Read Online Hunted by the Alpha (Paranormal Werewolf Shifter Romance) by Celina Reyer - Free Book Online

 
    Hunted by the Alpha
    Goddamn you, Ji mmy. Goddamn you. That jittery little bastard from Jersey was the reason why I found myself surrounded by three slavering brutes. Werewolf brutes to be exact, but why be redundant? The Master insisted he come along and try out his new repeating silver crossbow. Not an hour into the subway tunnels and he bugs out when we come across a pack. The recoil took him off balance, harpooning one squad mate through the head while another's back became a bloody pincushion.
     
    The cherry on the cake was that he brought some glass vials, filled to the brim with some explosive Chinese crap. Then he fell down on the ground. Hard. Right in front of me. The ground crumbled beneath me while he enacted his Human Torch fantasies. And now I found myself with at least one cracked rib, a sprained wrist and my shotgun right at the werewolves' feet. It's times like these that made me want to drop out of the Order, find a man and call it a day.
     
    Surprisingly, one of the wolves had some sort of English street urchin accent even though we were in  the middle of New York City. “Oi, this one looks tasty! Look at them plump and fat tits! Can't decide if I wanna eat her or shag her right and proper!” I flushed in embarrassment and looked down to see my ample cleavage spilling out of my clothes. My black leather suit hugged my full figure and contrasted with my pale skin. The attire wasn't practical but normally we shoot wolves from a distance.
     
    “Hm. Those hips look fertile. Maybe not kill her." The one on the right said in an accent that defied placement.
     
    I had always been a big girl, but the Order training reformed a lot of my flab to muscle. My hips and thighs were still round and broad, giving me the desired 'fertile' look these wolves looked for in their female captives.
     
    The one in the center was on his haunches and gurgled as his tongue lapped at the air like a piece of wet ham. “Heh, a good raping. Bet she's a screamer.” His eyes were clouded out, as if he were blind and his fur was the most unkempt of them all. "I like screamers."
     
    I scrambled back on my hands and was careful of my wrist as he lurched forward.
     
    Hot drool dribbled over the concrete and over my leather boots. I yelped when his massive paws came over my legs, squeezing and testing the firmness of my flesh. I reached behind my back and felt needles of panic prickle down my back when I realized I lost my knife. His giant wolf head came inches before my face and reeked of trash and road kill. I turned away and my face formed a grimace when his paws began groping my chest.
     
    Was this how my legend was to end? Kiera, wolf slayer extraordinaire, raped and killed in a damp subway tunnel with no-one left to find me?
     
    I fought the tears from welling but it was no use.
     
    All of the sudden, a gust of wind washed across my face and a weight was lifted from me. When I turned to where the wolf had been, I saw that he was gone. Looking closer, I realized he wasn't gone but merely a few feet away and howling from pain.
     
    A man with impeccable style of dress had one knee over the creature's barrel chest as he struck his head over and over. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?” He emphasized each point with a vicious crack against the beast's chin. “Never the women!”  Another kick slammed into the mangy wolf's chest and he whimpered from the blow.
     
    A layer of perspiration had formed over the man's face. When he locked eyes with me, he swept his loose hair back and adjusted the wrinkles in his suit. “Excuse my intemperance...it is not becoming of my station. I couldn't suffer such a loss of beauty.” He extended his hand. “I am Pyotr.”
     
    His accent was vaguely Slavic and surprisingly sensual. The closer he stood to me, the more I felt a certain warmth spread across my breasts. My breath quickened and I looked past his proffered hand and onto his face. His dark blond hair was streaked