Untouched Omega (Alpha Elite Series Book 4) by V.T. Bonds (books you have to read .TXT) 📕

Our bond leads my feet, the link between us a bright golden light, her soul no longer shrouded by her control.

I dent the Sky-Flyer door in my haste to open it, but although my instincts demand I power to my room, my training demands I shut the door behind me.

We’ll both be vulnerable as I knot her. I can’t risk our union being interrupted.

Waiting until the door seals so I can punch in my code creates the longest five seconds of my life. Once the latch hisses secure, I punch in a secondary code, enabling strict safety protocol.

After it beeps in confirmation, I sprint toward my den.

Ripping the lock Nova installed off the outside of the door, my manic movements rip the strips off the outer edges.

Floral euphoria seeps through the tiny cracks in the door jam, the smell of her slick so potent the room can’t contain it.

It holds her lust, desperation, and pain.

I can take care of her.

I have to take care of her.

I need her.

The growly voice leaving my throat sounds like someone else, almost an octave lower than my normal tone.

“Anastasia, open the door.”

Her wanton moan sounds muffled, more than the door would cause.

Alarm and desire slam through me, the despair flowing from her soul making my heart pound against my rib cage.

My shoulder hurts.

Without conscious thought, I ram it against the door again.

Something pops.

Agony flares from my shoulder, but the door wobbles.

Using my other shoulder, I bash the door again, victory soaring through me as it crashes to the ground.

My roar bounces off the walls, echoing through the entire Sky-Flyer and dominating the airwaves.

Using the doorframe, I pop my arm back into place, the immediate relief telling me it wasn’t anything I haven’t suffered before.

Stalking into the room, my hardened cock leaks, her delicious scent ratcheting my need to rut higher.

She writhes as I growl again, her location angering me beyond words, yet the sight of her halts my feet.

Slim, bare legs rub together, hiding the hand she must be using to thrum her clit. Slick puddles beneath her hip as she lays on her side, the shoulder pointed toward the roof covered in a bright ugly bruise. The sheet forms a drenched pillow tucked between her thighs, a trail of fabric hiding away one breast, the corner stuffed into her mouth. Her other hand mauls her exposed breast, the frenzied movements telling of her distress.

Stiff nipple, reddened flesh.

Full, enticing breasts.

Narrow waist.

Wide hips.

The scars on her abdomen force another growl from my chest.

Her ministrations increase in speed, the miserable moan mumbled past her mouthful of sheet broadcasting how wild her heat has made her.

I say her name again, stepping forward, fighting the urge to scoop her up and throw her onto my bed.

The tears cascading down her face remind me how troubled her heart is. No matter how much I want to take and claim, I cannot cause her more emotional trauma.

I can’t burden her already too heavy heart with fresh grieving.

Yet the ability to form a complete sentence escapes me.

Instead, I step closer and call her name again.

When blown pupils stare up at me, shining in the low lighting, I give her something I’ve never given anyone before.

I purr.

Her eyes lose focus as her muscles lose their tenseness, her manic rubbing stopping as she soaks in my comfort.

“Mine.”

I accept the waves of upheaval and terror blasting from her heart, widening our link and sending understanding. I expunge her worries, pulling them from her as I would pus from a wound, my soul sucking out as much negativity as I can.

Unable to wait long enough for her tears to cease, I lunge forward and sink one hand in her hair and the other in the lush flesh of her hip, my fingers kneading the plump curve of her ass. Her hot skin shoots flames up my arms, the glory of the moment clogging my throat.

I clear it with a purr, rumbling my pleasure into the air.

“No disease. No more death,” I manage, pushing my intent through our link while hiding my distressing knowledge. She doesn’t need to know they died for no reason. All she needs to know is she isn’t sick and I won’t die because I touched her.

Unfocused black pupils hold my gaze, her frazzled mind showing relief and need.

A part of her doesn’t believe me.

That’s okay. Some things can only be proven with time.

I will enjoy every moment spent proving her wrong.

Especially if it means I get to see her shiver with delight, her plump lips opening on a gasp as she writhes under my hands.

Lust and instincts overtake me, her curves too enticing and her slick too tempting.

She deserves a slow and gentle first mating, with time between new sensations so she can fully process everything.

I can’t.

I need her too much.

She’s mine.

Chapter Seventeen

Anastasia

Too much. Not enough.

I have no idea where I end and he begins, the shock of his hands on me the most wondrous sensation as his heart envelopes mine.

A large calloused palm covers the back of my hand, the one drenched between my legs. The slide of his thick fingers over my slickened knuckles makes my core clench so hard a fresh gush erupts from between my legs. It bursts through my digits and coats his, the hazel ring in his eyes disappearing as his pupils expand.

Without warning, he rips the sheet from my mouth with his own teeth. His tongue invades my mouth. Hot, wet, decadent desire swamps me, his claiming so beautiful my soul sings as my lust goes haywire. Despite being overwhelmed, my body seems to know how to respond, eager to be joined with him.

I give as I take, shoving my tongue between his teeth to ease the need to taste him.

His massive fist tugs a handful of my hair, glorious electricity coursing through my veins.

I need more.

Pain ricochets from my shoulder as it meets the hard floor, but the heaviness in my womb gobbles it up, needing more.

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