The Alpha's confession
781 Words
Chapter Five
The Alpha’s Confession
It was almost midnight when the knock came.
I sat by the fire in the guest wing, wrapped in a thin robe, my skin still damp from a post-training shower. I’d tried to meditate, to ground myself, to remember who I was—what I’d become.
But the bond pulsed too loudly tonight.
It wasn’t just attraction.
It was something old, spiritual. Fated.
The kind of thing that refused to die, even when shattered.
I didn’t answer right away.
The knock came again. Slow. Measured. Confident.
I knew it was him.
I rose and opened the door.
Damon stood there, dressed in a dark henley and sweatpants. Casual. Intimate. Unreasonably gorgeous. His hair was damp, like he’d been pacing, then given in to whatever storm brewed inside him.
“Aria,” he said, voice hoarse.
I didn’t move. “What do you want?”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Five minutes.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You’re right. But I need to say something, and I’d rather not do it out here with warriors lurking around corners.”
I hesitated. Then stepped aside.
He entered slowly, his presence filling the space like smoke. He didn’t sit. Neither did I.
“What is it?” I asked, arms folded across my chest.
Damon turned toward the fire. His shoulders seemed heavier tonight.
“I was eighteen when I rejected you,” he began, voice low. “And I thought I knew what strength looked like. I thought it wore armor, had fangs, and never bled.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was raised to be ruthless. My father taught me that weakness was a disease. That love made leaders soft. So when I smelled you that night... and saw you standing there in that little dress with shaking hands... I panicked. Because the Moon Goddess didn’t give me a warrior. She gave me a girl who looked like she might break.”
I stayed silent, watching him.
He turned toward me. “But she wasn’t weak. She was strong enough to walk away.”
I met his eyes, my voice even. “And now that she’s not broken, you want her back.”
“No,” he said. “I want you. The real you. The woman who clawed her way back. The one who scares me now.”
I swallowed hard.
He stepped closer. “I wake up every night in a cold bed wondering if I ruined the only thing that ever belonged to me.”
“I never belonged to you,” I said, but my voice was softer than I meant it to be.
He reached out.
I flinched—but didn’t pull away.
His fingers brushed my jaw, tender and slow.
“Then give me a chance to earn you.”
I stared up at him, caught between fury and longing.
“You can’t undo what you did.”
“I know,” he said. “But if you let me... I’ll spend every breath I have trying.”
The bond hummed between us—hot and pulsing. Elira whimpered, drawn to him like a moth to flame. My own breath hitched as his fingers trailed down to my throat, resting where the faded mate mark once was.
His touch was gentle, reverent.
“Aria,” he murmured, “if I kiss you right now... will you stop me?”
My heart pounded.
He leaned in.
His lips hovered over mine. Not touching. Waiting.
I should have said no.
I should have shoved him away.
Instead, I whispered, “This doesn’t fix anything.”
And then he kissed me.
It was slow at first—tentative, searching—then deeper, desperate. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer. I felt the shudder in his chest as our bodies molded together, years of tension crashing like a wave.
My fingers curled in his shirt. His mouth moved with a hunger that stole the breath from my lungs. I hated how easily I melted. How familiar he still tasted. How my body betrayed me.
Then—
I pushed him back.
Hard.
We stood there, both panting.
His lips were swollen. My skin burned.
“This changes nothing,” I said, voice shaking.
He nodded slowly, eyes dark. “Then I’ll keep changing nothing. Every night if I have to.”
I blinked, stunned by the honesty in his voice.
“I’m not giving up,” he said. “Not again.”
He left without another word.
And I was left trembling—caught between the past and a bond that refused to stay buried.
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- Writer
