Tempted By The Alpha

1

navy grace gray

"You weren't born, Navey-- you were dragged into this world like a curse that refused to die."

Piercing through my mind, his voice embeds into the folds of my brain. It wraps around my heart, stuck in the middle of my chest, deadly roots I simply can't claw out, can't pull out of my ribcage.

The platforms of my converse slam into the dirt as I try to use the streaks of moonlight to guide me forward without tripping. I weave between trees, branches whipping my face and arms. Trying to outrun the voice in my mind, his voice. My chest heaves as the trees grow thicker and closer together, white tendrils of my hair clinging to my face.

The tip of my shoe snags on an exposed root, and I sprawl forward with a scream, throwing my hands out and hiss. A sharp pain pulses through my hand, and I grit my teeth, pushing up to my knees and scramble to my feet.

"The only thing you're good for, is suffering."

A bitter, metallic taste hits my tongue as fear begins to swell in my mouth and I squint my eyes. The treehouse. I stumble forward, wiping the tears from my eyes, wood biting into my palms as I scale the ladder-- hand over hand. Clumsily, I swing my leg over the platform, crawling into the rotting treehouse. On my hands and knees, I peer down, bile rising in my throat. My fear of heights drowning the voice in my head. My forehead drops to the wood, my eyes squeezing shut.

I'm not in control, and I can't f*****g breathe. The haunted, hollow voice pounds in my head as it takes and takes and takes. A noise that sounds an awful lot like a whimper tumbles from my lips, tears falling down my cheeks.

"You came in my life like rot-- quiet, spreading, horrid."

A swarm of bees rage in my chest, brutal stingers pricking at my heart.

"Are you planning on jumping?" I force my teary eyes open, the voice like crackling embers, heat touching my skin. I slightly tilt my head to the side, a large shape in the corner of the treehouse in my peripheral vision. "If you are, get on with it. You are disturbing my peace." I can hear him take a long drag of his cigarette.

I force a thin breath, the scent of rotting wood and smoke causing my eyes to blur. Pushing up, I scurry back on my hands, my back slamming into the piece of wood that used to have flowers and rainbows painted on. "No, I don't want to jump," I choke out, voice raw with tears. The tree sways as the wind picks up, the wood creaking. "Who are you?" My heart leaps and I shut my eyes, staying plastered to unstable piece of wood. My limbs ache, my mind too tired to feel the fear of having a stranger with me in the middle of the woods.

"Your hand is bleeding," The waft of smoke floating from around the corner where he's sitting causes me to squint my eyes. "Maybe worry about that instead." His voice is low, drifting to my ears before it's carried away by the wind. It makes my stomach flip, warmth spreading over my body, soothing away the earlier knot of panic.

My eyes fall down to my hand. Blood leaks down my wrist, twisting down my forearm and I hiss. Swatting strands of hair away from my face, I tilt my head backward. "What were you running from?" His words are tinged with a gravelly bite, and if I weren't so f*****g scared of falling, I would turn around to see what man dwells in the shadows. Biting into the side of my cheek, I lift my eyes to the sky. What was I running from? My nightmares, the voice, his voice.

"Who says I was running from anything?" I breathe out, a stray tear trailing down my cheek. f**k, my hand hurts. A rough hum flows from him, so low it almost vibrates through the space between us. Who is he? "Then why do you look like it's still right behind you?" So close that goosebumps prick at my skin, breath hitching in my throat at the undertone of his voice.

The tree creaks with the force of the wind, my injured hand slamming down against the wood, the heels of my feet scraping against the slimy surface as I push back further. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I keep my eyes on the stars. "Is that why you're here?" Swiftly glancing at the outline of his silhouette around the corner, much closer to me now. "Running from something or someone?" I mutter, my nails digging into the ridges of the oak.

His presence is suffocating. "Should I expect more people--" I freeze, my words cut short by the sudden touch of his fingers on mine. A ghost of a graze as he traces over my knuckles. The heat of his touch makes my spine rattle as a violent chill races up my body. "What were you running from?" He urges, the tip of his rough fingers sliding over the veins on my hand. My head rolls to the side, my cheek pushing into the side of the wood as I gaze down at our hands. My eyes track the way a black tattoo drifts from his knuckles, up his forearm, flames licking up his arm.

The blood streaked over my fingers and forearm have dried, the pain in my hand turning into tingles as his finger roves down to my wrist. I gulp, my mind too tired to lie. "Memories," I whisper, my eyes fluttering closed for a comfortable second. "Memories that dwell in my dreams. Memories that just don't seem to f*****g fade. The kind that makes me feel like I'm drowning, like I don't know how to swim." For a moment, I'm shocked at how easily the words fall from my lips. When my family along with multiple therapists couldn't even get me to speak for years.

