Alpha Hole

Ch. 17

In the dim glow of the room, Jaxson's presence loomed like a storm on the horizon—foreboding yet irresistibly captivating. His smile, a paradox of warmth and danger, sent a shiver down my spine. "So, mate—do I have your permission?" His voice, a gentle caress, contrasted sharply with the weight of his question.

I found myself ensnared in a web of confusion and desire. "If I do, will that prevent an all-out war from starting?" I dared to hope, my voice barely a whisper in the charged air.

Jaxson's gaze lingered on me, piercing yet protective. "I don't know that it will prevent a war, but it will nullify the claim that we are holding you against your will and solve this one problem between our packs." His words, a mix of uncertainty and resolve, echoed in the silence that followed.

As he sat next to me, the bond between us crackled with unspoken promises and hidden fears. The scent of him—a blend of pine and something wild—threatened to overwhelm my senses, tethering me to the moment, to him.

"I don't know." The words escaped me in a rush of desperation as I stood, a futile attempt to distance myself from the turmoil within. But Jaxson, ever the predator, closed the distance between us, his touch both a balm and a blaze upon my skin.

"Look at me," he urged, his voice a soft command that brooked no refusal. Lifting my chin, he forced me to meet his gaze, and in that instant, the world narrowed to just him—Jaxson, in all his devastating beauty.

His transformation, subtle yet unmistakable, spoke of ancient power and raw emotion. My heart raced, torn between panic and an undeniable pull towards him.

"Jaxson, I—I don't know," I stammered, my resolve wavering.

He stepped back, the hurt flashing across his face quickly masked by a practiced indifference. "In a perfect world, I would give you all the time you needed," he confessed, the strain in his voice betraying his calm exterior. "But we don't really have that luxury."

His words, a reminder of the precarious edge on which we balanced, spurred me to retreat. Yet, the feral intensity in his gaze, as he turned to face me, rooted me to the spot. The softness that once dwelled in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a primal force that both terrified and thrilled me.

"I've tried to be nice, Layla. Wanted to make tonight memorable for both of us, but you are making this harder than it has to be." His voice, a low growl, filled the room with a tangible tension.

My instincts screamed for me to flee, to escape the inevitable conclusion of this dangerous dance. Yet, a deeper, unyielding part of me refused to back down.

As he advanced, the growl that rose from my chest was both a warning and a declaration. "Don't touch me," I managed, my voice a strange mix of defiance and fear.

His response, a mix of admiration and challenge, sent a shiver down my spine. "There she is. My little she-wolf." The affection in his voice clashed with the predatory gleam in his eyes, a dangerous combination that threatened to undo me.

Despite my growl of protest, Jaxson's smile widened, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous bond between us. "Jaxson, I'm warning you," I said, my voice a mix of anger and desperation.

His reply, a whisper filled with inevitability, sent a chill through me. "Warn me all you want, but we both know how the night ends."

I took the moment to turn and twist the knob.

I was fast.

But not fast enough.

Before I had the door ajar, I was pinned against the wall. His lips were against the skin of my collarbone.

The searing pain barely registered as teeth—yes, teeth—retracted from my flesh, and his lips and tongue moved over the area.

I nearly crumbled in his hold, but moments later I was sprawled across his bed.

"Return the favor," he said as he braced himself over me.

Red—my wolf saw red. I should rip his throat out. The thought circled through my mind and Jaxson held a finger in front of my mouth.

He stood and rolled his shoulders, his eyes still flaring with intensity.

My response, a snarl of resistance, was met with a challenging grin. "Better yet, you can do the honors when you aren't having murderous thoughts about me," Jaxson taunted, his confidence unshaken.

As he moved to a chair, the shift in his demeanor from intense to detached left me struggling to comprehend the breadth of what had transpired. "I hate you," I declared, the pain and betrayal burning through me.

"I understand," he replied, his voice tinged with a regret that did little to soothe the storm within me. "Perhaps, in time, you will hate me less."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat as tears rose, but I managed to keep them at bay as I stared at the ceiling.