My Alpha Mate Wants Me Back

108. Win

Jessamine

If you’ve ever been away from home for too long, you’d understand the feeling of your stomach plummeting at the most familiar scents, the urge to breathe in deeply, feel everything, reacquaint yourself with every single detail—details that suddenly seem more vivid and…and intense.

That is all I can call this—coming home. Somehow, between punching Kier and telling him I hate him and I’ll return to my father’s castle and find me a man who isn’t quite as infuriating as he is, he’d kissed me. Concussion be damned, Kier’s lips heal me in more ways than any physician could.

I walk Kier back into the throne room, pushing off the remains of his shirt. His fingers tangle in my hair as his lips on mine reminds me of the first time…the first time I saw him. His eyes looked like a tear from an ocean of peridots. His hair was shorter, not long enough to run my fingers through, but I was fascinated by the rich hue of it. He rarely smiled then, but when he did, it was bright as starlight.

Kissing him reminds me of the fullness and vastness of love. It fills me, taking the cold away, taking the pain, taking Atticus and the ghost of his touches. The emptiness, the void of the last four months is slowly replaced by a raging storm of emotions, and I need more from Kier than he's giving me right now.

I push him, and he falls back hard on Atticus's throne. His eyes, darker now, rise to mine and he sees something in them that makes him flash me a pant-melting smile. "Jess..." he mutters. "I love it when you get like this."

How does one walk sexily with a baby bump? I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel like I'm waddling as I approach him, but Kier watches me appreciatively, raising his hand to grip my hip as I close in on him. "Like how?" I whisper, climbing awkwardly onto his lap. I swear I'm still nimble, but I don't know how to sit on him like this. My ass feels so damned...fat. Concern ripples through me, dousing some of that heat and I start to inch out of his lap again, feeling self conscious.

"Maybe we should..." My voice trails off when he grabs my ass and growls contentedly. "I love this. Should we what?" His arms bound around my torso, pulling me back in, and I sigh softly as his hard length pushes through the thin fabric.

"Forget I said anything."

Kier's fingers run up my back as he peppers my chest with kisses, but he suddenly pauses, fingering the material of the dress I'm wearing. Then he tips his head back and scowls at me. "You never dressed up for me like this." He peers down at my chest. "What is this called? I've never seen anything like it."

"Why? You like?" I'm laughing now.

"Hell, yes. This is all you'll wear from now on." A thoughtful expression. "No. Just in private. I'll have to kill anyone who sees you like this."

The laughter spills out easily. "Well then, there's a guard by Atticus's chamber..."

"Already dead. I went there first to get you."

Surprise blooms inside me, followed by a startled laugh. "You don't--" My words sputter to nothing as he pushes the skirt higher, bunching it around my hips, until his other hand can dip beneath and graze the inside of my thigh. "Talk later," he growls, and I couldn't have agreed more. "I've missed you, you dangerous, sexy woman."

His hand slips out from under me and his tongue is suddenly brushing past my lips, claiming, owning, sucking out every bitter taste, replacing it with...mint and him. He groans against my mouth, raising my hip enough to give me space to pull him out of his pants. I moan when my fingers wrap around him. Gods, I've missed him.

Impatient, he pushes into my fist and shudders, his face tightening like he's in pain. "Do that again. Please."

"This?" I ask, smoothening my palm over his tip. His hip bucks, and his head drops back against gold edging around the cushion. "Yes." I repeat the motion twice before he grabs my wrist and pulls it away abruptly. His eyes are flecked with a bright gold as he says, "I need to be inside you. Now."

I stare Zephr down. "You're an asshole."

He smiles sardonically, and I squeal when he lifts me in a flash, methodically bending me over the th thrones arm in a way that's mindful of my stomach, but somehow still bares me to him completely. "You still reek," he grunts, rubbing a hand over my ass and I flinch when he slaps it. "I should like to remedy that."

"Maybe shut the door first," I retort, trying to sound like I am unflustered by the sound of his pants rustling as he pulls it down.

An amused laugh caresses me like phantom hands trailing my skin. "Odd that you'd be worried when you jumped on my cock first." His hand fastens on either of my ass cheeks, and I feel him bare, against my throbbing core. "You cuss at me steadily, yet, you're all wet for me. See you inching back, greeedy for more. Fucking beautiful."

