Revenge of the Wronged

  REVENGE OF THE WRONGED

  Werelock Evolution, Book 3

  Hettie Ivers

  Copyright © 2016 Hettie Ivers www.hettieivers.com

  Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography www.wanderbookclub.com

  Cover model: Andrew Biernat

  Interior formatting: www.champagneformats.com

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents, are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Please be advised that this book contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language. If such content offends you, please do not read.

  ISBN: 978-0-9973429-5-6

  FBI ANTI-PIRACY WARNING:

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  COMING NEXT …

  EXCERPT FROM NO LIGHT

  GIRL FROM JUSSARA

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  THANK YOU

  CHAPTER ONE

  It looked real. Smelled real. Each distinct scent was so achingly familiar. Yet it couldn’t be.

  I closed and reopened my eyes, my mind spinning, attempting to make sense of it all as I took in the blessed sight of my bedroom. It looked the same. And yet, it was so much … smaller?

  Everything in it looked smaller. All of my furniture had somehow shrunk since I’d been away.

  Alex squeezed my ass and chuckled against the crown of my head, and I realized it was because of him. His enormous presence was stealing up all of the space, making everything seem diminutive by comparison.

  I heard myself blubbering “home,” over and over, as Alex lowered me crosswise onto my very own bed, my legs still hooked around his waist. My vision clouded with tears as he bent over me from his standing position, murmuring that everything was going to be okay, that I was safe.

  “Home? I’m really home? How? It’s real?”

  “Yes. It’s real.” Even at a whisper, his voice seemed bigger, sounded deeper than before as it resonated off my bedroom walls. “Home,” he affirmed. “We are home.”

  “I’m home? This is real?”

  “We’re home,” Alex corrected me again. “We.” His warm, dry palm spanned the expanse of my quaking lower belly, his fingers spreading and stroking in slow, calming circles, anchoring me both physically and emotionally, helping me to come back to myself.

  “You said it was dangerous to teleport,” I muttered distractedly as my bleary eyes flitted about the room, absorbing every minuscule detail of the space and its belongings that I’d all too recently feared never laying eyes on again.

  My alarm clock glowed an angry red 10:11 pm. It had been right around one o’clock in the morning in Brazil the last time I’d glanced at the clock in the kitchen while arguing with Alessandra. I ran the math in my head for the four-hour time difference plus the time I’d spent in the cellar with Alex. This could be real.

  “I never said teleporting was dangerous, princess. I said it wasn’t entirely safe.”

  My responding giggle was that of an insane woman. One who’d just teleported over six thousand miles in the span of ten seconds—naked, wrapped around a giant, equally naked Alpha werelock, with an erection butting up against her untried entrance.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I know,” he acceded, hooking a forearm beneath my inner thigh, spreading me open as he pressed the head of his need more firmly into my own, wetting the tip within the slick fluid of my arousal. “But you love me anyway.”

  He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down my delicate, exposed inner folds, taking care to stroke high enough to hit the point where it would do the most good, before sliding back down to my entrance, where he ground into me, rocking gently, pushing forward, then relenting. Repeating the motion until I felt stretched as far as my body would allow his girth to go. And still, the head wasn’t even all of the way in.

  “No,” I gasped as his thumb found and rolled over my hard little yes button, the action causing my hips to jerk and inadvertently take in more of him. “I don’t love you.”

  “You will,” he promised, leaning forward, folding his body over mine on the bed until our foreheads met. “I happen to be terribly efficient at getting people to do what I want. Breathe.”

  He thrust forward on my inhale, at the same time using his grip on my inner thigh to pull me closer, so that my ass hung farther over the edge of the bed. The stretch burned this time as he sank a fraction deeper. I hissed air through my teeth.

  “Ahh, gahad … oh, oh, fuck, Alex …”

  His head dipped to my breast, and my hands fisted in his dark hair as he sucked my pebbled left nipple to a hard peak. His fingers stole between our joined bodies to fondle me, coaxing even more lubrication from my aroused, impaled sex, until my hips were rocking and tilting up of their own volition in an effort to take in more of him.

  “Please. Please keep going …”

  His mouth moved unhurriedly on to my right nipple, but he made no effort to penetrate me further, or even so much as move inside of me, prompting me to squirm and rock my hips up off the mattress.

  The window of my second-story bedroom was cracked open, the way I always kept it in summertime. Since it was broken and took considerable effort to shut. As a cool, late summer breeze blew in, my white curtains billowed in the moonlight—the way they always did.

  Goosebumps blanketed my damp skin. And it fully hit me: This was real.

  I was home. With Alex—partially inside of me with his lips affixed to my breast.

