Mated to the Alpha's Heir

Chapter 3

Ivy

Nyx howls in my head, but it is soon drowned out by the blood that rushes through my ears.

Of all the wolves that I ever thought might be my mate, never in a million years did I think that it would be Ronan Callum, the next Alpha of Shadow Ridge Pack.

An Alpha, I’m mated to a damn Alpha.

The title of Luna slams into me so violently that I forget how to breathe. The whispers, the looks, the judgment that I have fought so hard against — I can already feel them again. Ronan might not care, but I know how this pack works. And an Alpha’s mate is supposed to be perfect. Powerful. Worthy of such a title.

And no matter how hard I’ve worked, I’ll never be anything more than the Omega girl who clawed her way up from the bottom in their eyes.

I'm spiraling, the panic clawing its way up my throat, and the only thing that brings me back to the moment is the feel of Ronan’s hands as they move across my body, heat branding me through my clothing. I should pull away. I should run. But my body won’t listen. It’s pulsing with a need I know only he will ever be able to satisfy.

My pulse hammers, my breath catches, and suddenly the forest feels too small, too hot.

“Look at me,” he commands, and the sound of his voice is like flint striking steel — sharp, sparking, impossible to ignore.

Slowly, I drag my gaze up to his, and my breath catches. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the hazel ring of his irises until all I see is black. The desire of a hungry wolf staring back at me. Every nerve in my body strains toward him like a magnet.

Nyx is practically purring, urging me closer.

“What is your name, mate?” The question rumbles through him, and through me, vibrating along my bones.

“Ivy Ashwood.” The words leave me as little more than a rasp.

“Ivy,” he growls. The sound of my name rolling off his tongue sends a shiver down my spine, and something inside me just snaps.

Nyx doesn’t just purr now—she growls, low and possessive, her need twining with mine until I can’t tell where she ends and I begin.

My fingers fist the lapels of his jacket, dragging him closer, needing him closer. His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, and my body arches into him. I am helpless to do anything but take what he gives me.

His mouth claims mine, and everything inside me explodes. The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s like fire meeting gasoline, sparking something that was always meant to burn out of control.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It's a raging wildfire.

The bark of the tree digs into my back, grounding me as his mouth trails fire along my jaw and down my throat. I’m panting and completely dazed, clinging to him like he’s the only thing holding me up.

“You’re mine, Ivy,” he growls, the words scraping low and rough against my soul.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough and ragged.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, and the moment I do, the bond between us surges—wild and unstoppable. Should I have said it? No, probably not. But the bond is clouding every logical brain cell that I might have and turning it into mush.

He lifts me effortlessly, pinning me between his body and the tree, and I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking. I can feel him between my thighs now, and I let out a moan in excitement. His mouth finds mine again, and he kisses me deeper this time, hungrier.

Each kiss is a claim. Each breath is a vow.

My fingers find the buttons of his jacket, tugging them through their loops one by one before shoving it over his shoulders, then down his thick biceps. Ronan pulls his lips from mine, and I whimper from their loss, which only causes him to smirk at me as he shrugs the jacket the rest of the way off. I reach for his shirt next, my hands clumsy with urgency.

“So eager to have me, Mate?” he teases, a sharp edge of hunger in his voice.

A growl slips out of me before I can stop it. “Why are there so many damn buttons?” I mutter as my fingers begin working the infuriating little disks on his crisp white shirt. Why couldn't he be in a T-shirt?

His mouth curves into a dangerous grin. “My apologies, mate, had I known you were here tonight, I would’ve worn something easier to rip off.”

Challenge accepted. I pop the last few buttons of his shirt open and shove it off his shoulders. The moonlight hits him, and for a moment, I just stare as I let my gaze travel the expanse of taut muscle and skin.

My mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s unfairly beautiful. The pale light of the moon catches on the layer of sweat coating his chest. He can't be real, he has to be something carved from myth — silver and shadow and raw, restrained power. His tanned skin is hot to the touch as I spread my fingers across it, the muscles flexing under my touch.

He smirks, but his voice is low, wrecked. “Careful, Ivy. Keep touching me like that and I won’t stop.”

“Good,” I whisper, dragging the shirt down his arms until it joins the jacket at our feet.

Ronan’s chest rises and falls in harsh, uneven pulls as he fights to remain in control. His wolf is so close to the surface, I swear I can hear his wolf's snarls in my own mind.

“Ivy,” he grits out, my name sounding more like a warning now than a plea.

But I don’t stop touching him. I can’t. My fingers trace over the hard lines of his shoulders, down the curve of muscle along his arms, memorizing the heat and strength thrumming just under the skin.

