Alpha’s Desire 5

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Why did you call for me, Zaria?”

Damian’s voice was deep and calm, yet it echoed inside Zaria’s chest as though trapped in an endless corridor. Each word pierced her senses—not a simple question, but something that felt more like an accusation... or a summons from something unseen.

Zaria flinched. Still caught between the remnants of her dream and her waking consciousness, she began to doubt her own sanity. Confusion tangled in her thoughts. Instead of explaining why he was in her room, Damian had turned the question back on her.

“W-what?” Zaria stammered, swallowing hard. Panic flickered across her face. “I called you?”

Damian didn’t answer. He simply looked at her in silence, allowing the tension to grow heavier with each passing second.

Zaria’s nerves frayed further. His gaze was sharp and unwavering, yet not cold; it felt invasive, as though it stripped bare every hidden thought she had.

“Professor, you must be mistaken,” Zaria said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t call you. I didn’t even phone you.” She glanced quickly at her phone, which was lying on the desk. The screen was black and silent, deep in sleep mode. “You must be mistaken, Professor.”

Damian didn’t move. “You didn't call me with your phone, Zaria,” he said slowly. “You called me with your mind.”

Zaria frowned, her confusion deepening. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Weren’t you imagining me just now?” Damian’s tone was soft but unnervingly intimate, like a whisper slithering into her mind and echoing within. “You were thinking of me, weren’t you?”

Zaria’s eyes widened in shock. “P-Professor, I didn’t—’

'Don't lie to me, Zaria,” said Damian, cutting her off. His voice was calm, yet it was filled with an invisible force that froze her in place. “Haven’t you learned from experience? There’s no point in trying to deceive me.” He narrowed his eyes slightly; the gesture itself radiated intimidation. “You can’t lie to me.”

Zaria’s heartbeat quickened. She couldn’t understand why every word from Damian seemed to cut deeper than just sound. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she whispered, barely audible.

Damian lowered his head, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips. “Then be honest with me. Why did you call me?”

Zaria said nothing. Her tongue felt heavy and useless. She knew there was no answer she could give. All she could do was avoid Damian’s piercing gaze. Deep down, she silently prayed that he would stop there.

Ironically, he didn’t. Instead of letting her off the hook, he continued to corner her, his presence growing more and more oppressive.

“In that case,” Damian said softly, “let me change the question.” He leaned closer, lowering his head until his breath brushed her ear. “What do you think about me?”

Zaria froze. The room suddenly felt smaller and the air felt thicker. Her chest tightened and her mind spun. There was no way she could tell him the truth about the things she imagined when she thought of Damian: his deep, resonant voice that always made her heart race; his strikingly handsome face; and those cold, piercing eyes that somehow still managed to set her aflame. She could never humiliate herself by admitting that she was consumed by the image of him, his presence woven into her every breath.

After waiting for a while and receiving no answer from her, Damian called, “Zaria, you still refuse to be honest, don’t you?”

Zaria’s face showed quiet despair; she was utterly unsure of how to respond. To her, Damian’s question felt less like genuine curiosity and more like a whip in disguise. She lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

Damian straightened his back, breaking the silence with a faint click of his tongue. “I didn’t think you’d be such a stubborn student,” he said, taking a slow breath before continuing. “In that case, I have no other choice. If you won’t be honest, then I’ll have to punish you.”

Zaria's head shot up in shock. “W-what?”

Damian reached for her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. They now stood face-to-face; their gazes locked in a tense standoff.

Zaria was flustered, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Professor, what are you going to do?”

Damian lifted his hand, his fingers finding her chin and tilting it upwards. His voice dropped to a near whisper and his lips were so close that she could feel his breath as he said, “I'm going to punish you, Zaria.”

Her eyes widened. Her heart began to pound erratically, as if it no longer belonged to her. She couldn’t move—a stiffness had rooted her to the spot and her breath was faltering as Damian guided her backwards.

One step. Two steps. Zaria kept retreating while Damian advanced calmly and deliberately, like a shadow following light.

