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"If you tell me information on where my brother is, you'll both be free." He looks between us, his eyes dark. "Otherwise I'm going to take Dove upstairs and I'm going to fuck her."
***
One night, Dove sneaks away.
Deep in an un...
The guards at the bottom of the stairs accept the flash of my black slip, urging me to find the next set of stairs upward.
My hand slides against the polished banister, my gaze is glued upwards as I marvel at the extent of this incredible palace.
The second floor showcases far more artwork encased in gilded frames. Each are intricately painted, boasting vain portraits of the Alpha's forefathers.
Mercifully less people mill about up here, lounging on pale chaise lounges, drinking from wine flutes, overcome by mirth.
As I wander past I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to offend by letting my eyes linger on bare breasts and round backsides, sparsely covered by sheer fabric.
They do not share the same courtesy, glaring at me as I hurry by.
I try not to slip on the ornate rugs, nor to allow my hands to brace on decedent wallpaper as I search the second story for the next set of stairs.
What could the Alpha possibly do with all this space other than drape attractive people all around it?
Soon enough the next sprawling staircase comes into view. It's narrower, winding up toward a far more private space.
The music is dull, thumping below my feet as I emerge into a quiet and wide hallway. The carpet is plush and dark, the walls a rich mahogany.
I wander down, a fresh melody gracing my ears as I near on a room guarded by two men posted before it. The song playing is lush and sultry, gliding it's warm hands against my flushed skin.
I must have reached the billiard room.
A man steps out, smoke curling around him. He's an younger gentleman wearing a hunter green suit, accompanied by a chestnut cane. His pinched face pulls into a sneer as I approach.
"The exit is many flights downward, my dear," he notes, waving his cane behind me.
He puffs at his pipe, the foul smell making my stomach turn. He's glanced away, dismissing me.
"I'm not looking for the exit," I bite out, revealing the foiled black slip I have poised between two fingers. "I have this."
He blinks, adjusting his glasses. I don't doubt he thinks it's a counterfeit slip, although it doesn't matter. One of the guards nods affirmatively.
"Then perhaps it is the bathroom you are seeking?" The man exclaims, weaving in front of me before I can shoulder into the room.
My fingers curl up into fists, pressing crescent shapes into into my skin. I wasn't expecting this degree of prejudice.
"I was asked to come here," I grit out.
"This room is for only the most deviant of souls," he warns, grinning wryly. He thinks that will be enough to chase me away.
"I can handle it."
He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew something far more hideous until Claude emerges from the reddened shadows coating the billiard room. He slaps his hand down on the man's shoulders, giving him a stern shake.
"Wyatt. Please don't tell me you're trying to scare off my muse," he murmurs in his ear.
Wyatt doesn't recoil back, merely casting another glance over me. He's reassessing me in a new light that has been cast over me from Claude's interest.
"I didn't know she had been selected, Claude," he responds tersely. "Nor did I think she would look like...that."
I straighten, refusing to cower beneath his judgmental stare and Claude's hungry one.
"My usual tastes are tiring me," Claude says, letting go of Wyatt so he can offer me his hand. "Come beautiful woman in a fluffy pink dress. Sit with me."
Against my better judgement, I slide my hand into his, letting him lure me into the room.
For what is supposedly a billiard room, it is missing it's staple item. Instead of a large pool table, there is a bar serving drinks, plenty of seating and a stage where a woman sings softly into the air.
People are littered about, bare legs stretched out over luxurious furniture, drinking decadent wines.
The scent of perfume hangs heavy in the air, as light and delicate as the laughter flitting about the room. Melting into the laughter are soft moans and the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin as people fuck casually near the corner, uncaring of who may be watching.
I avert my eyes, my cheeks staining as red as the low lighting.
"I was hoping for a tour..." I tell him.
"After a refreshment, surely? It's so warm out there." His eyes sparkle as he glances back at me, people parting to make way for him.
"I'm not drinking tonight."
