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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Auctioned to the Alpha: A Dark Shifter Romance by Trent Evans – Extended Preview

Auctioned to the Alpha: A Dark Shifter Romance by Trent Evans – Extended Preview

The bedroom door closed with a sepulchral note that had her cringing, and yet somehow had her pussy tightening in some bizarre blend of trepidation and excitement. The bonds at her ankles ensured she could do little more than shuffle her way around the other side of the bed, her wrists locked behind her making her dangerously unbalanced. For a moment, she almost toppled face first onto the bed, the shame of which she knew there was zero chance she’d survive.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He stalked closer, the shirt he wore, a navy button-down perfectly matched to the faded pair of jeans displaying both maddeningly muscular thighs and a bulge between them straining the zipper. The sight of the male—and his clear arousal—had her head spinning. She’d already felt what lay under that denim… and she both dreaded it and was embarrassingly fixated on it, to the point of near obsession.

It’s the heat, stupid. Nothing more.

But knowing what was making it ever more difficult to control herself wasn’t helping her at all in figuring out what to do about it.

The man was about to spank her, and all she could think about in that fraught moment was how good that huge cock of his would feel stretching her open as it slid deep—so deep—inside her, making her moan then scream as he fucked her into oblivion.

The hand closing about her upper arm brought her back to reality—a reality looming incredibly tall and alluring and terrifying right in front of her.

“This isn’t how I wanted your first time to be. But you left me no choice.”

Her lips seemed almost glued together. “F-first what?”

“Spanking. All omegas need them, now and then.” He scowled as he sat down upon the bed and drew her between his widespread thighs. “Some more than others, it seems.”

“How was my first time supposed… to be?” She tried her most acid-tongued tone, but the tremble in her words and the almost reedy, breathlessness of her voice undermined any effectiveness it might have had.

“In time, it’s not unknown for omegas to come to see discipline at the hands of their alpha as something intimate, maybe even fulfilling. Some learn to crave it.” He grasped her hip. “You don’t have to fear a spanking over your alpha’s knee—unless you’ve misbehaved, that is.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth sticky and dry. “You don’t actually have to do this…”

Yes, he does. Yes, he does. Oh God, he does!

But rather than answer her, he simply patted the mattress next to his left thigh. “Over my lap. Lie down right here.”

For a long moment, she froze, trying to process what he’d just told her.

“Don’t make me do it for you, omega.”

Faced with hands bound helplessly behind her, and a clearly quite irritated wolf in the form of Dmitri, she decided to go along with it, telling herself her acquiescence had nothing at all to do with her seething—and now extremely wet—pussy.

You’re not fooling anyone, idiot.

She made a tiny sound of defeat as she folded her body over his lap, his legs as hard as tree trunks. She sighed into the blankets as his hand closed over her hip. The slacks she wore offered her zero protection, of course, little more than a second skin, and she knew that if he chose to, he could punish her quite effectively—and thoroughly—through that fabric.

But she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“Something you should know. Anytime you’re spanked, it will be on the bare. No exceptions.” His palm ran a long, languid circle over her right buttock, then moved over to its twin following the same lazy, possessive course over her ass, giving it a soft squeeze that had her nearly gasping. “Not even for the first time.”

For reasons she couldn’t understand, she kept quiet, perhaps as a way to show she wasn’t voluntarily cooperating with… whatever it was that was happening between them.

Or maybe it was something else entirely? An acknowledgment that she had no idea what she was doing, and that there was nothing she could have done that would have adequately prepared her for the events that were occurring, something made all the worse by the raging, unceasing desire seething at her core, throbbing almost painfully between her thighs. It was as if she were a passenger on an amusement park ride or a funhouse spectacle she couldn’t hope to negotiate her way through on her own, that surreal sense of no longer being at all in control of her fate stronger than ever at that moment.

She was just as much at the mercy of her body as she was Dmitri.

Expecting his fingers to ease under the waistband of her jeans, to perhaps even undo the button at her fly, she found she was very badly mistaken. Though his big hands did indeed slip inside the rear of her pants, it was what he did next that stunned her. Those fingers tightened down incredibly hard, the threads of the fabric snapping for a moment. Then she yelped as he violently ripped downward, the sound of rending fabric so loud it almost echoed in the room.

Dmitri tore the jeans all the way down her bottom until they’d revealed most of her thighs, the frayed polyester and cotton tickling her just behind the knees. He didn’t stop until he seemed satisfied with her exposure.

