“Should I assign that duty to Sofia, Alpha Delgado?”
“No,” Del-Rey snapped. “Just get the hell out of here.”
He waited until the door closed behind his second-in-command before activating his link to an outside line. He waited until Wolfe Gunnar came online.
“How can I help you, Alpha Delgado?” The other man’s voice was cool.
Fuck he was getting tired of this.
“Fuck with me, Wolfe, and I’m going to come down there and rip your dick off. We’ll see how much your lupina enjoys you then.”
There was the faintest chuckle before the sound smoothed out. “That doesn’t tell me what you need.”
What did he need? Besides Anya, besides that something missing inside him that felt so fucking lost he couldn’t figure out where the hell to find it.
“The interrogation of the bartender. Why have you rescheduled it yet again?”
“We have new intel we’re awaiting,” Wolfe told him. “That was forwarded to your email yesterday evening. You should have received it.”
“I’m sure it’s in that mess somewhere,” Del-Rey growled.
Wolfe’s chuckled was amused. “Yeah, if it weren’t for Hope, I’d be overrun with complaints and requests. I assume you’re dealing well with them though. A military base is a hell of a lot more convenient than home, I would imagine. I don’t envy you the mass emails though. Have you assigned an assistant yet?”
Del-Rey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just bring me up to speed if you don’t mind.”
“We’re awaiting more intel that Cabal St. Laurents, a Bengal Breed with Sanctuary, is looking into. I’d like to have that intel, which involves the possibility of a Breed having planned these attacks to begin with. If he can identify the Breed and the bartender can confirm involvement, then it would help us pin Engalls and Brandenmore. I’ll give you a call when that information comes in.”
“Thank you, Alpha Gunnar,” Del-Rey bit out. “I’ll await that call.”
He disconnected before Wolfe could make another jibe at him, and activated a personal line.
“Yes?” Anya’s voice was wary. It had been wary for days whenever she answered their personal line.
“I have coffee?” He tried to tease her. God, he needed her beside him at that moment.
“The coffee wouldn’t be very good for me right now,” she replied. “But if you need me, I can meet you in our rooms.”
If he wanted to fuck. He could almost hear the undercurrent of that statement.
“I need you in the fucking office,” he bit out. “If I wanted to meet you in our rooms, then that’s where I’d be.”
“I’ll be right there then.”
The line disconnected as he growled furiously. He was horny, discontent, and he’d be damned if he knew how to fix any of it at this moment.
She didn’t understand. Brim didn’t understand. Losing her would kill him. He was ensuring her safety, that was all. Attempts were made against Hope and Merinus regularly. He couldn’t imagine the hell their mates went through.
A small knock at his door moments later had him tensing. He could smell her. Sweet, so soft.
“Enter.”
She stepped into the room and closed the door. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater. Boots.
Her hair was as soft as always, her creamy flesh looked as silky. But there was something different. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. As though something inside his precious Anya had been snuffed.
“Did you need me?”
“Lock the door.” He was suddenly impossibly aroused.
Her gaze flickered as she locked the door slowly and he darkened the room’s windows. His tongue throbbed to kiss her, to taste her. Nothing mattered but the hunger razing his body and mind now. The ache in his arms to hold her, the chill that seemed to spread through his chest.
He’d been too long without her. Too long since he had touched her. Loved her. He rose from his desk and drew his T-shirt over his head, his hands going to his belt.
“Undress,” he ordered her desperately. “Now, Anya. Give to me.”
Give to him.
She had given him everything, and he wanted more. Anya wondered if she had more to give after the hell she had trudged through today.
She unlaced her boots and slid them from her feet before undressing slowly. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow it would all end. He would learn how she had conspired against him.
He would turn against her then. He despised Breed scientists. He tolerated Dr. Armani because she had managed to hide from the Genetics Council; she had refused them through the years she was also doing her own research into what they were doing.
He would never accept Chernov and Sobolova. And he would hate her for bringing them to Haven. For exposing his people to them.
Naked, aroused herself, she moved to where he stood by the desk, tall and golden, powerful in his sexuality and his nudity. One large hand was wrapped around the shaft of his cock, stroking it leisurely as his chest moved with heavy breaths.
She loved his body. She loved the man. She understood what she didn’t want to understand, and she ached for both of them, because she knew it was going to blow up in their faces soon. Until then, she wanted her mate. Her lover. Her alpha.
“My coya,” he whispered as she came to him, breaking her heart with a title that would never be hers.
“Alpha.” She accepted him for who he was, what he was as she moved against him, rubbing her forehead against his chest, letting her lips drift over the hard muscles as she felt his palms curve around her hips.
She touched him, smoothed her hands down his chest, his abs. The fingers of one hand gripped his pulsing cock as she lifted her head for his kiss.
It was sheer power. Black magic. He kissed her with a hunger that sank inside her as surely as his tongue pushed between her lips.
Heady spice filled her senses. The taste of the mating kiss, smooth and whiskey-hot. It wrapped around her senses and reminded her of hot Colorado summer nights when she had lain alone, thinking of him, dreaming of him.
But this was no dream. This was Del-Rey. So powerful. So much hers and, yes, so separate from her.
She moved back, tearing from his kiss to find a breath. Her lips moved from his lips to his chest.
That fine sprinkling of chest hair mesmerized her. Light, lighter than the dark blond on his head.
Almost a burnished gold. It was soft to the touch, tempting, warm.
She rubbed her cheek against it and felt the small grumble in his chest. Not hardly a groan, a rough sigh of pleasure as his hands threaded through her hair.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered.
She needed to touch him. Everything was spinning out of control. He was the only thing she had left to hold on to as the world unraveled around her. Around them both.
“Touch,” he sighed. “Sweet baby. My coya.”
His coya in private. His whore to his men, nothing more. How much longer could she bear this?
She caressed the hard length of his cock with slow, easy strokes. Her fingers moved from base to shaft, stroked lower and curved around the heavy sac of his balls. She licked his chest, nipped it, kissed it.
She loved him the only way she knew how. With her touch, with her kiss. Moving lower, knees bending as she knelt before him and licked the engorged crest.
She stared up at him, sucked him into her mouth and watched as his head tilted back, his long hair falling over his shoulders. The broad planes and angles of his face were tight with need now, his lips heavy with sensual hunger.
“God, your mouth,” he groaned, staring down at her again. “Suck me, Anya. Sweet coya. Take me into your mouth.”
His coya. She was his coya here, but nowhere else.
Her lips parted as she drew the thick head inside. Immediately a pulse of pre-cum filled her mouth. As warm as heated syrup, tinged with lightning and male promise. She loved the taste of him. Loved the power and the promise in his taste, in his touch.