Chapter Six - Aftershock & Command

 

(Damian’s POV)

I had never felt so violently close to tearing my skin off.

The expensive Italian leather of my office chair suddenly felt like a straitjacket. I couldn’t sit still. I couldn’t breathe the air that didn’t smell faintly, agonizingly, of cinnamon and adrenaline. I certainly couldn’t look at the elevator doors without feeling the ghost of Logan’s mouth against mine, the impossible heat of his body pressed against the frigid steel walls.

It had been an hour since the car lurched back to life and the spell broke. An hour since Logan walked out, leaving me alone, gasping, and broken.

My control, the carefully constructed fortress that defined my life, my business, and my tenure as Alpha, had been breached, not by a silver blade or a rival pack, but by a sudden, stupid rush of lust and the overwhelming presence of my fated mate.

Ours. He is ours.

My wolf, usually a low, humming presence, was now a roaring bonfire in my chest, high on triumph. It paced, demanding to know why I hadn't dragged Logan out of the elevator and finished the claiming. I gripped the edge of my desk, white-knuckled.

"Shut up," I muttered into the silence of my glass box. “He’s a player. He’s the enemy. He’s not yours to claim in a moment of weakness.”

But the scent. The way he’d responded. He hadn’t pulled away. He hadn't fought. He’d surged into the kiss like a tide drawn to the moon. Logan Cross might hate me with every arrogant fiber of his being, but his body, the part that held his nascent wolf spirit, had known exactly what was happening.

I grabbed my phone, fingers shaking as I typed out the message to my personal assistant: Find Cross. Inform him I require a meeting. Fifteen minutes. Executive Lounge. No exceptions. No one else.

This meeting wasn’t about hockey. It was about defining territory. I had to redefine the line he’d just obliterated. I had to be the Alpha, the Boss, the man who commanded, not the man who lost himself to a moment of panic and desire.

The Executive Lounge was a sterile, impersonal space overlooking the city skyline, neutral ground, but positioned on my turf. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the vastness of the city spread below me, emphasizing my power. I needed every possible psychological advantage.

Logan, naturally, was late.

Thirteen minutes late, in fact. Enough time for me to run through three different scenarios, all ending with me throwing him through the nearest wall.

When he finally sauntered in, he looked annoyingly fresh. His curly hair was slightly damp, indicating a recent shower, and he wore a dark hoodie that completely defied the lounge’s unspoken dress code. He looked like an unapologetic mess, which only made my sleek, tailored suit feel more like the cage it was.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe, that lethal smirk back in place. He didn't look at all like the man I had just seen trembling with claustrophobia.

I didn't turn around. “Don’t use that tone, Cross. You’re thirteen minutes late for a mandatory meeting.”

“Thirteen minutes? My bad. I was busy trying to figure out if that was a near-death experience or a job interview in that elevator. I guess I got sidetracked.”

The verbal jab was instantaneous. He was pushing me to acknowledge the kiss. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I turned slowly, letting my grey eyes settle on his green ones, letting the cold veneer of the billionaire predator slide into place.

“You’re here because your performance in the last three games has been inconsistent, and your comments to the press are risking our Titan Energy contract,” I lied smoothly. “I called this meeting to remind you of your contractual obligations. You are a multi-million dollar asset, not a spoiled child.”

Logan walked closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He stopped two feet away, a distance that felt violently intimate. “Is that what this is? A performance review? Because last time I checked, I’m leading the team in goals, despite your terrible play calls.”

“Your talent doesn’t negate your insubordination,” I countered, my voice tight. “The team looks to you. When you undermine me, you undermine the entire organization. And frankly, I cannot tolerate it.”

“Tolerate what, Damian?” Logan’s voice dropped, soft and utterly mocking. “The fact that I don’t fear you? Or the fact that you couldn’t keep your hands off me when the lights went out?”

The wolf surged, furious at the dismissal but simultaneously aroused by the honesty. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.

“The incident in the elevator was a moment of stress,” I said, forcing the words out, trying to sound detached. “A reaction to high pressure and a physiological response to panic. It was meaningless.”

Logan let out a sharp, cynical laugh. “Meaningless? That’s what you’re going with? You taste like fire, Blackwell. And you pressed yourself against me hard enough that I felt you begging for more. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself.”

He was good. He knew exactly which button to press to shatter my composure. He wanted to see me bleed, and right now, I was pouring out internally.

“You misunderstand the power dynamic here, Logan,” I warned, taking a step forward. “I own this team. I own your contract. I could bench you, trade you, or void your contract entirely if I felt your ‘attitude’ was a detriment to my business.”

“You won’t,” Logan whispered, his eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. “Because you need me to win the championship, and you know it. That’s the game, isn't it? You can’t afford to lose me to Julian, and you especially can’t afford to lose me now.”

He was right. Damnit, he was always right.

“You think this is a test of will,” I stated, my voice dangerously low. “You think you can play me and walk away unscathed.”

I leaned in, finally giving in to the sheer magnetic pull, letting my breath ghost over his ear.

“I may not be able to trade your contract, Cross, but I can make the rest of your tenure here a living, personalized hell,” I promised, the threat laced with an Alpha command only the wolf in him would understand. “Every time you step out of line, I will be there. Every time you think you’ve won, I will remind you exactly who commands this space. I will take you apart piece by piece, not with the press, but in private, where no one will hear you scream.”

The subtle scent of Logan’s arousal spiked, mixing with his shock. He recoiled, not in fear, but in surprised recognition of the sheer predatory intent behind my words. That was a victory.

I straightened my tie, my voice returning to the cold, corporate register. “Now that we have clarified the parameters of our relationship, which is strictly professional, you may leave. And, Logan? Don’t be late again.”

Logan stared at me for a long moment, the amusement gone, replaced by a stunned defiance. He didn’t say another word. He just nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and walked out, leaving me alone with my victory.

It felt like dust. I had won the battle of authority, but the war for my control, the one the wolf was so arrogantly raging, had just begun. I could already feel the longing, the possessiveness, clawing at my ribs.

See? You wanted to make him scream.

I closed my eyes and whispered, “I hate you.” I wasn't sure if I was talking to the wolf or to Logan.