply and a low groan rumbled in his throat, like rocks brushing against each other. She wondered if she was as heady to him as he was to her, if her natural scent mixed with the musk of her arousal drove his wolf to the brink of insanity.

"Are your arms sore, little Siren?" he asked, his tone taking on almost a teasing lilt. He glided through the sand until he was behind her, his hands ghosting down her shoulders, tracing the intricate knots across her back.

She shivered. "No." It wasn't fully a lie. She knew if he untied her that her shoulders would be stiff from being in the same position for so long. But she was good at dissociating from pain and discomfort when she wanted to.

And she was a lot more focused on Nolan and his presence than anything that was happening inside her own body.

He growled, snaking an arm around her and taking her throat in a large hand. The silver warmed between his palm and her delicate flesh, and her eyelashes fluttered as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into either side of her neck.

Collared, bound, unable to breathe—not to mention hungry and thirsty and tire and overexposed to the sun and—

She gasped a moan as he relaxed his fingers, allowing her a breath and for blood to rush to her brain.

"You are a filthy thing, aren't you?" Nolan purred the words into her ear, sliding his free hand across her belly and pulling her flush against him. "A whimpering fucking mess over your own degradation."

He squeezed.

Ashelin closed her eyes, tilting her head back, pressing against his strong chest as her ears rang. He flattened his palm against her stomach and she wanted to roll her hips, encourage him to touch her somewhere needy.

Her wolf whimpered in wanton desperation, an inner voice because the outer body had no breath to make sound. Which was likely a blessing, because she couldn't trust her tongue not to beg him.

Beg him for every glorious second of that filthy degradation.

He growled, low in his throat, and then shoved her away from him suddenly. She tried to keep her balance, but days without nourishment and the intensity running through her caught up and she hit the sand face-first.

She rolled onto her side to avoid a mouthful of beach, blinking up at the alpha's stiff form through her unruly crimson locks. His back was turned, muscles knotted, his hands behind his head. He clawed at the nape of his neck for a moment, as if he were overcome with indecision, and Ashelin's gut clenched.

She could almost taste his frustration. There was a thrill there, a thrill that she affected him, but she couldn't help but chastise herself. She'd let herself fall too hard into the moment, and in turn, came on incredibly strong. This could hurt her chances. Her mind reeled with what to say, what to do, but she came up blank and decided her best course of action was to stay where he'd put her and wait.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he lowered his arms.

Without turning around, he said, "Nobody removes your ropes but me." He turned his head slightly, giving her a profile, but only seemed to eye her from his periphery. "Understand?"

The tone of his command ripped through her like wildfire.

"Yes," she said, biting off the sir that wanted to leap from her tongue. She had a feeling he would like it—but right now he didn't seem to want to like it. She needed to shove her libido back into its box and play it safe for the time being.