Marrow - The Skin Kings : A Paranormal Shifter Romance (Hunter Moon Academy) by Simone Leigh Martin

Author:Simone Leigh Martin [Martin, Simone Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One – Benji

The compound is pulsing like an electrical outlet with a knife jammed in the socket. But there’s only one vibration I’m interested in. Even with the choker around my throat, I can sense Stella’s power biting through the cabin wall. When she arrived in the bunker yesterday, it drew me through the dark like a tractor beam. Alpha female. Wild and strong and raw. It called to me, but it was the way it prodded my wolf out of his eternal funk that got my feet moving. And that attraction – that shivery sliver of hope - still has me by the balls now. Only it’s revved up times a hundred, and there’s only one explanation for that kind of extra juice.

She’s fucked the Marrow Alpha.

A sour stew of bitterness burbles in my gut, but I swallow it away. It’s just my green-eyed monster, and it isn’t exactly like them getting together is a surprise. She was covered in his scent when she arrived at the bunker, and everyone was talking about how she raged out when he left and didn’t take her with him. Who knows? Maybe that’s part of why I wanted her. Any wolf who can take on a Skin King and live to tell the tale is worth knowing.

Not that I should be messing with someone like Elijah Marrow. He’s a dark legend in the bane packs, the prodigal son of the Marrow dynasty who won’t go home. Some say it’s because he’s a void, although there are plenty of stories about his big, bad wolf. Others, because he wants nothing to do with his psycho grandfather. But my opinion – for what it’s worth – is that he’s an asshole loner who likes the freedom to slaughter wolves in his spare time.

Not that his victims aren’t deserving. According to bane gossip, he likes to target what the other alphas kick under a rock. The feral murderers and the blood addicts. Problem is, for every underground lab he raids, there’s another ten packs out there looking to put us in the ground. But only after they pry us open and play around with our insides. Or hit us up the side of the head with a fucking cattle prod.

I swallow hard at the memory of lightning pain and sizzling skin, which makes the collar they put me in tighten around my throat. I know enough about suppression collars to guess they put it on me after I bit the asshole who burned my face. As punishment, but mostly to keep my wolf under wraps. Which, at the end of the day, is a fucking joke. Like hobbling a three-legged horse, or putting handcuffs on a corpse. But then, they didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain my wolf hasn’t shown himself in three years.

I’d be wondering if he hadn’t curled up and died, except for that little tickle under my ribs when he caught Stella’s scent. I told Mary it was a genius move on my part to lock her down.

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