The Alphas Shadow

Chapter Thirteen- Surrender

​"We need to talk," Silas rasped, his voice sounding like it was being dragged over gravel. He tried to step back, to create some semblance of professional distance, but the moment he loosened his grip, his wolf let out a jagged, warning snarl that vibrated in his own skull.

​He didn't walk into the study; he navigated it like a man tethered to a live wire. Every time he tried to point toward the guest chair for Elara, his hand instead clamped tighter onto her waist. Finally, the Alpha gave up the fight. He sat heavily in his oversized leather chair and, with a low, possessive grunt, hauled Elara onto his lap.

​"Silas," she whispered, her face flushing, "I can sit next to you."

​"No," he growled, the word unintentional. His wolf was threatening to tear through his skin if he let her move an inch. He had lost her once this morning; his beast had decided that 'never again' started right now.

​Maya trailed in behind them, her energy a frantic, buzzing contrast to the heavy, primal tension in the room. She was practically vibrating. "I mean, it explains so much! The way you’ve been acting, the gold dress—wait!" Maya stopped mid-stride, her eyes going wide as she pointed a finger at Elara. "I am absolutely not calling you Mom. Don't even think about it. That is where I draw the line."

​She broke into a fit of hysterical laughter, pacing the rug. "But honestly, the Council is going to have a collective heart attack. The Alpha and the Omega? It’s like a tabloid story, but better because I get a front-row seat."

​Silas was a hot mess. His hands were shaking against Elara’s thighs, his jaw locked so tight it looked ready to shatter. He was fighting a losing battle against the Alpha instinct that was screaming at him to drive everyone else out and claim his territory.

​"Maya," Silas warned, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, low-frequency rumble.

​"I’m just saying, we’re going to need a whole new wardrobe for you, Elara. Luna-style. I can help—"

​"Maya! Out!" Silas snapped, his amber eyes flashing with a light that was no longer human. "Leave us. We need to talk. Alone."

​Maya recoiled slightly, her playful smirk faltering at the sheer gravity in his voice. "Fine, fine. Alpha-mode. I get it. I’ll be in the kitchen. We’ll meet for lunch in... what? An hour?"

​"Just go," Silas growled.

​Maya glared, clearly hating to miss the drama, and retreated slowly, pulling the heavy study doors shut with a soft click.

​The second the latch engaged, the last of Silas’s human restraint vanished.

​His wolf surged to the surface with the force of a tidal wave. He didn't speak; he roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. His mind was a battlefield—one side screaming that this was wrong, that she was his daughter’s best friend, a girl he had seen grow up, someone he should be protecting like a father. ​But the other side—the Alpha—didn't care about social taboos or human history. To the wolf, she was the female with the gold eyes. She was the peaches-and-fire scent that had haunted his dreams for months. She was his mate.

​He didn't undress her so much as strip her away, his hands frantic and possessive as he tore at her clothes, needing to see the mark he’d left, needing to cover every inch of her skin with his scent.

​With a violent, guttural growl, he stood up and cleared his massive mahogany desk in one sweeping motion. Pens, crystal decanters, and files went flying, crashing into the far wall.

He laid her back over the leather-topped surface, the moonlight-coolness of the wood a sharp contrast to the fire in their blood.

​"God, you’ve changed," he rasped, his eyes devouring her. She wasn't a girl anymore. She was a woman—lean, athletic, and glowing with an ethereal power that made his head spin.

​He ignored the guilt clawing at his mind, the ghost of Maya’s laughter in the hall. His hand found the wet heat of her, his fingers rubbing her slit until she was sobbing his name. He dropped his pants, the dominance of his beast taking total control.

​He entered her with a roar that shook the very foundations of the mansion, claiming her over the Thorne family crest, marking her as his Luna in the most primal way possible. It was wrong, it was scandalous, and it was the best thing he had ever felt.