The Alpha and His Mistress

ADRIAN'S POV

The taste of her still clings to me. Hours have passed since her body arched beneath mine, since her voice broke in a whimper that branded itself in my memory, and yet it lingers as though it only happened moments ago. Her scent rides every breath I take, sweet and maddening, threaded with the faintest hint of fear. Not the kind that pushes someone away, but the kind that coils tight in the belly, sharp and intoxicating, the kind that makes surrender inevitable.

Sophia.

I roll her name across my tongue as I stare out the window of my study. The city glitters below, unaware that its quiet heartbeat means nothing to me compared to the sound of hers. For years I have taken lovers, playthings, willing distractions that came and went like smoke, but none of them burrowed under my skin the way she has in so little time. She is no ordinary weakness. She is a crack in the armor I have spent years forging, a flaw I should stamp out before it grows deeper.

And yet, the thought of letting her go makes my chest tighten with something that feels too much like pain.

I lean back in the chair, fingers drumming on the armrest, trying to think, but the memory of last night will not let me. The way her breath stuttered as I pressed her down into the mattress, the way her nails raked across my back, half in desperation and half in defiance. That defiance, God, it makes me hungry. I want to break it, but I also want to feed it, to see how much fire burns in her before she finally yields to me completely.

And she will yield.

I do not need to force it. Her body already betrays her, every time my hands find her skin. She might tell herself she is conflicted, that she should resist me, but I can hear the truth in her pulse, feel it in the way she trembles when my mouth touches her.

I rise from the chair, restless. The night stretches long, and I cannot sit here drowning in thoughts when what I want is only a few rooms away. She is still here, sleeping in the bed I left her in. I should give her space, let her breathe, let her think, but that is not what I want. I want to watch her chest rise and fall in sleep. I want to wake her with my hands on her body, her lips parting in that perfect gasp that makes me ache.

When I push the door open, the room is dim, lit only by the thin silver line of moonlight spilling through the curtains. She is curled on her side, tangled in the sheets, her hair a wild halo across the pillow. For a long moment, I just stand there, taking her in. She looks soft like this, vulnerable, unguarded in a way she never is when awake.

My wolf stirs inside me, pressing against my skin, restless with want. He knows what I deny myself, knows what it means to claim her properly. One bite, one mark, and she would be mine in truth. But that path is dangerous. She is human. Fragile. Binding her to me that way before she understands what it means could break her.

I move closer, sit on the edge of the bed. Her lips part in her sleep, and I cannot resist brushing my knuckles over her cheek. She stirs, lashes fluttering, before her eyes open to find me there.

“Adrian,” she whispers, voice rough with sleep.

“Did I wake you?” My tone is softer than I intend, but with her it always is.

“No,” she breathes, though her pulse betrays her. She is awake now, fully, and she knows exactly why I have come.

I bend, kiss her before she can say anything else. Her lips are warm, pliant, and when I press harder, she yields, just as she always does. The taste of her erases every rational thought. My hand slips beneath the sheet, finding the smooth heat of her thigh, pushing higher. She shivers, catches my wrist, as though to stop me, but she does not push me away. She never does.

“Adrian…” she says again, but this time my name is a plea.

“You think too much,” I murmur against her mouth. “Stop thinking.”

Her protest melts the moment my fingers slide over the curve of her hip. The sheet falls away, baring her to the cool air, and then to me. She gasps as I pin her back into the mattress, my body settling over hers, pressing her into the bed the way I did last night. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, her legs part instinctively to welcome me.

The hours blur. Every sound she makes fuels me, every arch of her body stokes the hunger that only she can sate. I take her again, harder this time, needing to remind her, remind myself, that she belongs here, beneath me, wrapped in my arms, in my heat. There is no world outside this room. Only us.

When it is over, she lies trembling in my hold, her face buried against my chest, her breath uneven. I press a kiss to her hair, savoring the silence that follows, the way her body molds perfectly to mine. I could almost believe the world outside these walls does not exist.

But the moment I let myself relax, I feel it.

The shift in the air. The faintest ripple, like a scent carried on the wind, or the sound of movement too far to hear with human ears but clear to mine. My wolf bristles instantly, claws scraping at the inside of my skin.

Someone is near.

I sit up, careful not to jostle her too much. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks at me with confusion.

“What is it?” she asks, her voice soft, wary.

“Nothing,” I lie, brushing her hair back from her face. “Go back to sleep.”

But she does not believe me. I can see it in the way her gaze sharpens, the way her body tenses. She felt it too, earlier. She thought she was imagining it. She was not.

I rise from the bed, tugging on my clothes, my mind already racing. Whoever it is, they have been keeping their distance, Watching and Waiting. Not yet ready to make themselves known, but their presence is a warning. They have scented her, seen her. That changes everything.

I glance back at Sophia. She is sitting up now, sheet clutched to her chest, watching me like she already knows I am about to step out into the night and hunt whatever shadow lingers beyond these walls.

“You are safe here,” I tell her. It is a promise and a command, though I know she does not believe it fully.

Her lips part, like she wants to argue, but then she just nods.

As I step out into the hall, the wolf inside me stretches, ready to fight, ready to kill. Whoever is out there, they have made their first mistake. Sophia is mine. And I will rip out the throat of anyone who tries to take her from me.