Home > Ruthless King (Ruthless Warlords #1)(8)

Ruthless King (Ruthless Warlords #1)(8)
Author: Alison Aimes

The thought made him want to throw back his head and roar with rage.

The faint sound of a door sliding shut echoed behind him. His beta targets had gotten away.

He could not seem to care.

Nothing mattered but getting to her.

He stalked forward.

Her breath hitched and he could see the panic in her eyes: she wanted to run.

He issued a warning growl—he would not have her feet torn up so he could enjoy the chase—and was gratified when a low moan slipped from her in response.

Her eyes sank to half-mast as his Alpha call triggered her instincts and a new scent joined the rest: slick for him.

She was readying herself, responding to him, just as a good omega should.

Her pupils dilated, her breath coming fast, her cheeks flushed.

Soon her lust would be as great as his own.

He stepped closer. Growled low once more. He wanted her wet and wild, frantic to be placed on all fours, begging for her neck to be pinned down while he shoved inside and fucked her hard.

“P-please.” Her tiny hand swung upward as if that could somehow ward him off. “Not the heat. Do not trigger the heat. Give me some control, at least.”

He did not like her attempt to resist the pull. He ran right through her hand until his chest was pressed tight to hers and her fist curled against his pec.

White-hot electricity crackled through every cell.

Even through the barrier of his clothes, he knew. Her skin was silk, her fit perfect. The scrape of her beaded nipples against his chest drove him mad, while the feel of her soft belly cradling his hard cock was better than anything the universe over.

He flattened his mouth against the sensitive tendon at her throat and breathed deep. His gums throbbed as his fangs screamed for release, craving to sink into her trembling, pliant body. To mark her as his for all time.

“Alpha, please. Not here. Not with the others—”

No? He roared in fury. Omegas did not refuse their Alphas.

He would not be denied. Not while the stink of the Lundin family and the betas still clung to her. Instinct demanded he rub against her. Mark her. Scent her. Claim her and erase all others. He had waited so fucking long.

He growled once more.

“Oh, gods.” Her voice was a defeated whisper. “That sound.”

Their bodies vibrated as one, like the perfect pitch of a tuning fork, hers trembling in need as her head fell back and she bared her neck, her hand fisting in his furs, pulling him closer. “Please.”

This time she begged him to continue.

His omega.

He’d known it from the start.

His enemy, his pawn, but his nonetheless.

“Alpha Lord Skolov, we did not realize the omega was your fated mate.” Prendel’s disembodied voice crackled through the space like a kick to the balls, piercing Nikolai’s rut state. “Had we known, we would have taken additional precautions since only a fated-mate connection can produce this level of strength and loss of control in an Alpha.”

Prendel’s disapproval was obvious.

“As a result of these developments,” continued the Inner Council head, “damages from this incident will be taken from your shared account and given to the Brotherhood to enact repairs.” He paused once more. “The assessment is complete. Alpha Olan Lundin’s debt is paid in full. The meeting will adjourn in five. In the meantime, Alpha Skolov, I suggest you remove the omega currently in heat from the room before the other Alphas lose control altogether.”

The sound of a slamming gavel came next.

Hells. Nikolai would have liked to use it on his own head.

He’d never intended the knowledge that the omega was his fated mate to be a secret, but he hadn’t meant to lose his shit quite so publicly.

Chin snapping up, he met Olan’s smug smirk through the male’s still intact glass pod.

You’ve dug your own grave now. It was easy to read the older male’s lips, even with them pulled back in a feral grin. Good-bye to those balls, Skolov. Olan’s lips moved once more, his stare dropping to Nikolai’s wrists. Enjoy being an Alpha bitch.

Among Alphas, the fated-mate bond was perceived as a trap to be avoided at all costs. Yes, it was recognized as the ultimate genetic marker of breeding compatibility and known to produce greater strength in an Alpha, but it also eroded the Alpha’s already tenuous control.

There were stories of insanity and mindless ruts that lasted forever. Stories too of a force stronger than the Alpha instinct to dominate and spread his seed that shifted the dynamic between Alpha and omega.

Plus, once the fated bond was cemented by time spent together, it grew permanent. Unlike a prime omega contract, which lasted only through an omega’s childbearing years or a property interaction that could be severed by the Alpha at any time, the fated bond could not be undone. Once the bands around the wrist thickened and darkened to their full capacity, it became impossible for an Alpha to knot or impregnate another omega. Hence, the Alpha bitch moniker.

It was a lifetime sentence that went against the current Alpha philosophy. Why fuck one omega when you could rut with hundreds? Better to use their bodies and, if possible, their gifts and then move on to fresher meat when the older omegas were used up.

But there was so much about the fated bond the Brotherhood didn’t know.

Fact was, neither did Nikolai.

But he was still going to take the risk.

Because, unlike so many of these old-timer Alphas, Nikolai didn’t rest on his laurels. He couldn’t afford to. Instead, he gathered information: details, facts, figures, whispers about who was blackmailing who and fucking someone else.

Information was the foundation of how he’d built his business from nothing to become the youngest and newest member of the Brotherhood. Richer and more powerful than most of the other crime bosses.

He was no one’s Alpha bitch. He was the fucking Ruthless King.

And, like everything else in his path, he intended to bring the fated-mate bond to heel and make it work for him.

Like the omega herself.

“I accept the damages and debt payment.” Nikolai responded to Prendel’s terms. Then, giving her no warning, he bent his knees and tossed his omega over his shoulder.

Her gasp, coupled with the sweet smell of her cunt so close to his nose, almost sent him into another mindless rut.

He fought it with everything he had. From here on out, he’d have to do better.

Be harder. More on guard.

The fated-mate bond was something to be used to strengthen his standing, not weaken it.

He’d stained his palms red and scarred his soul ashy black to get to this point.

There was no turning back now. Revenge and redemption had to be paramount, superseding all else, even his urge to fuck and knot his newest property.

With a final glare in Olan’s direction, Nikolai stalked from the room.

The reckoning with the past had begun.

 

 

5

 

 

Fifteen years earlier

“Make this trim shine, worm, or you’ll be sorry.”

Thirteen-year-old Nikolai Skolov heaved his bucket and dirty rag to the hood of the gleaming hovercraft as the speaker emerged.

First out, a massive black boot topped with silver spikes that crunched the top step of the stairway leading to the icy ground, the metal almost bending under the wearer’s weight.

Next, the scent of expensive asteroid cologne, testosterone, and arrogance blew outward from the compartment, followed by a huge body swaddled in a fur coat and hat.

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