Mi Alfa (The Possessive Alphas Series 1)

*Capitulo Uno*

The bed hung suspended in the void, its frame forged of ancient gold, carved with symbols that seems to pulse with a celestial glow, yet every curve and carved line whispered of corruption—wings stretched across the headboard, angelic in shape but fractured, twisted, their edges sharpened like blades. The gilded frame carried the majesty of a divine godly throne. Deep crimson silk like sheets with silvery glow adorned it. The bed swayed gently as if mocking the carnage below. Fire roared and spat, devouring the darkness, its glow illuminating rivers of blood that pooled around dismembered corpses scattered everywhere like discarded offerings. The stench of scorched flesh clawed at the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood and the smoke of the flames.

When Allistair's eyes fluttered open, this is the scene that welcomed him, and he found himself on this very bed—naked, vulnerable, his pale skin glowed with the reflection of firelight. His wrists and feet were shackled by chains of pure gold, linking him to the bedposts like a sacrifice. Even the chains seemed alive, glowing silvery golden light, as though it was forged from a divine metal that imprison him in hell's embrace.

It should have terrified him. It should have driven him to despair.

But it did not.

Instead, it called to him—seduced him. The metallic stench of blood was intoxicating, the inferno's warmth a twisted comfort.

Suddenly his eyesight left him and he felt a man's touch all over his body. His nipples were played till sore his neck licked by a tongue and bitten till it left a bruised mark. The phantom's touch was not warm it was scorching hot. It left him wanting, needy and out of breath.

"Amor meus, tu meus es" (My love, you're mine). The words slithered into Allistair's mind in a language he had never heard before, yet somehow, he understood them perfectly.

A wet warmth grazed his ear, followed by the scrape of fangs that sent a jolt of fear and desire racing through his body. The man's breath was hot against his skin as he inhaled deeply, savoring Allistair's scent. A hand, large and menacing with long, sharp claws, traced a slow, sensual path across his body. The touch was both tender and possessive, sending sparks of pleasure through him as the claws raked lightly over his flesh.

The hand wandered lower, until it reached his most intimate place, brushing against him with an erotic insistence that made his body arch involuntarily, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

"Nnnghh... no... sto p... ahhh,

Allistair gasped, his voice trembling between resistance and surrender.

The man's teeth grazed his neck before sinking in, the sharp sting quickly melting into an intoxicating sensation. It should have hurt, but instead, pleasure rippled through him, each sip of his blood sending electric shivers down his spine. He whimpered, then moaned, his breath catching as his body betrayed him.

"Hnnn... ahhh... oh god... no... fuck.."

He tried to move, to turn around and face the man who was driving him wild, but he was completely immobilized, every muscle locked in a state of helpless ecstasy. His arousal peaked, and he was on the verge of climax when............

"Zaney, Zaney! HEY, ZANEY!"

His sister's voice shattered the moment, yanking him out of his fevered dream.

"Fuck, Allex!" he groaned, jerking upright and glaring at her. "You didn't need to scream in my ear!"

"And what the hell are you doing in my room? I'm too damn tired for whatever nonsense you're here for," Allistair added, rubbing his eyes with frustration.

He loved his sister, but there were moments when she could be unbearable. Still, he was secretly thankful she had pulled him out of that disturbing dream. Allex, an alpha girl who shared his appearance but had striking green eyes, remained unfazed by his irritation. Instead, she covered her nose with a look of disgust, which caught Allistair off guard.

"What's with the nose thing?" he snapped, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, Zaney, first off, it's 12:30 PM, and Father's losing his mind and is pissed off trying to get you up, so dad instruct me to come hear and wake you up. The banquet starts in 30 minutes, and both of them are pissed you're not ready. Secondly.. did you just have a wet dream? I heard you moaning and whimpering, and now the room smells like... cum," she teased, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

Allistair's eyes went wide in horror. He quickly sniffed the air, then peeked under the blanket. Fuck. He really had cum.

"Fuck, just get out, Allex! I'm going to wash up and get dressed. Tell them I'll be downstairs in a minute." Allistair snapped, his patience wearing thin. If he had to see that smug grin on her face for another second, he might lose it. She was so damn annoying.

"Geez, Zaney! Hahaha, did some dominant alpha fuck you to oblivion in your dreams?" Allex taunted, her laughter echoing off the walls. She knew exactly how to get under his skin. Before he could respond, she darted out of the room, narrowly avoiding the kick he aimed at her.

"Fucking hell, Allex, you witch! Stop it! And for the love of God, quit calling me that cringe nickname!" His voice was laced with frustration, but her laughter continued to mock him from the hallway.

"Sure, sure, Zaney! Hahaha! Don't forget to wear the suit Dad made for you!" she shouted back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. That nickname—how he loathed it. Allistair clenched his fists, teeth grinding as he imagined wiping that smirk off her face. She knew exactly how to push his buttons and reveled in it.

Allex always knew how to get the last word, leaving him fuming in her wake.

