The words were growled in the quivering woman’s ear, her naked body arched against the firm grip Alexei had taken of her hair, dark tresses gathered in his fist. She was covered in sweat, which beaded over her heated skin and dripped on the marble floor.
Her will was strong, but his was stronger. Alexei could not see her face, but he could sense her defiance and her desire in equal measure as she writhed beneath him.
He felt more alive than he had in a decade, challenged by this little wench whose flowing lust made it clear she wanted him even as she refused to submit. He let out a growl and fastened his teeth on the back of her neck hard enough for her to feel it as a tight pinch, holding her in place as her red bottom rose and fell beneath his hips, her well spanked cheeks glowing with heat and a hue that made those curves all the more alluring to his rampant hardness.
She had intruded in his territory, defied his will, and even now she was refusing to answer the simplest of questions. He burned to know who she was, or simply to see her face but they seemed locked in their positions, him on top, her beneath.
“Tell me your name,” he said, lifting his mouth from her neck as his hardness ran along the folds of her sex, the last bastions of defense against him. They were soft and they were wet, welcoming him as he began to sink inside her and be engulfed in the tightest, hottest little…
The dour tones of his majordomo and beta woke Alexei from his dream. He came to consciousness with a snarl directed at Vladimir, who stood next to his bedside, formally dressed in the dawn light and looking as he always did, utterly staid and respectable.
“There had better be a fire,” Alexei said, making no effort to hide the tent of his erection that propped up the sheet covering his muscular form.
“You requested to be woken at a reasonable hour,” Vladimir reminded him. “You will remember, we have a guest arriving today.”
“Of course I remember,” Alexei said, throwing back the sheet and striding across the room, magnificent in his nakedness. He spoke over his shoulder as he entered his bathroom. “The little Englishwoman. How could I forget?”
The dream stayed with Alexei long after his shower. He thought of it as he fastened cufflinks on his starched white shirt and briefly glanced at himself in the highly polished antique mirror. He looked as he had always looked: handsome, but hard. His features leant themselves to a stern, perhaps even severe demeanor that persisted though he was actually quite happy in that moment.
It was a historic day. The Russian pack was to receive new blood, the first in several generations. A woman, one who had proved too defiant for the alpha of one of England’s oldest packs to manage. Alexei went to his desk and looked at the details of her arrival once more. The alpha Lorcan Wallace had been kind enough to provide detailed information, including a photograph.
Alexei’s long, strong finger drifted over the image of the proud woman staring defiantly into the camera as if she could will anyone who so much as beheld her image to cower. She had a beauty that refused to be delicate, but he could sense a certain vulnerability in her, which he had no doubt was fiercely guarded behind the hard exterior that had been captured by the photographer.
“Hello, Sacha,” he murmured. It was a cute name, a diminutive moniker in his language, though the woman in the picture did not seem to know it.
From the moment the letter containing the picture had arrived, Alexei’s interest had been piqued. He picked the letter up again, though he did not need to read it. He had read it so many times he knew it by heart. It was a request, desperate, but polite, for him to take possession of Sacha, bring her into his pack and give her a home.
Sacha. Strange for an Englishwoman to have such a title. Was it mere chance that she had been given what was so close to a Russian name but for one little c? The act of a creative parent? He doubted it. Alexei had tangled with fate far too many times to be so foolish as to think the world ran rudderless on dumb luck. This one was meant for him, he was certain of it. Her imminent arrival had his blood running hot. It had been many years since a woman had excited him so. Strange, given that he had never met her before. Never even heard her voice. And yet she had invaded his imagination and his dreams.
Perhaps he was growing fanciful at the ripe old age of forty. She was, after all, being expelled from her pack. She was not coming to him because she had any love for Russia or desire to join a new family. She was being cast out and if not for him she would become a lone wolf. Alexei suspected that her brother’s desire for him to take charge of her had nothing to do with his concern that she would not be able to function on her own. The look of defiance in her silent gaze told him that she would almost certainly survive as a single woman, if not thrive. He was more likely worried that unless someone else had charge of her, she would come back and perhaps challenge him for his pack.
Alexei had chuckled when the subtext of the letter had become clear. The English alpha was both afraid for, and of, the woman he was sending. Alexei did not share that fear. It was quite clear to him that this little woman with the dark hair and golden eyes had been allowed far too much leeway in her pack of origin, and as a result she had grown to be what her alpha brother described in his British way as ‘problematic.’ The English were usually true to form in their talent for understatement.
Alexei thoroughly expected a challenge once Sacha Wallace arrived in his domain. It was a challenge he looked forward to with no small measure of anticipation.