One Night Stand with the Cursed Alpha

Aurelia’s pov. If someone had told me that I would be spending my weekend in a loud, sweaty club, surrounded by strangers and voluntarily dancing in the middle of a crowded floor, I would have looked them dead in the eye and slapped their two front teeth out of their mouth. And yet here I am, sweating, overstimulated, and questioning every life choice that led me to this exact moment. Jolene, to my not so surprise, is thriving. Her dark skin glows under the flashing lights like the lights were literally reflecting on her skin, her fitted black dress hugging her curves like a second skin and her long braids swing behind her as she moves with the kind of confidence that makes people look back four times. Meanwhile, I look good besides the dancing, which is the problem, because now I cannot even use “I look bad” as an excuse to leave. My gold dress clings to me in ways that would give a nun a heart attack, stopping mid thigh and reminding me every five seconds that I agreed to this outfit under peer pressure, my curls loose around my shoulders, i look uncomfortably hot! “You need to loosen up!” Jolene shouts, grabbing my wrist and dragging me deeper into the chaos like she is leading a sacrifice. “I am loose!” I shout back, which is a lie because my body is stiff, my feet hurt, and I’m ninety percent sure someone just elbowed my kidney She turns, looks at me properly, and bursts into laughter. “You look like an earthworm someone just poured salt on.” “That’s just rude,” I protest, but she is already gone, swallowed by the crowd like she lives here. Great. I’ve been abandoned and left to die. I take a breath, trying to convince myself I can survive this, and for a brief moment, I actually start to move, just enough to pretend that i don’t look like i’m having a seizure. And then something shifts. Not around me. Inside me. It starts as a slow awareness crawling up my spine, like my body just noticed something my brain has not caught up with yet, and before I can question it, my gaze lifts on its own. And I see him. You know that thing in books and movies where when you look at someone everything disappears? Yeah, it’s happening. He stands like the crowd does not touch him, tall enough to dominate the space without trying, broad shoulders wrapped in a dark shirt that makes him look like the hotter version of Batman, and there is something about him that feels contained, like power being held back. But it is his eyes that stop me. Grey. Cold, sharp, and focused. On me. “Somebody better call God cause i think he’s missing an angel.” I think to myself in amusement. My breath catches. “Oh,” I mutter under my breath. “You are too fine not to be trouble.” There is nothing casual about the way he watches me, it’s like he has already decided something that I am clearly oblivious about. “Who sent you?” I whisper, because clearly the universe has jokes. As if the universe wants to make this worse, someone steps directly into my space. “Hey, wanna dance?” he asks with a creepy smile, with a confidence that is the opposite of his looks. I barely look at him, because across the room, those grey eyes have not moved. They are still on me. Waiting. And something reckless, stupid, and deeply entertaining sparks inside my chest. “Fine,” I say. This is how people end up in documentaries. I let him pull me in, moving just enough to make it believable, but my attention stays locked across the room, because apparently I’m allergic to not making bad choices.. And then I see it. The shift. His jaw tightens slightly, his gaze darkening in a way that feels less like annoyance and more like something territorial being challenged. Oh. Oh, that is interesting. It looks like… Jealousy? A slow smile pulls at my lips. “You do not like that, huh?” So I obviously make it worse. I turn, letting my voluminous behind grind on Mr creep, because if I am going to make a bad decision, I might as well do it properly. The reaction is immediate. Not from the man behind me. From him. I feel the air change. His stare sharpens into something dangerous, something lethal, something… animalistic? My pulse spikes. “I am going to regret this,” I whisper. And then, the man behind me is gone. Not moved. Removed. I blink, turning just in time to see him being pulled back like he weighs nothing. “What the fu..,” the guy tries, his confidence evaporating mid sentence. “Leave.” The word is quiet, controlled, and final in a way that makes both Mr creep and I want to pee our pants. Mr creep leaves immediately. I stare. “…Well,” I say slowly, “that was… unnecessary.” Then he steps closer. And suddenly, I can’t remember how to breathe. Up close, he is worse, because now I can feel it, the weight of