Conquered By The Blind Alpha

The Dear Cousin

ALLE

The man steps into the moonlight and I get my first real look at him.

Blonde hair that's almost silver in this lighting, catching the glow from the windows and making him look like he stepped out of some f****d up fairy tale. Blue eyes that remind me of the sky when the sun is at its highest—bright, sharp, dangerous. He's dressed casually in a black henley that does nothing to hide the powerful build underneath, dark jeans that fit him well enough to be deliberate.

He's built like a f*****g mountain.

As tall as Winter, maybe taller, and I find myself wondering what the hell they're feeding people in this conqueror's pack because this is getting ridiculous.

Nice thighs though.

The thought pops up unbidden and I shove it down immediately, jaw clenching.

Now is really not the time.

He doesn't have the scent of an Alpha like Winter and I were born with.

Nor the scent of a beta like Clarisse. He was just a normal wolf, not a warrior, not an omega, not a beta.

Yet...there was something about him.

"I'm Rex." His voice is smooth, amused, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. "Winter's cousin, occasional pain in his ass, and tonight, I'll be your welcoming committee," The man, Rex, grins with his eyes crinkling at the corners.

My hand twitches, reaching for claws that won't come. The drug sits heavy in my limbs, that constant weight I'm starting to hate more than anything, but I shift my stance anyway. Plant my feet. Position myself strategically even if I can't shift, can't fight properly, I will beat the s**t out of him if he tries anything.

Rex notices.

He laughs, the sound rich and genuine and somehow unsettling in how relaxed it is.

"Relax, darling. If I wanted you dead, you'd never see me coming. Though I suppose you're not seeing much of me in this lighting anyway," He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture at my stance.

He moves closer and every instinct I have screams at me to back up, but I hold my ground. He circles me slowly, deliberately, and I turn with him because like hell I'm giving some attractive stranger my back before I get the chance to kill Winter.

Maybe this guy can be next on the list.

"You're prettier than I expected," he observes, still circling, his movements predatory despite the casual tone. "And you smell like rage and... is that cherry blossom shampoo? How domestic."

The deadpan delivery makes my lips twitch with irritation and something else I don't want to examine. I huff out a breath, narrow my eyes at him, tracking his every movement with the caution of someone who's learned the hard way that pretty faces can hide sharp teeth.

"Is there a point to this, or do you always harass prisoners?"

"Prisoner?" Rex stops moving, leans against the wall with calculated casualness. "You're walking around freely. That makes you a guest. A very hostile, murderous guest, but still."

"A guest who can't leave," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Well, when you put it like that..." His grin widens, showing teeth that are just a little too sharp.

Does he...sharpen his teeth?

He smells like a wolf, at least on the surface level but the deeper I inhaled, the more I felt like there was a distinct scent I wouldn't be able to catch without the full ability of my wolf.

Fucking Winter, fuvking drug!

Who even names their kid after a shitty season?

"I'm bored, you're curious, Winter is busy brooding somewhere or maybe his d**k is trying to find its way into Benedicta the b***h's hole. Let's make the most of it."

He holds out a hand.

I look at it like it's diseased. It might as well f*****g be.

Rex drops his hand and laughs at my expression, the sound echoing in the empty hallway, and I realize I might have made a mistake coming out here. But information is power, and I need every advantage I can get in this place.

Against my better judgment, I follow when he starts walking.

He takes me through hallways that I wish I wasn't so mesmerized by. Every corner is different, the interior design shifting from modern to traditional and back again in ways that shouldn't work but somehow do. Large windows alternate with art pieces I don't recognize but can appreciate. The architecture itself is stunning—vaulted ceilings, careful lighting, spaces that feel both grand and intimate.

My fingers itch with the urge to sketch it.

I haven't felt that in years. Not since my mom used to sit with me in her clinic while I drew the anatomy diagrams she'd teach me from, her patient voice guiding my hand across the page...not since she made me sketch her on that bed for the last time, when she knew she wasn't going to make it.

I shove the memory down hard.

And down also went my urge to draw.

