Victor: Home in about an hour, do you want to have dinner? Victor stares at the text on his phone. The messaging system lets him know that Amelia has read it, but not responded. He sighs, tucking his phone away in his pocket as his town car pulls into the club. For the past twenty-four hours Ameli
“The boys are going nowhere,” Victor says, reaching forward to take his own glass of whiskey. Walsh is right. As much as he hates it – the timing, especially, as well as the impetus – this is a conversation he and Walsh need to have. Legally, the boys bind their two packs together. “I concur,” Wals
Victor doesn’t go home for dinner, though his text to Amelia suggested that he would. Instead, he stays at his club and keeps drinking. It’s not normally in his nature to be drunk – Victor likes a clear head, solid control over his body. Besides, with his Alpha metabolism, it takes a great deal to
“Come on, brother,” Rafe says, laughing. “Let’s get you fixed up.” They both grab their whiskeys and head towards the locker rooms of the sports club, where Victor’s Betas have delivered his clothes. An hour later, the party is in full swing. The club is packed with Victor’s male associates, all dr
Victor and the members of the hunt prowl through the streets of the city, searing for their prey. They sniff the air and follow their instincts, seeking their other halves, the partners with whom they will consummate their hunt. For those amongst his parties who are mated pairs, this means their par
“Sir,” one calls, “are you all right?” He ignores it, moving forward. Beta radio transponders click behind him – “He’s here –“ “Of course, let him pass –“ “He doesn’t seem…himself…” “Does it matter? It’s his house, who are we to stop him -” But then he’s beyond them and he’s alone again, Vict
I move my hips to match Victor, meeting him stroke for stroke. His breath comes fast, his back curled so that he can raise his hips higher, get further inside of me. I’m gasping now, gasping for air, gasping for release. I want more of him as he pounds into me, the rhythm of him carrying my passion
There is a long moment where neither of us move. And then Victor groans – not the kind of groan he made just a few minutes ago, but the sound of a very tired man. He rolls back away from me, moving his hand from my hip. Suddenly cold and awkward without the solid warmth of him behind me, I sit up a