Reborn Hybrid: I Tame the Ruthless Alpha King

Chapter 5

Elara’s POV

I didn’t wait for him to take the lead. In my past life, I gave him control, but not anymore.

Once his hands went around my neck I moved close to him. Just enough that my breasts brushed his chest through the thin silk of the dress that I had on.

His pupils went wide. The black swallowing the hold but he still stayed as still as a statue, allowing me to decide if this was how it would start.

Good.

I wanted him off-balance.

My hand slid down the front of his trousers without a pause. I palmed the thick, already hard length of him through the thin fabric.

He sucked in a sharp breath. I squeezed one it once— firm, deliberate— and then I dragged my nails lightly up the zipper.

“You’ve been thinking… about this.” I murmured. My voice low and insanely seductive as my lips brushed the underside of his jaw. “Every night since the ceremony. Don’t lie to me Kael.”

His growl was low. Almost Pained. “Elara—“

“No titles.” I pressed my palms even harder now. I stroked him slowly through the cloth as I bit my lips making small noises. “Just say my name when you come.”

That cracked something in him.

He reached for me. But I caught his wrist mid air and I guided his hand to my breasts instead. I allowed him to feel how hard my n****e was already under the silk.

Then I shoved him backwards until the back of his knee hit the leather armchair that was just by the fireplace. He sat. Hard.

I followed. I straddled his lap in one fast motion. The torn hem of my dress rode up my thighs.

His hands went around my hips on instinct. I pinned them to the arm rest, taking control of his every move.

“Stay,” I ordered softly.

His eyes flashed—half fury, half hunger—but he obeyed.

I leaned into him and I kissed him. It was slow at first. Testing. Teasing. Allowing my tongue to trace the seam of his lips until he parted them with a sound that felt like he was frustrated.

Only then did I make the kiss even deeper. I bit on his lower lips hard enough for me to taste blood. He groaned into my mouth, his hips jerking up under me.

I reached in between us and I undid his belt. I yanked the trousers down just enough for his c**k to bounce out.

It sprang out— Long, thick, heavy. Hot and already leaking at the tip.

I wrapped my small fingers around him and I stroked him once. From the root, to the head. My thumb circling around his crown in a way that made him shiver.

“f**k,” he hissed.

I smiled against his throat.

Then I rose just enough to line him up, and sank down in one slow, deliberate glide.

We both groaned.

He stretched me. Wide and burning, but I controlled the pace. In my past life he was thrusting. I missed the powerful strokes of his c**k in and out of me, but this time, I rolled my hips in tight and shallow circles at first. I allowed him to feel every inch of me getting tight around him without giving him the deep and hard thrust that he clearly wanted. His hands flexed against the armrest and his knuckles started to turn white.

“Move,” he growled.

“No.” I leaned forward, lips at his ear. “You take what I give you.”

I picked up the speed just then. Riding him even harder. Grinding down on him until I kept on hitting that perfect spot that was inside of me every time.

My c**t dragged against his pelvis with each roll. Heat coiled up in my belly. Fast and tight. I leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.

“Come for me first,” I whispered. “Show me how much you want this.”

His eyes snapped to mine fast. It was dark and feral. “You first.”

Before I could say anything, one of his hands tore free out of my grip. Alpha strength. Impossible to truly contain.

He slammed it to the back of my neck. Then yanked me down until our mouths crushed together in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger.

Then his mouth moved.

Teeth grazed the curve where my neck met my shoulder—once, teasing—then sank in.

Hard and deep. It was not a full mating claim. Not yet.

But the bit was something that could not be mistaken. It was possessive. He marked me as his in the most primal way that an Alpha could do without saying a word.

Pain and pleasure detonated together.

I shattered.

I tightened around him even more. The orgasms cracked through me in sharp and shuddering waves. My nails were digging into his shoulders as I rode it out. Milking him with every pulse.

He followed just a heartbeat later. His hips snapped up once, then twice as he spilled inside of me, hot and deep. A sound that was guttural leaving his lips in a way that vibrated through our bodies.

I stayed seated on him until the aftershocks died down. Until his breathing became slow. Only then did I raise my head to meet his eyes.

His eyes were molten gold again. Sated, but still dangerous.

I brushed my thumb on the fresh mark that was on my shoulders. I still felt the ghost of his teeth on me.

“You marked me,” I said quietly. Not accusation. Just observation.

“You let me,” he replied, voice rough. “And you liked it.”

I didn’t deny it.

Then I lifted off him carefully. I felt his warm release slide down my inner thighs. I didn’t fix my dress. I allowed it to hang in tatters.

Let him see the mess that he had made.

I cupped his jaw. My thumb brushed the bead of sweat that was at his temple.

“Your part of the deal.” I said quietly.

His eyes—still dark, still dazed—met mine.

“Already done.” He said. Voice rough as he forced it to stay steady.

“I should go home now.” I said to him, It was not a question. It sounded more like a statement.

He studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded his head once. “Go.”

There was no argument. No command to make me stay. Just that single word that was heavy with everything we did not say.

I turned and I walked to the door. I felt his gaze burning into my back the entire time. Then a dial and three words that followed.

