The Fated Encounter with the Forbidden Alpha

**Chapter 5: Uncalled Sensations**

It was maddening—brutal, torturous, and maddening. The forty-five minutes in Dr. Hayes's lecture felt like an eternity, an endless cycle of torment that twisted Tia’s insides in ways she couldn’t comprehend. She couldn’t grasp how she had managed to survive it, how she had restrained herself from fleeting the classroom in desperate escape. It was like being pricked by a thousand needles, each one sharper and more insistent than the last, all converging on a single point of pain and desire that left her breathless and aching in her core.

The pull towards Dr. Hayes was magnetic, almost gravitational in its force, a raw and primal energy that was tugging at her every time he moved, every time he spoke. It was as though an invisible thread bound them, stretching and tightening with every glance, every word that passed his lips. And the scent—that intoxicating blend of earthy pine and cedar—only fueled the fire that raged within her, feverishly delicious and utterly maddening.

Tia could barely keep herself seated beside Julia, who was her odd looks every time she stifled a moan as Dr. Hayes walked past their side of the classroom. The scent was everywhere, wrapping around her like a comforting yet suffocating blanket, making it nearly impossible to think straight. Her mind was a haze of emotions—desire, confusion, frustration—all swirling together in a chaotic storm that threatened to overwhelm her.

Gosh, Tia thought, Julia must think I've completely lost it, moaning in the middle of the class like a crazed person. That, too, towards her uncle. The thought brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks, but it did little to diminish the overwhelming sensations that coursed through her body. Crumbling the pages of her notebook in her palm and holding her pen, for dear life, she waited for the period bell.

Dr. Hayes, for his part, barely looked at her after the initial, intense stare. He seemed to avoid her side of the classroom altogether, as though the very sight of her was something he couldn't afford to acknowledge. And yet, even in his aloofness, his presence was commanding, authoritative. He radiated an aura of control of unyielding power, even as he spoke with a measured, almost gentle tone, explaining the intricacies of the most romantic poems ever written.

There was a strange dichotomy in him—a softness in his voice, a deep emotional connection to the words of Wordsworth, as though he himself has fallen for Lucy in the poem. But his demeanor, his cold, unreadable eyes, and the stern frown that seemed permanently etched into his lips—these were the marks of a man who held dominion over everything and everyone around him. A king, ruthless and unyielding.

What am I saying? Tia scolded herself internally. A king? This is a democratic country, Tia. Get a bloody grip!

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Tia bolted from the classroom, not waiting for Julia or anyone else. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, a cacophony of conflicting emotions that she couldn't untangle, no matter how hard she tried. She didn't even register when Julia mentioned she had her next class in a different building and would meet her for the Creative Writing and Editing lecture before lunch.

All Tia could think about was getting to the restroom, away from the suffocating atmosphere of the lecture hall, away from the magnetic pull of Dr. Hayes. Her heels clicked loudly against the floor tile as she walked quickly, almost running, desperate for some relief from the pricking heat on her skin, that seemed to burn her from within. It was too much—too intense. 'And this was supposably Fall, for goodness' sake, not the middle of summer.' Tia exclaimed while pushing open the restroom door.

She rushed into the bathroom, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she reached the sink. The cold water felt like heaven against her flushed skin, but it did little to cool the fire that raged inside her. She splashed her face again and again, hoping—praying —that it would somehow douse the flames that Dr. Hayes had ignited within her.

But even after five minutes of continuous splashing, the heat remained stubborn and unyielding, refusing to be extinguished. Tia started at her disheveled reflection in the mirror, her face wet and glistening, her eyes tears-stricken wide with a mix of fear and frustration.

'He's your professor, for crying out loud! Get a grip!'

The words echoed in her mind, a desperate plea for sanity, for control. Yet the image in the mirror didn't lie—her flushed cheeks, her slightly swollen lips, her tears-stricken red eyes holding a glimmer of something darkening, something she didn't want to acknowledge.

What is wrong with me? She thought, disgusted with herself. She felt like a pervert, like some crazed, hormone-driven teenagers who couldn't control her impulses. And yet, no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they kept coming back, unburden, unwanted, and raw.

Because even as she berated herself, even as she tried to force the images from her mind, she couldn’t forget the feeling of his touch, brief as it has been. That touch—warm, strong, protecting, and so comforting—had awakened something in her, something primal and fierce, a thirst she never knew she had.

She hated herself for it. Hated the way her body reacted to him, the way her mind conjured up fantasies she didn't to admit. Lastly, yet most importantly, she hated the fact that, despite everything, she wanted more.