He glanced at the rose gold wall clock—it was indeed 12:30 PM. As if he cared. They all knew he fucking hated the king. If his father hadn't insisted on that damn suit, he wouldn't even consider going.

The mere thought of the king made his blood boil. That bastard had the audacity to burn his house to the ground just to drag him back, all because his father—his so-called friend—had ordered him to use any means necessary. He had run away to escape becoming the next alpha, and the king had made sure he couldn't get away.

As a retaliation when he got home, he burned the king's favorite painting which by the way was painted by his mother and oh he didn't know that. The painting was very valuable to the king. He heard the king and his father talk about it. He sneaked inside the king's palace and went to the king's secret library which he found through a connection and burned down the painting and in turn burning all the other paintings inside including some important documents and all the books inside.

The first time they faced off was explosive. The king stormed inside their casa with his majestic self, his aura radiating anger, on the Rosewood Pack territory while his family and some of their pack members were discussing inside the conference hall about a rogue attack at their border reported by the warriors.

Without warning, the king wrapped his hands around his neck applying a high amount of his strength that his arms were bulging. The king's face morphed in anger, his eyes held ruthlessness you could never imagine. He was livid and threw Allistair like a ragdoll. Allistair was afraid yes, nope he was terrified but he won't go down without a fight.

The room erupted into chaos as they clashed. Each of the king's attacks was a brutal display of his skill and strength, and each of Allistair's was a calculated attempt to outmaneuver him. Their fight was a vicious dance of aggression, neither giving an inch. In the end, the confrontation was a bloody testament to their mutual hatred.

Even though he was the king, Allistair couldn't care less. He wouldn't let the royal status or the power intimidate him. They were like fire and gasoline—throw them together, and all hell broke loose. If he had his way, he'd never see him again.

He walked to the bathroom and filled the rose-designed tub with warm water, mixing in a luxurious blend of rosemilk bath powder, honey, jasmine, and vanilla extract. Using his nature magic, he scattered rose petals across the surface, their delicate pink hues floating gently. As he sank into the bath, the soothing aroma enveloped him—a heady mix of sweet vanilla, floral jasmine, and a hint of honey that mingled with the subtle scent of the roses.

The warmth of the water and the fragrant steam created a decadent atmosphere, pulling him into a dreamlike state. The vivid memories of his recent dream resurfaced with unsettling clarity. He recalled the man's touch—intense and commanding—as he bit into his neck. The man's lips had been warm and insistent, his hands roaming possessively over his body. The pleasure was overwhelming, sending waves of heat through him that felt almost too real. He had moaned and whimpered, caught between euphoric bliss and a raw, desperate need.

The dream's erotic tension lingered in his senses as he recalled the sensations of the man's breath on his skin, his biting grip, and the thrilling edge of his dominance. Each touch and caress had driven him to the brink, leaving him exhilarated and helpless in the most tantalizing way.

Just as he was losing himself in these memories, the serenity of the moment was shattered. His father's voice cut through the haze, speaking through the pack link, his irritation palpable.

"Allistair, are you almost done? Your dad and I are growing impatient."

Alexander's voice followed, sharp and reprimanding. "For the love of the gods, Allistair, this isn't a leisurely day at the spa. You're supposed to be preparing for the banquet. I want you downstairs and presentable in the next few minutes."

Raine's voice came next, calm yet firm. "Mio, let's try to keep this civil. Allistair will be down soon."

Alexander's irritation was tempered only by his affection for Raine. "Alright, baby. But if he keeps us waiting any longer, I'm going to lose my patience."

Allex chimed in with her usual teasing tone. "Don't keep them waiting too long, Zaney! They're on edge, and you don't want to be the one to push them over."

With a resigned sigh, Allistair reluctantly pulled himself out of the fragrant bath, the once-relaxing moment now a distant memory, and prepared to face the inevitable chaos.

He stepped out of the bath and walked to the walk-in closet. Retrieving the elegant box adorned with the golden rose logo and the brand name "El Palo De Rosa Luxury Brands," he noted the translation as "Rosewood." Every item he wore was from this prestigious brand, founded by his father Raine Lune Rosewood-Fretzellis, a designed by Raine himself. The suit featured a sleek slux design with no dress shirt, revealing just a hint of Allistair's chest. The breast pocket on the left side held a rose gold-colored pocket square, intricately designed to resemble a rose—a personal touch from his father, reflecting their shared love for the flower. Attached to the suit pocket was a lapel rose flower brooch, and the slux had a light golden rose pattern design on the left side, showcasing the luxurious craftsmanship of the El Palo De Rosa brand.

Allistair styled his hair into a half-bun using a red rose flower hairpin as a tie. He applied rose-scented lip gloss and spritzed on a perfume with a blend of rose and vanilla extracts. To complete the ensemble, he wore his Rolex with a rose gold bloom.

Everything Allistair wore was from the El Palo De Rosa brand, embodying the elegance and sophistication passed down from Raine and Alexander. With his look perfected, he teleported to his secret sanctuary in the forest to gather his thoughts for a minute.