I hiss a sharp breath when he rubs his tip along my entrance, making no move to fill me up like I need him to. I arch back, my eyelids fluttering close as I try to put an end to his torture. But he knows what I'm thinking. He pulls back and I'm wet enough that he glides along me smoothly, brushing again my clit deliberately. Slowly. Back and forth, between my folds, I feel him hot, hardening. He grunts when I move anyway. This is better than nothing at all. I'll take it, I don't care.

His claws bite into my skin when he suddenly snarls. I feel it then, surprised as he splays his hot cum on my ass, down my thighs. He pushes up my dress and spills the rest of it against my back, the sound of his hand pumping his erection loud against my ears. It's an absolutely filthy way to mark me with his scent, but it's so hot my stomach cramps from the sudden pressure in my core.

I'm about to make a smart comeback about how early he came when he nudges into my entrance, slamming into me all the way to the hilt, impossibly harder than he was before. My stomach knots and my fingers dig into the cushion as I rock back, rolling my hips with abandon. My stomach knots and unknots as unintelligible words form in my mouth, ending with my lips parted, my eyes shut, and my teeth digging into my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

He possesses me, his hips driving in harshly. I growl, pushing back into him. "More," I demand, my toes curling in my boots.

Kier pulls out of me and jerks me off the chair with strong, warm hands. I see the hunger burning in his eyes, mirroring mine, and I understand when he sits and pulls me onto his lap; onto his waiting cock, my back flush against his chest. One day isn't going to be enough to rid the darkness the past months wrought upon us. Taking me like this isn't going to be enough. My hunger for him is a yawning pit that spreads wider with each thrust. I'd need a week's with him. Or months to sate it. My lust is an irate monster and I have no control over it.

My body shakes with the force of each thrust, and I squeeze his thighs as I ride against him, our harsh breaths mingling. His fingers find a way to my throat and he clasps firmly, his thumb flicking over my pulse point softly--a contrast to the way he destroys me. Hard, urgent and unforgiving.

"You're mine," he grunts against my shoulder and squeezes hard on my neck until I repeat the words to him. Until I cry out, riding out every beat of my orgasm. Our cries and grunts mingles with the slap of flesh against flesh echoing in the hall, and I couldn't have cared less if someone walked in on us. I couldn't have cared less if I screamed loud enough to shake the castle. There's only him, and the feel of him spilling inside me. And then, he's lifting me again, shifting me so that he's kissing me and walking me back until he knocks me into the wall and carves my leg around his waist.

We've kissed countless times before but this, it is catharsis. Healing. Purging.

The wall shudders everytime he rams into me, his face buried in my chest as he sucks my aching nipple, dragging his canines across, swirling his tongue around and around until I'm a quivering mess. My legs can't hold me anymore and I am grateful for his strength, his warmth. I love him so much, my eyes begin to tear up as I hold his shoulders and let my head drop forward. I press my lips to his ear and tell him I love him.

He rolls his hips once and cusses softly against my neck as he cums deep inside me.

We hold each other until our ragged breaths even, and I feel something wet trickle down my chest. Peering down at Kier makes him raise his head, and a sole tear wets his hazel eyes. "Hey," I whisper, my brows furrowing as I cup his cheeks. "What--"

Kier's eyes drop to my stomach, his hand resting on it, and his voice is low and full of love as he tells me, "Thank you."

Just then, someone knocks, clearing his throat. "I hate to interrupt but--"

Kier and I snarl at Lloyd, "Get out!"

********

The guards were absent because Easton moved up the break period. I knew I’d seen Easton before. He was a guard at the castle gates back home. Kier had him and a few others join the training for the recruits the moment I went missing, and he had to wait it out until they had fully infiltrated the guard detail. When Kier surrendered, he hadn’t been alone. Nearly half the guards were his.

It took less than a month to rid the hierarchical levels in Ashbourne. The humans didn't welcome Kier with open arms but having Oriana restored to the position of a Lady worked wonders. Having being queen once, she knew what to do. The right words to say to get them to agree during those grueling meetings.

Ashbourne is then divided into five cities, each territory bestowed upon a befitting human to lord over--well, all except one. To the East of Ashbourne were cities overpopulated with werewolves. Those who fled from Neredia years ago resided there, and the humans who hadn't already moved to the less hostile parts of Ashbourne lived in hiding.