The air in the room shifted instantly. The temperature fell, sending shivers rippling across her skin. Goosebumps prickled her arms as time itself seemed to slow in the heavy silence.

The desk lamp flickered once, twice, then went out, leaving only a faint glow from the window.

Damian closed the remaining distance. His silhouette emerged from the dimness, steady and imposing, until he stood right before her—so close that there was barely enough space for a breath between them.

Damian’s sharp gaze pinned Zaria in place, not with anger, but with control. The air around him thickened and became charged as though the atmosphere itself was bending to his will. “Look at me, Zaria.”

As if under a spell, she obeyed. Zaria lifted her face and met his eyes. Instantly, her whole body tensed. Fear mingled with something else—something faint yet thrilling—that pulsed deep within her chest.

“Now,” said Damian, his voice low and resonant with a subtle vibration—not from emotion, but from restrained power. “Feel everything you’ve been hiding. Your fear. Your desire to resist. Everything you’ve tried to keep from me.”

Zaria stepped back, desperate to create distance and catch her breath. But Damian followed. Her heel caught the edge of the bed and, with a soft gasp, she lost her balance, falling backwards onto the mattress.

A small cry escaped her throat before silence reclaimed the room. Damian stood before her, tall and unshaken, his shadow spilling across her like something alive.

Damian tilted his head slightly to hold her gaze, and for the first time, Zaria caught a flicker of something foreign in his eyes. In that moment, a strange current surged through her—warm, aching and hollow all at once.

The shadows around them seemed to ripple and shift like liquid. The world itself felt as if it were splitting open, trapping Zaria at its centre.

Zaria bit her lower lip, clasping her hands tightly together over her chest. “Professor…”

Damian ignored the faint tremor in her voice. Instead, he undid the buttons on his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Zaria shivered. The strange current inside her grew stronger and more uncontrollable as he unfastened his wristwatch and tossed it aside without a second thought.

Damian didn’t stop there. He moved his fingers to the front of his chest and unfastened three buttons on his shirt, revealing the expanse of his sculpted torso.

Zaria held her breath. She couldn’t breathe as Damian drew closer.

Damian leaned down, never breaking eye contact, with one hand braced on the bed beside her. Then he touched her, his other hand rising to trace the outline of her face.

A rush of heat and chill collided within her. Zaria couldn’t move or think as Damian’s fingertips brushed the corner of her lips—or perhaps deep down, she didn’t want to resist at all. Maybe some part of her wanted that touch. “Professor…”

“Ssh.” Damian's voice was a low warning. This time, his eyes no longer met hers. His focus had shifted to her lips. “Don’t speak, Zaria. You’re being punished.”

Without realising it, Zaria obeyed again. She remained silent while Damian's thumb traced slowly over her lips.

Zaria’s lips parted. A soft, unsteady breath escaped her, caressing Damian’s skin.

A faint sound rumbled in Damian’s throat. His eyes lifted to meet hers again.

In that instant, Zaria sensed a change in him. His gaze deepened and sharpened—it wasn’t cold anymore; it was consuming. She felt as if Damian might devour her whole.

The world seemed to stop turning. His eyes pierced straight through her, breaking through every invisible barrier she had built.

“Do I frighten you?” Damian asked in a whisper.

Zaria shook her head slowly, unable to speak.

A faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips. “You’re lying again.”

Zaria wanted to protest, to defend herself, but she knew that denying it would only add to the list of lies he had already seen through. So she said nothing. Her lips remained sealed even as Damian drew closer to her.

The air around them trembled softly, like ripples spreading through water. The night chill was replaced by flickers of heat dancing and sparking in the space between them.

Zaria felt a tightness in her chest, as if something was pressing in from the inside. Her body tensed with anticipation. A fragment of reason screamed warnings while her instincts whispered something else entirely. Expectation. She couldn’t lie; she couldn’t deny that part of her was aching to know what Damian would do next.

A wave of intimate warmth brushed her face—it was Damian’s breath. Their faces were now separated by only a sliver of space. The closer he leaned in, the harder her heart pounded.

