The Alpha and His Mistress

MARKED - SOPHIA'S POV

I told myself I wouldn’t come back. After that morning, after the way Adrian had broken me open and stitched me back together with nothing but his body and his will, I promised it was the last time. A foolish promise really, because the moment I felt the pull of him like a tide dragging me under, I was already lost.

Now I was here again, standing outside the heavy wooden doors of his estate, heart hammering in my chest as if warning me to turn back. But the truth was I didn’t want to. The truth was I craved him. The door opened before I could knock. He was waiting.

Adrian filled the doorway, sharp lines and predatory ease, eyes gleaming with a hunger that made my knees weak. Without a word, he reached for me, pulling me inside, slamming the door shut with finality.

“You’re late,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

“I wasn’t sure I should come,” I admitted, hating the way my voice trembled.

His lips curved, not in kindness but in possession. “And yet here you are.”

He pressed me against the wall, his mouth crashing onto mine, stealing my breath, my reason, my resolve. His kiss was demanding, punishing, and I opened for him, helpless against the storm of his need. His hands gripped my hips, sliding under my dress, finding bare skin as though I’d been foolish to think clothes could keep him out.

“Tell me you missed me,” he growled against my lips.

“I—” The word died in a gasp as his hand slid higher, fingers pressing where I ached most. My body betrayed me, arching into his touch, wet and wanting. “Yes,” I breathed, shameful and true. “I missed you.”

His smile was wicked, victorious. “Good girl.”

The words burned through me, humiliation and desire tangled until I couldn’t tell them apart. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me deeper into the house, never breaking the kiss. By the time he laid me down on the edge of his desk, I was trembling with need. He tore at my dress, fabric shredding under his strength, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was the way his mouth found my throat, biting and sucking until I cried out, until I knew there would be marks in the morning. His marks.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against my skin, every word a brand. “Say it.”

The fight inside me flared for a heartbeat. I wanted to resist, to cling to the illusion of control. But when his fingers plunged into me, stroking in perfect rhythm, the fight dissolved into a moan.

“I’m yours,” I confessed, broken and raw.

He claimed me right there on his desk, the wood hard beneath my back, his body relentless above me. Every thrust was deeper, harder, as if he was driving his claim into my soul. I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, lost in the brutal beauty of being consumed. When release came, it tore through me, shattering, violent, leaving me sobbing his name into the air. And still he didn’t stop, pushing me further, making me come undone again and again until I no longer knew where I ended and he began.

When at last he slowed, when his body pressed heavy against mine, he nipped at my neck with sharp teeth, a warning, a promise.

“I should mark you,” he said, voice rough, breath hot against my skin. “I should sink my teeth into you so no one ever doubts who you belong to.”

Fear and desire collided inside me. A mark wasn’t just a claim, it was permanent, binding. The thought of it terrified me. And yet the thought of belonging to him, irrevocably, thrilled me in ways I couldn’t admit.

“Adrian…” I whispered, unsure if I was begging him to do it or begging him to stop.

He pulled back, studying me with those dark, knowing eyes. Then, slowly, he licked the spot on my neck where his teeth had grazed, soothing the sting, leaving me trembling.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “But soon.”

I shivered, unsure if it was from dread or anticipation.

Later, when I finally dressed in silence, trying not to look at him, I felt it. A prickle on the back of my neck, the sensation of being watched. I glanced toward the window, toward the shadows beyond, but saw nothing. Still, the unease lingered.

Adrian noticed. Of course he did.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone more command than concern.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, too quickly.

His gaze sharpened. He crossed the room in two strides, fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Sophia,” he warned.

I swallowed hard. “I thought I saw someone. Outside.”

His expression hardened, the predator stirring. “No one gets this close without my knowing.”

But the way his jaw clenched told me he wasn’t entirely sure.

He kissed me once more, fierce and final, before walking me to the door. His hand lingered on mine, grip tight, as if he hated letting go.

“You belong to me,” he said again, voice low and certain. “And anyone who tries to touch what’s mine will regret it.”

His words should have reassured me. Instead, as I stepped out into the cool night, the unease followed me, wrapping tighter with every step.

Because somewhere in the shadows, I swore I felt eyes on me.

And I wasn’t sure Adrian’s claim would be enough to keep me safe.