The Alpha's Naughty Christmas

15: Locked Doors and Dangerous Act

Zolani’s POV

The rest of the drive home was silent, like thick, suffocating silence that pressed against my skin.

The snow outside whipped against the tinted windows, the wipers sweeping in slow, steady rhythm, but inside the SUV it felt like the air had been sucked out.

Cassian sat beside me, not touching, not speaking, just existing. That was enough. His presence filled the space, broad shoulders, long legs stretched out, heat radiating off him in waves that made my coat feel unnecessary.

Every breath I took carried his scent and something darker, something that made my pulse stutter and my thighs clench despite every prayer I’d ever said.

I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching snow blur into white streaks, pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of every shift of his body, every slow exhale, every time his fingers flexed on his knee like he was holding himself back from something.

The convoy rolled to a smooth stop in the driveway. Lights from the lodge glowed ahead, warm, golden, and deceptive. I reached for the door handle immediately, desperate to sprint upstairs, lock myself in my room, and figure out how to stop lusting after my best friend’s father before I lost what little sanity I had left.

The handle didn’t move.

It was locked.

I yanked again harder this time but nothing.

The driver stepped out without a word, boots crunching something as he walked away, leaving me sealed inside with the one man I should’ve been running from.

Cassian didn’t move at first. Just sat there, watching me struggle with the door like it amused him, dark amusement, the kind that made my stomach flip and my thighs press together at the same time.

I turned slowly, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

He was already looking at me, storm-grey eyes calm, dangerous, and unreadable. The red at the edges had faded.

“Can I… the door is locked,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Can you open it?”

He sighed, long, and slow, like he was tired of fighting something and ran his fingers through his hair.

The motion was casual and innocent.

But the way his bicep flexed under the rolled-up sleeve, the way those thick fingers raked through the black strands streaked with silver, the way his head tilted slightly as he did it… I wanted to be the one doing it. Wanted to feel those strands slide between my fingers, tug just hard enough to make him growl my name.

Right?

Shut up, Zolani.

“Are you bored at home?” he asked.

The question was so unexpected my mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. My brain short-circuited... overheated, fried, and useless.

“Bored?” I repeated, voice small.

He leaned back against the leather seat, thighs spreading wider, taking up more space, making the entire car feel smaller.

“You keep trying to run. First Ronan. Now the door. So I’m asking… are you bored? Restless? Looking for something to do with all that… energy?”

The last word dropped like a match into gasoline.

Energy.

He meant the way my thighs kept pressing together. The way my breath kept hitching. The way my scent...sweet, ripe, desperate was probably choking him the same way his was choking me.

I swallowed. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled low, rough, and dangerous. “You know exactly what I mean, little human.”

The nickname hit me hard and a caress at once. My n*****s tightened against the sweater. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my legs, but the movement only made it worse, fabric rubbing, slick sliding and heat building.

God, please let him not smell it.

He watched every tiny shift.

Every flutter of my lashes and every quick breath.

“I’m not bored,” I lied, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… wanted coffee.”

“Coffee,” he repeated, tasting the word like it amused him. “In a blizzard. With an unmated male. At night.”

He leaned forward slowly, and deliberate, elbows on his knees, face closer now. Close enough I could see the faint scar on his jaw, the silver in his stubble, the way his pupils were starting to eat the grey again.

“You think I don’t know what restless looks like?” he murmured. “You think I haven’t watched you squirm since you arrived? Every time I see you, your thighs press together. Your breath catches. Your scent spikes..sweet, wet, and needy. You’re not bored, Zolani.”

My name in his mouth again.

Rough and possessive.

“You’re starving.”

I couldn’t breathe.

He kept going, voice low, and relentless.

“This world is dangerous. Outside these walls? Rogues. Rival packs. Males who smell a ripe, unmated female and lose every scrap of control they ever had. You think Ronan is safe? He’s not. He’s polite. He’s restrained. But give him one taste of you...one real taste and he’ll forget every rule I ever set in my territory.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

Then lower, to the way my chest rose and fell too fast.

“You’re under my protection,” he continued, voice dropping even further. “My roof. My rules. That means you don’t leave without telling me. You don’t get into cars with males who aren’t me. You don’t put yourself in positions where I have to kill to keep you safe.”

