Mated To The Alpha

Chapter 4

My heart thudded in my chest. I didn’t know where to place my hands, how to steady my breath. I was melting and trembling all at once.

Somehow, my bikini top had slipped off, I hadn’t even noticed. His hands were large, confident, and when they touched me, I gasped. Not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of it. His eyes met mine, dark, hooded, daring me to want more.

He kissed me hard, urgent, swallowing the sound of my surprise. His hands roamed, but it was the way he held me that made me feel like I was being seen, claimed, understood.

I wanted to respond, to match his energy, but I was overwhelmed. My fingers traced the curve of his arms, the strength in his chest, and paused, unsure, yet curious.

He squeezed my chest gently, as he feathered light kisses down my neck.

He lifted me slowly, and I gasped again, eyes wide. In that moment of distraction, he leaned in closer, and I felt a wave of longing ripple through me.

His touch was careful, yet electric. I arched into him, breath catching, unsure of what I was feeling, only that it was powerful and new.

I pressed my lips to his chest, needing something to anchor me. He repositioned me, and I felt the heat of him against my thighs. My body responded before my mind could catch up.

I kissed his neck, his jaw, his cheek, searching for something. When he pulled away, I whimpered, not from pain, but from the sudden emptiness.

I didn’t know what I wanted. Only that I wanted him and that terrified me.

“Feel what you’ve done to me,” Damien murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He took my hands in his, guiding them downward. My breath caught as I felt the heat of him, solid, pulsing, undeniable. My eyes widened. “Was this really happening?” His gaze held mine, intense and unrelenting.

“It’s all you,” he whispered.

My fingers moved instinctively, tracing slow, uncertain circles. I could barely think. His touch returned to me deliberate, searching and when his fingers found me, I gasped, the sound swallowed by his kiss. It was deep, urgent, and I felt myself unraveling.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and unreadable, then lowered his head. I watched, stunned, as he tasted me slowly, reverently like he was savoring something sacred. The look in his eyes was dangerous, and that danger thrilled me.

A smirk flickered across his face as he eased me down onto the bed.

The ceiling blurred above me, my thoughts scattering.

Voice of reason escaping me as my mind blocks everything left for the 6’3 hunk of a man placing me amidst warm sheets. The weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the way he tugged gently at my earlobe, making me shiver.

A shrill ringtone shattered the moment.

The door creaked open.

“What the hell, Damien!”

Maria stood frozen in the doorway, her face a storm of fury. Her eyes darted between mine and Damien’s, taking in everything. The closeness, the heat, the shame written all over me.

I couldn’t breathe.

Damien, of course, looked smug. Elbow propped, his fingers lazily circling my chest like we were lounging in private. His weight pressed into me, and I felt like I was sinking into the mattress from humiliation.

“Care to join, sis?” he said, voice dripping with mockery.

I wanted to disappear.

“It’s not what you think,” I croaked, barely able to meet Maria’s eyes.

She didn’t respond. She just moved, trying to shove Damien off me. He rolled to the side with ease, laughing as if this were all a joke.

“You should see your face,” he drawled. “Is that supposed to scare me, little sis?”

I scrambled off the bed, cheeks burning, heart pounding. My bikini top lay crumpled on the floor. I snatched it up and fled the room, too ashamed to look back.

Behind me, Maria’s voice cracked like thunder.

“If only I could choke the silliness out of you.”

Damien’s response was a bored mutter. “Whatever.”

I paused just outside the door, still catching my breath, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Inside, I heard him moving, the sound of drawers, the rustle of fabric. When I peeked back, he was pulling on his pants, his face hardening as he turned toward Maria.

“I suggest you leave,” he said, voice low. “Unless you want to pick up where she left off.” A smirk curled at his lips.

Maria didn’t answer. She just looked away, her gaze catching the shimmer of her wallpaper as she bent to grab her phone from the rug.

The minutes dragged as I stood under the shower, shampooing my hair with slow, deliberate motions. I scrubbed my skin harder than necessary, as if I could wash away what had happened.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, my eyes locked on Maria.

She was dressed now. A blue sweetheart neckline jumpsuit that stopped at her knees.

Guilt crashed into me like a wave.

“Meet me at the table” she said, walking out without waiting for a reply.

“Alright”

I dried my hair slowly, watching my reflection in the mirror. My dirty blonde strands clung to my neck. Wide green eyes stared back at me

I owed her an apology.

I grabbed my things and made my way to the kitchen. The dining area was an adjoining door just beyond it, and I found her already seated.

“Maria I’m-“

“After the meal” she cut in, her voice calm but firm.

I nodded and sat across from her. The silence between us was thick, almost suffocating. I chewed my pasta, but it tasted like nothing. My stomach churned, not from hunger, but from shame.

Then I saw him. Damien passing by the window, headed outdoors. My heart sank.

Maria lifted the jug of juice and poured herself a glass. Without looking up, she held one out to me.

“Want some?” she asked, already pouring before I could answer.

I took the glass with a quiet “thanks,” and she resumed eating.

“Maria, I’m sorry about what happened,” I said, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out like that. I can’t not talk about it.”

She looked at me. Blank, unreadable. “I’m not ready to hear it. Can you not talk about it, please? At least not for now.”

Moisture welled in my eyes. I sniffed it back, refusing to let it fall. I stared down at my half -eaten pasta, too innocent to deserve this mess, and forced myself to finish it.

I walked to the sink and turned on the tap, rinsing my plate.

“Clara takes care of it, remember?”

“I’ll be heading home,” I replied, voice low.

“See you in school.”