  The tug of his hot mouth on my nipple was causing my insides to contract with need. The need to be filled. Completed. I wiggled my hips, trying to get more of him inside of me, as my desire grew so intense it became uncomfortable; the sweetest form of agony.

  An irrational panic was setting in that his monster prick was never going to fit inside of me. And I wanted it to. Desperately. More than anything—particularly amid the fear and doubt swiftly taking root within me that it wouldn’t.

  Much like Alex didn’t fit me. Seeing his immense,
deeply tanned, muscled physique bent over me in my own bedroom now somehow made the disparities between us all the more pronounced.

  Despite his less than desirable tendencies and behavioral flaws, the man was indisputably gorgeous—utterly larger than life. Alex was magnificent. Brilliant and talented beyond the best of his own kind. He was wealthy and powerful. Sophisticated. He didn’t belong in an old, tiny house with shoddy plumbing and broken bedroom windows.

  He’d said, “We are home,” as if he intended to stay and make this his home as well. But there was no way. Not when he was accustomed to walk-in closets and showers that were the size of living spaces.

  Eventually he would leave. Everyone always did. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but the novelty of me as a mate would wear off, and he would leave me.

  And I would be all alone again within these walls, haunted by the same painful memories that had sent me flying to Brazil nine days ago—a desperate, naïve imbecile without so much as a phone number or a viable plan.

  Only it would be so much worse. Because I would have the memory of Alex here, in my childhood bedroom, alleviating me of my virginity. And I knew that once he was gone, this memory of him would somehow eclipse all memories of this room that had come before it. The memory would be forever branded within my consciousness in a manner that was clearer and vastly more tangible than the increasingly foggy memories of my mom reading stories to me in this very bed when I was a girl, of the countless sleepovers I’d held here with Bethany, of the times Raul had pitched a tent on the floor and we’d played campout.

  I would forever remember Alex’s scent in my room, just as it was now, melding with the familiar scents of my home and the fading scent of my mother. It dawned on me that in bringing me back to my home, Alex had effectively stolen it from me.

  In less than ten minutes, he’d taken eighteen years’ worth of memories and staked his own claim that would evermore surpass and irrevocably alter the way I viewed all others.

  “You brought me home.” My words came out thick with emotion. And accusation. “Why?”

  He delivered a departing kiss to my breast and raised himself over me, soulful eyes meeting my tearful, wary gaze. “Because you’re my home now. Being with you is everywhere I want to be.”

  I didn’t know how to process his words, much less the pleading, searching look in his eyes.

  “I felt it wasn’t fair of me to be at home with you, while depriving you of yours,” he explained softly. “And because … I love you. I thought I could make you happy by bringing you here. I thought this was what you wanted most.”

  I swallowed hard, my psyche divided between its innate drive to erect a stronger protective barrier and its mounting desire to demolish the flimsy one it clung to.

  “I never meant to ruin your family memories or overpower your mother’s scent.” His bottomless black eyes were earnest. “I swear it on my own mother’s memory, Milena.” His fingertips dragged soothingly against my scalp in silent atonement. “I never meant to take anything from you by bringing you here.”

  I knew then that he got it. Got me.

  And not because he was in my head, or because our emotions were somehow linked through some mythical, mystical mating bond. Dissimilar as we were, we were not so inherently different after all.

  “We can stop. I’ll take you back to Al’s house, and I can erase the last ten minutes from your mind, so that you’ll never know we came here tonight,” he assured, a glimmer of hope lighting his wounded eyes. “I know a spell that will eliminate all traces of my scent. Everything will be the same as it was for you before when you come back here again. And when we move here, I’ll take up residence in one of the homes next door, all right? I don’t ever have to even visit with you in this house if it means that much to you to preserve your family memories. We can—”

  “You’re forgiven!” I cut in, internally cursing my runaway insecurities. “I—I overreacted. I don’t want to go back to Al’s. I don’t want to stop. I’m just—I’m emotional. But I don’t want to stop. And I don’t want you to remove your scent or live next door and never visit with me here.”

  “No?” His eyes smiled, his lips tentatively following suit as he examined my features for truth.

  “No. I like your scent in my bedroom. I like … you in my bedroom. And I think … what you just said, was maybe the sweetest, most sincere apology anyone has ever given me.”

  “Yeah?” His brow creased.

  I cracked a smile. “Yeah. Best. Ever. You’re kinda getting shockingly good at apologizing.”

  “No? You think so?” he fished. And then he blushed. Alex Reinoso. Blushed. So hard that even in the dark I could see it, and I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

  “You know, I don’t actually completely … not love you,” I confessed. “I just need … more time … I think.” It was my turn to blush.

