Chapter 10 – Testing Limits

Alexei

For a moment, I just stand there, breathing in the lingering trace of Kieran. It’s not a feral scent, like most Alpha’s have, or something sweet and enticing like an Omega does. It’s clean and sharp, like expensive soap and the crisp bite of an autumn night.

He finally knows I wasn't lying. He knows the threat is real. And more importantly, he knows I might be the only one who can help him navigate it. The balance of power just shifted, however slightly, and we both know it.

He still doesn't trust me, but we’ll work on that. I’m very persistent when I have my sights locked on something I want. And I want the pretty prince with somewhat of a single-minded ferocity.

I saunter over to his desk, running my fingers over the polished wood, still warm from where his hands rested moments ago. I can picture bending him over the surface and slowly fucking him from behind. His balls slapping against my thighs as I ruffle his perfect hair and make him fall apart around me.

All of his meticulously arranged maps and ledgers would be painted with the beautiful force of his release. My own would be contained by him.

Goosebumps rise on my arms and my cock is so hard, I’m almost sure the too-tight pants are going to rip.

He mentioned sending a tailor. And a razor. A practical necessity, but also a concession. An admission that my stay here won’t be brief. That I’m becoming part of the landscape, a fixture in his keep, whether his prissy council likes it or not.

I wonder what kind of clothes he’ll have made for me. Something practical for training, I assume. But he’s so obsessed with appearances, he’ll probably insist on something finer, too. For those closer consultations he mentioned. The thought makes me chuckle. Oh, the games we’ll play.

I wander the study, taking it all in. Bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. History, strategy… poetry? Interesting. A decanter of amber liquid sits on a side table, beside a single, empty glass. He drinks alone, then. Doesn’t share his burdens. Or his pleasures. I’ll change that.

My gaze lands on a small, framed charcoal sketch tucked away on a lower shelf, almost hidden.

It's a landscape. Stark trees, heavy branches, a single, lone wolf track leading into a vast, empty distance. It’s surprisingly good, capturing a poignant wildness and a sense of profound isolation. There’s no signature, but something about the precise lines and the controlled emotion simmering beneath the surface… it feels like him.

An artist hidden beneath the Alpha’s polish? Another layer to unravel. I won’t stop until he’s naked and vulnerable in my arms.

I saw the flicker of pain, quickly masked, when I mentioned Brannagh’s focus on Vale’s mate. Neither my wolf or I liked that very much. Could Kieran’s heart have been shattered by the pretty Omega who chose Ronan Vale’s raw power over Silvercrest’s gilded comforts?

If so, it could be what’s making him cautious. He’s wary of being burned again. I shrug it off, deciding it will make the eventual surrender, when I finally fuck him, all the sweeter. He'll appreciate my straightforward desire after dealing with a brat who likely played games with his heart.

I’m not soft like an Omega. I’m certainly not small and in need of protection either. Kieran may believe that’s what he wants, but I’ll prove to him that he needs someone who can manhandle him.

I’m an Alpha. I don’t offer submission. I demand interaction, friction, an equal clash of wills. And Kieran, despite his picturesque exterior, responded to that. He didn't back down. He met my challenge, even as his mind fought his body’s attraction. That’s far more interesting.

Thinking about fighting him for dominance is like pouring gasoline on a bonfire. The idea of teaching that disciplined body how to unravel, how to lose control, how to beg… it’s a fantasy potent enough to make my blood run thick.

The door opens abruptly, interrupting my pleasant thoughts. Marcus stands there, impassive as ever. Behind him, a small, nervous-looking man clutches a measuring tape like a lifeline. Ah, the tailor. Prompt service. Kieran must be eager to have me properly clothed. Hopefully so he can play dress-up with me later.

“Follow me to your new quarters,” Marcus states flatly, his eyes sweeping over me with their habitual suspicion. “The tailor is here to get your measurements. Play nice, or he leaves and you stay in your ill-fitting rags.”

“I don’t think your Alpha would like that, Marcus. He’s made it clear he wants me to look my best. But I promise to play nice, lead the way.”

The room is very comfortably appointed, with an adjoining private bathroom. If this is where they put the riff-raff who are under scrutiny, I can’t help but wonder what their guest rooms look like.

The tailor hovers nervously and I spread my arms wide, offering myself up for inspection with a wolfish grin. “By all means, measure away.”

The tailor approaches hesitantly, eyes darting between me and Marcus, like a mouse caught between two predators.

He smells faintly of chalk dust and overwhelming fear. Poor little creature. I hold still while he takes measurements, his hands trembling slightly when they inevitably brush against my skin. I deliberately flex my bicep when he measures my arm, just to watch him swallow hard and fumble the tape. Marcus’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Excellent. Even the guard dog feels the tension.

“Any… preferences, sir?” the tailor stammers, studiously avoiding my eyes.

“Something practical for training,” I say easily, projecting relaxed confidence. “I have a particular fondness for black leather, but I’m happy to wear whatever makes your Alpha’s heart race.”

I allow a suggestive warmth into my tone. “Green, perhaps? Or maybe that deep violet he favors, the color of his eyes when he’s fighting arousal. Something that commands respect.”

I let a smirk play on my lips as I meet Marcus’s stony gaze over the tailor's bowed head. “And it needs to fit properly across the shoulders. I wouldn’t want to look sloppy when advising the Alpha on matters of war… and pleasure.”

The tailor nods frantically, scribbling notes as if his life depends on it. Marcus just watches, his expression unchanging, but I sense his disapproval thickening the air. Let him watch. Let him report back to Kieran that the Redmaw wolf isn't just settling in, he's making himself comfortable.

When the tailor scurries away, looking profoundly relieved, Marcus narrows his eyes at me. “Stay away from Alpha Kieran unless he calls for you. Guards will be posted outside.”

Hmm. That has to mean I’m close to the Alpha’s private chambers. Interesting. Kieran must want me within easier reach. I’ll make it worth his while when he pays a visit.

Marcus turns on his heel and stalks out behind the tailor, leaving me alone to get fully settled in.

Kieran must think keeping me close by is a strategic necessity. He doesn’t realize he’s just moved the wolf deeper into the flock, and shortened the leash just enough for me to start testing the collar.

I stretch out on the new bed, hands laced behind my head again, the mattress considerably softer than anything I’ve slept on before. I bounce a few times and decide it will do for my first tryst with Kieran. I’d quite happily fuck him on the forest floor, truth be told.

The game is escalating beautifully.

Kieran is undeniably drawn to me, as he should be. Unraveling him won't be quick or easy. He’ll fight me every step of the way, with his sharp, silver tongue, icy glares, and the infuriatingly beautiful control he clings to like a shield.

Gods, I can’t wait to break his defenses down one by one, until he allows me to ravish him completely.