Only Davian could. Slowly, he flips my hand over, the sight of the gash on my palm sending a shiver down my spine. The crimson has dried up, the cut pulsing as red and purple bruising start forming on the skin around it. "Then drown," He says, the harshness of his words shocking me. "Or learn how to f*****g swim and stay afloat." I blink, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip, his fingers grazing over my pulse and I'm sure he can feel how fast my heart is thudding. The contact makes my skin feel like it's dancing.

My earlier fear waning away like an ebbing tide. "Your turn," The panic drifts far off to the corner of my mind as warmth and tingles spread through my arm. "What are you running away from?" My question lingers in the air between us, his movements halting. "I don't run from anything or anyone," His fingers curl around my wrist. "I'm the thing that chases." He jerks my arm, plucking me from my hold against the wood, pulling until I'm on my knees in front of him, his hand holding my wrist to his chest.

Silently, I pray that when I open my eyes, it's not a f*****g demon. My eyes flutter open and our gazes clash. The glow from the moonlight throws beams of silver light across the angles of his face. Snags on his carved jawline and high cheekbones. It's f*****g worse than I hoped, because staring back at me with vicious blue eyes, is the devil. Davian Hunter. The heir of the Onyxthorn pack. "Am I a part of those memories chasing you, Gray?" A cruel smirk spreads on his lips as he stares down the bridge of his nose.

Messy strands of inky-black hair fall over his forehead, tousled by the wind. He completely envelops me, long, lean legs on either side of me. My fingers dig into his chest, hard and sculpted beneath my nails. "Let go of me." My jaw tightens, but it doesn't prevent my stomach from lurching. Davian's presence crawls over the walls of this rotting treehouse, invading the space with a sharp threat of memories I'd spent nine months trying to bury.

A deep chuckle rattles his broad chest, and I can feel its hostility vibrate in my lower stomach. I inhale him, smoke and everything sinful. I despise this man. "After nine months, you're still the same cowardly Navey as the day I left." His fingers tighten around my wrist, pulling a hiss from me. Flippantly, he flicks his blue eyes between mine and releases my wrist from his hold. I scramble back, pushing up to my feet just as he stands. Leaning back against the oak, he takes another long drag from his cigarette, full mouth wrapped around the orangish-brown filter.

His head tilts idly, watching me with hungry eyes, a predator trapping his prey, as smoke curls lazily from his lips. Breathing hard, I can still feel the heat of his body lingering, embers from a dying fire scorching my flesh. "After nine months you haven't even entered my f*****g mind, Hunter." Lie. I track the way his teeth nip at his bottom lip, revealing his naturally sharp canines. I wish the rotting wood would just give in behind him.

"Still a horrible f*****g liar too, I see." My heart sinks a little as I take a small step backward, goosebumps pricking at the nape of my neck. Either from the adrenaline or the pure hatred I have for this man, I narrow my eyes and spit out, "You still the same obedient son? Living your life trying to earn a man's approval who will never see you as anything but weak?" My fingers shake with rage, wind throwing my strands over my face.

With ease, he flicks the cigarette butt over the edge of the treehouse. The muscles in his chiseled jaw twitches, shoulders tightening as he pushes off the wood behind him and towers in front of me. Beams of moonlight s***h through the shadows on his face.

"Careful," He warns just as the wood beneath me groans. I take another step backward, the heel of my foot on the edge of the treehouse and I bite down on the fear. Stubbornness will be the death of me. "Or what?" I swallow roughly, my nails digging into the gash on my palm.

Davian shifts closer quicker than I can blink, caged by his body. The heat rolls off him in waves, wrapping me in a burning fog. My head barely reaches his shoulders, intimidating in every f*****g way. I slant my head back, staring up into his eyes, the blue swallowed by his pupils, their gravity so strong that nothing can escape them. "Or it won't just be memories chasing you, Navey." He says with a sardonic smirk, strands of his hair fluttering over his forehead.

"f*****g move," I grit out, my hands shooting to his chest as I try to shove him back, needing to create some space. But, Davian doesn't move, his eyes turning hooded as he raises his hand, twirling a piece of my white hair around his finger. "Stop it." I hiss, swatting his hand away from me, momentarily losing my balance. A gasp lodges in my throat as I reach for him. Falling, falling, until the slicing pain of the material of my hoodie digging into my neck causes me to groan.

Davian's large hand is wrapped around the front of my hoodie, holding me in place as I dangle halfway off the treehouse. My chest caves in, hands flying toward his, wrapping around his wrist. This fucker will let me fall to my death, I know he will. My knees buckle as I raise my eyes to his, a sadistic look in his eyes. He's only scraps of the Davian I used to know, all soft edges and warmth drained from him. He tilts his head, cruel eyes roving over my face. "And unlike your memories Navey," Pulling me closer, barely an inch between us and my lips fall agape, tremors rolling through my entire body. "You won't be able to outrun me."