The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Chapter 30 – Food Fight

Ella

The flour collides with Sinclair’s face in an explosion of white powder, covering his features in dense grains and fluttering through the air around us. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and fear slices through me as I wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake. Sinclair takes a moment to open his eyes after the flour hits, but when he does, his wolf is glowing bright in his irises, and my instincts take over.

I try to duck under his arms, to evade his hold anyway I can. However the moment I begin attempting escape he leans forward, crushing my body between him and the counter. At once I’m reminded of how much larger Sinclair is. Sometimes it’s easy to be fooled when I’m dressed up in heels or there’s space between us, but now I can feel how helpless I am beside him. The top of my head barely reaches his sternum, and next to his muscles, my slender limbs feel terribly frail.

Sinclair’s breath is coming in heaving gasps, and I have the good sense to remain frozen as he tries to gain control of his wolf. When I look up at him, I can see only the wild animal fuming beneath his skin, and I realize exactly how dangerous this man is.

I’m not sure if he’s going to attack me, or yell at me, and my heart is racing a mile a minute. I instinctively flinch when he moves, but he doesn’t raise a hand against me. Instead he reaches past be towards the bowl of chocolate cake batter, and the next thing I know, a river of the thick, sweet mixture is dripping down my face.

I gasp in shock, realizing that Sinclair is pouring the batter over me, and try to jerk away. “Dominic, no!”

laugh rolls through the big wolf like

reach for the bowl too, returning fire with handful of batter straight into Sinclair’s expensively tailored shirt. Soon we’re wrestling over the bowl, trying to

cake batter for icing, reaching up with two hands and smearing it over his face as he playfully nips at my fingers, before positively squealing as warm, melted

another. The bowls on the counter are already empty, and I narrow my eyes at Sinclair as I contemplate moving to the pantry or fridge for more ammo. His white teeth flash, and the next thing I know he’s racing towards the fridge

pantry, pulling open the door to use as a shield and disappearing inside, zeroing in on a bottle of caramel syrup, even as I see Sinclair plucking a can of whipped cream from the fridge. Soon we’re stalking around the kitchen island, trying to get close enough to squirt each other with our chosen item, and inevitably laughing and racing away when the other gets

but I’m outmatched in this game

know he’s letting me escape. If he wanted to he could have easily pinned me in place, but we’re both

and I certainly never did anything like this, and I doubt my ex would have had the inclination or the confidence to let a woman defy him this way. Sinclair, on the other hand, has no doubts about his masculinity. He can gladly let

passes the more certain I feel that Sinclair is attracted to me. I know it’s only physical and that I could never be anything but a plaything to him, but it feels nice to be desired – even if it is

me up. “Such a bad

him to the tiled floor, straddling his middle and trapping his hands above his head. ‘Ha!” I declare

you’ve won, do you?” He taunts, grinning up

wolves say if they knew their leader

lungs in a great whoosh – I didn’t even see him flip me, but suddenly our situations are completely reversed. I’m still straddling Sinclair, my legs spread on either side of his body so that his hardness is pressed to my most sensitive flesh through

metaphorically squirming, needing to apologize for reasons I don’t understand. It’s almost as if I feel compelled to submit now that Sinclair has physically bested me, but why would that be the case? I try to hold the words back, but