The Alpha Obsession

Death and Desire

Lyra

Time slowed to a crawl as Damon crept closer to my bed.

The silver blade in his hand caught the moonlight, and I could see my death reflected in its polished surface. My throat closed up completely. I couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe as he approached like a nightmare made real.

"Hello, little mouse," he whispered, his voice cold as winter wind. "Miss me?"

"How?" The word came out as barely a breath. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Death doesn't stick when you have unfinished business," Damon said, reaching the edge of my bed. "And you, my dear rejected mate, are very much unfinished business."

I tried to scramble backward, but the headboard trapped me. "The guards outside.."

"Are taking a nice long nap," Damon interrupted with a cruel smile. "Amazing how easily people sleep when you know exactly where to press on their necks."

Horror washed over me. He'd killed them. Killed Darius's wolves just to get to me.

"Please," I whispered. "Whatever you want.."

"What I want," Damon snarled, lunging forward and grabbing my throat with his free hand, "is to finish what should have been done the moment you were born."

His fingers tightened, cutting off my air. I clawed at his wrist, but he was so much stronger than me. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

"You're a curse," he hissed, pressing the blade against my ribs. "A weakness. First you nearly destroy our pack with your pathetic existence, and now you're going to make that monster stronger? I don't think so."

"I... can't... breathe..." I gasped, my vision starting to tunnel.

"Good. You've breathed long enough." The blade pressed harder, and I felt it slice through the thin fabric of my nightgown. "You should have died years ago. Should have been left in the forest for the wild animals. At least then you would have served some purpose."

Tears streamed down my face as darkness crept in from all sides. This was it. This was how I died, strangled by someone who was supposed to protect me, killed for the crime of existing.

"Any last words, little mouse?" Damon's face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin.

"Go... to hell," I wheezed.

His laugh was like breaking glass. "After you."

The blade drew back, ready to plunge into my heart. The door exploded inward.

Darius stood in the doorway like an avenging angel, his golden eyes blazing with fury so intense it seemed to light up the entire room. His shirt was torn, blood seeping through bandages on his ribs, but he looked very much alive and absolutely murderous.

"Get. Away. From. Her." Each word dripped with deadly promise.

Damon's grip on my throat loosened slightly as he turned toward the new threat. "Too late, Blackthorne. She's already.."

He never finished the sentence.

Darius moved faster than anything human should be able to move. One second he was across the room, the next his claws were buried in Damon's chest, lifting him off me and hurling him against the stone wall with a sickening c***k.

I gasped, air rushing back into my lungs as I collapsed against the pillows. My throat felt like it was on fire, but I was alive.

"You dare," Darius snarled, stalking toward where Damon was trying to get to his feet, "come into my home, kill my guards, and put your hands on my mate?"

"She's not your mate," Damon spat blood onto the floor. "She's a curse. A disease. I'm doing you a favor."

"The only favor I want," Darius said, grabbing Damon by the hair and yanking his head back, "is watching you die slowly."

"Darius, don't," I tried to say, but my voice was barely a croak.

"Shut up, you worthless.." Damon started to snarl at me. The sound that came from Darius wasn't human. It was pure animal rage, a roar that shook the windows and made my bones vibrate. His claws extended fully, and before I could blink, they were buried in Damon's throat.

Blood sprayed across the white walls in crimson arcs.

Damon's eyes went wide with shock, then empty as his body went limp. But Darius wasn't finished. His claws ripped downward, opening Damon from throat to stomach. Blood and worse things spilled onto the floor in a steaming pile.

I couldn't look away. Couldn't stop watching as Darius systematically tore apart the man who had tried to kill me. It should have been horrifying and it was but there was something else too. Something primal and satisfied in the way my wolf watched her mate destroy someone who had threatened her.

When Darius finally stepped back, he was covered in blood from head to toe. His chest heaved with exertion, and his eyes still glowed with inhuman fury. He looked like a god of war, beautiful and terrible and absolutely deadly.

"It's done," he said, turning toward me. "He's gone. He can never hurt you again."

I tried to speak, but only a sob came out. The terror, the near-death experience, the violence, it all crashed over me at once. My whole body shook as I hugged my knees to my chest.

"Lyra." Darius approached slowly, like I was a wounded animal that might bolt. "You're safe now."