That last thread of his control snaps, and Ronan’s mouth crashes against mine as his hands roam over my thighs, my waist, my back—like he’s memorizing me with every pass. A sound rips from his throat — half growl, half groan. His hands slide over my hips before diving under the hem of my shirt, his fingertips scorching my skin wherever they touch.

I gasp as he peels the shirt over my head, his eyes blazing as they drink me in like he’s never seen anything more important in his life.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, and the reverence in his voice makes my heart flutter.

His lips trace a line down my jaw and along my throat, each kiss leaving sparks in its wake. When his teeth softly graze the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, my whole body jerks, pleasure shooting through me so fast it nearly unravels me.

“Hold on to me,” he growls, and I do —my legs tightening around his hips as if they were meant to fit there.

He takes a step away from the tree and lowers me slowly to the ground, laying me on top of our discarded clothing. The earth is cool beneath me, but the heat radiating off him is everywhere. His hands trace along the curve of my ribs, his lips brushing the hollow of my throat as he peppers hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of my throat.

“You feel it too,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. “This bond. It’s not just fate. It’s fire.”

He isn't wrong there. Because he is definitely going to leave me burned for sure, but I am willingly ready to walk through that fire if it means he keeps his lips on my body. I nod, unable to speak, because words feel too small for this. For the way my body arches into his, searching for something that I'm not sure I even understand.

I can feel the curve of his mouth as he smirks while his lips trail lower, brushing over the curve between my breasts, and I gasp—sharp and breathless—as heat floods through me. Every nerve feels like an exposed live wire, every inch of skin tuned to the rhythm of his touch.

His hands slide beneath me, lifting me just enough to press a kiss to the center of my chest, right over my heart. It’s reverent. It's possessive, and it sets me ablaze. The feather softness of his lips is like he’s claiming more than just my body—he’s claiming every scar, every fight, every piece of me I’ve ever tried to hide.

I feel the familiar loosening of fabric only a moment before the warm night air kisses my skin. My n*****s pebble as I watched Ronan pull the center of my bra from his mouth. Butterflies swarm in my abdomen from the sheer hunger that is reflected in his gaze as he takes me in. Even though the night is warm, my body still shudders under the intensity of his gaze.

At some point, I either lost my boots or I kicked them off. I have no clue.

He is just watching me with rapt attention, and it's driving me more insane by the second that he does. I reach down and flick the silver button of my jeans free from its loop, his gaze tracking every movement.

I lift my hips just enough to shimmy the restrictive fabric over my hips and down my thighs. The animalistic growl that erupts from him when he sees that I'm not wearing anything underneath is enough to make me combust.

With a speed that clearly showcases his Alpha abilities, he is free of the last bit of his clothing. “Oh f*ck, this is going to hurt.”

“In the best possible way,” Nyx purrs, already on her back.

His c*ck is massive in both length and girth. I'm not sure if it will even fit inside me. I shiver at the thought as I watch Ronan palm himself before stroking it from base to tip, causing a few glistening drops of pre-c*m to bead along the head. I have never watched a guy jerk off before, but I have to say watching him touch himself is the hottest thing I have ever seen.

“I-I,” I stammer once again, failing to form a coherent sentence.

“It's okay, mate. We’ll start slow, mate. I’ll make sure you feel every inch of me,” he growls low and rough.

My body heats as he leans forward, capturing my lips. One of his hands holds onto my face, grounding me, while the other trails down my side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His hand slips between our bodies, and his fingertips graze over my most sensitive flesh, and I gasp so sharply it nearly sounds like a sob.

“Look at you, mate,” Ronan growls, his breath hot against my mouth. “Already so f*cking wet for me.”

His words shouldn’t make me whimper, but they do — my body rolling toward his hand, desperate for friction to ease the ache. He teases me first, tracing slow circles around my entrance, and every pass leaves me twitching, needing more. When he finally slides one thick finger inside me, my entire body bows off the ground.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, curling it just right. “Let me feel how much you want me.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold in the sounds building in my throat, but he seems to sense it and growls low, a sound so dark it vibrates through my chest.

“Don’t you dare stay quiet, Ivy,” he orders, pressing his thumb against my clit. It's as light as a feather, and almost lazy traces the tiny bud. “Let the whole damn forest hear who you belong to.”

A shudder wracks me as I give in, a moan ripping from my chest. He rewards me by sliding in a second finger, stretching me, pumping them in a slow, steady rhythm that makes my hips jerk against his hand.