“You don’t have to do this…” She didn’t know why she kept repeating it, the words utterly futile against both his will and her desire. She said them more as a reflex, rather than any sort of profound feeling on her part.

This was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do but let it happen.

What was shocking though, what had her breath catch in her lungs, was the sheer brawn that it must have taken to do what he’d just done. To rip her slacks asunder as if they were made of paper would have required tremendous strength, a power in his hands far beyond even the strongest man.

You said it yourself, Stacy. This is no man.

“There are any number of things I don’t have to do. But not one of those things is going to be determined by you, omega.” His palm closed over her right buttock, squeezing hard enough to make her wince with the pain. “In time, you’ll understand that.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

It was another stupid question, but she really did want to know. Did he do it to reinforce her position, to somehow dehumanize her?

If so, it’s working.

“Call you what? An omega?” His palm coursed another maddeningly unhurried trek across her now bare bottom, a gentleness, almost reverence, to his touch that was nearly as shocking as the ferocity with which he’d torn her clothes from her body.

“Yes,” she said, shuddering with something not at all akin to disgust as his blunt fingertips eased deeper along the cleft of her ass.

“Why should I call you anything other than what you are?”

She tried to twist around to look at him, but his huge hand forced her head back down against the mattress, her right cheek pressed to the cool fabric of the comforter even as her face burned hot.

“Stay right where you are. You face forward during a spanking. That rule you need to know right up front.”

“I’m a human being.” She said the words in little more than a frustrated whisper, helpless against his strength—and her body’s desire to see what he’d do to her next.

Dmitri grew very still then, though he still clasped her ass with a grip that was more and more… proprietary. He was unhurried, almost casual about how he handled her body, as if it was innately his right. Just. Proper.

That is one thing you must accept, and accept it right now, agent.” He sighed, and she thought she detected a note of melancholy in it. “You are not a human. You’re an omega. You always have been, and you always will be. Call yourself whatever you like, but the truth, is the truth. Fate is fate. And yours is tied to me now, whether you like it or not.”

Her mouth dropped open at the implications of what he’d told her, at what the truth he referred to might really be. But she had no time to contemplate it further. His heavy—and very hard—hand came down firmly upon her bottom, the loud smack startling her even more than the sting.

“Hey! What are you…? Ahh!

There was no preamble, as she’d always imagined it in her most fevered, masturbatory reveries, no sweet, playful words of a lover whispered in her ear, full of promises and threats and the knowledge that everything that was to be done to her was for her benefit, to arouse her, to inflame her lust, to bring the two of them closer together. In her fantasies, being spanked wasn’t a trial or a torment, even if it did hurt. No, instead it was an intimacy whose power could only be realized bent over the lap of the man who owned—and cherished—her, body and soul.

Dmitri was no such man, and though it angered her, that still didn’t change the fact that her arousal fired ever fiercer, her pussy hot and slick, clit swollen and aching, as her first spanking began in earnest.

Again and again, his palm slapped down upon her bottom, her flesh stinging, burning, her groans and completely ineffectual struggling interspersed throughout. That thought mortified her too as she imagined what he must be seeing as he watched her flesh jiggle and wobble.


But even that was a losing battle, for that knowledge too seemed to transform in an instant, her lustful self wondering idly if he liked what he saw, if her flesh was pleasing to his touch, soft enough, lovely enough. If it made his cock hard to hear her moans, interspersed with the hot, sharp slaps of his hard hand spanking her relentlessly.

No! You can’t let him get to you. It’s over for you if you do…

But what was the point in her continuing to struggle when, in her heart, she knew his words were deadly accurate. Accepting that truth was a bitter pill to swallow indeed, even more difficult to take than the pain clawing deeper and deeper into her buttocks with each punishing blow of his palm upon her seething, aching bottom.

“Please… I… I’ll stop. I just… please…”

A hum of approval was all he gave her. In that instant, the firm bulge of his erection pressed against her hip. She drew a sharp breath, but didn’t even attempt to pull away. She’d known it was of course possible that he’d grow aroused at spanking her, but the realization of it was almost too much. What did that mean?

And what did it say about her nature that his arousal only caused hers to spike ever higher?

“Stop resisting, omega.” His hot breath wafted against the crown of her hair as he bent over her, his fingers digging cruelly into her well-spanked buttocks. “Give in. Let it happen. Accept it—all of it. For once in your life, just let it in.”

“I can’t… can’t!” But his words were even deadlier than the remorseless discipline in wearing down her willpower.

He was right, much as she might hate it. It was the truth. In order to have any sort of chance of figuring out what she was going to do next, she had to stop denying what was staring her right in the face.