The hidden garden, concealed behind a glass-like waterfall, was a lush haven of blood roses known only to him. In the garden he can be himself and talking to his inner wolf free from the constraints of the demands of being the future alpha. He can paint here peacefully as painting is what he loves to do the most. Speaking of painting, he remembered the ethereal painting that was burned down together with other paintings inside the king's secret library and grimaced. He didn't know it was a painting from the king's mother okay. It was his fault but he was angry at the king for burning his place and in turn burning his paintings too with his favorite blood roses.

Just thinking of the king makes his head ache.

While painting absentmindedly he talked with his wolf.

Lilione's voice resonated within him.

"Allistair, I dislike the king."

Allistair's smile curled slightly, pulling the brush against the canvas.

"You don't like anyone, Lilione."

A low rumble of laughter issued from within.

"Yes. But him? He burned down our home. That's not something I'll forget."

Allistair's hand paused for a moment, his jaw flexing.

"I haven't forgotten myself. Still. Father said it had to be done."

Lilione snorted.

"Your father can talk all he wants. Doesn't mean I need to wag my tail and be friendly."

That drew out a small laugh from Allistair.

"You never wag your tail. You're too arrogant for that."

"Exactly," Lilione answered haughtily. Then, quieter, "Just promise me, don't let your guard down around him."

Allistair dipped the tip of his brush into the paint, nodding slowly.

"With you reminding me, how could I?

Feeling a sense of contentment, Allistair finished his painting and when he looked at it. He was taken aback of what he painted absentmindedly while talking to his inner wolf. It was the painting of King Samael's face

Well fuck me! He cussed silently while his wolf echoed the same words in his mind

Feeling irritated he left his sanctuary and teleported to the living room, where his family awaited.

His father Raine Lune Rosewood-Fretzellis, a white omega wolf and descendant of the moon goddess, had a calm yet commanding presence. Raine's affection for roses was reflected not just in their home but also in his gentle demeanor. As Raine saw Allistair in the suit, his eyes lit up with pride. "Allistair, you look absolutely stunning. I'm so grateful you wore the suit I designed. It means a lot to me."

Allistair felt a warm rush of love for his dad. "Thanks, Dad. I know you put a lot of thought into this suit, and it's perfect. I appreciate it."

Alexander Vaughn Fretzellis-Rosewood, Allistair's other father, was the dominant alpha of the pack and a black werewolf. His imposing figure and authoritative presence were a stark contrast to Raine's tranquility. Alexander's irritation was palpable as he addressed Allistair. "Allistair, you're running late. I expect you to be punctual, especially given the significance of tonight's banquet at Casa Del Fiero."

Allistair shot back, his voice laced with resentment. "I still don't understand why I have to go. You know how much I despise that king. He burned my house down just to force me to come back home when I ran away. And you only agreed to it because the king is your friend. You know how much I hate that you talked to him just to drag me back for my future alpha duties. I don't care about his pompous gatherings, especially with my coronation tomorrow."

Alexander's eyes flashed with frustration. "You're going because it's important for our family's standing. I don't care about your personal grievances. The king may be insufferable, but this banquet, we have to go. The king is my friend and I don't want to let him down and also you're my son the future alpha of the pack so you have to come too"

Raine, maintaining his calm demeanor, interjected gently. "Alexander, perhaps we should give Allistair a bit more understanding. He has strong feelings about this, and it's not easy for him to put them aside."

Allex Xaine Fretzellis, an alpha white wolf with striking golden streaks, entered the room and took in Allistair's appearance with an appreciative gaze. Her eyes lingered on the sleek design of his suit. "Wow, Zaney, you look absolutely stunning. That suit is perfection. And those rose details-so unmistakably you."

Her grin widened, carrying an underlying hint of mischief. "Just don't go all brooding tonight. Remember, the king might be a pain, but with you looking like this, he might just fall for you. Or maybe he'll be drawn to you because he can't help himself. Who knows? He might just be trying to outshine you because he's already noticed."

Allistair's smirk was tinged with a mix of amusement and disgust. His eyes flashed with a subtle edge of defiance. "Oh, I'm sure the king will be too absorbed in his own thoughts to truly see me. But if he does notice, Allex, I'll make sure to give him a performance he won't forget."

He adjusted his suit with deliberate confidence, every detail a testament to the craftsmanship of El Palo De Rosa, his father's luxury brand. Despite the elegance of his outfit, Allistair's thoughts were clouded with disdain for the king, whose presence he found increasingly irritating. Also add that he remembered how he, paint him just a while ago made his mood even sour.

As he prepared to leave for Casa Del Fiero, the grand palace of King Samael Lucian DelFierro, the stark contrast between the serene beauty of his secret sanctuary and the vibrant energy of the mansion reminded him of the complex balance he had to maintain. The night ahead promised to be a test of both his composure and resolve, and Allistair was ready to meet it with a blend of confident elegance and quiet rebellion.