Best 129 quotes in «alpha quotes» category

After a few seconds of scraping, I realize what he has isn’t a trail, it’s a whole forest! Ack! Weren’t all men supposed to shave their chest and stuff nowadays? Whatever happened to having fuzz-free Hollywood heroes as role models? At least my embarrassment is completely foregone by the irritation at his lack of upkeep. The only thing distracting me now is that heady mix of musk, shaving cream and a distinctly…male scent. And God knows that is one seriously jeopardizing distraction. Especially with a whizzing needle in one’s hand.

Acting so obviously submissive to Max around strangers, I felt a lot of humiliation. The looks from people, the comments. But I also felt this strange sense of pride. I am his possession, his property. And I'm proud of that. I'm proud of how happy I make him.

And they said females were the moody ones. Yeah – right. No one did moods like Alpha male werewolves.

Alphas, like Scarface, can be drug dealers, but it’s still a little grimy.

An alpha would never google anyone they lived with.

And I wake up happy, baby, because I possess beauty and I own that beauty in all the forms it can take and the least important of those are physical.

...and the sorrow sent her spiraling back into sickness.

Annabel,” I whispered in her ear, making sure not to touch her. Her heartbeat accelerated, her skin got the chills, and her pupils dilated, not to mention how delicious she smelled and how the excitement only increased the scent. My own body got tense and aroused. “Let your guard down and trust me. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. I’m not trying to get you drunk or trick you. I just want to get to know you better.” “Shane,” she replied with her sexy, hot, and alluring voice that sent spirals of lust down my spine. “I have nothing against sleeping with you. I’m fully dressed for that.

Anytime you need me, just call. I'll stop everything for you. Any fucking thing on this earth.

Any woman would have to be dead not to be attracted to the walking mass of sexy that was Erik MacGregor.

Asleep? That's what she is right now?” Pure menace laced his words. “And when you decide to answer that question, Kane, be sure that you answer this with great care. I for one see you as my friend. We've never had problems. But now you've met my Melody, and problems cannot be avoided. So when I ask you, is she asleep, be sure that you give me a clear answer, because different ones will result in your death and the slashing away of every fucking person you know.

Are you jealous?" She has a half-smile, a laugh waiting to escape. "No. Not jealous." I squeeze her to me, lifting her off the ground back onto her tip-toes. "Possessive. You belong to me." I push her away. "Take off that dress." I allow some anger into my voice. "Now!" She jumps in place a little and reaches behind her to unzip. I grab her shoulders and twist her around. Putting my hands at the base of her neck, I rip the dress down the middle, tearing the zipper apart. She half gasps, half cries out. "You won't be wearing that again.

A strong but gentle grip on her nape had pulled her back to make the acquaintance of a warm slab of granite. Callused fingers held her neck while a blunt hand fanned her hip, locking her into position against something hard and hot. It could have been anyone, but after just one afternoon of Flynn-spun intimacy, her body knew its owner.

At the alpha level, your imagination acts powerfully on your subconsciousness mind and therefore your imaginings are powerfully effective in producing the desired result. It is believed that our subconscious mind represents nearly 90 percent of our mental capacity, which is why influencing your subconscious mind produces such powerful effects.

Come here. I told you to go to sleep and you wouldn’t go, so now you’ll have to take care of me.

Being a rocket scientist isn’t all that smart when you could work in finance.

Being a werewolf, an alpha more so, isn't about being aggressive over others but controlling yourself, the wolf's wild virus inside my DNA, and emotions that comes with the beast.

But my thoughts breed truths that my heart can't bare. Like Melody.

Ben was in his truck, window down, idling at the curb, dark lenses hiding his eyes from her, looking effortlessly big and badass. The way she wished she felt.

Both of you are threads in a carefully woven masterpiece of a blanket that is life. Parts of you are weaved into parts of him. There's no changing that.

Consider yourself taken, sweetheart.

Dastien ran his fingertips along my jawline "Je suis desole, mon amour.

Do you really behave like this, or just to people who’ve sustained injuries at your restaurant?” she asked. “I was raised to be a gentleman, but if opening a few doors saves me some legal fees, consider me at your service.

Even without a bite to mark her perfect, creamy skin, they’d know to whom she belonged.

Guys like him? They were the worst kind. All looks and no heart. Guys not like him? They were all deceiving, freaking asshats.

He lashed the belt against my ass again, and I was starting to feel like I was some supernatural being that was more than he was. He was just human, but I felt like something from heaven, an angel from the stars, that had come down to grace him with my presence. How beautiful lust is, when it makes you feel this way. Have you felt this yourself, do you know what I mean?

He looked like he might break out into an irate merengue any minute. Patrick Swayze reincarnated.

He placed his hands to his belt buckle and undid it. “Just be careful, Red. This isn’t a fairytale. No one will save you, if you decide to see how sharp the wolf’s teeth really are.

