Imprisoned Mage, Evil Spirits, & Alpha Werewolves

When Jack's sister calls him in a panic and tells him there's something wrong with his little niece, he rushes to their rescue, only to find that her illness is magic-related.

He has no other choice but to call for aid. Magic can only be fixed with Magic, and even though it’s forbidden, there is a specialized unit within the government where magic users are kept under lock and key. He has been warned to stay away from magic users his entire life, but his first encounter with it is nothing at all like what he had prepared himself for.

Instead of a wizened old man in a large robe and a cane, he gets an Alpha Werewolf holding a young woman in his arms, carrying her like she is some sort of precious cargo. The soft-spoken, sweet-smelling young creature has eyes that make him feel like he's staring at galaxies, molten gold swirling and glimmering in them. She may look helpless and sweet, but he knows she's anything but. There are chains on her wrists and ankles to keep her magic bound.

The smart thing would be to stay away, but his wolf rears it's head and wants. He is overwhelmed with the urge to pin her down and put his fangs in her neck, to claim them for himself, but in order to do that, he would have to fight the Alpha Werewolf who has prior claim on her.

Things get even more complicated when he starts asking questions about why mages are dangerous, and yet kept in a secret government facility.

He wants to set her free.

He wants her.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

When the food arrives, he brings them up to the guest bedroom, following the sweet scent to the closed door. He glares at it for a moment, his hackles rising for having to knock the door and announce himself in his own home.

“Come in,” Peter says the same moment he hears a surprised squeak from the young mage.

He opens the door and pauses there, tilting his head slightly at the sight in front of him.

Peter is in the middle of pleasuring his lover. She is pressed up against him, her back flush against his chest, hands grasping at his wrists as he fingers her.

“You want her, don't you?” he hums, unashamed. Then again, he's not the one who's naked.

She makes a frightened noise and tries to wriggle out from his grasp, but he hushes her with a low noise, mouth pressed close to her scalp.

He flinches. “You shouldn't— you shouldn't do that to her,” he chides with a voice that doesn't sound like himself, too deep and too close to a growl. He sets the containers of food by the table, expecting them to get to it when they are done, but his gaze never leaves the lovers.

Peter chuckles. “She likes it,” he says. “She's all soft and innocent, but she can take more than you know. She likes you too,” he says and laughs at the look of disbelief on his face. “Mina doesn't talk to anyone but me,” he says.

“Peter,” she whimpers, trying to close her legs together, her inner thighs clenching, body tensing with the effort. The chains prevent her from parting her legs too wide apart, but his hands on her inner thighs are enough to keep them from closing together completely.