Fangs Against Skin

It was the night that first hummed around him on waking, as if the taste of fangs and forbidden heat remained on his lips. He had vowed not to think about it, that it was nothing but hunger and a very dangerous lapse in judgment, but his body betrayed him. Every nerve cried out for the vampire's touch. His wolf howled in protest, but the heart brazenly whispered that truth: he wanted more.

The city was stirring beneath a dawn bleeding itself with rain, the streets of the city washed with the stuff. But inside the penthouse, it was all quiet-- too quiet. He could still smell him, a faint trace of cold stone and dark roses on the sheets. There was a mark burned on his throat where teeth had grazed skin: shallow enough to hide, deep enough to forget.

He brushed over it, quickening his pulse. The memory came unbidden: the press of a body that should have been his enemy, the way pleasure got tangled with pain till he didn't quite know where it ended and desire began. It was wrong. It was reckless. It was already too late.

The knock on the door was sharp, impatient, dragging him from the haze. He stood up straight and pushed the wolf down, concealing the wild hunger that threatened to spill. "Enter," he growled; Alpha in him slipped back like second skin.

His Beta stormed in, eyes sharp, nostrils flaring. "You stink of vampire," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Silence ruled for a heartbeat. His body froze taut, throat tight. The wolf inside pressed against his ribs, desperate to defend what it already considered a mate. But the Alpha part of him knew the danger-the pack could never find out. Not yet. Not ever.

"You are wrong," he lies smoothly, though his voice carries an edge that betrays him.

The Beta narrowed his eyes. Suspicion hung heavy, and for a moment, he thought claws might flash. But the man just nodded tightly, though doubt lingered in the air like smoke. "We are at war," he warned. "Do not forget who you are."

Once the door slammed shut, the silence screamed no louder than before. His fists curled, nails cutting into his palms; he wanted that to deny it, to be able to fight the pull. Instead, though, it let his mind wander to the vampire's eyes, burning gold in the dark, wild with hunger-soft with something that almost looked like longing.

He couldn't turn his back to it.

The club pulsed with music and shadows, the kind of place where secrets were both made and lost. Bodies pressed up against one another, so thick and hot, but none of it mattered. He knew he was going to find him here. It was an instinct, the way a wolf senses the full moon.

And there he was.

Circling the bar now with glass in hand, and that was sin carved into perfection. Pale skin kissed by dimness, darkness falling over the forehead, lips curling into a smile the moment their eyes locked.

The world melted into nothing now-the war, the rules, the danger-all of it melted into heat.

He pushed his way through the crowd, every step an admission of weakness, every glance a surrender. And when they finally stood chest to chest, the vampire leaned close, his breath cool against his ear. "You came back," he whispered, voice a promise and a threat all at once.

"Then why do you look at me like you want to devour me?" The smirk was devilish, even brazen, and the glass hit the counter softly. "Or do you want me to devour you?"

The words ignited the fire in him.

Their mouths met, reckless and hungry, a collision of worlds meant to destroy each other. The kiss was not gentle-it was war, surrender, and salvation all at once. Hands roamed, claws teased against silk, fangs scraped skin in a threat that felt more like a plea.

And as they pulled apart, breathless, the vampire's voice was low and tremulous with lust: "As long as you stay, you will never be able to walk away again."

His heart thundered, his wolf clawing against his chest. He should leave. He should tear this bond apart before it consumed him.

But instead, his lips brushed the vampire's throat, tasting the cold pulse beneath the skin, and he knew.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Not tonight. Not ever.

And somewhere just outside in the shadows of the street, someone watched.

The Alpha’s SecretWith clouds veiling the moon when he returned to the packhouse, the coil was heavier this time. Spangled, his whole body still thrummed with the memory of fangs on skin, the echo of lips that had taken him in the shadows. Vampire scent remained on him, as though it had been put there like a scar, never to heal. No amount of showering it would scrub it from him; no amount of pacing alone in the silence could soothe it.

Growling in agitation, the wolf inside wanted to fight and resist and tear unrelentingly apart the enemy who has marked its flesh. But with this feral snarl came something else, something much more dangerous: longing. Not only hunger for blood or for dominance but for connection as well.

