The Alpha King's Rejected Bride

Aftermath and Dangerous Proximity

The battlefield fell silent.

Bodies lay scattered under the moonlight. The Crimson Alpha was on his knees, neck bleeding from Damien’s jaws, his forces either dead or surrendered. The silver bombs had been disarmed just in time.

I stood a few feet away, still in wolf form, breathing hard. My silver-white fur was stained with blood — not all of it mine.

Damien shifted back to human. Naked. Covered in sweat, dirt, and enemy blood. His massive body glistened under the moon as he stalked toward the captured alpha, radiating pure lethal fury.

“Take him to the dungeons,” he ordered Beta Kane, voice like ice. “I’ll deal with him personally at sunrise.”

Then he turned.

His glowing golden eyes locked onto me immediately. The mate bond flared so strongly I felt it in my bones. He walked straight to me, completely unbothered by his nudity, and dropped to one knee in front of my wolf.

“You fought well,” he said quietly, voice rough. One big hand reached out and gently stroked the side of my muzzle. “But you’re hurt.”

I shifted back to human form right there.

The moment I did, Damien’s arms were around me, lifting me against his chest like I weighed nothing. His skin was burning hot against mine. I was only wearing the torn remains of the tactical suit.

“Put me down,” I protested weakly.

“No.” His grip tightened. “You’re still healing from the poison. And I’m not letting you out of my sight again tonight.”

The ride back to the estate in the armored SUV was thick with tension. Damien refused to let me sit alone — he pulled me onto his lap, one strong arm banded around my waist, the other stroking my thigh slowly. Every touch felt electric.

I hated how good it felt.

Back in the master bedroom, he carried me straight into the massive bathroom and turned on the shower. Steam filled the space.

“Strip,” he ordered.

I crossed my arms. “I can shower by myself.”

His jaw ticked. “You’re covered in blood and silver residue. Either you take your clothes off, or I rip them off. Your choice, little mate.”

I glared at him, but my body was exhausted. I turned my back and slowly peeled off the ruined tactical gear. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time — dark, hungry, possessive.

When I stepped under the hot spray, Damien joined me.

Naked.

He didn’t touch me at first. He just stood behind me, letting the water wash over both of us. Then his hands — surprisingly gentle — began cleaning the blood from my shoulders, my back, my arms.

“You have no idea how many nights I imagined this,” he murmured, voice low. “You. In my home. Under my hands. Safe.”

I shivered despite the hot water. “Don’t.”

He turned me to face him. Water cascaded down his sculpted chest, over the tattoos, including the one that looked like my name. His c**k was hard, thick, and heavy between us, but he made no move to press it against me.

“I know I don’t deserve to touch you,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “I rejected you. Humiliated you. Broke you in front of everyone. I was a coward and a fool.”

His thumb brushed my bottom lip.

“But I’m not letting you go again. I’ll beg if I have to. I’ll sleep on the f*****g floor every night until you believe me. Just… don’t run.”

My heart clenched. The mate bond was screaming at me to forgive him, to kiss him, to let him in.

I stepped back until my back hit the cold tile.

“I need time,” I whispered. “You don’t get to break me and then f**k me better three years later like nothing happened.”

Damien’s eyes darkened with pain and lust. He placed both hands on the tile on either side of my head, caging me in without touching.

“I won’t force you,” he said, voice strained. “But I will take care of you. And I won’t hide how much I want you.”

He leaned in slowly. His lips hovered just above mine, so close I could feel his breath. The tip of his nose brushed mine. I could smell his arousal, feel the heat of his body.

My core clenched with need.

But he didn’t kiss me.

Instead, he reached for the soap and began washing me again — shoulders, collarbone, the curve of my breasts. His touch was reverent, torturously slow. When his thumb grazed my n****e, I gasped.

He groaned softly. “You’re killing me, Elara.”

I was trembling by the time he finished. He wrapped me in a huge black towel and carried me to the bed.

He laid me down gently, then climbed in beside me — still completely naked. He pulled me against his chest, my back to his front, his hard c**k nestled against my ass, but he made no move to do anything more.

“Sleep,” he whispered against my hair, one arm locked around my waist. “I’ve got you.”

I lay there, heart racing, body aching with unfulfilled desire, the mate bond humming louder than ever.

And for the first time, I wondered if hating him was going to get a lot harder.

Especially when I could feel how badly he was holding himself back.