37

ALINA

Cassandra’s face remained smooth, emotionless. As if I still wasn’t even worthy of being the dust beneath her stilettos.

I told myself I didn’t care what she thought or how she carried herself but I couldn’t stop replaying the moment Alexander claimed me. Claimed me in front of everyone. Not as something hidden or shamed, not a mistress or a toy but as his mate. The rush in my chest was impossible to ignore, my heart pounding like thunder in my ears.

That same peculiar ache from the other night returned. That buzz between my thighs, the coil in my belly. It unfurled again, slow and hot, and without even thinking, my gaze found Alexander’s. Like I was silently asking him something I didn’t even understand.

Asking for what exactly? I didn’t know. Just that I felt like he did.

He was staring straight at me, as if he could read every nerve and pulse in my body.

“Can we leave?” Cassandra asked, the bland elegance on her face cracking into a visible scowl.

Something sharp and smug flared in me at the sight. She didn’t like what she saw and that meant something. I turned my eyes away when Alexander shifted his attention to her. I already knew what would happen next. He would follow her. Of course he would.

He could scream it to the skies that I was his mate, tattoo it across his skin if he wanted. It didn’t change the truth. I didn’t match him. I was too soft. Too awkward. Too… everything that made no sense beside him.

Then I heard him speak and snapped my head up, too late to catch the words. But I did catch Cassandra’s derisive laugh.

“You’re joking,” she said, not quite laughing, but making a sound meant to humiliate.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His voice wasn’t kind, but there was still something… measured in it. Controlled. He was firm, but not cruel.

It hit me then that she wasn’t just any woman to him. Not someone easily brushed aside. That meant something. Anyone who held Alexander’s respect wasn’t just a passing fling.

So when Cassandra turned that venomous glare on me, like a snake zeroing in, I instinctively stepped back, retreating.

There are two kinds of predators in this world. The kind that back off when they sense you’re one too, and the kind that only let up when you submit.

She was the second kind. A challenger. If you squared up with her, she’d grind you down until you broke. Unless, of course, you truly were stronger.

But I’ve always been honest with myself. I prefer to be safe, even if it means appearing small.

She was no one to provoke. I wasn’t going to risk it.

“Leave us, Cassandra. I need to speak to my mate, alone.”

Alexander’s voice was colder this time. Commanding. She gave him a final withering stare before pivoting away, her heels clicking on the floor like gunshots. That was the only sound in the room. Well, aside from the hammering of my heartbeat, which I was sure he could hear.

I stood still, bracing. Waiting for him to speak. Afraid of what he might say next.

When he moved, my whole body tensed. I wanted to retreat, but I knew better. Something in me knew he wouldn’t tolerate that. My knees were trembling, but I forced myself to stand firm.

I saw his polished black shoes stop in front of me. Then the scent hit me. That blend of sandalwood and dark spice, expensive and wild at once. It took everything I had not to close my eyes and inhale him like air.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough, deep.

I peeked up at him, barely lifting my lashes. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to keep my eyes steady. Every nerve was lit up under the scrutiny of it.

Then his hand came under my chin, tipping it up.

“Not a peek. Look,” he said again, his voice dropping an octave lower. The sound alone made me tremble.

He smirked, clearly pleased with my reaction.

I forced my eyes open, met his gaze fully. It took effort. But I did it. And his smile grew wider with satisfaction.

Then his mouth crashed into mine, stealing all thought.

His fingers buried in my hair, tugging without gentleness. He kissed me like he was starving, like he’d been denied touch for years and was finally allowed to feast. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he backed me into the wall, pressing every hard inch of himself against me.

One hand grabbed my waist tight and I gasped when I felt him. Hard. There. Throbbing. My knees threatened to give way, and if not for his grip, I’d have collapsed.

Alexander kissed with complete control, every sound he made igniting fire under my skin. I melted. Folded. Though I doubted I’d ever really resisted.

Then his hand slid up and cupped my breast. I moaned, unable to keep still as he squeezed, kneaded, pinched. My back arched and I cried into his mouth.

There was too much. I didn’t know where to focus. The ache from his grip in my hair, the hot weight of his palm on my breast, or the way he rolled my nipple between his fingers like he owned it.

His mouth. His tongue. Gods. He kissed me like he was doing something far more intimate, the rhythm obscene and maddening.

I was shaking. Then he pressed his hips into me again, making me feel the full, unforgiving ridge of him.

He pulled back just enough for me to gulp in a ragged breath. But he didn’t stop. He moved lower, kissing my neck, biting hard enough to sting. My arms, which had been hanging limp at my sides, finally rose. I tangled my fingers in his hair. Whether I was trying to push him away or keep him closer, I couldn’t tell.

His teeth sank into the place where my shoulder met my neck, and I gasped, body convulsing from the rush.

Then he stepped back just a little, sliding one hand between us. Down. His fingers found my soaked core. I couldn’t look away from him as he touched me, teased that aching nub with slow, deliberate circles.

His fingers dipped lower. I sucked in a breath as he traced the edge of my opening, smirking against my lips. His lips traced upwards to my ear and he whispered, his voice harsh with arousal.

“Come down for lunch.”