THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

“How many times did you do this thing?” Aiden asked Freya. She was leaving things out. The details of horror and pain, the faces of those she helped as they watched her work, shocked, fascinated, yet repulsed by her ability. He saw those details, sharing her mind, reading her memories to learn her true nature.

“Four. I went after four killers. The last time I fell apart. He was so sick, so evil. I felt as if I was unclean, as if I could never get him out of my head. I came here hoping to find peace, hoping to find you too. I decided I would never do anything like that again. I’m not sure my mother would want me to either.” She replied.

Above her head, he closed his eyes for a moment to calm his mind. That she could feel unclean. He could look into her heart and soul, see her every secret, know she was light and compassion, courage and gentleness. The things she had seen in her young life should never have been.

He waited until his voice was calm and soothing. “And you get these headaches if you use telepathic communication?”

At her solemn nod, he continued, “Yet when you heard me, unguarded, in pain, you reached out to me, knowing the price you would pay.”

How could she explain? Freya thought.

He was like a wounded animal, radiating so much pain that she had found tears streaming unchecked down her face. His loneliness was hers. His isolation, hers. And she had sensed his resolve to end his pain, his existence. She could not let that happen, no matter what the cost to herself.

Aiden let out his breath slowly, astonished and shocked by her nature, so giving. She was hesitant to put into words why she had reached out to him, but he knew it was her nature to give. He also knew the call had been so strong because that something in him that reached for her had found whatever it needed. He inhaled her scent, taking her into his body, enjoying the sight and smell of her in his home, the feel of her silky hair in his hands, her soft skin under his fingertips. The flames from the fire put blue lights in her hair. Need slammed into him, hard and urgent and, as painful as the ache was, he reveled in the fact that he could feel it.

He seated himself across the small table from her, his eyes drifting lazily, possessively over her alluring curves. “Why do you dress in men’s clothes?” he asked.

She laughed, soft and melodious, and her eyes lit with mischief. “Because I knew it would annoy you.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Real, genuine, incredible laughter. There was happiness in him and the stirrings of affection. He couldn’t remember what those feelings were like, but the emotions were sharp and clear and a sweet ache in his body.

“Is it necessary to annoy me?” He asked.

She arched an eyebrow at him, realizing that her headache was completely gone. “So easy,” She teased.

He leaned closer. “Disrespectful woman. So dangerous, you mean.”

“Mmm, maybe that, too.” She slid her hand through her hair, pushed it away from her face. The action was an innocent habit, incredibly sexy, drawing his gaze to the perfection of her face, the fullness of her breasts, the smooth line of her throat.

“So just how good a chess player are you?” she challenged impudently.

An hour later Aiden leaned back in his chair to watch her face as she studied the board. She was frowning in concentration, trying to puzzle out his unfamiliar strategy. She could sense that he was leading her into a trap, but she couldn’t find it. She leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, relaxed, in no hurry. She was patient and thorough and twice had gotten him into trouble simply because he was too sure of himself.

Suddenly her eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth.

“You are a cunning devil, aren’t you, Aiden? But I think your cleverness may have gotten you into a bit of trouble.” She muttered.

He watched her with hooded eyes. His teeth gleamed white in the firelight. “Did I happen to mention, Miss Freya, that the last person impertinent enough to beat me at chess was thrown in the dungeon and tortured for thirty years?”

She snorted, her eyes still glued on the chessboard.

He lazily reached across the board to make his move, saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. “I believe what we have is checkmate,” he said silkily.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I should have known a man who walks in the forest surrounded by wolves would be devious.” She commented, whilst smiling up at him.

“Great game, Aiden. I really enjoyed it.”

Freya sank back into the cushions of the chair.

“Can you tell me more about what you had read off in my mother’s head? Do you know my grandmother?” She asked curiously, after some intervals had passed with them looking at each other.

He liked her in his home, liked the way the fire burned blue in her hair and the way the shadows clung so lovingly to her face. He had memorized every inch of it, knew that if he closed his eyes, the picture would still be there, the high, delicate cheekbones, her small nose and lush mouth.

“Yes. I will tell you.” He answered truthfully, not wanting lies between them.

“Would you have killed Kyran?” Freya asked, seeing that he would be honest with her.

Her lashes were beautiful and held his attention. “Be careful of what you ask little one,” he cautioned.

She curled her legs beneath under her, regarded him steadily. “You know, Aiden, you are so used to using your power, you don’t even stop to think if it’s right or wrong.”

“He had no right to touch you. He was causing you pain.” He stated with a shrug.