His words were a whisper now, his hand kneading her helpless flesh. “Stop this. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Let go.

With a shuddering sigh that shook her down to the most basic elements of her being, she laid down upon the mattress, melting into it, her breathing, the rush in her ears, the burning of her bottom, every sensation focused on one thing. Her entire world. Reduced to…


Her pussy flooded anew, her inner thighs slick with it, her clit almost humming with her desire. She ground her aching hard nipples against the bedspread, her wrists twisting futilely against the immovable bonds, fresh pain blooming there too.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured somewhere behind her, where the truth and her fear were locked in a desperate, pitched battle. A struggle she was destined to lose.

And for the very first time… that was okay.


The languid yielding of her gorgeous body, that unspoken acknowledgment that her will to resist the Draw was gone, was the last thing he needed, a confirmation that they remained on the right path in their journey.

But he was a man of his word. He would not take her, not ever, until she begged him to.

So close.

First though, he needed to be sure, to cement that growing connection, to forge those bonds ever stronger in pain and lust and surrender.

For the both of them.

He gritted his teeth at the fiery hurt of extending his claws, the pain somehow causing his cock to swell even further. Had he ever had an erection that iron hard before?

Pressing her head back down to the mattress, he ran his big hand down the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her tresses for a moment. As he drew his razor-sharp claws gently across her scalp, she gasped softly.

“Shh, they won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”

“All evidence”—she drew a shaky breath—“to the contrary.”

It was the truth though, and they both knew it, despite the pain of her spanking that she was no doubt contending with. Discipline, training, and keeping her safe were all one thing, but true hurt was an entirely different prospect.

And there was no limit to what he was prepared to do to protect her from such a thing. No man and no creature—of their world, or the next—would be allowed to harm even a single hair on Stacy’s head.

Not anymore.

Not ever.

She moaned as he coursed his hand further down her back, effortlessly slicing the fabric of her blouse away with his claws, her frightened intake of breath, as if he might cut her, making him smile despite himself. That she still felt even the tiniest bit of trepidation at what he might do to her worked to his advantage. It would only help matters along. He was not about to disabuse her of that notion, not then anyway. For it played into his plans and helped him make her that much more his.

In every way.

Slashing away the remnants of her blouse and cutting the white lace bra to ribbons in moments, he splayed his palm upon the soft skin between her shoulder blades. She trembled under his touch, and he pressed a kiss to the top of one bare shoulder, the tips of his canines extending minutely as he sunk his teeth into her just the slightest bit. It wasn’t enough to pierce her, of course, but more than sufficient to hurt, their true sharpness imprinted upon her both a warning and a promise.

She groaned at that, her head arching up from the mattress. But she made no other move to resist.

Good. Very good.

“Shh,” he whispered against her heated skin, breathing in her unique—and absolutely irresistible—scent. “Be still now, omega. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Making quick work of the rest of her clothing, tearing at the slacks and yanking the wrecked tatters out from under her, he denuded her of everything within a minute, Stacy panting and shivering over his lap when he was done.

Taking a moment to admire her stunning form, he smoothed a hand over the pale moons of her buttocks, loving the feel of the hot, livid marks his cruel spanking had already left here and there upon her flesh. He intended to add plenty more before he was satisfied he’d gotten through to her.

Caressing his hands down both of her slender arms, he paused at her bound wrists, taking her trembling hands in his, giving them a squeeze, before laying a soft kiss at the base of her skull as his nose nuzzled into the dazzling floral smell of her hair. Her fingers clutched feverishly at his, whether in desperation or fright he could not tell.

He hoped it was a little bit of both.

Stroking every inch of her, as if reacquainting himself with her naked, helpless body, he reveled in the inward sweep of her surprisingly narrow waist, the roundness of her hips arching out in a pleasing broadness, the buttocks generous but smooth, the cleft between them deep, mouth-wateringly fragrant. He eased her bottom open, staring at her tiny hole, tracing its darkened circlet with the sharp tip of a claw.

She jerked as he played with that opening, and he laughed softly.

“Not this time, omega. But soon enough, you’ll yield to me here too.”

Not allowing her time to process the dark implication of his words, he caressed and squeezed the lush but firm thighs, admiring the power in them, pleased at her strength, her obvious vitality.

“Taking such good care of my possession, sweet girl,” he murmured, giving the back of her thigh a long pinch, pleased at the hiss that slipped from her lips at the sharp pain. She was a creature of both stoicism and bravery, even in the most trying of circumstances—which were no doubt part of why she’d become an agent in the first place.

