All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

He smooths my hair, dropping a kiss to my hairline, the tip of my nose. I sigh and cling tighter, winding my arms around his neck, lifting myself so I can kiss him back.This is perfect. This is designed. This can make up for it all if I let go, if I just give in to the mysterious swirling rising inside me.He’s exploring, traveling from my lips to my temple to my jaw, as if he’s tasting the differences, as if he’s swept away, too.We’re thigh to thigh, the shawl bunched and tented as we twist to reach each other. I want more. I want to touch everything. I grab his shoulders to lift myself, but my leg is stiff, and I can’t get a good enough grip. I growl, frustrated.He chuckles. “I got you.” He picks me up and resettles me sideways in his lap, returning my hands to his shoulders and then massaging the thigh of my bad leg.He kisses me, eyes closed, as he cradles me, and I feel floaty and surrounded and gobsmacked. I feel held.He’s so strong. I run my fingers down his bulging arms, t

And if some drunk night when I’m away, Lochlan or one of his buddies decides to rally the unmated males, head up to the lone female cabin, and take what they want? What Eamon and a lot of the other elders have been telling them for years is their due?Well, I put ‘em all in one place, didn’t I? Like fish in a barrel.That’s why if I’m away, Tye or Ivo is here. And at the end of the day, they’re safer together with Una to keep an eye on them. She’s a good packmate. Keeps her head down. Does her work. She’s solid.But she’s not my mate.Yet, for some reason, all of a sudden, I want to fuck her so bad I can taste it. The mate bond is deeper than that, though. Right?The bond is a flower, rooted in two souls, blossoming with the first onset of a female’s heat. Or some such shit. I don’t pay a lot of attention during worship.I need answers. Which means I gotta go see the crone. Not my favorite thing. She speaks in riddles, and she always wants me to drink tea.I clear my throat, and Gael

“I do.”“Is Una Hayes my mate?”“Did you ask her?”Did I? I definitely did. Didn’t I?She said I wasn’t. She agreed with me that she wasn’t. I search my memory for the exact words. It’s never this hard with males. I hate semantics. “I don’t know. She said you fixed it. What does that mean?”“At the risk of repeating myself—did you ask her?”I grab a cookie and take a bite. It’s good.“Is there a reason you’re busting my balls?” I say after swallowing. The crone laughs, and she comes to sit across from me. She breaks a cookie in half and begins nibbling.“Besides entertainment value?” She leans back in her chair. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine first.”“Fine. Shoot.”“What do you remember about your first shift?”“Pain.” It’s a strange question, but I’ve been asked it before. I shifted at nine years old. That’s unheard of, and wolves are nosy.“What else?”“Blood. Screams. I thought I went blind for a while.”“Do you remember what happened before the shift?”“Not really.

I’m done with this vague, hippie shit. I am going to get my mate. My body warms. A faint, strange pulse tick tocks in my sternum.My wolf raises his snout as we race back to camp, and I swear words ring in his howls.Took you long enough.I’m almost back to camp when another scent stops me in my tracks. It’s rich. Delicious. I bound off through the underbrush, and it doesn’t take long to discover the source.Darragh Ryan is hauling a fresh kill on his shoulders. A buck. Eight points.Before I shift, my wolf leaps up and snaps a chunk off the haunch. So fresh.When I rise to two feet, I wipe blood from my mouth. “What are you doing down here?”Darragh’s twisting his neck to check out the damage. “Did you really have to? Couldn’t wait for me to dress it for you?”“You don’t do it for me. You do it for Mari.”Mari’s the mate he avoids claiming by living feral in the foothills. He says it’s ‘cause of the age difference—he wants her to have the chance to grow up before taking on his old as

I straighten my spine and turn on the radio. It only gets a few staticky stations, but I find one that plays Top 40, and I sing along. I love human music. More melody, less howling.I’m in town before the commercial break.Chapel Bell has three stop lights, six cross streets, and a town square in the grassy expanse between northbound and southbound Main Street. That’s where the farmer’s market shares space with a weathered bandstand. There are also permanent shops on the street facing the park. An ice cream shop with a life-sized cow statue out front. A vintage jewelry store.It’s a nice town. Very peaceful. No sparring or wrestling.I park and check my phone.Here. At the honey table.My belly swoops. This is it. This is going to be the biggest deal I’ve ever made. Who knows? Maybe the beginning of a mushroom empire. I force myself to steady my breathing.I’m not new at this. I’m a business woman. I’ve got almost a thousand dollars in the trunk of an oak tree that says it.And I am n