"Safe?" I laughed, and it sounded hysterical even to my own ears. "Look around you. There's blood everywhere. You just... you just..."

"I protected what's mine," he said simply, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I would do it again. I would do worse."

His hands were still covered in Damon's blood when he reached for me. I should have been disgusted. Should have pulled away. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch as he gathered me into his arms.

"I know what you are now," I whispered against his blood-stained chest. "I know what you're capable of."

"Yes," he agreed, his voice rumbling beneath my ear. "And you're still here. Still letting me hold you."

He was right, and that terrified me more than anything else that had happened tonight. Despite everything, the violence, the possessiveness, the way he'd torn a man apart with his bare hands, I felt safer in his arms than I had anywhere else.

"I hate myself for this," I said, tears flowing freely now.

"For what?"

"For wanting you to hold me. For feeling grateful that you saved me. For not being disgusted by..." I gestured at the c*****e around us.

"You're not disgusted because your wolf recognizes her mate," Darius said, stroking my hair with surprising gentleness. "Because something deep inside you knows I would burn the world before letting harm come to you."

"That's not love," I said weakly. "That's an obsession."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But that's all I know how to give."

I pulled back to look at his face, taking in the sharp cheekbones, the full lips, the eyes that held centuries of violence and pain. "What happened to you? What made you like this?"

Something shuttered behind his expression. "That's a story for another time."

"Will there be another time? Or will you just keep me locked in this room forever?"

"You're not locked in," he said, though we both knew that was a lie. "You're protected."

"Is there a difference?"

"There has to be." His thumb traced along my cheek, wiping away tears I didn't realize were still falling. "Because the alternative is losing you, and I can't survive that."

The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. This wasn't just possessiveness talking, there was something broken in him, something that needed me in a way that went beyond simple desire.

"Darius," I began, not sure what I wanted to say.

"You're exhausted," he said, cutting me off. "Sleep. I'll have the room cleaned and your guards replaced."

"You're leaving?" I asked, and hated that I sounded disappointed.

"I'm staying right here," he said, settling into the chair beside my bed. "I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that was impossible, but exhaustion was already pulling at me. The trauma of nearly dying, the shock of being saved, the confusing tangle of emotions I felt toward my dark savior, it all weighed me down like stones.

But as I drifted toward sleep, I heard him moving around the room. The soft sounds of him disposing of the body, cleaning the blood, erasing all evidence that death had visited my chambers.

When I woke hours later in the deep of night, the room was spotless. The only sign anything had happened was the faint smell of bleach and the sight of Darius slumped in his chair, finally asleep.

He looked younger in sleep, less like the monster who ruled through fear and more like a man carrying the weight of the world. Blood still stained his clothes and hands, Damon's blood, spilled to protect me.

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, meaning to grab a blanket to cover him. But the moment my feet touched the floor, his eyes snapped open.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, though his voice held no real suspicion.

"I was just... you looked cold."

"I don't get cold." But something soft flickered in his expression. "Come here."

I should have refused. Should have gotten back in bed and pretended to sleep. Instead, I found myself walking toward him like a moth drawn to flame.

He pulled me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me like I was something precious. And despite everything, the blood, the violence, the way he'd stolen me from my old life, I felt safe.

"This is wrong," I whispered against his chest.

"I know."

"You're a killer."

"Yes."

"You destroyed my pack."

"They deserved it."

I pulled back to look at his face, searching for any sign of remorse. I found none.

"You feel nothing about the people you've killed?"

"I feel everything about you," he said simply. "Nothing else matters."

The honesty in his voice should have terrified me. Instead, it sent a dangerous thrill through my chest that I tried desperately to ignore.

"What's happening to me?" I asked. "Why don't I hate you the way I should?"

"Because you know," he said, his hand tangling in my hair, "deep down, you know that everything I do is for you. Every kill, every conquest, every moment of violence, it's all to build something worthy of you."

"I don't want people to die for me."

"Then they shouldn't try to take you from me."

His other hand tilted my chin up until I was forced to meet his burning gaze. The intensity there made my breath catch, made something low in my stomach flutter with dangerous heat.

"You can hate me," he said, his voice dropping to a dark whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "You can fear me, but you will never escape me, Lyra. You are mine.”