Chapter 6: The Alpha’s Restraint
554 Words
Kai’s POV
She didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just followed him like a shadow too quiet to name.
He felt her behind him—each breath, each step, each tremor. Her scent lingered in the air: faint soap, warm skin, and something else. The aftermath of fear. The beginning of arousal. It wrapped around him, slow and thick, like honey poured over fire.
The corridor narrowed as they neared his wing. He slowed his stride to let her catch up, though he didn’t turn. Wouldn’t. Not yet.
He wanted to watch her in the dark.
He wanted to see how long it took before she looked up.
When they reached the chamber, he opened the door and stood aside. She paused—bare feet brushing velvet rug, eyes wide—but entered.
She looked like a ghost in a dream.
Not because she was pale. But because she didn’t belong in any world that made sense.
He closed the door behind them. The sound echoed like a vow.
She flinched.
Good.
Not because he wanted her afraid.
But because fear meant awareness.
And awareness… meant she felt this too.
The room was warmer than the hall. Fire danced in the hearth, shadows curling across stone and silk. His bed loomed large in the corner, sheets dark and untouched. A bottle of wine rested on a table, unopened. He hadn’t planned for company.
But fate didn’t ask.
It threw her at his feet.
He turned.
She stood by the fire now, arms wrapped around herself despite the heat. The gauze still clung to her chest, translucent and cruel, revealing more than it hid. Her legs bore faint smudges of bruises. Her neck, the red imprint of her chain.
His blood pulsed hard.
She looked like a prayer no god would dare answer.
And yet… she was his.
He moved closer. Slowly. Letting her feel it.
When he stopped just a foot from her, he said—quiet, measured—
"I won’t touch you."
She blinked.
"Not unless you ask me to."
He watched the war behind her eyes. The confusion. The disbelief. The shame that bloomed down her neck like a second skin.
She didn’t speak.
So he reached for the dark robe folded by the hearth. Held it out.
She hesitated.
Then stepped forward.
Her fingers brushed his as she took it.
Heat. Spark. Tremor.
It was brief. But enough.
She clutched the robe to her chest. Wrapped it around herself like armor. But it didn’t hide her. Not from him. Nothing ever could.
Her eyes flicked to the side. To the bed.
He saw it.
He saw her imagining it.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. Just turned away before the sound of her breath drove him mad.
He poured himself a glass of wine. Didn’t drink it.
She was still standing there, near the fire, skin glowing beneath the robe, when he spoke again—
"You’ll sleep here. On the bed."
He paused.
"I’ll take the couch."
She didn’t move.
Didn’t thank him.
Didn’t believe him.
And that was fine.
He’d earn her trust the hard way.
He always did.
But as he lay back that night, spine stiff on the velvet couch across the room, he stared into the fire and imagined what her breath would sound like when she finally whispered yes.
- Writer
