The Alpha's Bondage

Silent Intruder

♛Harley♛

The elevator had died again, and the stairwell smelled like boiled cabbage and cigarettes. I climbed to the fourth floor with my apron stuffed in my bag and cash tucked in my right shoe, where it pressed against the bone with every step. Ridgeway Apartments wasn’t pretty. But it was mine. The hall light buzzed, and the door to 4B stuck like always and then let go with a small jump that made me stumble into my own place.

“Home,” I said, and the word came out smaller than it felt. I dropped my keys in the old bowl by the sink and kicked off my shoes. The quiet settled like a blanket that had been washed too many times. Thin. Still warm.

“You made it. One more shift done. Keep moving,” Nyra, my wolf, encouraged. I nodded in agreement, and the first thing I did was get undressed, and then I took a semi-warm shower. The water heater wasn’t the best either, but it was better than taking a cold shower. Dressed in my favorite pair of worn sweatpants and a t-shirt, I headed into the kitchen. I set a pot on the stove and filled it with tap water. The pipes coughed and then steadied. Mac and cheese again. I didn’t mind. It was a cheap and easy meal. And the best part was that it made the apartment smell like comfort. I put music on low from my phone, and a voice I loved filled the kitchen like light. The floor was cold through my socks. My shoulders unwound one notch at a time as the water began to hiss.

“Mac and cheese,” I muttered as I reached for the box and tore it open. Little elbows rained into my palm, and I held them above the pot. Steam kissed my face. I stirred and kept stirring because the motion worked on my nerves like a lullaby. And then I heard a noise from behind me. It was a soft rattle, like a coin rolling on wood and falling to a stop. I froze with the spoon halfway to the rim. “Hello?” I called, and I forced my voice to sound bored as I wiped the steam off my cheek with the back of my wrist. I turned the stove down and walked to the door. The hallway stared back through the peephole with its dull, patient eye. Nothing. The building breathed. The neighbor in 4C coughed. Someone argued below me and then apologized, and then started again. Normal. Everything was normal.

“You are jumpy. You need food. Eat,” Nyra said as I slid the chain across and cracked the door just to check the mat. Empty. No flyers. No packages. No reason for the sound. I closed up again and leaned my forehead against the wood for a second. The grain was smooth where my head always touched in this exact spot. I smiled and went back to the stove. The noodles were nearly ready. The water bubbled fat and slow, and the steam fogged the old window above the sink. I drained the pot and shook it like a maraca until most of the water ran away. The powder went in next. Orange dust that always looked like a bad decision and always tasted like home. I added a splash of milk, a little butter, and stirred until it became silky and thick. My stomach answered with a low ache that reminded me I hadn’t eaten today. But then there was another sound, and I realized it had come from inside.

“Who is there?” I said, and my voice came out steadier than I felt. My hand found the drawer and closed around the cheap, sharp knife I used for tomatoes. I stepped into the narrow dark of the hall that led to the bedroom and the tiny bathroom. The air felt wrong in a way that I couldn’t explain.

“Be brave. Do not be stupid. Move!”

“Get out,” I said, and I took another step. My eyes strained and adjusted. The bedroom door was open. The curtain moved as if someone had exhaled. My chest pulled tight just as he stepped into view like he belonged there. He was tall and well-built. He had dark hair that looked like a storm, and his eyes were the color of rain. Every part of him said strength without trying. He did not touch me. He did not move for a heartbeat, and neither did I.

“Do not be afraid,” he finally said as he broke the silence. I flinched as I lifted the knife. My heart hammered against the wall of my chest so hard it hurt. I considered my options, and then I opened my mouth to scream. He moved so quickly that I was completely taken aback. One moment, he stood across from me, and then he was behind me, his hand over my mouth and nose with some cloth I hadn’t noticed. The scent hit me. It was sweet at first, but then chemical and wrong. I twisted as I tried to get away from him.

“Hold your breath! Hold it! Don’t breathe it in!” Nyra warned, but it was too late. The burn still slipped in. It slid along my tongue and down the tender line of my throat. My eyes watered. My fingers dug at his wrist and then at his sleeve. I felt his breath against my ear as he leaned in. He was strong. So strong.

“Easy, Harley,” he whispered. “I have you,” I frowned, and then I realized I still had the knife. I tried to lift my arm, but his hold was far too tight. I struggled against him, but then the knife fell to the ground with a soft clatter.

“Fight! Fight, Harley!” she screamed, but it was no use. The effects from the cloth had worked their way into my system, and I felt sluggish. His skin felt hot against my back, and I sighed softly.

“Breathe slowly,” he advised, and I hated that I did as he said. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and I stepped away from him. I stumbled against the wall and tried to use it to hold myself up. Still, my vision blurred and I felt myself falling. He didn’t let me. He caught me and held me in his arms. I stared up at him, and I tried to understand the warmth that overwhelmed me.

“Wh…wh…why?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. His expression was dark, and the edges of my vision softened. I knew I was about to pass out. I tried to hold on, but it was so hard.

“Stop fighting it,” he said, and I stared into his eyes. That was the last thing I saw and remembered before my eyes fluttered closed and I gave in to the effects.

♛♛