Her Beast

Angry Alpha

Author's Note: I loved seeing your comments and votes during dinner. Thanks a bunch, guys and gals! :) Please correct any mistakes you see. This is a short update but expect another one very soon.

I stared at the man who angrily interrupted Spence and I's short (and pathetic) make out session. He was the tallest guy I have ever seen, standing erect and proud at 6'6''. His bright eyes were the color of an evergreen forest, sparkly green and warm brown intertwining. He had a Roman nose with a slight crook that looked as the result of too many fights. His heavy pants drew me to his thick, pink lips. His brown hair reached the collar of his grey shirt and I suddenly had the urge to run my fingers through his soft curls. His grey shirt couldn't hide his muscled body, and I felt bad for the shirt because it looked like it was ready to tear at any moment. 

I must have been staring too long because he was advancing on us with murder in his beautiful and scary eyes. I whimpered and hid my head in Spencer's neck, wondering all the while why this stranger was angry.

A vicious growl erupted before the stranger's deep baritone shouted at Spence, " Get your dirty paws off her, you stupid mutt before I rip your arms off your sockets."

I quickly pushed Spence off me, scared that this monster would make good on his promise. I turned around, ready to question him about his rudeness when the scent of coconut and pineapples invaded my nose.

"Mate", my wolf, Molly, yelped happily.

No, no, no, no, no. This couldn't be. This is not real. This is impossible. I can't have a mate. Not now when I am so close to freedom. So close to a normal life.

My inner monologue ended when I was suddenly snatched and placed in the stranger's arms.

"Mine", he murmured, placing soft kisses down my neck and inhaling my scent. I moaned then placed my hands on his chest and slightly pushed, wanting some space to myself because the tingly sparks he was causing were wrecking havoc on my insides and I needed to think clearly to get myself out of this bind.

He growled, pissed at my pushing, and grabbed my waist even tighter, both his arms acting as steel beams.

"Ow!", I yelped, the bruise from Mrs. Carter's kick this morning protesting against the tight embrace.

The stranger's head snapped up, his eyes showcasing the worry he felt. "What's wrong, mi amor?", he whispered then looked down to where my hands were clutching my shirt. His hands wrapped around mines and forcefully pulled them from my stomach. He held both my hands in one hand and the other gripped my shirt and lifted.

I knew the exact moment he saw the various purple, red, and blue bruises littering my stomach and hips because his eyes changed from worry to pure anger.

"Who the fuck did this to you?", he screamed.