Zaria’s hands clenched tighter. A bead of sweat rolled down Damian’s temple and fell onto her face. She blinked, and then, in the next instant, that single drop turned into a flood.

The world collapsed. Darkness swallowed everything. Damian’s face faded away and his voice was replaced by booming laughter.

Zaria gasped softly. A chill tore through her as cold water splashed across her face. She flew awake, her eyes opening wide.

The blinding light from the ceiling lamp forced her to squint. Her vision blurred for a moment before refocusing. In front of her stood Anna, Portia and Iris, each wearing a satisfied expression.

Zaria panted and wiped the water from her face. Drops ran down her hair and dripped onto the floor. Her entire body was soaked. “Y-you guys?”

Portia lowered the empty bucket from her hands. “Oh, thank God! You've finally woken up.”

“Are you insane?” Zaria demanded, realising what had just happened to her. “Why would you do this?”

Anna chuckled lightly, folding her arms and smiling mockingly. “You should be thanking us,” she said, completely unbothered. “We just helped you wake up from your dream.”

Zaria shut her eyes tightly in exasperation. For a moment, Damian’s face flashed through her mind again. She cursed silently to herself. It had all just been a dream.

Zaria’s feelings were in a tangled mess. The fact that she had dreamt of Damian embarrassed her beyond words. She was irritated and her mood was completely shattered. To make matters worse, she now had to deal with Anna, Portia and Iris.

Zaria took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But the cold droplets of water on her face made her realise something far worse.

Zaria’s eyes widened. She turned sharply towards her desk and the laptop sitting on it. “My laptop!” she cried in panic when she saw it was dripping wet. Frantically, she tried to shake the water off, brushing at it as if she could undo the damage. Then she turned to glare at Anna, Portia and Iris, fury flashing in her eyes. “You've gone too far!”

Anna narrowed her gaze at her. “We’re not done yet, Zaria. Just because Professor Damian showed up that day, does that mean everything’s over?” She scoffed. “No, Zaria. Not even close.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Anna!” Zaria shot back. “Why should I take responsibility for a punishment you deserved?”

Anna’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her expression darkened, turning vicious. “You made me look bad in front of Professor Damian. Do you think I’m just going to forget that?”

Zaria stared at her, dumbfounded. “That’s ridiculous. You were at fault, and now you’re blaming me for it?”

‘Ridiculous or not, we don’t care,” Iris sneered, shoving Zaria in the shoulder. “You just need to remember your place.” Her tone dripped with disdain. “Orphans like you should know better than to act like you’re somebody.”

Colour rushed to Zaria’s face, anger and humiliation twisting inside her. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Watch your mouth, Iris,” she said, her voice trembling with fury. “At least I, an orphan, still have better manners than you.”

Iris growled and lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Zaria’s hair. “You little slut!”

Zaria gasped in pain and tried to pry Iris’s hand away. Before she could succeed, however, Anna’s hand came down hard across her cheek.

“Look at you now,” Anna taunted, her tone dripping with venom. “Professor Damian’s favourite student. Tell me, how does it feel to have his attention?”

Zaria ignored Anna’s taunts and continued to struggle to break free. But it was a hopeless fight, three against one.

The longer it went on, the more she was cornered. Anna, Portia and Iris showed no mercy; they pushed, pulled and hit her without pause. Zaria tried to fight back, but she was no match for them.

Pain throbbed in her head. Her vision blurred, not from tears of fear, but from anger and the pain spreading through her body.

“Enough!” Zaria shouted, her voice cracking with rage. “You’re all insane!”

Anna snorted, her hand still gripping Zaria’s shoulder tightly. “I'll show you what insane really means.” She shot a sharp look at Portia and Iris. “Hold her.”

Without hesitation, Portia and Iris obeyed. They grabbed Zaria’s wrists, pinning her in place.

Zaria’s face drained of colour. She tried to pull away, but their grip only tightened. “Anna,” she pleaded weakly, her voice trembling. “Anna, please. Stop.”

But Anna didn’t stop. Her eyes burned with hatred as she stepped closer. She raised her hand, ready to strike again—

“What the hell are you doing?!”

*