All Chapters of The Alpha Who Ruined Me: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I should have run the moment I saw him, but something in his gaze stopped me cold. Dark, commanding, and impossibly magnetic, he didn’t ask permission—he demanded my attention. My heart betrayed me before my mind could reason, and I knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same again. He stepped closer, the air around him heavy, almost dangerous, like the calm before a storm. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, but every nerve in my body betrayed me, drawn to him in a way I couldn’t explain. His presence wasn’t just overwhelming—it was consuming. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I whispered, my voice shaking despite myself. He smirked, an expression that promised both pleasure and pain, and the smirk sent a thrill straight through me. My body wanted to retreat, but my mind, foolishly, wanted more. “I go where I please,” he said, his voice low, rough, and unyielding. My chest tightened. I was aware of every movement, every sound, every heartbeat. He was watching

It wasn’t a kiss. That would have been easier to condemn. It was a choice. My boyfriend fell asleep early that night, his arm heavy across my waist, trusting. I lay still beside him, counting breaths, waiting for the guilt to settle me into sleep. It didn’t. Instead, my phone vibrated softly against the mattress. I didn’t move at first. I told myself that was strength. When the vibration came again, slower this time, deliberate, I slid out of bed and padded into the bathroom, closing the door without a sound. The light stayed off. My reflection stared back at me anyway, faint and unfamiliar. Sebastian: You’re awake. I swallowed. Me: I shouldn’t be doing this. The reply came after a pause that felt intentional. Sebastian: And yet you are. My hands trembled as I typed. I could still stop. Put the phone down. Crawl back into bed and pretend this moment never happened. Instead, I wrote: Me: What do you want from me? This time, there was no delay. Sebastian: Honesty. Tha

He stepped closer, deliberately closing the space between us. My breath hitched—not because he touched me, but because he could. Every inch he moved was measured, precise, as if the air itself obeyed him. “You know why you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low, almost a purr. “You can’t stop thinking about me.” I tried to argue, tried to push the words out, but my throat tightened. I could feel his gaze tracing me from head to toe, calm, assessing, claiming. His fingers brushed my shoulder—not enough to press, just enough to make my nerves sing. I shivered. “You’re trembling,” he noted, his lips so close to my ear that his breath grazed my skin. “And yet, you didn’t leave. That tells me everything I need to know.” My stomach twisted. I wanted to step back, to run, to remember the life I’d left behind. But I couldn’t. Every instinct, every pulse in my body, screamed to stay. He reached for my hand, slow, deliberate, just letting his fingers rest against mine. No pressure.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into Sebastian Crowe’s world was the silence. Not the awkward kind. Not the empty kind. It was deliberate. Controlled. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and the sound felt final, like something had just sealed itself shut. I stood there for a second too long, suddenly aware of how loud my breathing was, how fast my heart was pounding. It felt like the space was watching me—waiting to see if I belonged. “This way,” Sebastian said. His voice cut through the stillness smoothly, calm and unhurried. He didn’t look back to check if I was following. He already knew I would. I trailed after him, my footsteps echoing faintly against the dark wooden floor. The place was immaculate—clean lines, muted colors, nothing unnecessary. No photos. No clutter. No signs of warmth that didn’t feel intentional. It was beautiful in a cold, controlled way. Like him. “You live here alone?” I asked, mostly because the silence felt heavy on my c

I didn’t notice the rules all at once. They didn’t arrive like commandments carved into stone or warnings whispered in my ear. They slipped in quietly—through glances, pauses, the way Sebastian Crowe tilted his head when something amused him, or didn’t. It took me days to realize I was already obeying them. The first rule revealed itself in absence. He never told me when to come over, but somehow I always arrived when he expected me. My phone would buzz with a message that said nothing important—You awake? or I’m in town—and I would feel my pussy throb just at the thought of being alone with him my body responded before my mind could catch up. Shoes on. Heart racing. Guilt humming faintly beneath the anticipation. When I showed up too eager, his gaze lingered a second longer than usual, unreadable. When I arrived late, even by minutes, his smile sharpened. “Rough night?” he’d ask, voice smooth, polite, like he wasn’t already tallying something invisible. So I learned.