Her father shrugged then turned the laptop around to face him again. “On the bright side, I suppose I’m not going to have to worry about you dating again anytime soon.

I could feel his whole body trying to claim me, want me, own me in lust, and it made me feel so valuable and wanted. As I was bent over the table, I felt like I was the world to him, and he could think of nothing else, could feel nothing else: he was consumed with my body, dedicated to exploring my female sexual power and energy, and his desperate hitting of me with the belt felt like he would rather die, than be without the chance to connect with me in sex.

I’d been kissed before. Many times. There were awkward and sloppy kisses, those tension-fraught moments of fumbling intensity as a teenager. There were more skilled kisses, passionate and intentional. There were kisses that stole my breath, kisses that merged seamlessly with the shedding of clothes and the joining of bodies. But never, before this moment, had there ever been a kiss that stole my will to pull away, that devoured my capacity for thought, that removed my ability to resist, to feel anything but the kiss.

If heaven existed, it surely had to be against his lips, in his kisses and his arms around me. His kisses were tender, sweet, breathtaking, and too good to be true! Time ceased to exist. Gravity was a vague idea in my mind. I couldn’t let him go. I wanted more and more. I wanted his tongue and my tongue playing together, discovering and making me feel alive and happy. I wanted our lips sealed together, his arms around me, pulling me tight against his solid warm body. I wanted to melt and merge with him. They weren’t normal kisses; they were mind-blowing experiences!

If I thought I’d been drawn to her, now I knew, I’d been taken, kidnapped, caged, destroyed, and all the other things that went with someone having complete power over another.

If I was pulling your hair, you'd be too busy screaming my name, and I'd be too deep inside you for you to run anyway." Darkest Sin

I’m pretty much the definition of an American Hero.

I'm sorry about the trouble, Karen," he said, loud and clear, so everyone could hear how reasonable he was being. She scowled up at him, eyes narrowed. Her arm flew almost faster than I could see. The smack of flesh against flesh was loud in the silence, and a small red handprint stood out starkly on his left cheek. "You have no idea how sorry you're going to be.

I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.

In the end,” Callum said, his voice soft, gentle, “it all comes back to you. You protect them [your pack], you love them, you live for them, and someday, you die. That’s what it means, Bryn-girl, to be what we are [to be Alpha]. It’s lonely. It’s impossible. It’s all-consuming.” It is what it is.

I sobbed again, and this time my father chuckled. "What's so funny?" I demanded, tilting my head when my cheek got his coat wet. "You didn't cry when Kevin Mitchell broke your arm, or when you got stabbed in the hip the last time we were here. But boy troubles are still enough to reduce you to tears.

It used to be that when I made mistakes like this or came close to losing my life, I would just call Miguel. He'd drop it all to come to me—his movies, media engagements no matter how big they were, and even his criminal activities went on hold for me. It made me think he cared. Miguel canceled an appearance on the Dave Letterman show just because he called me and thought my voice sounded like something was wrong. He directed his gaze to the bruises decorating my face. “You said you weren't hurt.” With those big arms, he picked me up and slammed the door behind us. “When I ask you if you're okay, you tell me the truth.

I want everyone to get plenty of rest tonight, because tomorrow, we make plans to bury the new council chair. And don't worry about the shovel shortage," I said, glancing from face to determined face. "Because Calvin Malone has dug his own grave.

I want you to be afraid of making me angry…this will help you to remember how to behave.

Miguel came to my restless mind, as he always did when I slept. Old memories never left me alone.

No matter how much he’d done to me, my heart could not be done with him.

Okay, first of all, I didn’t sleep with you to make amends. I slept with you because I wanted to.” He still didn’t say anything, and she pointed at him again. “And you know what? It was your own damn fault. It was those jeans you wear, and the tool belt. It was the size of your hammer!

Okay, I thought wolves had packs. Do you have a pack?” “Not in the traditional sense.” “Sorry, Nick, but when it comes to werewolves, I don’t know what the traditional sense is.” “I don’t run with other wolves.” I nod. I wait. I finally give up and say, “So you run with . . .” He winces. “Coyotes. But they have some wolf DNA.” It’s hard not to smile. “You are alpha at least, right?” “Of course I’m alpha.” He almost growls at me.

One should never believe the words I speak.

Don't make me slap your pussy.

Every touchy-feely therapist will tell you to open up and express yourself, but all that leads to is the negotiation of desire and the disingenuous obligations based on those terms.

Excuse me?” The librarian looked up again. “I need help now. I need to print this article and . . . do you have any books about dukes?” The librarian’s eyes went wide and she rubbed her hands together with glee. “We have a fantastic romance section,” she said. “Do you need recommendations? How do you like your dukes? Grumpy? Tortured? Alpha, beta, or alpha in the streets, beta in the sheets?” “Actually, I meant nonfiction,” Portia said glumly. The librarian sighed. “Aye. Just a warning, love—the non-fic dukes are not nearly as fun.