It would be to her credit when it came time to determine how best to approach breeding her.

Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?

The thought was in Knox’s voice, of course, his beta—and best friend—always and forever both the voice of reason, and the messenger of the truth.

Even when Dmitri would rather kill the man than hear it.

Strangely, it reminded him of Knox’s usual role in activities such as the one Dmitri was engaged in at that moment.

Initially, he’d intended to have Knox witness her being punished, but instead a surge of possessiveness and almost obsessiveness within him had caused Dmitri to nix the idea.

The first time she was disciplined, he wanted it to be just him and her.

It was more than establishing boundaries though. What was needed was to get her used to being controlled and used by him alone. That was something he hadn’t expected, but he would be damned if he’d go against that instinct.

Still, it threw him off somewhat, because it wasn’t how he’d usually operated within the pack. In the past when he’d had sexual encounters, while they weren’t with omegas obviously, they were intimate partners. And in his pack, they shared more than kinship and blood. He had no problem with his packmates watching or even sometimes taking a turn themselves, when he fucked a woman.

But he realized deep down that even that was probably part of what was different about his little mischievous agent, about having an omega. He couldn’t help but wonder too if his sudden territorial streak might be yet another indication that the female pinned down over his lap was much more than a mere omega.

Was it possible she could be his true mate?

The differences, the tell-tale signs could be subtle, but more often they were as obvious as the sunrise. With Stacy everything seemed different, more… intense. He was contending with emotions and urges he’d never encountered before. The most obvious sign of a true mate, of course, were the marks, those mysterious emblems emblazoned upon the flesh of the female in the presence of her one true alpha. Often enough, it was the pack’s crest—or the alpha’s family crest—but sometimes it was a complete mystery what a particular mark meant or signified.

Like a boy on Christmas morning, part of him couldn’t wait to discover what it was.

That’s if she’s your mate, Dmitri. You’re an idiot to get your hopes up.

And though it was a bitter pill, that was also a possibility too. True mates were so rare that many wolves considered them to be essentially a myth, or something that an alpha in the midst of his hormonal sexual bonding conjured up, like a love-struck fool, delusional with lust and obsession, rhapsodizing on the otherworldly origins of his idealized paramour.

Get out of your own head, asshole. You’ve got a job to do here.

There would be time enough later to ponder the deeper meanings, the possibly profound implications of what it meant to have discovered the lovely and infuriating Stacy Masterson.

Shaking his head a bit to clear his thoughts, he pinned her tightly down across his thighs, clasping the soft undercurve of her left buttock. “Time to finish your reminder of what happens to silly females who can’t obey the rules.”

As he gave her bottom a tremendous smack, she reared up, grunting, her hands pulling once more at her bonds. “Ahh!”

“Felt that one, did you?”


“You’ll pay for that, I think.”

He laid down several rapid-fire bursts of smacks, raining them down evenly across every millimeter of her beautiful round buttocks. She was panting and whining when he finished them, fiery, angry red marks and welts left by his fingers upon her skin. Not quite content with the color of her ass, he gave her a second dose of a dozen, even harder spanks, each blow sending her soft, lush bottom cheeks bouncing and jiggling wildly, the aftermath of his discipline showing those marks merged into a single maelstrom of crimson.

She was sniffling by the time he’d finished with the second volley, and he gripped her seething ass in his broad palm, circling it languidly as he growled in delight. Her body was as tight as a bowstring over his thighs. The pain must have been serious indeed, but his brave Stacy had uttered hardly a peep during her punishment, a testament to her fortitude—and likely her FMB training too.

The Bureau didn’t tolerate softness in its field agents, and Stacy seemed an excellent example of that maxim.

“One thing you’re going to learn, and quickly, is that when you break the rules around here, there will be consequences. Here, there isn’t going to be any clever talking your way out of your punishment, if you’ve earned one.” He gave her ass a harsh squeeze, and she groaned softly. “And I assure you, agent, you richly earned yourself one today. Where did you think you were going to go? You had no idea where you were…”

“I’d figure it out.” Her voice caught for a second. “Not the first time I’ve been… lost.”

“Well, it’s not just the rules you were foolishly ignoring.” He yanked her up by her hair, slipping his arm under her and turning her so that she sat on his lap, her bound legs draped over his left thigh, her arms still locked at the small of her back. “You’re not lost. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Probably for the first time in your life.”

Her chin firmed as she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes burned with a fiery brightness, even as the tears had left wet, glistening tracks down her cheeks. “How do you know that?”

