Chapter 5

Seducing the Alpha

Azalea~

The Velvet Eclipse Club was buried deep in the mountain side, a den of red lights, heavy bass, and crazy wolves who came here to hunt or be hunted. 

I stepped inside feeling like both prey and predator, my heart racing faster, but I held still.

The short black dress I wore was pure filth. It barely covered my ass, the neckline plunging so low my breasts were one wrong move away from spilling out completely. No bra. No panties. Just bare, sensitive skin underneath, already slick from the mix of rage and twisted anticipation churning inside me. 

Every step made the fabric brush against my swollen pussy, sending unwanted sparks up my spine.

I was here to return his golden card.

At least, that was the excuse I kept repeating in my head as I walked through the crowd toward the VIP section.

Roman sat alone in a shadowed booth like he owned the darkness itself. Legs spread wide, one arm draped lazily over the back of the seat, his powerful frame relaxed but radiating danger. The moment his eyes lifted and landed on me, something shifted in the air. 

His gaze dragged slowly down my body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the way the dress sat on my body, exposing my curves. The way my nipples pressed hard against the thin fabric.

My pussy clenched hard at that look. Heat flooded between my legs. I hated how my body reacted to him, how it remembered exactly how full he had made me that night.

I walked straight up to his booth and stopped between his spread thighs, close enough that my knees nearly brushed his. Close enough that if he reached out, he could slide his hand under my dress and find me dripping.

“I came to return this,” I said, holding out the golden card. My voice came out lower, breathier than I wanted.

He didn’t take it immediately. Just stared at me with that cold, unreadable mask, jaw tight, eyes dark as the forest outside.

I pressed forward, leaning down so my breasts were inches from his face. “You’ve been avoiding me all day after I saw you fucking that woman in your office. I thought maybe you’d prefer the real thing. Someone who actually knows how to take your cock.”

I placed one hand on his hard thigh, fingers sliding higher, brushing near to the bulge I could already see forming in his pants. “I’m not wearing anything under this dress, Roman. My pussy is bare. Still sore from how deep you fucked me.” A soft smile displayed on my face. “All you have to do is reach under and take what you want.”

His breathing remained steady, but I saw the slight flex of his jaw. His hand twitched on the back of the booth like he was fighting the urge to grab me.

I leaned closer, lips brushing his ear, my voice a husky whisper. “Bend me over this table. Fuck me right here where everyone can see. Make me scream your name like I did last time. Use me. Ruin me again. I know you want to.”

For one heartbeat, his fingers brushed the bare skin of my thigh, so close to where I was throbbing for him. My breath caught. Heat pooled low in my belly, waiting for his finger to touch my soaked folds.

Then he snatched the card from my hand in one swift motion, stood up abruptly, and walked away without a single word. Leaving me standing there like a discarded toy in the middle of the VIP section.

The rejection hit me like ice water poured down my spine.

I ground my teeth as I sank slowly into the booth, chest tight, anger and embarrassment twisting together into something ugly. 

My eyes stung with tears that I fought to push back. 

He didn’t want me. Not really. All that heat I thought I saw in his eyes earlier must have been in my head. I was just the pathetic, rejected Beta who got publicly humiliated. 

Even dressed like this, even offering myself so blatantly, he could walk away like I was nothing.

I grabbed an empty glass from the table and poured whiskey into it, gulping it down in one burning swallow. The liquid scorched my throat but did nothing to ease the humiliation.

“Fucking bastard,” I muttered under my breath, pouring another glass. “Arrogant, cold-hearted prick. I hope your cock rots off. I hope you choke on your own pride.”

Glass after glass went down. The alcohol burned through my veins, making everything feel sharper and fuzzier at the same time. My head swam. My pussy still throbbed angrily, frustrated and neglected.

A man slid into the booth across from me. Decent looking, but nothing compared to Roman. His eyes roamed hungrily over my barely covered body.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He closed the gap between us. “Looking for some real company tonight? That dress is begging to come off. I could take you to the back room and bury my face between those thighs until you forget whatever put that angry look on your pretty face.”

“I’m not interested,” I said flatly, not even looking at him properly.

He laughed and moved even closer. “Come on, don’t be like that. A girl dressed like you in a place like this is clearly looking to get fucked. Let me feel how wet that pussy is. I bet you’re dripping.”

“I said no,” I blew out, stood up to leave, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me hard against his body. 

His hand slid down and gripped my ass under the short dress, fingers brushing against my bare, slick pussy.

“Stop playing hard to get, you little slut—”

Rage broke out inside me. I snatched the glass and threw the rest of the whiskey straight into his face.

He roared in anger and slapped me hard across the cheek. Pain exploded across my face. My head snapped to the side as I stumbled back, tasting blood.

I moved to slap him back when a bottle smashed against his head with a sickening crack.

Roman appeared as a storm unleashed. His nose flared with a furrowed forehead.

He was on the man instantly, fists flying with brutal, merciless force. Punch after punch landed with wet, cracking sounds. Blood sprayed across the floor. The man tried to fight back but it was useless. Roman was pure Alpha rage; savage, unstoppable, completely lost to the violence.

“Stop!” I shouted, grabbing his arm. “Roman, stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He shoved me away so hard I fell back onto the booth seat. His eyes were wild, completely feral. He kept punching, again and again, until the man stopped moving entirely. Just a bloody, broken mess on the floor of the VIP section.

The entire club had gone dead silent. Everyone was staring.

I sat frozen, heart hammering in my chest, staring at the monster I was trying to seduce. At the raw, terrifying power he kept hidden behind that cold mask.

What the hell had I started?

And why did part of me feel something close to relief that he had come for me?