“Take her home.”

The mark on my shoulder pulsed like a second heartbeat.

The ride back home was very quiet. My body was aching in the best and worst ways. My thighs were bruised. Core tender. Shoulder throbbing at the place his teeth marked me. I did not bother to hide it.

Jaxon was waiting when I stepped into the house, standing by the staircase, his back to the rail.

He looked wrecked—pale, sweating, eyes fever-bright. Like he’d spent the last few hours being torn apart from the inside. I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost, but memories of my past life flashed before him and my heart hardened more.

When he heard the door close, he turned, and his eyes locked onto me—on my torn dress, on the bruise blooming on my shoulder, on the lazy set of my hips as I walked toward him.

He stepped forward fast, too fast, his hands outstretched like he wanted to touch me, to check me over, to make sure I was whole. His voice was rough, strained, the mask of the perfect husband slipping just a little at the edges.

“Elara. Thank the Moon Goddess you’re okay.” He paused, his hands hovering just above my arms, like he was afraid to touch me—afraid of what he’d feel, afraid of the mark on my skin. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I’ve been sick with worry all night. I kept thinking—” He trailed off, shaking his head, his eyes softening, the picture of a man consumed by fear for his wife. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

It was a masterful performance, the kind he’d honed for years, the kind that had fooled me once. I let my lips part, let a faint look of exhaustion cross my face, leaning into his touch just a little when his hand finally landed on my arm—light, tentative, like he was handling glass. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t flinch. I let him think he still had a hold on me.

“Just tired,” I murmured, my voice low and hoarse, the perfect note of weariness. I let my head fall forward a little, resting my forehead against his chest, and I felt his body relax, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He wrapped his arms around me then, pulling me close, and I stiffened for a heartbeat before melting into him—*acting*. Letting him feel the weight of the night on me, letting him think Kael had left me drained, broken, *his* to comfort.

His hand stroked my hair, slow and gentle, his chin resting on the top of my head. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he whispered, his voice thick with fake regret. “I wish there was another way. But you know I’d never let anything truly hurt you. You’re my everything, Elara.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to gag. Everything. He’d called me his everything once, too—before he’d handed me over to Kael, before he’d killed our daughter, before he’d left me to die in the cold grass. I let a small, shaky breath escape my lips, and I felt his hold on me tighten, like he thought he’d broken through my walls.

I pulled back a little, looking up at him, my eyes glistening with fake tears, my hand brushing the mark on my shoulder—slow, deliberate, drawing his gaze to it. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at it, the wolf in him screaming at the sight of another man’s claim on his wife.

“I don’t remember much,” I said, my voice breaking a little, the perfect lie. “He was… cold. But he didn’t hurt me. Not really.” I paused, letting my eyes drop to the floor, like I was ashamed, like I was hiding something. Then I looked back up at him, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “He just… kept saying I was different. That my scent was… calming.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced a smile, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that wasn’t there. “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice warm, reassuring. “Brave. Strong. You handled it better than anyone could have.” He paused, his fingers lingering on my cheek for a heartbeat, then his voice shifted— just a little, almost imperceptibly— from concern to curiosity, light, casual, like he was asking about the weather. “Did he… mention anything about me?”

There it was. The real question. The reason he’d been waiting up all night. The reason he’d put on the show of worry and love and regret. Not for me. For himself. For his precious promotion, his precious power, his precious place in the pack.

Indeed, in my past life, he was assigned to handle some diplomatic issues after I came back. I remember that’s when he started to gain more power.

“About you?” I paused, letting my eyes drift away, like I was trying to remember, then looked back at him, my voice soft, apologetic. “I don’t think so. He didn’t say much of anything really…”

A flash of rage in his eyes, a tightness in his jaw, a flinch of his hand like he wanted to hit me, to shake me, to demand I go back and ask Kael again. But it was gone as quickly as it came, buried under a layer of fake understanding, fake kindness, fake love.

“Of course,” he said tightly. “He’s… preoccupied…with you.” His gaze went to my dress that was already ruined. The bite mark was peeking just above the torn neckline. Then something feral clicked in his eyes. “Come here.”

He reached for me—fingers already curling like he meant to drag me upstairs and f**k the evidence of another man out of me.

I didn’t move.

His hand froze mid-air.

Then he saw it clearly—the deep, crescent-shaped bruise blooming on the curve of my shoulder. Not a claiming mark. Not yet. But unmistakable. Kael’s teeth and Kael’s claim.

Jaxon’s breath hitched.

His fingers trembled.

I stepped back a bit, trying to hide the mark on my shoulder, a faint wince crossing my face. “I think I need to be alone for a little while. And I just… need to shower. To clear my head.”

I didn’t give him a chance to argue. I turned and walked up the stairs, my back to him, the mark on my shoulder pulsing hot and bright under the fabric of my dress. I could feel his eyes burning into my back the entire way, feel his rage coiling in his chest, feel his composure fraying thread by thread.

I reached the top of the stairs, and I glanced over my shoulder, a faint, cold smile tugging at the corner of my lips. He was still standing in the foyer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes dark with rage and jealousy and frustration.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

The look on his face said everything.