He was struck anew at the crystalline beauty of those eyes, the deep blue so brilliant it was almost other-worldly. “You don’t feel it anymore? The Draw?”

She looked away then. It told him all he needed to know.

Reaching down, he slipped her ankles from their bonds, the heavy cuffs thunking to the floorboards. Her head whipped around, her wide-eyed gaze locking with his. “What…?”

“Shh, be still. I can’t take this anymore.” The aching of his cock threatened to drive him mad, the lush, soft form of his omega goading him further every second she remained in contact with him. Perhaps it was too soon, but he didn’t care anymore.

He was going to have her.

Right fucking now.

Lifting her up, his hands under her arms, he spun her so she faced him, her heavy breasts swaying. “Kneel up,” he murmured, working frantically at his fly, his gaze locked upon the dark, dense delta of pubic hair framed by her soft, trembling thighs.

She rested her knees upon the mattress at either side of his lap, the tendons at her inner thighs standing out taut. Her scent had him almost panting then, if anything, his cock swelling even further.

Freeing his cock at last, the big, veined shaft lolled to the side, gently bouncing against her leg, the feel of her smooth, heated skin along his length making him grit his teeth. She made a tiny noise in her throat, looking down at his erection, but made not a single move to get away, nor protest.

The Draw had them both in its selfish clutches then, and it was much too late to do anything about it, except to surrender to its power, to give in finally to the inevitable.

He couldn’t wait.

Gripping her by one of her upper arms, he reached behind her, and slipped the manacles at her wrists too. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take. He needed to know what she might still do, even as he was determined that he was going to plunge deep inside her no matter how she reacted in the next few seconds.

But rather than slap him or push herself frantically away, her arms wrapped about him, clutching him with a strength beyond her size, her breath at his throat, the soft, silky hair at the crown of her head caressing the underside of his chin.

The tone of her whispered words spoke of deep confusion and irresistible, animal drives all at once. “What’s… happening to me? Need you. Need… this.”

Without another word he drove inside her, bringing her down upon him fully, her wet, seething heat enveloping his cock. She grunted at the tight fit, but made no effort to resist. Instead, her lips found his, and feverishly she kissed him, gasping, pleading, the desperate need both of them suffered from expressed in inchoate sounds more eloquent than any words could possibly be.


“More… fuck… more!” She almost snarled the words, biting his upper lip a moment, then releasing them upon a soul-deep moan as he drove even deeper into the clutch of her sex. Her wetness was everywhere, dripping down between his legs, coating his balls with it, the scent so strong he could taste it, only firing his lust to ever more dangerous heights.

Bringing her tight against him, he held her there, rendering her helpless against his strength, her lips, her tongue, her teeth working his ear, the corner of his jaw, the soft flesh at the side of his throat.

But he cared not, even when the sharp pain of her teeth digging into him flared hot. Harder and harder, the desperation spilling over into ferocious possession he thrust into her, the head of his cock battering her cervix with each deep plunge. Still, she only seemed to want more, and he was happy to provide just that.

He lost track of time as he held her, plunging her body upon his full length over and over again, as if she weighed nothing at all. He was mesmerized by the jealous grip of her sex about him, the way her body seemed to come alive, enlivened by a strength that was more than any mere human’s.

In an embarrassingly brief span of time, his balls were boiling, his cock swelling still more, his climax close, Stacy’s lost, animal moans loud in his ear as she pleaded.

“More… give it to me… need it… oh fuck, more!

The last almost painful clench of her sex upon him was more than he could resist, and he threw his head back, claws out and clutched her shoulders, the tips just sinking into her skin as he grunted, each burst of pleasure pulling more and more from him, his vision graying out as he came, his seed pouring forth.

Bringing her down upon him one last time, he jerked and shuddered as deep inside her as he could go, Stacy crying out as she ground her clit against him, reaching her own orgasm as he flooded her with semen, his fluids dripping out onto the mattress below. The hot, earthy musk of their essences melded into an intoxicating mix that filled the room, and he breathed deeply of it, willing himself to come back to earth as the last of his orgasmic spasms subsided.

“What… God… what did we do?” Stacy slumped against him, her lips soft and trembling against the join of his shoulder. “What…?”

“We did what we were meant to do.” He stroked her hair, gripping her soft ass in his hand, his cock twitching deliciously inside her. “What we were made to do.”

And it was true. If the silly woman had the sense to admit it.

Either way though, it didn’t matter, really. The result would be the same, in the end.

Omega. True mate. Mine.

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