16. Mouth of the Beast

Aria staggered back, her breath hitching in her throat as she watched Mason walk toward her, his eyes burning with a fury so potent it made her wolf cower. There was something unhinged in his expression, like the quiet before a brutal storm.

Every step he took, she countered with one of her own in retreat. Even as her head spun and her balance faltered, she couldn’t stop moving... Couldn’t stand to be caught in the eye of whatever wrath he was about to unleash. 

She didn’t understand why he was so angry, but she felt it. It radiated off of him like a wildfire closing in.

Then, her back slammed against the rooftop’s low wall. Cold stone met her spine. She gasped, instinctively glancing over her shoulder. 

A nauseating wave of dizziness surged through her, and her knees buckled. The world tilted.

In that split second, she knew: she was going to fall.

Her eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the drop.

But it never came.

Instead, heat. Strength. Two arms—strong, unyielding—wrapped around her waist and pulled her in. Her eyes flew open.

Mason.

His face was too close, his scent flooding her senses, his grip like iron—but it wasn’t the safety that stunned her. It was the raw intensity in his eyes. Like he had nearly lost something precious. Like she was that precious thing.

“A-Alpha… I-I mean, C-Chairman Mason—”

She didn’t finish. He didn’t let her.

His lips crushed against hers.

Uninvited. Unspoken. But not unwanted.

Aria froze at first, but only for a moment. Then something deep within her, something buried under layers of humiliation and heartbreak, cracked open.

She melted into him. Her hands found his shoulders, then slid around his neck. Her body betrayed her hesitation.

This kiss—it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire. Raw, consuming, desperate.

She had never kissed Elliot like this. Never felt anything like this.

She felt him licked her lips, sucked them gently, and she let him.

Mason lifted her effortlessly and placed her on the flat ledge behind them that surrounds the skylight window of the hotel, bringing them to eye level. 

She let herself go. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The heat between them was unbearable, maddening.

But just when she thought she’d drown in it, he pulled away.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as he looked at her with a wicked smirk and murmured, “There. All done.”

“What?” Aria blinked, dazed.

He pointed at her lips. “They’re healed.”

Her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Mason said, eyes gleaming. “Alpha's saliva can heal wounds… especially against wounds caused by other alphas.”

His voice dropped an octave. Dangerous. Possessive. The kind of tone that made her wolf stir in warning.

Aria’s entire body went still. Her drunken haze couldn't shield her from the sheer weight of his power.

That voice—that fury—was not just anger. It was vengeance.

She remembered the rumors. The tales whispered behind closed doors. The number of enemies he crushed, bones he shattered to rise to where he stood. He had always been more beast than man.

Her thoughts scattered when he touched her cheek.

His thumb ran slowly across her jaw, pausing on the light bruise at her chin, then brushing upward to the deeper purple at her cheekbone. His face darkened further.

He clicked his tongue and said coldly, “Why did you let this happen to you? You should’ve left him long ago.”

She gently pushed his hand away, shame creeping into her eyes. “Because I loved him,” she whispered. “He was my mate.”

Mason’s expression hardened. “No,” he said, voice low and sharp. “He’s not.”

Aria snapped her gaze up to him, disbelief painted every line of her face. “Yes, he is! How can you—how dare you say that?”

But Mason’s voice softened—not in weakness, but in deep sorrow. “If he were your fated mate… he couldn’t have rejected you so easily. Seeing you with someone else should’ve broken him. Watching you suffer should’ve destroyed him.”

Her chest tightened, torn between rage and the painful truth of his words.

“And how would you even know?” she bit back. “You didn’t marry your mate either. You never found her. So don’t talk to me about pain you haven’t lived.”

Her words were sharp, but deep down, they rang hollow.

Because he was right.

The pain she had expected—the soul-shattering devastation she braced for—had never truly come. And now, standing here, with Mason’s presence swallowing her whole, she realized something terrifying:

Her heart didn’t feel heavy anymore.

Not when he was near.

She moved to get off the ledge, shaken, but Mason stopped her with a firm hand on her thigh.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured. “I just… I hate seeing you this way. Let me heal the rest… before you go.”

She stared at him, startled. “And… how do you plan on doing that?”

Mason’s mouth curved into a slow, roguish smile. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Oh,” he said, voice velvet and sin. “You’ll see.”

Aria’s throat tightened as she swallowed, her breath catching in her lungs. Her wide, uncertain eyes locked onto Mason, every part of her trembling with anticipation. She didn’t move, couldn’t move—caught between fear and desire, waiting for whatever came next.

Mason raised his hand again, his fingers grazing her cheek with a gentleness that betrayed the storm in his eyes. “May I?” he asked, voice low and almost reverent.

She gave a small nod, her lips parting as she fought to still the wild rhythm of her heart. Inside her, her wolf stirred—howling, thrashing, clawing toward him.

Then Mason leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue to her skin was searing. It ran slowly along the edge of her bruised chin, then up to her cheekbone where the mark still lingered. It was intimate, healing... possessive.

But he didn’t stop there.

With deliberate movements, he took her arm and slid her sleeve up. His lips followed, tracing over every wound, his tongue soothing each injury with a tenderness that felt almost too sacred to bear. He repeated it on the other arm, the touch electric, worshipful.

And when he was done, he leaned close and whispered against her ear, “This isn’t free, Aria. Let me take what’s mine.”

She snapped her eyes open, startled, confused. “Wha—?”

But she never finished.

Mason's mouth descended on hers, stealing the words from her lips in a kiss that shattered all restraint.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness—only raw hunger. He kissed her like a man who had waited too long, suffered too much, and now refused to hold back.

Aria melted into him, the intensity of the moment swallowing her whole. His hand slid beneath her shirt, finding the clasp of her bra with uncanny precision. One flick, and it gave way.

Then his palm was on her breast—firm, warm, claiming. She gasped into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she breathed as he pulled away from her lips, only to trail down to her neck. His mouth moved with maddening precision—sucking, biting, worshipping. She instinctively tilted her head, offering more of herself, lost to sensation.

And still, he didn’t stop.

His hand trailed lower, sliding between her thighs. He spread her legs with commanding ease, his fingers brushing up her inner thighs with a tantalizing slowness that made her squirm.

Then—contact.

The press of his thumb over the damp fabric between them made her jolt.

‘She’s soaked,’ Mason thought, and the knowledge sent a dark thrill through him.

“Ma–Mason…” she moaned, breathy, desperate, and it nearly undid him. His wolf snarled inside, restless and possessive.

He rubbed her slowly, deliberately, drawing out the pleasure, letting her burn under his touch. He leaned in again, lips brushing her ear.

“You like it, little—”

*BANG!*

A sharp noise sliced through the night like a blade. Mason’s head snapped toward the sound, a snarl rising in his throat, fury darkening his eyes. Whoever had interrupted them had just stepped into the mouth of the beast.