Chapter 10: The King's Manor

ALEX

My first night in the home of Alpha of Alphas.

His gammas led me up to these quarters a couple hours back, and though I replied with an air of disinterest, it's like Adrian knew what I wanted before a word rolled down my tongue. 

Deep wine and cream sheets lay over the soft bed, while the soft hue of the moonlight spills inside from the half-drawn curtain.

It smells of cedar and smoke.

Adrian's scent. 

Which tells me he probably had this card up his sleeve even before I agreed to stay here.

Why do I still remember his scent?!

I need to focus.

I need to endure.

It's only my first night. 

But with every second that ticks by, my resolve falters. 

I turn to my side. Then to the other. Pull the covers up. Push them down. Nothing helps.

I can't sleep.

Every time I close my eyes, I see him.

The glint in his gaze. The warmth of his skin when he was too close. The way my name sounded in his voice.

Low, deliberate, like he was testing how much control I really had left.

Gods. Why does it feel like my body remembers him better than my mind wants to?

I press my palms to my eyes, willing the thoughts away, but they only pulse harder.

His hand at my waist. The rough drag of breath between us. 

The way everything inside me had gone utterly still and alive all at once.

I exhale, sharp and shaky.

He’s a king, Alex. A damn Lycan King. And I’m lying here thinking about how his mouth felt when he—

“Stop,” I whisper to the ceiling. But it’s no use. The images won’t fade.

At some point, exhaustion takes over. My body finally begins to loosen, my breaths slowing as sleep drags me under.

I feel a warmth in my mouth.

Slow. Unhurried. 

The taste explodes at the back of my throat, carrying the scent of warm honey down my body. 

His nails crept down my thighs.

Stirring my skin in a continuous circle. 

Sizzles of electricity shoot up my spine, moans escaping from my mouth on their own. 

His tongue brushes against my neck. 

His steady hands tracing temptations closer to my core.

I want more. 

I want more so bad. 

My moans get louder. 

The pace naturally quickens. 

My mind loses the battle between normalcy and ecstasy. My insides turn in an unholy mix, the helms of control slowly losing a grip on my body.

What am I doing?

Why can't I stop?

Why am I remembering… all that happened between us just last night?!!

I can't. 

I can't lose.

Not to a man like him.

Not when I know exactly what he's after!

I jolt awake.

My chest rises and falls too fast, too heavy. 

The room feels warmer than before. 

My hair clings to the side of my face, my pulse a drum in my throat.

The dream still burns behind my eyelids. His voice. His breath. The way I’d—

“Get a grip, Alex” I exhale sharply, throwing the sheets aside. 

The words come out dry, unconvincing. 

My hands are trembling. My legs ache in a way that makes no sense. And underneath the exhaustion… something else lingers. Heat.

Then I hear it.

A sound.

Faint but clear, it slices through the silence.

A breathless moan.

At first, I think it’s part of the memory still looping in my head. 

But then it comes again. Real.

Echoing faintly through the ceiling beams.

I freeze.

No. No, that can’t—

But the rhythm that follows…

Muffled, uneven, distinctly human…

…leaves no room for denial.

It’s coming from upstairs.

My throat goes dry.

Of course it is.

This is his part of the manor. 

His quarters. 

Adrian's Quarters.

And the sounds. 

Low, heady, rising in waves… belong to no dream.

For a long moment, I just stand there, motionless in the dark, every breath caught between fury and something I can’t even name.

I should lie back down. Pretend I didn’t hear it. Pretend I don’t care.

Because I don't.

But I move anyway.

Each step I take feels stolen, quiet on the polished floors. 

The air grows heavier as I climb. 

The closer I get, the clearer it becomes.

The moans, the soft laughter, the whisper of his voice.

The corridor is dim. 

But the last door at the end is slightly ajar, light spilling from inside.

My pulse hammers against my ribs.

I don’t know what I expect to see.

Or maybe I do, and I just want to prove myself wrong.

The sound grows louder. A shadow shifts across the floor.

I stop right before the doorway. 

My hand almost reaches for the handle, but then freezes midair.

Through the narrow gap, I can see just enough to understand.

The movement. The silhouette. The unmistakable timbre of his voice.

And suddenly, my lungs collapse.

Why am I even surprised.

The rumors weren't just rumors after all.