Feral (The Wrong Alpha 2)

Julian flushed. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, after…”

After sex.

Devlin gave a clipped nod, clasping his hands behind his back. His fingers and his jawline itched, as they did when he was on the verge of transforming. Through sheer willpower, he managed to keep his claws in.

It was a normal enough reaction, to feel protective of a young omega he cared about.

It was.

“But the bond took?” he said, his voice very neutral.

Julian nodded, not looking at him. “We were naturally compatible.”

Devlin’s claws dug into his palm. He turned away and walked to the window.

He took a deep breath, staring at Dainiri’s nearly full disk, and then another, until he had his claws under control.

“I see,” he heard himself say. “The risk still exists, then. Medical intervention might be needed.”

“What do you mean?” Julian said. “More suppressants?”

“Increasing the dose again might do more harm than good,” Devlin said stiffly. “I’m hardly a doctor, but even I know that you can’t keep changing your suppressants’ dose—they’re very strong hormonal drugs, and they might completely wreck your system if you keep treating them like headache pills.”

“Then what did you mean by medical intervention?”

Devlin thought of the ugly mating mark on Julian’s neck. It set his teeth on edge. The mark was obviously fading, but not fading fast enough. “We can have the mark surgically removed. It’s a complicated surgery, and there’s some risk of damaging your scent gland, but I will pay for the best—”

“No.”

Devlin turned around. “It’s a good solution,” he said in a clipped voice. “Do you really want to risk your health—and maybe even your life—because of the mark of an alpha who is dead and doesn’t care anymore—”

“No,” Julian said again, glowering at him with bright eyes. “I’m not going to have it cut out of me like some—some kind of parasite. I’m not going to erase it, as if he never existed. He did.” His eyes were shining now. “I may not have known him long, but he…” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “He chose me. He was the only person in the world who saw something special in me. This mark is the only thing I have to remember him by.”

Devlin didn’t want to listen to this. He sneered. “That hardly says anything good about him, does it?”

“Get out.”

Devlin clenched his jaw. “You’re being stupid—”

“Maybe I am,” Julian said with a crooked little smile. “But it’s my decision to make, not yours. You’re… You’re nothing to me. Stick to courting Liam. You can boss him around all you want. Leave me out of it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Julian,” he snapped, taking a few steps toward him and reaching out, but Julian jumped away.

“Don’t touch me,” he said shakily. He opened his door and said without looking at him, “Please leave, Your Grace. Don’t force me to call security.”

Swearing under his breath, Devlin stalked out of the room.

He barely remembered reaching the front door, so angry and frustrated he was.

“The palace,” he bit out as he climbed into his helicopter.

His pilot flinched. When Devlin glanced in the rearview mirror, he realized why: his eyes were glowing.

Fuck.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d partially shifted outside the full moon—and the debacle with kerosvarin.

It had been years. More than a decade.

What was happening to him?

Chapter 16

Jules barely slept that night.

He was too warm, his skin too sensitive, his cock achingly hard, despite the suppressants. He dreaded imagining what his heat would be like without them. He’d had to jerk off four times so far, but it didn’t slake the hunger under his skin. He ached. He burned.

Putting it plainly, he wanted a cock in him. He wanted a knot, thick and hard. It was scary how much he wanted it, how much his thoughts kept fixating on it, imagining an erect alpha cock in lurid detail.

Hating himself a little, Jules turned onto his stomach and tried to fall asleep, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own, rutting his stiff cock against the mattress, his hole clenching around the dildo in him. He sighed in defeat and pressed a button on the remote. The dildo started thrusting, in and out, with slick, obscene sounds. Fuck.

Jules turned up the speed, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. Part of him knew it was a fake cock. It wanted the real thing. It wanted an alpha on top of him, plowing him hard. It wanted his Xeus, his heavy body over him, taking him like a bitch.

The thought made Jules whine, his hole clenching around the dildo. More, harder.

In his fantasy, the Xeus’s clawed hand gripped his hip harder, his powerful thighs slapping against Jules’s buttocks with every thrust, eyes glowing in the ugly, predatory face as the Xeus fucked him into the mattress. Mine, the Xeus growled into his ear before sinking his teeth into his scent gland.