The Alpha Hunts the Exiles, So I Let Him Catch Me novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Hostage Bed

He had a bed under the roof beams, and he had not slept in it in five years.

He told me that after he had bolted the door, and before I pushed him down on the quilt.

"The floor of the fold is softer," Unai said.

I told him that was the saddest thing I had ever heard, and sat on his thighs.

The tower's top room held one window and a stone hearth with a banked fire.

The wooden bed was built for two, with the quilt turned back.

The fire threw gold across the ceiling.

I knelt over him in my shirt with nothing under it, my hands flat on his chest.

He looked up at me and did not blink.

"Look at you," he said, hoarse.

"You've seen me."

"Not like this. Not in light."

I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.

He looked.

He took his time over it.

His eyes went to the scar on my neck and followed its long reach down to my breast.

They lifted to my face.

He did not look away from the place that hurt.

"You're beautiful," he said. "Every inch. The burn too."

"Say it again when I'm not on top of you," I said.

"I'll say it when you're underneath me, and beside me, and across the valley."

"Hush," I said.

I bent and kissed him, slowly, with my hair falling forward where it was not long enough to fall.

He kissed back with a hunger he held in check, his hands open on the quilt at either side of him.

He had not touched me.

He had not touched me once since I told him no one touched anyone unless I began it.

Every muscle in his arms was strung tight with not doing it.

"You can use your hands," I said.

"Where?"

"Anywhere you were wishing you could."

He put them on my waist and let out a long ragged breath.

Then they moved, up my ribs and over my breasts, and his thumbs found my nipples and circled, and my head dropped back.

"There," I said. "Yes. There."

"Bat," he whispered.

"You haven't counted anything yet."

"That one was for the first time you said yes tonight."

I laughed and it turned into a moan when he rolled my nipples between his thumb and finger.

He raised his head and took one in his mouth, and I gripped his hair.

It was too short to hold.

I held on anyway.

He sucked, hot and wet, then flicked his tongue across and sucked again, and I felt it pull low in my belly.

I rocked against him, and he was hard under me, the length of him thick against the seam of my body through his trousers.

I reached down and freed him.

I wrapped my hand around him and stroked once, slowly, from root to crown, and he arched off the bed with a groan.

"Nahia," he said, and stopped. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

"Say it."

"You said not until you-"

"I'm saying it now." My voice had gone thick. "Say it, Unai."

"Nahia."

I had not known what it would do to me.

I slid down him and took him in, inch by inch, with my forehead against his.

My breath went out of me in pieces.

He filled me.

He was thick and hot and exactly what my body had been waiting for since a sheep fair five summers ago.

I stopped when I was seated on him fully, and neither of us moved.

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