BOY BY DAY, THE ALPHA’S MATE BY NIGHT

CHAPTER 9

ROMAN POV.

I didn’t know why I came to the arena. I never watched the trials. I had always found it tedious, the posturing, the barking, the illusions of strength. But today… today, I stood by the edge of the courtyard to watch Sage.

His limbs didn’t move like a fighter

When Master Adric announced that the first trial was wrestling, I knew he wouldn’t survive it. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him that first night in our room. There was no warrior’s instinct in him. He stood there like a paper doll among wolves. He had a thin frame, no visible strength, and shoulders tense like he was bracing for a blow before it ever landed. He did not have the kind of strength I admired, and yet when that brute of a boy slammed him into the dirt, I felt pure, senseless rage ignited within me.

It made no sense. I have seen worse in that ring. I have done worse. But watching Sage fold beneath another boy’s weight, his bones colliding with dust, blood staining the side of his mouth—I wanted to leap down and tear Eli apart.

And that… that disgusted me.

My uncle, the Headmaster, had raised a brow when he saw me among the spectators. No doubt he found it strange. I had never attended a match in all my years here.

So why had I come?

He wasn’t strong. He wasn’t fast. He wasn’t anything close to remarkable.

Worse still—he looked… delicate. His skin was too smooth, and his Jaw too soft. There was something in his face, in the slant of his eyes when they darted up and met mine. It made my breath hitch in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

I left the moment our eyes met. I couldn’t stand it. That look—like he was searching for something in me. Like I was meant to care.

I don’t care.

I’ve never cared. Not for any boy. Not for any woman either—not truly. Desire has always been a transaction. A need. A release. But this?

This was not that.

This was wrong.

I slammed my palm into the stone wall outside the courtyard, jaw tight. The imprint of his face was still there behind my eyes—dust-covered, flushed, eyes wide with humiliation… and something else I didn’t want to name.

No. No, I needed to end this thought before it dug deeper.

It’s been too long since I’ve touched a woman. That’s all this is. I need to remind myself what it feels like to be under a woman’s hands. I should go to the courtesans’ district tonight. I should remind myself what I want. What I am.

Because I don’t look at men.

I never have.

************

“Alpha Roman,” Madam Cressida cooed when I stepped into the courtesan house, sweeping forward in silks that whispered against the marble floor. “You have been gone too long.”

I didn’t answer.

She smiled anyway, pleased as ever, her painted mouth stretching like a cat that had just spotted a wounded mouse. “I assume you are not here for conversation.”

“No,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. “Bring me something stronger than your usual wine. I want my mind emptied.”

“Ah.” She tilted her head. “A man like you doesn’t come undone easily. But I believe I have just the remedy.”

She turned to one of her attendants, a willowy girl in crimson lace. “Bring the Blackthorn wine. A full carafe. And prepare the rose room.”

The girl curtsied and slipped away.

“And for your… distraction,” Cressida purred, glancing back at me with a wicked smile, “I have a new batch. Fresh. Eager. Untouched by the filth of older clients. I daresay one of them might just tame whatever storm is brewing in you tonight.”

I didn’t answer. I just nodded.

The girl returned with the wine, her hands trembling slightly under the weight of the black-glass carafe. She poured it without a word, the dark crimson liquid catching the low candlelight. I took it and drank it. It had a sharp, bitter taste that burned my throat as it went down.

Good.

Cressida returned minutes later, and this time, she wasn’t alone.

Twelve girls followed her into the chamber—barefoot, silent, their gazes low but aware of who I was. Some tall, others petite. Curves. Slender frames. Pale, golden, dusky skin tones, lips painted, lashes darkened, all prepared to be devoured.

At her signal, they dropped their robes in unison.

Twelve naked bodies stood before me. Full hips. Bare breasts. Skin flushed from the heat of the room. One girl’s n*****s had stiffened in the cool air. Another swayed her hips slowly, trying to draw my attention. I saw everything. I felt nothing.

Cressida’s voice cut through the air like silk drawn over a blade. “Which do you like?”

I said nothing because none of them stirred anything within me. Not even the usual flicker of primal interest.

Cressida raised a brow, stepping forward. “Perhaps too many choices dull the appetite. Allow me to refine it.”

She clapped twice. Three of the girls stepped forward—one was dark-haired and feline, with eyes like wet ink; the second had a dancer’s grace, toned thighs, and a bold smirk; the third was shy, delicate, the type men liked to break slowly.

“They are skilled,” Cressida said smoothly. “And they don’t speak unless asked.”

She turned and left, the door closing with a soft finality behind her.

The girls approached, soft fingers reached for my coat, and another unlaced my collar.

One girl pressed her bare chest against my side, lips trailing over my shoulder like warm breath. I could smell roses and honey on her skin. The shy one sat between my knees, her hands brushing up my thighs, slow, coaxing.

I didn’t move.

Not yet.

They stripped me with reverence as if undressing a relic—tunic, belt, shirt. My skin met air. A mouth pressed to my chest. Another hand reached between my thighs.

Still, all I could think of was Sage's face. His breathless stare. That bloodied lip. The raw, confused pain in his eyes when he met my gaze from the dust.

I flinched.

“Stop,” I growled.

The girls froze.

I stood up, grabbing my shirt.

The dark-haired one stepped back, confused. “Did we displease you, Alpha?”

I shot her a look so sharp she took another step back. “No.”

It wasn’t them.

It was me.

And I hated it.

I stormed out of the room, half-dressed, wine burning in my throat. Cressida looked up from her seat near the archway. She didn’t speak but her eyes narrowed as if she understood something I hadn’t said.