When she turned 18, a mere two weeks ago, she fled her native pack because the single wolves had become ravenous. She thought that she was saving herself by racing off into the forests, but instead she woke up here, behind the white door—locked in an empty room with white walls and white wood panel flooring, like a padded cell minus the padding. It was unnerving. That is, until he appeared. He stepped into the room, shut the door, knocked roughly on its surface twice, and then donned the most devious smirk she had ever seen.
"That door is locked now," he purred as he prowled towards her. "Which means you can't escape your fate. Welcome to the pack, little wolf. I think you will be a delicious asset."
He was easily over six feet tall in his human form, heavily tattooed and with a shockingly black patch of hair atop his handsome head. His facial features were sharp and angular, his brown eyes large and glowing with an ominous fire. His body was highly-toned as he moved about the small space like a predator stalking his prey, clad only in a pair of black basketball shorts that hung low on his tattooed hips.
"Here's how this is going to work," he spoke sternly, matter-of-fact and inviting no disagreement. "Every two weeks—possibly less, maybe a little more—a wolf will enter this room and breed you. Whoever wins gets to take you home."
She remained lying on her right side with her back against the white wall but turned her eyes upward toward the domineering wolf. "Wins what?"
"You, my little she," he grinned. He followed this with the most lascivious and languid touch of his pink tongue to his plush bottom lip. "Whomever breeds you and gets you with pup will have the honor of taking you home."
"I have a home." She offered this fact simply, in a timid voice as she gazed up at him through her long eyelashes. "I already have a home."
He crossed his lengthy arms over his naked chest at this. "As you are a rogue and have stepped onto our land without permission, we are within our rights to keep you and do whatever we so desire with your pretty little body."
She sat up now, keeping her back pressed against the wall for safety and support. "I'm not fertile," she quipped quickly, hoping to avoid his cruel intentions. "I haven't yet experienced my first cycle."
He cocked his head to the side at this, sniffed the air loudly then smirked. "That's a lie, little she. I can smell your hormones right now, and they are exactly at their peak. You just turned eighteen, did you not?"
She sighed in defeat and winced. "Two weeks ago."
He lowered himself to the ground then and began to slowly crawl towards her, his muscles moving in a perfect sinewy synchronization that promised that he was just as beautiful a wolf as he was a human. When he was within her personal space, he moved toward her right side and pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling loudly. "You're ovulating," he observed with a smile.
She wanted to scamper backward, but she knew there was nowhere to go—clearly the door was locked from the outside and there was literally nothing to hide behind in this room. Which, she realized, was likely the point of its barrenness.
"You smell like fear and arousal, dancing together in a seductively fiery tango," he purred as he pressed his nose into her neck now. "Why are you afraid, little she?"
"I want to go home," she repeated herself, voice wavering. "Please."
"No," he spat back in annoyance. "Now, tell me little wolf, what is your name?"
She forced herself to look directly into his chocolate gaze and sighed with defeat. "Melanie."
"Melanie," he tasted the word slowly, languidly and then grinned. "I like it." He positioned himself so that he was kneeling in front of her, towering over her even in this position. Her knees were safely tucked between their bodies, pressed against his abdomen as he leaned closer and seemed to envelope her with his much larger frame. "I am your new Alpha."
He reached around her and tugged firmly at her tight black sports bra, removing it quickly and tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. With this item of clothing gone, he placed his tattooed hands onto her knees and grinned. "Spread them, so I can see your beauty."
At his urging, she lowered her legs to rest between his knees, aware that like this she could easily fight him off with one swift kick. Of course, he seemed to read her mind instantly and shook his head slowly, side to side. "You don't want to hurt me, do you, little she?" His voice was a gruff rumble, something between human and a cat's purr. He ran a massive hand slowly down the side of her face and cupped her left cheek. "Don't you want to play?" he inquired in that bizarre rumble. "I can smell your arousal clear as day, and I know that your body wants me."
He was straddling her now, leaning ever closer as he continued to sniff her hair and neck. The entire ordeal felt awkward and forced, and yet she knew that he was right: she was aroused. The moisture between her thighs was increasing with each of his random touches and when she saw him grasp the growing bulge in his shorts roughly, she thought that she might literally be salivating. This made the grin on his pale pink lips widen. "Do you like that?" he inquired, grasping a handful of himself dramatically. "Does the little she want to know what's inside my shorts?"
Her eyes turned up to meet his at that moment, and she saw no overt signs of cruelty, no harsh intentions. He looked as turned on as she currently felt, and she realized that her pheromones must be exciting his natural instincts. Wolves were hardwired to pump their seed into aroused fertile females, it was an important factor in the propagation of the species.
He watched her as she watched him and when she made no move to respond or to touch his body, he reached forward with his left hand and delicately cupped her exposed breast. Her pink nipple was already painfully erect, a hard, little nub that poked into his palm as he manhandled her flesh. He smirked. "I want you beneath me," he growled softly. "I need you beneath me now, little she!"