The Alpha

Chapter 23

That night the Alpha king sent for me again, , there was a quite pull in my chest, the kind that makes your breath slower and your thoughts sharper.

Black Ridge always felt alive after dark, but tonight the corridors seemed to narrow, as if guiding me toward him whether I wanted it or not.

I walked without hurry. I had learned that rushing made you look owned. Calm made me look chosen.

His chambers smelled of fire and iron. The hearth burned low, throwing soft light across stone walls and old scars carved into them. Maps lay open on the table, edges weighed down with steel. Bloodmoon’s lands were marked in red.

he stood with his back to me, broad and still, like nothing in this world could move him unless he allow it.

come closer , he said.

i did, my legs betrayed me.

He spoke about war as if it were weather, avoidable. Necessary, he mentioned Alpha Damon without fear ,no anger, Just certainty. I listened, my hands loose at my sides, my face calm even as memories pressed against me.

when he stopped talking, there was silence.

he waited to see if I will fill it in, "but I didn't."

“If Bloodmoon wants fear,” I said quietly, “they won’t strike to win. They’ll strike to unsettle.

They’ll strike to unsettle. Night attacks. Small losses. Enough to keep people awake.”

He turned then. His eyes settled on me, searching.

“You think before you speak,” he said.

“I have to.”

That was all, But something shifted in the room, subtle and dangerous.

He stepped closer. Closing the space between us without warning. His presence pressed in on me, warm and heavy. I smelled smoke on his skin. Felt heat rolling off him like a living thing.

He lifted his hand.

For a moment, it hovered near my face, close enough, Then his fingers touched my jaw, slow and deliberate, as if he were testing how much pressure I could take before I broke.

I didn’t pull away.

The touch brought my mother to me without permission. Her hands were gentler, always gentle. She used to cup my face when she wanted me to listen, her thumbs warm, her eyes soft. The memory struck so hard I had to focus to keep my breathing steady.

His thumb traced along my cheek. The motion was simple. The effect was not.

“You’re not afraid,” he murmured.

“I learned not to be.”

His gaze darkened. Desire was there now undeniable but it didn’t rush. It lingered.

His hand slid from my jaw to my neck, resting there, Claiming. My pulse jumped under his fingers, betraying me. I hated that part of myself, the way my body reacted even when my heart screamed caution.

Another memory surfaced my mother standing tall even as men like him filled our home. Her spine straight. Her voice steady. Her refusal to beg.

He leaned in, his mouth close to my ear. “You don’t belong where I found you.”

The words sent a slow heat through me. Not because they were kind. Because they were true.

His other hand settled at my waist, firm and sure. The contact pulled me closer whether I meant to move or not. My body responded before my mind could stop it. I felt him everywhere his strength, his control, the promise of what he could do if he chose to stop holding back.

I closed my eyes for one breath. Just one.

He doesn’t remember them, I thought. He doesn’t remember what he took.

That realization hurt more than hatred ever had.

His thumb brushed the side of my neck again, lighter this time. Almost careful. It confused me more than roughness would have.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did.

Something unreadable passed through his expression, he bent his head and kissed me .

It wasn’t gentle. It was controlled. His mouth claimed mine with intent, slow enough to make my knees weaken, firm enough to remind me who decided when this ended. I felt the heat of it spread through me, down my spine, settling low in my belly.

I kissed him back before I could stop myself.

That was the dangerous part.

His hand tightened at my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left. I could feel the tension in him, the restraint. Men like him did not lose control easily. When they did, things broke.

He pulled away first, his forehead resting against mine. His breath was steady. Mine wasn’t.

Stay,” he said, his voice was low and certain

I stayed,

Later, when the fire burned lower and the room fell quiet, I sat alone by the window. My skin still remembered his touch. My mouth still remembered the weight of his kiss. I pressed my fingers to my lips, grounding myself.

I thought of my mother’s smile. Of the way she believed in goodness even when the world proved her wrong.

War was coming. Bloodmoon would bleed. The Alpha would stand at the center of it all, unshaken, unstoppable.

And I would be beside him.

Not because I was his.

But because when the truth finally reached him

when memory cut through power I wanted to be close enough to see what it did to a man who had never believed he could lose anything.