Free Alpha by Rachel Vincent Page A

need and scorching lust, part revenge, part passion. This was him reclaiming what he thought he’d lost and giving what he thought I’d asked for.
    Every thrust was fast and hard. Every stroke was deep and long. Friction burned between us, and my pleasure built too fast to be savored, too hot to be held. By the time he shuddered against me, within me, slamming me into the wall over and over, shaking the entire shed with our fierce union, my own intense, tight coil of pleasure had eclipsed all sight, smell, and sound that wasn’t Marc.
    He collapsed against me, his shirt damp with my sweat and his. I clung to him, still throbbing aroundhim, breathing hard as my heart pounded, stunned, and finally hopeful.
    Then, without a word, he lifted me and stepped back, withdrawing in every sense of the word. He set my bare feet on the dirty floor and zipped his pants up. I stood there naked and in shock, staring after him as he shoved the door open and let in a frigid draft. “Maybe now you’ll remember.”
    Then he was gone, and the world was cold.
    Â 
    I got dressed slowly, all alone, reeling. I could still feel echoes of him, deep inside. I could still smell him on my skin, taste him on my lips. But I’d never felt more alone in my life. Abandoned. Dismissed.
    My shirt and jeans were covered in dust. I brushed them off as best I could, but still looked like I’d rolled in it. Was that what he wanted? That I smell like him and look like we’d just rolled all over the ground? Had I been marked? Reclaimed, then left to wonder what the hell just happened?
    Stunned, I crossed the cold yard, plodded up the steps, and opened the kitchen door slowly, to keep it from creaking. I needn’t have bothered. Marc wasn’t there. But Jace was.
    â€œWhat the hell happened?” he demanded in a whisper, as voices floated in from the living room—the others still discussing the upcoming vote.
    â€œI…” I brushed past him, headed for the soda I’d poured half an hour earlier. I gulped from the glass, trying to figure out what to tell him, and nearly choked when a melting sliver of ice wedged in my throat.
    â€œYou smell like him, he smells like you, and you’rewearing half the damn mountain on your clothes,” Jace hissed. “I guess I know what happened.”
    â€œI’m not sure I know what happened….” The glass was slick in my grip, so I set it down, still trying to gather my thoughts. “But I think I just got a dose of my own medicine.”
    Jace scowled. “I’d say we both did. Marc’s back in the game.”
    I drained my glass and poured a refill. “I’ll be right back. I need a shower.” But the floor creaked when I stepped into the hall, and Marc heard it. He’d probably been listening for it.
    â€œYou two boycotting the meeting, or are you gonna get in on this?” he called.
    I groaned on the inside. Marc was going to make me pay. He was going to humiliate me, like I’d humiliated him, by making me show up for an important strategy meeting smelling like him and covered in the dirt they’d assume he’d rolled me in. Everyone would know what we’d done, if they didn’t already.
    He was making a statement. Staking his claim. And Jace and I would have to live with it.
    But with any luck, if I let him have his moment—let him publicly air his grievance—he’d be able to work past some of his anger. Please let him work past some of his anger ….
    â€œFaythe?” my father called, clearly oblivious to the game Marc was playing—so far.
    â€œYeah. I’m coming.” Dialing up my courage, I brushed more dirt from my clothes with my free hand, then marched back through the kitchen and into the living room with my head high. Or at least not drooping. Jace followed me and took up a post in the doorway, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.
    Marc sat on the arm of the