Curse of the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2: A Tarker’s Hollow Serial by Tasha Black Page A

and he made the sound of a creaking door as he struggled for air. His oblivious cock was still convulsing and shooting out liquidly webs that covered his belly. The veins in his neck were bulging.
    Ainsley pounced. Her paws framed his head. The smell of his fear and pain filled her muzzle. The cocktail of weakness was dizzying. She lifted her head and howled a note of triumph before biting down on his neck.
    Her canines sank through his flesh effortlessly. She was rewarded with the mewling, gurgling sound of his wordless pleas. Then the first shot of blood hit the back of her throat.
    Its coppery warmth spread down her chest and into her belly. Her whole body sang with happiness. She dove into him again, enjoying the spectrum of texture – the soft, buttery flesh, the bone that worked her vice-like jaw, but most of all the seemingly endless waterfall of blood.
    An alarm sounded in the distance, reverberating in her sensitive ears at an awful pitch. It was too far off to be a threat to Ainsley’s prize so she ignored it.
    He spluttered once or twice and was out. The game was too easy, but the prize was so delicious. She lapped the sweet ambrosia from his neck.
    The alarm jangled again.
    She shook her head and her lean muscles rippled down to her tail. But she couldn’t escape the horrid sound. She batted at her ear with a paw.
    Her paw was caught in a tangle of long, human hair.
    Ainsley startled awake.
    Her cell phone was ringing from its charger next to the bed. She grabbed it.
    Julian Magie
    She dropped it back on the bedside table like it was on fire. Ainsley hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth, coaxing her mind back to the real world.
    Breathe in. Breathe out.
    It was only a dream.
    The phone jangled again.
    There was no way she could talk to Julian right now.

Chapter 8
    A insley awoke with a dry throat and a sticky, awful feeling. Sunlight was pouring in the window.
    What time was it?
    She leapt out of bed. Ainsley Connor never overslept. She snatched up her phone and noticed a message from Julian.
    Julian.
    The dream.
    She closed her eyes and took a careful breath. It was just a dream.
    She had been having the dream off and on for a decade. It never changed.
    Until last night.
    Was that what really happened to Brian? Usually in the dream she woke up before that part. She had blacked out that day, and didn’t remember anything.
    Was this her subconscious trying to let her know the truth?
    Ever since she came back to this godforsaken town, it had been one nasty surprise after another.
    She glanced back at the phone. It was 8:17am. Ainsley couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept past 6:30.
    She made her bed carefully. It was a mess of tangled sheets and overboard pillows, but when she had finished there was no more physical evidence of the troubled night.
    She picked out a pair of faded jeans and a pink Timberwolves t-shirt from high school and glanced at the logo in the mirror.
    Tarker’s Hollow Timberwolves.
    Subtle.
    It was certainly going to be a shopping day. She headed to her parents’ bathroom and turned on the hot water.
    After a few minutes under the heavenly spray of the fancy dual shower heads, Ainsley began to relax. She lathered a loofah with sea salt soap and scrubbed herself until she was pink all over. The scent of cinnamon bun shampoo made the corners of her mouth turn up as she smoothed it into her hair.
    She remembered the delicious smell of Erik and her heart thudded.
    God, he was handsome.
    The memory of his masculine body and the graceful, sinewy way he moved was almost overpowering. Now that she was safely out of his gaze, she could fantasize all she wanted.
    What would it be like to be his mate?
    Ainsley sighed as she imagined curling up under the sheets with him, sliding her hands across his muscled chest and drinking in that heady aroma.
    It was awful to be so attracted to someone who was so wrong for her.
    It seemed that he was attracted to her too.
    Or was it