his presence pressing into mine, like standing this close is already a decision I cannot undo. His hand settles on my waist, firm and certain, like it belongs there. My body reacts instantly, which is both inconvenient and embarrassing. “You should not have touched him,” he says. His voice is low, controlled, carrying something underneath it that feels more dangerous than anger. “First of, who are you to tell me what to do and second, I was dancing,” I reply. “You were teasing me.” My brows lift. “I didn’t ask you to watch.” Something dark flickers in his eyes, quick and sharp. “Yet your eyes were on me throughout,” he says quietly. “That’s very naughty Bambi.” My breath catches despite myself. Bambi? Wtf is a bambi And yet, instead of stepping away like a sane person, I stay exactly where I am, which is how I know I have officially lost control of this situation. Then he lets go. And walks away. I stare after him for half a second. “…Oh, so now I am curious. Fantastic.” I follow. Of course I do. The hallway is quieter, cooler, but he is there at the end, waiting like he knew I would come before I even decided it. “Now you’re teasing me?” I ask. “I didn’t ask you to follow Bambi.” His gaze drags over me slowly. “Yet here you are.” My stomach flips. I swallow. “That does not mean I am going with you.” He steps closer, and my body very unhelpfully does not move away. In fact it inches closer. “There is no point pretending,” he murmurs. “And what exactly am I pretending?” “That you are going to leave.” …Rude…. And accurate. He turns and walks into a room without checking if I follow. I hesitate for exactly one second. “This is a bad idea,” I whisper. Then I follow anyway, because clearly I am addicted to chaos. The door shuts behind me, and the silence feels heavier, like the world outside just got cut off. He watches me like I have already made my choice. “You followed me.” “You waited.” “Of course I did.” My pulse stumbles. He steps closer, and suddenly my back meets the wall, his hand rising to my jaw, fingers brushing before settling there, firm enough to hold me still. “Last chance,” he says quietly. “Walk out.” Good idea. I absolutely should. Instead, I hear myself say, “Don’t tell me what to do.” Something dark settles in his expression. And then he kisses me. Holy fvck. It is not soft but it’s consuming in a way that steals my breath and replaces it with heat, his mouth claiming mine like he’s hungry. My fingers clutch his shirt, pulling him closer, because there was no way I was going to push him away. A low sound leaves him, rough and approving, sending heat straight to my core. “Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rougher now, closer. “You are stepping into something you do not understand.” My brain short circuits. That pet name again. Why do I… not hate it? “You talk too much,” I breathe, which is ironic, because I am the one spiraling internally. His thumb drags across my lower lip, eyes locked on mine as he lifts me effortlessly, setting me on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. “Say it,” he murmurs. “Huh?” I say in utmost confusion “That you want this.” My laugh is softer now, unsteady. “You already know.” “Do i Bambi?.” His hand settles on my thigh, inches away from my hot and throbbing core. I swallow. “Fine,” I whisper. “I want this.” That is all it takes. The control snaps. His mouth is on mine again, slower this time but deeper, my fingers tightening in his shirt as he tilts me back. One moment I am sitting. The next, I am lying beneath him, the weight of his body hovering above me. My brain is… not participating. His lips leave mine, and for half a second I think I can breathe again. Wrong. He moves to my neck, drawing a sharp reaction out of me as he sucks lightly, his hand tightening at my waist to keep me still when I instinctively try to move. “Stay still, Bambi,” he murmurs against my neck, his voice lower now, rougher. I think I just came to that sound. “I do not take instructions well,” I manage, even though I am very clearly not resisting. His lips trail lower as his hand presses more firmly at my waist, holding me in place as his mouth continues its slow descent, I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tightening against his hair. A quiet grunt sound leaves him, something that feels dangerously close to approval. “Still think this is a mistake?” he murmurs against my skin. “Yes,” I breathe. His grip tightens slightly and then he chuckles lightly. Everything else fades after that, swallowed by heat, tension, and something that feels far too inevitable to fight. Just tonight. No names. No consequences. Just him. And the very strong feeling that I have just made a decision I will not be able to undo.