Ruined By The Alpha

Chapter 12

The sheer physical gravity of Alpha Caine Black pinned me deeper into the plush mattress of his son’s bed. The morning light filtering through the balcony glass caught the sharp, dangerous angles of his face, illuminating the absolute lack of mercy in his liquid-gold eyes. His hand was a blistering weight where it held the hem of Carl’s t-shirt up, exposing the dark, ugly-beautiful fingerprint bruises he had burned into my hips just hours prior.

"Look at them," Caine rumbled, his voice a low, vibrating growl that rattled straight through my bones. "Tell me whose marks those are, Madison."

"Yours," I choked out, a sob of pure, helpless submission escaping my throat. My hands were tangled hopelessly in the lapels of his charcoal suit jacket, my knuckles white as I held onto the very man who was systematically dismantling my entire life. "They're yours, Alpha."

"Damned right they are," he purred, the sound dark and entirely animalistic.

He didn't waste another second. The sight of Carl’s pack crest on the front of the black t-shirt was a direct insult to his primal, possessive wolf. Caine reached up, his massive fingers hooking into the collar of the shirt, and with a single, violent flex of his forearm, the fabric tore down the middle. The sound of ripping cotton screamed through the silent bedroom.

I gasped as the shirt was completely stripped from my body, leaving me utterly bare beneath him in the cold morning air. He didn't care about the clothes. He cared about the erasure. He wanted to strip away every single layer of his son’s protection, leaving nothing but my soft, trembling skin exposed to his absolute rule.

Caine quickly shed his own designer suit jacket, tossing it carelessly to the floor where it crumpled over Carl's discarded shoes. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his black shirt, his thick, veins pulsing beneath his skin as his scent exploded into the room. It was a suffocating, violent wave of pure cedar, heavy rain, and raw, undisputed dominance. It completely choked out the clean, neutral scent of the room, filling every corner of the suite until the walls themselves practically dripped with his presence.

He moved over me like a mountain of muscle, his heavy, dense thighs forcing my knees wide apart. The friction of his tailored trousers against the raw, aching skin of my inner thighs was an electric shock, a brilliant flash of heat that made my hips tilt upward in a desperate, instinctual search for relief. My body was betraying me completely. I was a traitor to my best friend, a sinner in the worst degree, but under Caine's predatory gaze, my wolf was singing, begging to be completely claimed by the only master she recognized.

"You think he can make you a Luna?" Caine whispered, his face dipping low, his lips pressing a hard, bruising kiss against my throat right over my frantic pulse point. His teeth nipped the soft flesh, sharp enough to draw a whimper from my lips. "He wants to put a crown on your head, little wolf. But I know what you really crave. You want to be broken. You want to be possessed until you can't even remember your own name."

"Yes," I whined, my eyes shutting tightly as tears of overwhelming pleasure and deep, cutting guilt spilled down my cheeks. My fingers dug into the dense, rigid muscles of his back, feeling the raw power of the Apex beneath my palms. "Yes, Alpha. Please."

Caine let out a deep, satisfied purr that vibrated directly against my chest. He adjusted his weight, his large hands sliding down to grip my thighs, forcing them higher up his sides, completely exposing me to his brutal, unyielding desire. He didn't use the slow, agonizing torment of the balcony tonight. Driven by a dark, manic jealousy over his son's words, he claimed me with a fierce, punishing intensity that entirely shattered the final remnants of my willpower.

Every thrust was a deliberate, heavy claim, a physical decree that resonated deep within my wolf's soul. He was systematically overwriting Carl’s nest. He was burying his scent so deeply into my body, into the sheets, into the very wood of the headboard, that it would take weeks to fade. The physical ache from the night before was instantly met with a fresh, blistering heat that left me entirely breathless, my cries of unvarnished surrender echoing softly off the high ceilings of the bedroom.

I was lost in the fog of his dominance, my hips moving in perfect, desperate compliance with his rhythm, completely consumed by the man who was ruining me. He was taking everything—my loyalty, my future, my sanity—and replacing it with himself.

When it was over, Caine didn't immediately pull away. He collapsed his heavy chest against mine, his heart thundering like a war drum against my ribs, his hot breath shallow and heavy against my wet neck. He buried his face in my hair, taking a long, deep breath of the scent he had just completely dominated.

Slowly, the fog in my mind began to lift, and the cold, terrifying weight of reality slammed back into my chest.

I looked over Caine’s thick shoulder, my eyes widening in pure horror as I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand.

An hour had passed.

Carl’s meeting with the Beta would be wrapping up soon. He could be walking through the front garage doors at any single moment.

"Caine," I breathed, my voice a trembling, weak whimper as I tried to push against his massive chest. "Caine, please... you have to get up. Carl is going to be back soon. Look at the time."

Caine slowly lifted his head. The liquid-gold in his eyes was still thick, but a cold, calculated clarity had returned to his expression. He looked down at me, his gaze tracking the tear tracks on my face, the swollen, ruined state of my lips, and the absolute wreck of his son’s bed. The dark grey sheets were tangled, soaked in our sweat and the unmistakable, heavy aroma of his complete claim.

He didn't look panicked. He looked like a king who had just successfully defended his border.

He smoothly slid off the bed, his bare chest glistening with light sweat as he reached down to pick up his clothes from the floor. He slipped his black shirt back on, buttoning it with a terrifyingly calm precision that made my stomach churn with psychological dread.

"Let him come back, Madison," Caine murmured, sliding his charcoal jacket over his shoulders and adjusting his cuffs. He turned his head to look back at me, a dark, wicked glint in his gold eyes. "He wanted to see what it takes to be an Alpha. When he walks through that door and breathes in the air of this room, he is going to learn exactly what happens to a boy who tries to claim his father’s mate."