"That's the Alpha's office," Rex gestures to a set of ornate double doors as we pass. "Don't go there unless summoned. He gets testy. But then again, when isn't he?" He chuckles at his own joke and I find it weird but I don't hate it. This man and his cousin clearly have history, starting with the fact that there are no f*****g similarities between them.

He's a blonde haired man with blue eyes and a much leaner frame, while his skin looks pale and somewhat untouched by the sun, Winter's is tanned and speaks of a sort of experience that Rex seems to have avoided.

His eyes told a different story though.

I knew a man well versed in the art of playing games with people's lives when I saw one.

We continue walking and he points out more locations. "That's the medical wing—Dr. Bitchface's domain, enter at your own risk. That's the east exit—biometric locks, fifteen guards minimum, not worth the attempt."

I file everything away, my tactical mind cataloging exits, guard patterns, potential weaknesses. He's giving me real information and I don't know why, don't trust it, but I'll take it anyway.

"What's it like?" Rex asks suddenly, his voice dropping lower. "Being fated mates to someone you want to kill? Does the bond make you crazy? Make you want to rip his throat out or rip his clothes off? Both?"

My pulse picks up traitorously and I refuse to answer, keeping my expression carefully blank.

He laughs again, darker this time. "It's torture, isn't it? Wanting someone who destroyed everything you love."

Something in his tone suggests he's speaking from experience and I file that away too.

We end up in a kitchen that's somehow both industrial and homey—massive stainless steel appliances alongside warm wooden cabinets and a large farmhouse table that's clearly seen use. The space smells like fresh bread and herbs, and I catch my reflection in the polished chrome of the refrigerator.

My light brown skin is still marked with faint scratches from being dragged through the grass...from hurting myself as I laid stuck in that room, thin lines that haven't quite healed yet. Dark circles shadow my eyes. I look like I've been through hell.

I look like I survived a fuckjng freight train.

Rex raids the fridge with easy familiarity, pulls out cheese and fruit and what looks like leftover roast. He offers me a plate and I eye it warily.

Wariness is my second nature now.

"Winter's orders are to keep you fed and comfortable," he explains, taking a bite of cheese himself. "I'm just following instructions."

"Since when have you been following his instructions?" I challenge.

His smile turns sharp, calculating. "I don't. But I'm curious about you. About what makes an Alpha strong enough to earn Winter's interest."

"You mean what makes me stupid enough to get caught."

"That too." He leans against the counter, studying me with those too-blue eyes. "He's not used to being challenged. Especially not by someone he's bound to. Winter is... let's call him particular. Perfectionist to the point of OCD. Control issues that would make a therapist weep. And he has absolute authority over this pack—two hundred thousand wolves who jump when he says jump."

"Sounds like a f*****g dictator."

"Sounds like an Alpha." Rex's expression shifts, becomes more serious. "My cousin doesn't do feelings, you see. They're messy. Weak. Humane. He's spent his whole life building walls so high even I can't scale them anymore."

He leans closer and my heart rate kicks up, adrenaline singing through my veins. I can see the small hairs on his near perfect skin, the heat of his breath against my lashes.

He was far too close for comfort.

His words unsettling me almost as much as his proximity.

"Want to know a secret?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Winter's terrified of you."

"He has a funny way of showing it." I snap back, my voice breathless for some reason.

What. Is. That. Scent?

"Not terrified you'll kill him." Rex's smile widens as he moves even closer, barely a breath between us now. "Terrified of what you might or might not make him feel. But you..." His eyes go dark, intent. "You make him very...mundane."

The kitchen door opens.

We both turn.

Winter stands in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space completely. He inhales subtly—almost unnoticeable, but I catch it, and then his brows pull together with something akin to recognition. His silver eyes are unfocused but his face is now carved from ice and barely leashed fury.

"Rex." His voice is death wrapped in silk. "Step away from her. Now."

How did he...

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.

Rex doesn't move immediately, deliberately taking his time, that sharp smile never fading from his face as he holds Winter's blind gaze.

"We were just getting acquainted, my dear cousin."