There would be change, but it couldn't be handled by humans. A werewolf had to do it and after much consideration, Kier chose Az. Frankly, no one else wanted the job. Not even Az, but he was less aggressive about turning Kier down. All I had to do was smile prettily and convince him that it wasn't that bad and he agreed, only after taking me in his arms and twirling me around until I was dizzy, kissing my cheeks and muttering something about being the godfather of my child.

Upon reaching Neredia, I was greeted by my father, Nymeria and a baby. Nymeria's little bundle of joy. I swear I've never seen her so happy before. What was even weirder was my father sitting his granddaughter on his shoulder and walking about as she pulled his hair in every direction. Apparently, they reconciled when I was away.

I cradled her child in my arms and knew I'd protect her, love her forever. But there were times I looked at her and saw her father. She had Nymeria's blonde hair, but those electric blue eyes, the lips, and her toothless smile was Atticus through and through, like a ghost haunting us all from his grave.

And I knew I wasn't the only one who felt that way. More times than not, I caught the dark look in Nymeria's eyes, however it was fleeting. There was Lloyd too, who was recovering at an alarming rate--he even smiles a little now and then at me, though, our friendship seems not to have survived the test of time...and I've accepted that. He's happy with Nymeria--yes. It is some odd as fuck romance going on between them--and he adores Lynn. But there are days she calls him 'dada' and his eyes glaze over. Or he just...bolts.

I do hope little Lynn never comes to find out just how much of a true monster her real father was. I hope she doesn't notice the repugnant stares she receives from those who bore the most scars from Atticus--the people who lost their homes and loved ones in the war. But I already see the intelligence in her eyes. She takes after her father too much. Or it could be her grandfather. Because it definitely isn't Nymeria's brain she has.

Could even be mine. Who knows?

Darrock got banished from Dawn and he left to the lands across the seas. It seemed harsh initially, but when I thought about it, placing myself in my father's shoes, I'd probably do worse if someone did that to my daughter. Or son. Raya didn't follow and I have an inkling it has something to do with Killian who's currently in our dungeons, playing house. Mikkel was rewarded with being the Alpha of both his and Darrock's pack.

I didn't get out unscathed. Other than the frequent nightmares of death's jaws closing around me as Atticus strangled me, I can't shift. While it's dangerous to undergo a full transformation during pregnancy, I should be able to summon my claws at least.

Those suppressants seem to have done something to my connection with Nyx. I can feel her somewhere deep inside, buried, but I cannot reach her, speak to or hear her. I might as well be wolf-less again. My pretenatural strength is gone, and Kier has me relearning the basics, in hopes to trigger something, but nothing works.

He's the only reason I have it together. How can I be queen if I can't be Kier's strength? He assures me that I'll always be his greatest strength but I don't believe it. There'll always be enemies to crush, more uprisings. I hate being defenseless. I'm a good fighter alone, but Atticus has proven to me that sometimes, having a sharpened weapon means nothing when you have a stronger, faster and deadlier opponent.

I want to be strong. For my child. I want to be the cool, epic mom. I want to be the wife and who breaks noses for fun and defends the people. I can still do the first half, but...I just miss having Nyx around. I miss my claws. I miss my canines. I miss everything. I don't want to be reduced to someone who sits out a battle because they're a liability.

Kier assures me I'm not--he's been doing a lot of that lately. Not that he has a choice. My bad mood means he's sleeping on the couch and waking a stiff neck. Or worse, I kick him out, even if it's not his fault. I'm not evil, I promise. I'm just grumpy and it is his fault, in fact, for getting me knocked up. He should suffer a little too.

He's been patient--again, there's really no other option, except he's willing to face my crying and yelling. Randale now calls me a witch too, because he's being forced to run the errands when Kier's in his meetings, and boy, do I love watching him get frustrated. He gets the things I crave and then I tell him I don't want them anymore. And I proceed to request for absurd things like clay from the Goddess's lake by the temple.

He came back looking like a drowned rat and then I crinkled my nose and said, "Are you trying to poison me? Why would I eat that?"

"You fucking asked me to get it!" he yelled.

Then I'd begun to cry. "Kier? Dale is yelling at me again. Kier! He hates me!"

At this point, everyone is tired of me. Even my father is avoiding me. I'm only that way with Randale because he used to be mean to me. This is my own way of warming up to him. Don't judge me.

