All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 331 - Chapter 340

“You’ll get no challenge from me.” I tell him what he really wants to know.He draws himself up and stares me down, his wolf in his eyes, a growl rattling his chest, and I let him. I don’t bend the neck—I don’t have it in me—but I let him make his point.He’s about done when Flora pops out from behind me and says, “H-He’s here with me.”I reach to drag her back, and she smacks my arm. “He’s only here because I came, and he’s my mate. He doesn’t want to take over or anything. He doesn’t even like people.”It’s like someone unclogged her. She just keeps going.“H-He’s not a jerk or anything—well, I guess that’s debatable, kind of depends on who you ask—but he won’t cause trouble and neither will I. Abertha sent me. She said you’d take me in. I have money. Human money. And we can both work. Or, well, I can work. I can do laundry, cooking, cleaning, mending, sewing. Basically anything with fabrics. And I can fix washers and dryers and vacuums and other small appliances. Probably. I haven’

I used to think I knew him from watching him all those years, and we had nothing in common, but now that I’m really getting to know him, I realize how similar we are in some ways. Like me, his default mode is bracing for a hit, and he wakes up expecting a drubbing.He’s always grim in the morning, but as the day goes on, each time I see him, his jaw is a little less tight and his eyes are a smidge less creased at the corners, as if every time he comes around, and no disaster has struck, he allows himself to feel a bit less wary. Then, the next morning, he’s wound up tight as a drum again.That’s how I feel every day that passes here without getting called fat or having to ignore some snide remark. Relieved, but also, ironically, more and more tightly strung. The blow, when it comes, is gonna hurt. The Old Den folks really don’t seem to care about my size, but I haven’t made anyone angry yet, either. That’s when folks always let you know what they really think—when you step on their to

“You could help, you know,” I tell him.“It’s female work,” he says offhandedly, his focus very obviously on scowling and acting like Bevan doesn’t exist.“Female work?” It’s such a Salt Mountain male response that I don’t think he even realizes he sounds like an ass before I take the red dauber in my hand and bop him on the nose with it.He blinks, his eyes crossing as he tries to make out what I’ve done. “Hey. What?”He scrubs at the dot, but he doesn’t do much but smear it.I go to dab him on the forehead, but his reflexes are excellent, and I’ve lost the element of surprise. He plucks the dauber from my fingers and dots my nose.“Hey!”A hint of a smile tugs up the corner of his mouth, and so quickly that it doesn’t fully register until he’s done, he rubs our noses together. A split second after, his lips are a stern line again.“I’m going to wash up for lunch,” he says. “Meet me at our table in five.” He gives Bevan one last glower and takes off without a backwards glance.I watc

He’s on his knees. For me.He licks inside me, fore to aft and back again, and it’s wild, mind-stopping, sloppier and wetter than I imagined, and it makes me wriggle, but it also feels so damn good. His nose dips into my channel, and oh, no, what am I thinking?I haven’t bathed since yesterday when Nia played lookout, how could I have forgotten, and he’s licking me all over, the hairy mound above my clit—oh, heaven please no—the skin leading to my asshole.I shriek and buck and kick and twist my hips to the side so hard that for a second, I’m afraid I’ve snapped his neck, but he climbs to his feet, and he looks fine, except his shadowed cheeks are slick with my juices, and his eyes are wary.He considers me for a second as I try to pull my shirt as low as it’ll go. “What’s wrong?” he finally asks.I stare over his shoulder and thank my lucky stars that it’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see that I’m beet red.“Nothing.”He considers me again, brows knitting. I feel like a stubb

“I made her a little sling. I needed my hands for the other stuff.”Harriet’s sides rise and fall with the slower rhythm of deep sleep, but her pink nose and white whiskers still quiver.I don’t know what to say.I thought you were using me, and I went along with it because my life was that sad and empty, but I loved you, too. I loved how tough you were, and how you didn’t care about anyone. I loved how you made me feel alive and special, and how because of you, I had dreams to keep me going through the drudgery of my days.You broke my heart, and it made me stronger than I’d ever been before. Strong enough to leave.And you followed me.I smooth my palm over Harriet’s haunches. She is so small and soft and vulnerable. I always felt a camaraderie with her, ever since I found her huddled up to her mother’s body, cooling in a snare up on the western ridge.I’m not a rabbit, though. I’m a wolf.I’m not trapped. I’m free. I can choose.Whether I believe or I don’t. Whether I forgive.Whet