The pressure slowly starts to build, it's unbearable and exquisite, a sensation coiling deep inside me until I’m clutching his shoulders, his hair, anything I can grab to ground myself. My breaths come in short, desperate gasps, every muscle in my body is wound tight like a bowstring that is ready to snap. The night air feels too thin, the stars seem too bright, and the bond is too loud in my veins.

My fingers thread through his hair, holding on like he’s the only thing tethering me to earth. Each curl of his fingers sends a shockwave through me, pleasure coiling tighter, tighter, until I’m left gasping for air. The forest starts to spin around us, the night alive with the sound of my ragged breathing and the slick, steady rhythm of his hand as he pumps it in and out of me. He crooks his fingers just right, stroking over that devastating spot inside me, and a white-hot sensation detonates behind my eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” Ronan growls against my throat, his voice dark and rough, “Let it take you.”

He presses his thumb onto my clit and circles it — slow at first, maddening — until my hips are rolling helplessly against his hand, chasing that high even more. Every muscle in my body locks tight, my nails dig into his scalp, and when he finally presses harder and a little faster, the coil inside me snaps. I cry out, my back arching, my legs shaking as wave after wave of bliss crashes over me. My whole body quakes, pleasure pouring through me until I’m left gasping, wrung out, and weightless in his arms.

I’m still trembling, the aftershocks fluttering through me when Ronan shifts closer, the heat from him pressing into me everywhere we touch. My breath catches as I feel the blunt, hard length of him nudge against my entrance, slick from my climax. The world narrows to this — the steady thrum of my heartbeat, the weight of his body pressed against mine, the wild anticipation coiling low in my stomach.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, his hand grips my hip, anchoring me as he pushes forward with a slow, deliberate precision. The stretch steals the air from my lungs as he forces my body to take him inch by devastating inch. My nails dig into his shoulders, my back arching as he fills me. It’s too much, yet it's perfect. By the time he’s seated fully inside me, I’m clinging to him, my entire body shaking from the overwhelming fullness.

“F*ck,” he roars, his head falling forward as sweat beads along his brow. I can feel the way he’s holding himself back, every muscle in his body locked tight with restraint.

The initial sting of his size slowly melts into something deeper, something dangerously addictive. The pain turns to pleasure, sharp and all-consuming. I rock against him, and Ronan answers my desperate plea with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that has me crying out, nails raking down his back. Every thrust drags across something deep inside me that has my toes curling, and my chest heaving.

I swear I can feel our heartbeats syncing, every throb of the bond beating in time with him inside me.

“Ronan,” I moan, the sound torn from my throat. His head snaps up at the sound of his name, his eyes glowing faintly, his wolf fully present now. The sheer intensity in his gaze makes my breath stutter. I can feel Nyx pressing against me inside my own head, her eyes blazing in my mind’s eye. She is as wild for him as I am.

“Say it again.” His voice is gravelly and full of command, every word a demand, “Say. My. Name.”

“Ronan,” I whimpered, my voice breaking with need. “Please.”

That single word is all it takes to shatter his control. The careful restraint he had been clinging to snaps like a thread, and suddenly he’s pulling back, only to slam his hips forward with a force that makes me yelp at the delicious sting of it.

Yes. More.

I never thought I would like the rough s*x, the animalistic kind that leaves you raw and wanting even more. But I do as long as it's with him.

He wraps one hand beneath my head, threading his fingers through my now-tangled braid, cradling me even as he drives into me with relentless rhythm. His other hand slides down, gripping my thigh, hiking it higher until he’s buried even deeper.

The sound of him filling me is obscene — it's wet, loud, and primal — mixing with the harsh slap of our bodies and the ragged sounds of our breathing.

Every thrust is harder, faster, until he’s hitting a spot inside me that has a scream ripping from my throat. My vision whites out, stars bursting behind my eyes as pleasure detonates low in my belly. My body convulses around him, dragging him closer to the edge.

Ronan’s rhythm falters, his growl vibrating through my chest as he buries himself deep inside me one final time and freezes. His eyes lock on mine as his release hits, hot and possessive, filling me until it has nowhere else to go but out.

Nyx howls in triumph, the sound reverberating through my bones, through the bond.

He doesn’t move right away. Just holds me. And in that stillness, I feel it—the bond settling like a crown on my soul. As Ronan lowers his forehead to mine, his breath ragged as if he’s run miles and his eyes still blazing, I realize this isn’t just mating.

This is becoming.

And I know — we both know — that every wolf in the pack felt it. The claiming. The bond as it snapped into place like a howl across the night.

Their next Alpha just took his mate.