“That is inappropriate for a royal wedding, Princess,” Queen Tara chides when I raise a purple dress with a terribly high slit and no overflowing skirts. “A peasant might wear that and get away with it. You are to be—”

I groan. “I’m not wearing that thing. It is hideous. Why don’t you wear it instead?” I point at the white, scratchy lace dress that seems to balloon outward, instead of hugging my impressive curves, and it is unflattering and makes me look a mishappen ball.

Queen Tara’s cheeks pinken and Nymeria starts laughing, tickling a cooing Lynn. “That’s mother’s wedding dress.”

“Oh,” I say, guilt eating at me. “Oh…it’s…not that bad…” Then I lean in and whisper, because I cannot help it, “I do hope you had something different underneath. You know, for father and your wedding night.”

Tara tucks a hair behind her ear, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. “It is clear you do not need my help, and I’ll have you know Hunt…loved it.”

I grimace at the dress. “Must be because it’s easy to take off.”

“Jess!” Raya squeals, closing her ears. “You’re the worst!”

Queen Tara storms out of my chambers blushing furiously, leaving me behind with the seamstresses for my dress fittings and they do not seem pleased to be around me. At all. “What? Why did she leave like that? I was only telling the truth.” I scowl at Raya. “Don’t you feign innocence. I saw you and Killian last night. What the hell is going on between you two? You know he’s dangerous.”

The minute it was decided that the wedding would take place at Dawn, Killian had requested that he be made Raya’s personal guard. I didn’t agree, of course, but Kier thought he was wasting away in the dungeons. Bad as he might have been, he was skilled and awfully intelligent. And he does care for Raya. That one fact is inarguable. He’s constantly under watch, and so far, he’s been of good behavior. That doesn’t mean we trust him.

“Nothing,” Raya murmurs. “We’re just friends—”

“You were looking at him like you wanted to kiss him!”

She bristles with indignation. “I’m not a child! I know he’s dangerous. I know what I’m doing!”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I hope you do, because you’re in my care and I won’t hesitate to rip his head clean off if he hurts you.”

Raya pales and silence falls as the air grows tense. I need her to see that I mean it and that I am worried for her. She looks like I did years ago. Being in love is great, with the right person. I don’t know if Killian is that for her, but she’s too young to get scarred by a broken heart or betrayal. Her red eyes widen with fear and panic, and just as she parts her lips to speak, the doorknob twists. “Jess?”

My gaze snaps up and I smile at Kier. “Hey baby.”

Nymeria groans, rolling her eyes. “Your mood swings are scary as fuck, Jessamine.”

Grabbing up the nearest coat, I race out the door, nearly crashing into Kier. He steadies me with a hand on my waist as she seamstress complains about how I have yet to still pick a dress for my wedding tomorrow. I ignore her like I have been for most of the week. Kier has been stealing me away for these sweet dates I can't get enough of, exploring different locations in Dawn and finding new spots to...uh, well. You'll figure it out.

Our lips meet and he laughs when I part his lips with my tongue. "Easy there. You'll make me hard in front of them."

"And bless their day with the sight of you."

Nymeria gags. "You're both disgusting."

I shut the door. "Where?"

Kier's grin widens. "The Glade. Your father's atrium."

My fingers pause where they've begun to wrap around his arm. "But it's off-limits. He doesn't even let me visit. How did you get him to agree? What do you have on my father?" My father began building a monument of some sorts sometime ago. He's named it after my mother, but no one knows that yet since it is nowhere near completion.

I asked him once and he'd said it was the only way he knew how to let go. And she would have loved it if she were here. I've heard rumours about the first floor being the most beautiful place to be in the world, but it doesn't matter how many times I beg him to let me see, he refuses. I have no idea how Kier knows I've always wanted to go there, but I'm not surprised. The man knows everything I'm thinking.

My mate shrugs as he pats a hand stop my fingers. "Nothing. I didn't get his permission."

My feet skid to a halt. "You didn't?"

"No, but I got these." He dangles a bunch of golden keys before my eyes.

My jaw drops. "You stole his keys...!"

Kier's fingers slap over my mouth as my voice rises high enough to attract the attention of the guards. "You're going to get us caught, love."

I bite his fingers and he grimaces, snatching his hand back, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. "We're breaking in? My father's going to skewer us. No. Just you."

Kier's eyes glint with mischief. "It'd be worth it."

Fisting my hand in his shirt, I pull him closer and his nose brushes against mine. "Have I told you how much I love you, you crazy man?"

He smiles, kissing the corner of my mouth. "Only a million times, witch."

The End!!