All Chapters of Taming Alpha Rhye: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Lily shivered. The thought of a powerful, predatory werewolf becoming unhinged wasn’t a pleasant one. Actually, it was downright dreadful. "Should I ask?"His attitude was grim. "No."Good enough for her. "So this Trevor chases them down and kills them?" she instead demanded."It’s his duty.""Lovely." With a frown, her attention shifted toward the nearby facility. At a distance, it looked as if it had once been a beautiful structure. Three stories, with a large patio on the ground level and a hallway with an ornamental fence running along the second floor, it spouted the kind of high-arched windows famous before air-conditioning and six fluted pillars that added an air of graceful importance. The twilight, however, couldn’t hide the proof that the red bricks were crumbling into slow oblivion and the windows were missing most of their leaves of glass."Why does he live out here in the middle of nowhere? Does he give the other... the hunting thingy thingy? I mean-"Alpha Rhye breathed

Lily wasn’t happy as she allowed Rhye to steer her into the crumbling building. Perhaps it had something to do with the stink of rusting beds that had been loaded up into what had once been a front hallway. Or the plaster that rotted from the awning as they headed down the narrow flight of stairs to a basement that, frankly, was strange as hell. The tiny, cramped rooms they passed by, as well as the broken rods and walkers shoved in a warehouse compartment, edged toward a deserted old family's residence, but whatever fascination it once might have claimed had long ago receded into oblivion. Or perhaps it had something to do with the enormous, anxious werewolf who led them through the mouldy darkness. With only an old candle lamp to brighten the hallway. Oh, Trevor was melt-worthy. He was all smooth with darling eyes. Delicious tropical heat in a pair of low-riding jean shorts. But the demon in her wasn’t fooled by Trevor’s promise of heaven. Like Rhye, the werewolf carried the potent

Twenty miles from Trevor's den.The room was hot, too pungent, so hot he could hardly draw in a breath without scalding his lungs. It was small and had no windows or ventilation other than a small hole up near the ceiling. Most of the time, they kept a bright light on him, forcing him to stand for days, beating him when he toppled to the floor or just plain sat down out of defiance—well, more necessity than defiance, but they didn’t see it that way.Jason had been there for days now, with no end in sight. Alone. Always alone. Sometimes they brought in others and tormented them—he could hear the howls and the noises of barbarity, the screams, usually in another language—and he was certain he was the only werewolf hostage they had. It was possibly the reason they didn’t kill him.He wasn’t sure he could have kept his sanity without her—without Jessa's voice, so soft and melodic in his head, taking him to another place, telling him she was with him, sharing her mind so that he felt he wa

"I’m sorry, Jessa. Tell me I didn’t hurt you. I almost… Damn it," Jason wiped the sweat from his eyes, rubbing his palms over his face and then through his damp hair. "Hell. I could have killed you."She reached out a hand to him, but Jayson jerked away from her, backing to the other side of the bed, feet on the floor, hands still rubbing over his face in agitation."Jayson—""Don’t. Just fucking don’t. Out now.""I don’t think so." Temper hissed in Jessa’s voice, making him turn his head and meet her glittering gaze. "What did you say to me?" he asked, his own voice lowering, taking on an edge."You heard me very well, Jayson. I’m not leaving. You had a nightmare. A flashback. Whatever. It happened. We’ll deal with it."He glared at her. "Are you out of your mind, Jessa? I could have shoved that knife in your throat. Right then, at that moment, you were the enemy. You sat there looking at me, totally without defending yourself. You didn’t even put up your damn hands. Who does that, J

Jason’s tongue slid over her fold in a long, gentle, very passive stroke, as if they had all the time in the world and he was enjoying himself thoroughly. Her whole body pulled tautly, twitched, and she groaned low in the back of her throat. He found those little whimpers and murmurs rippled through his entire body and fortified him even more. Each time he aroused a sweet little moan, he felt it was a claiming of her, a branding, his mark, his essence, his feat, giving her satisfaction, wrapping her up in sensual paradise. He kissed her, tasted her, and then impaled her deeply, wholly at odds with his earlier slow attention. She nearly shook in awe. "Oh God, Jay." She groaned. His name hissed out between her teeth, another breathy little cry that rippled through his whole body. Her face and body were glowing with arousal, her eyes nearly dark, so glazed and bewildered that he wished to keep her like that, head twisting desperately from side to side, her hips soaring, searching for