  “I see.” He bit his lower lip to halt the shit-eating grin that was blooming there. “Thank you for your honesty, princess.”

  “You’re welcome.” I threaded my fingers through his silky hair and tugged to draw him closer.

  His mouth lowered, ghosting over mine as he said, “I don’t want us to do this if you’re not ready.”

  “I’m ready!”

  A chuckle escaped him at my anxious outcry. “I don’t just mean physically, Milena. I need you to trust that I will take care of you, and that I won’t abandon you afterward. And”—his smile broadened—“for you to have a little faith that my ‘monster prick’ will fit inside of you. Perfectly. Can you try and do that for me?”

  I nodded. The way he’d said “perfectly” made my insides flutter and gush anew around the blunt cockhead pressing into me.

  “Promise?”

  “Pinky swear,” I said, expelling a nervous little laugh. His “monster prick” remark had also reminded me of the fact that since he was inside of my mind, he was already hearing all too clearly the faith and trust issues I was grappling with. Wordlessly, I begged him to be patient with me as his dark eyes probed mine.

  “Please, Alex? Don’t stop. I want this.” I swallowed past the awkward schoolgirl nerves obstructing my vocal chords. “Want … you.”

  I saw the resolve pass behind his eyes moments before I sensed his animal draw closer to the surface, and excitement tinged with apprehension rippled through me. Slowly, he began to move, rocking further inside of me as he peppered kisses across my nose and cheekbones.

  Oh, God, it felt good!

  He pulled back, then pushed in a little farther. Rocking back and forth, slow and easy. He crooned sweet words of encouragement, telling me how well I was doing, how wonderful and perfect it felt to be inside of me, and how complete I made him feel.

  I could hear how crazy wet I was. Probably the neighbors could, too. He sucked and bit my nipples, grunted and drove in deeper, reaching a spot inside where it burned a little … but then it felt so good.

  I was making little breathy sounds. I was growling. I was crying. At certain points it sounded like I was purring.

  For a moment I felt so full and so tight I could barely breathe. But then I wanted more. I kept my eyes closed and took rapid panting breaths, willing my muscles to relax further as the head of his shaft forced my tight walls to open and part for his entry, slowly stretching and filling me in his exquisite path of possession.

  “Good girl …” he groaned, his own breathing labored. “So good … almost there, pretty angel …”

  Oh, yeah … I was definitely almost there …

  And the moment his knowing fingers finally chose to swirl and press over my wet, engorged clit, I shattered, gushing and gripping the thick stalk of flesh impaling me. Alex snarled and plowed into me to the hilt without warning then, and my eyes flew wide, my mouth falling open in a silent scream.

  So much! So full. So complete.

  It was heaven. The blissful, blessed release my body had been dying for. It was every bit the all-consuming fire I had expected it to be.
Yet it was more. Because although Alex was most definitely the worst sort of kindling, he was also fast proving to be the best sort of salve I had ever known.

  And as his tongue filled and plundered my mouth a millisecond later, I knew from the way that he kissed me, the way that he growled into my mouth as his hard length twitched and flexed at the deepest point within me, that the healing was just getting started.

  CHAPTER TWO

  He tilted my hips up and plunged, surging ever deeper and causing me to gasp into his mouth as he filled my still-fluttering channel to bursting—when only a moment ago I’d been certain there was not a millimeter of space left inside of me for him to pervade.

  Then he sank his lower body weight into me, his pubic bone pressing deeply, so pleasurably against my sweet spot that my eyes rolled back in my head. The mattress dipped and the whole bed creaked precariously as the full weight of his hips settled, pinning me in place so that I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without feeling every pulsing, hot inch of him buried tightly inside of me.

  “Al-ex …” I moaned into his mouth.

  My clit beat frantically against the point where our bodies were mashed together, seeking an increase in friction as I felt another wave of sweet heat cresting within me, crying for conclusion. My nipples tightened painfully, burning with need at the slightest brush of his heated flesh.

  I was overwhelmed. Alex was all hulking, dominant male—and every delectably scented, granite-hard inch of him was at once overpowering my senses. I wasn’t entirely sure now that I would be able to handle him in all of his virile, Alpha glory.

  He growled and sucked my tongue into his mouth, proceeding to kiss me with such overriding, aggressive abandon, it further piqued my apprehension. My nails dug sharply into his shoulders. A twinge of panic streaked through me as I struggled to draw enough air through my nose to fill my sorely compressed lungs.

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. And despite the growing burn in my lungs and the sensation of being crushed, somehow the greater awareness engulfing me was that of another violent orgasm approaching—born merely from the delicious pressure of his weight and heat against my voracious, throbbing little button; the feel of his unforgiving cock flexing and expanding to claim every ounce of space within me.