Claimed by the Demon Alpha

Chapter 6: The Beast

Selene POV

The dragon.

It's the same one from that first night. The one that should have killed me but didn't.

But everything is different now.

Massive iron chains wrap around its body—thick as tree trunks, covered in glowing symbols that pulse with an eerie light. Ancient runes. Binding spells. They hold the dragon down, pinning it to the stone floor of what looks like an underground chamber.

The chains rattle. Groan. They're straining. Failing.

It's going to break free.

The dragon thrashes, pulling against its restraints. Each movement sends tremors through the floor. Its wings beat uselessly against the low ceiling. And that sound—that terrible roaring—it's not rage.

It's agony.

I should run. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to flee while I still can.

But I can't look away.

Our eyes meet.

Red. Burning red. But beneath the fire, I see something else. Control—barely holding on. Pain—so deep it drowns everything else. And fury—not at me, but at itself. At whatever force is tearing it apart from the inside.

It's suffering.

My hand reaches out before my brain can stop it.

What are you doing? This is insane. That thing will kill you the second those chains break.

I know. I know and I still take a step forward.

The dragon's head snaps toward me. Its jaws open wide—rows of teeth like swords, throat glowing with building fire.

"Don't be afraid," I whisper. My voice shakes. "I won't hurt you. Just like that first night. You didn't hurt me either."

Who am I even talking to?

But the words keep coming. Because looking at this creature—this magnificent, terrible thing chained and bleeding and breaking—hurts. It hurts like watching myself in Ice Moon Pack. Worthless. Beaten. Trapped.

The dragon roars. Fire erupts from its mouth.

I dodge left. The flames scorch the wall behind me, leaving black marks on the stone.

I take another step forward. Extend my hand.

"It's okay," I breathe. "I'm here."

My fingers touch scale. Cold. Hard as diamond but somehow alive. Vibrating with contained power.

The dragon shudders. Then goes still.

The roaring stops. The chains stop rattling. Even the air seems to hold its breath.

Its eyes—those burning red eyes—shift. Fade. Turn brown. Warm, deep brown that looks almost... human.

Then it makes a sound.

A whimper. Low and broken. Like a wounded animal that's forgotten how to ask for help.

It's crying.

This massive, terrifying creature that could reduce me to ash with a single breath—it's crying.

My chest tightens. I move closer, both hands pressing against its scales now. They're cool beneath my palms, slick with blood seeping from where the chains have cut into flesh.

"I know," I whisper. "I know it hurts."

The dragon lowers its enormous head. Presses its snout against my shoulder—gentle, so impossibly gentle for something so huge. I feel its breath, hot and damp, against my neck.

Then its massive wing moves. Slowly. Carefully. It wraps around me, pulling me close against its chest.

I'm so small in its embrace. Like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. One wrong move and I'm dead. Its mouth could swallow me whole. Its claws could pierce through me like paper.

But I don't fight. Don't struggle.

Because I feel it—the desperation. The need. The wordless plea: Don't leave. Please don't leave.

Every time I shift, even slightly, the dragon rumbles. Not a threat. A warning. Stay.

So I do. I lean against its cold, hard body and let it hold me. Feel the rise and fall of its chest. The steady, powerful heartbeat beneath the scales.

My eyes drift shut. Exhaustion crashes over me—the adrenaline finally wearing off, leaving nothing but bone-deep weariness.

Just for a moment. I'll rest for just a moment.

*****

Warmth.

That's what wakes me. Not cold anymore. Warm.

And breathing. Soft. Steady. Human breathing.

My eyes snap open.

Arms. Strong, muscled arms wrapped around me from behind. Skin against my back—warm, smooth, very much alive.

Not the dragon.

I freeze. My heart hammers against my ribs.

The dragon is gone. In its place is a man. I can't see his face—my back is pressed against his chest—but I feel him. The solid weight of muscle. The rise and fall of his breathing. The way his arms hold me with that same desperate possessiveness the dragon showed.

What happened? Who is this? Where did the dragon go?

Panic claws up my throat. I need to leave. Now. Before he wakes up. Before I have to explain what I'm doing here, why I came, why I stayed.

I reach for his arms. Carefully. So carefully. They're heavy—corded with muscle, hot where they touch my skin. I lift them slowly, inch by inch, barely breathing.

Please don't wake up. Please.

He shifts. Mumbles something I can't understand.

I freeze again. Wait. Count to ten.

He settles back into sleep.

I ease out of his grip. Stand on shaking legs. For just a moment—one stupid, reckless moment—I want to look at his face. To see who this is. To understand what connection he has to the dragon.

But I don't. Because if I look, I might not leave. And I have to leave.

Now.

I run.

Through the iron door. Down the winding corridors. My bare feet slap against cold stone. My heart races. Behind me, nothing stirs. No footsteps. No shouts. No roaring.

He's still asleep.

I make it back to the waiting room and slip inside. The other women are just starting to wake. Pale morning light filters through the high windows.

Morning.

It's morning.

I missed it. My chance to escape. The whole night—gone. Wasted on an ancient creature and a mysterious man. And I still don't understand the connection between them.

I climb back into my bunk and pull the thin blanket over myself. My body still feels the phantom warmth of those arms. My skin still remembers the cold scales beneath my hands.

What have I done?

I don't know. But whatever it is, I can't take it back now.