He paused and then, quiet, almost gentle,

“Because I will kill.. every time without hesitation.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I should have been scared but I wasn’t, instead I was burning.

Every word he spoke wrapped around me tighter... warnings, threats, and sweet promises. My body responded before my brain could catch up, n*****s aching, core clenching, slick soaking through my panties and probably the car seat. I couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t hide it. He’d smell it. He already did.

His nostrils flared, he knew and still he didn’t move.

I did.

I leaned forward, just a fraction, drawn like gravity, like a moth to flame, like a woman who’d spent too long starving.

His eyes darkened instantly.

“Zolani,” he warned, voice gravel.

I didn’t stop.

I reached out slowly, trembling and laid my palm flat on his chest.

Right over his heart.

It thundered under my fingers wild, powerful, and barely contained.

He froze completely, every muscle locked.

I lifted my eyes to his, lust-drunk, reckless, and lost.

“You said you’d protect me,” I whispered, voice shaking. “As long as I’m here… I’m safe. Right?”

His jaw ticked.

I slid my hand up slowly and over the hard plane of his pec, feeling the heat, the muscle, the faint scars under his shirt.

His breath hitched once, and sharp.

I don't know what I was doing but I love having him at a disadvantage and powerless so I continued.

“Then protect me,” I breathed, leaning closer, lips inches from his. “Keep me safe… right here.”

The air between us crackled and his control snapped.

One second he was still.

The next his hand shot up, fast, and brutal, fisting the back of my neck, yanking me forward until our mouths crashed together.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was war, teeth, tongue and growl.

He tasted like blood and pine and fury and want, everything I’d been craving since the day I walked into his kitchen and saw him in those briefs.

His tongue shoved past my lips, claiming, punishing, devouring. His grip on my neck was iron, tilting my head exactly how he wanted, deepening the angle until I moaned into his mouth like a w***e.

I kissed him back, desperate, messy, all teeth and need, hands fisting his shirt, trying to pull him closer, climb into his lap, disappear inside him.

He growled again deep, and feral, hand sliding down to my waist, yanking me across the console until I was straddling him in the passenger seat.

My coat fell open and the sapphire dress rode up.

His c**k, hard, thick, straining was right there, pressing against my soaked panties through his trousers.

I ground down instinctively, once, twice and whimpering at the friction.

He broke the kiss with a snarl, forehead pressed to mine, breathing ragged.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he rasped.

“I do,” I whispered, rocking again, shameless. “I want it.”

His eyes flashed crimson.

Then, slowly and deliberately, he dragged one hand up my thigh, under the slit of the dress, fingers brushing the edge of my panties.

I was wet and soaked, he let out a low broken groan that made me shiver.

“You’re dripping for me,” he said, voice wrecked. “After I told you to stay away from other males. After I killed for you.”

I nodded.. frantic, and needy. “Yes.”

His fingers slipped under the lace, slow, and torturing, sliding through my folds, coating themselves in me.

I cried out sharp, and desperate.

He circled my c**t once, light and, teasing and then pressed hard.

I bucked, moaning his name.

“Cassian...”

He froze, pulled his hand back, eyes wider, his crimson burning brighter, unexpected shock replacing hunger.

I blinked and reality crashed in.

I’d kissed him, grinded on him, begged for him in his car after he’d dragged me away from another man.

I scrambled back, awkward, and panicking, trying to climb off his lap, coat tangling, and dress riding up.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, voice cracking. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean... I’m sorry...”

I lunged for the door handle but a hand shot out, fast, and brutal grabbing my wrist and yanking me back.

I spun and faced him, his eyes were full crimson now, no grey left, he looked wild and feral.

“Where do you think you’re going,” he growled, voice so low it vibrated through my bones, “after kissing me… after grinding on my c**k… after smelling like heat?”

My breath stopped.

He pulled me closer, slowly and inexorable until I was straddling him again, his hands locked on my hips.

“You don’t get to run now, little human.”

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, still swollen from his kiss.

“You started this.”

He leaned in, mouth hovering over mine.

“Now you’re going to finish it.”

The door was still locked, the driver was gone and snow howled outside.

And inside…I was already burning... burning for my bestie father.

Lord, forgive me.

Because I don’t want forgiveness anymore.

I want him.

All of him.

Right now.

Amen.