He's gotten dressed in a hurry, slipped into black denim jeans and this clingy shirt that covered whatever faint brush left by the bruises over his collar. Nobody should see it. Not his beta. Not his pack. Not even his closest friend. Alphas have no weakness.

And indeed, weakness seemed to besiege him alone.

The hall for meetings was already full at his arrival. When he walked in, the wolves shifted uncomfortably, heads bowing in respect but eyes sharp with suspicion. They smelled something on him. They couldn't name it, but they knew it didn't belong.

His Beta was straight at the head of the long wooden table, his voice booming. "The vampires crossed the river last night. Three guards slain, one barely clinging to life. This is an act of war."

A growl rolled through the pack. Fists slammed against the table. The room swelled with fury and fear.

He swallowed hard, pushing down the ache in his chest. Last night he had been with a vampire, not fighting him, not hunting him, but touching him, tasting him.

"Alpha," his Beta's eyes snapped to him, sharp and accusing. "What is your command?"

Every gaze turned to him. The Dozens of eyes, waiting. Demanding. Trusting him to be ruthless, decisive, merciless.

His throat was dry, but his voice came out strong. "We wait. We watch. No blood until I say otherwise."

The silence that followed was heavy, dangerous. His Beta stiffened, his jaw tight. "Wait?" he repeated, incredulous. "They killed our men. They invaded our lands. And you would wait?"

The Alpha's glare silenced him, but the room rippled with whispers. Doubt was a poison, and he had just poured it into the veins.

He slammed his fist against the table. "Enough! I said we wait. That's my word. That's law."

The pack bowed their heads before him, unfamiliar submission. But he saw it, felt it there in the visible lines of their heads: the unease, the suspicion, the widening fissure. His secret had already begun to sew the seams of his leadership.

When the meeting broke, his Beta caught up to him in the corridor, pressed him against the wall like a bent hinge. "What the hell are you hiding from us?" he growled, eyes blazing with betrayal. "You smell like him. Don't deny it."

He caught his breath. The scent of the vampire still clung to him: sweet, deadly. He could lie. He could claw his way out of this. But instead the words slipped like poison from his lips. "He saved me."

The Beta froze, shock flashing across his face. "Saved you? He's the enemy!"

"Maybe not," he whispered, the weight of it crushing him. "Maybe not anymore."

The Beta took a step back, horrified. "If the pack finds out...." The last words trailed off into silence as if choked by disbelief, for he could hardly believe it himself. "You will lose everything. They will rip you apart."

"I know," he said, softer now, almost broken. "But I cannot stop."

The Beta stared at him, torn between loyalty and rage. "Then you are playing with fire, Alpha. And fire burns." He stormed away, leaving the Alpha alone with his guilt.

That night, he tossed and turned, sleepless. The house was quiet; the pack was restless outside it, and all he could think of was one face. His featureless complexion, gold eyes. The vampire who had either ruined or saved him or attempted to do both.

If summoned by this, he felt it: the faint brush of presence beyond the window. His wolf bristled; he felt his heart leap.

He parted the curtain.

There he stood-usually, across the alley, bathed in moonlight, almost like a fallen angel. The vampire's gaze burned into his, and even though no word was spoken, the message was clear.

Come to me.

The Alpha's heart pounded. Just rooms away, his pack slept. His honor, his crown-his very soul-were at risk.

And still he stepped ankly into the night to follow the pull of fangs and fur.

When he reached the rooftop, the vampire didn't speak. He only caught his wrist, pulling him close, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like blood and destiny.

The Alpha broke away, breathless, trembling with desire and fear. "This is madness," he whispered. "If they ever find us-".

The vampire pressed his finger against his lips to silence him, wicked smile curving his mouth. "Then let them. Do you really think I'd let anyone take you from me now?"

Words sunk dangerously and seductively deep. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to drown in them.

But when the vampire pressed his mouth to his throat, when fangs scraped skin in a promise of ecstasy, a sound cut through the night.

A growl.

From below.

The Alpha froze, dread sinking in as his wolf senses sharpened. Someone was watching.

And this time, it was not his Beta.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***