"Only water then," he states decidedly, turning toward me. "I assure you, we have plenty of it. We may divulge in an ample helping of wine and spirits at these parties, but we dread the hangover."
I bite down on my lower lip, trying not to scan the room with too keen of an eye. I'm wary of being scolded for watching people have sex or seeing their naked forms.
"I am thirsty," I admit, rubbing my arm. And it is warm out there. This room feels much cooler, easing off the heat emanating from my skin.
Claude grins. "I'm sure you are."
He sinks down into a leather seat, stretching his legs out - a king on his throne.
I go to sit next to him on another chair, but his hands find my hips, guiding me onto his lap.
"Oh—"
"My muse gets only the best seat in the house," he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath coasting against my skin.
My entire body is painfully stiff. I'm afraid to move at risk of upsetting him. His grip is firm, my back to his chest.
"The best seat is sharing with you?" I ask shakily, afraid to turn my head. It wouldn't be my first kiss or anything, but it will be a kiss regardless if I turn to look at him.
"The best seat is me, sweet girl." He laughs lowly under his breath, his fingers bunching in the fabric of my dress.
I shiver at the double meaning of his words, wondering if he's going to expect me to turn around and straddle him.
"I'm not sure how I feel about this," I admit, pulling my lower lip into my mouth.
I'm not here to be coy, but there is something about Claude that unnerves me. Perhaps it's his imperious nature that he flexes like a muscle, thinking it aids him securing a woman for the night.
"Just relax." Claude snaps his fingers at a man lingering near the bar. "Kleve. Bring a glass of ice water for this woman would you?"
He nods, turning to the barman. I swallow thickly, feeling incongruous being served when I'm usually the server.
I don't belong here, with these people.
I vacantly pull my gaze from the server, tracing it across the room.
Many people talk and drink at a low volume, entertained by their company. I admire the leather furniture they lounge and lean on, as well as the stacks of coloured alcohol bottles above the small bar.
My attention strays too far to the side, seeing a group of people at the corner of the room whose acts have my lips parting, my breath catching in my throat.
One man has another on his knees before him, watching as his cock is worshipped by the man's mouth. His expression is contorted in pleasure, his hips jutting forward a he forces himself deeper into the man's throat.
Next to him is a woman pressed against the wall, a man fucking her from behind. His hand is on the back of her neck, while the other is one her hips, pressing her back to meet each thrust.
My skin heats at the sight. It takes a physical toll on me to tug my stare from them.
Only for it to catch on someone staring directly at me.
My entire body stiffens as my blood chills. I know exactly whose weighted observation has found me.
He leans back in his leather seat, looking like a man unafraid to take up space. His powerful arms are braced on the arms of the chair, his hand clutching a short glass which he twists around slowly. I can practically hear the ice clinking, see the lethargic way the liquid moves.
He wears all black. From his trousers to his perfectly tailored jacket. His button up shirt looks made of pure silk, half the buttons undone, revealing a taunting strip of muscled chest.
"Oh my..." I breathe.
His gaze has me pinned as effectively as rope would to a bedpost. His eyes are unusual, as black as night, as pure as obsidian. His eyes are half lidded, as I imagine they would be after a rigorous night of pleasure, and yet they keenly hold my gaze.
"What is it, love?" Claude asks, his hand resting high up on my thigh, but I'm too distracted to care.
"That's Alpha Varian."
There is no doubting it. His presence is like a magnet. In some ways he draws in everyone around it, as if they exist in his space rather than their own. Yet, in others, he repels them, reminding all that no one can compare to the raw power leaking off him.
Two fingers are suddenly pressed against my jaw, forcing my attention back upon Claude.
"Tonight your eyes stay on me, alright? At least until Varian has chosen who he desires for the night." His breath coasts against my lips, almost a threat in itself.
I'm so painfully tempted to look back at the Alpha. I can feel his presence calling to me, daring me to put my gaze upon him once more.
"I don't want him...I'm scared of him," I admit lowly, hoping that even though Varian is seated only a few paces away, he can't hear me.
I've never been scared of Matthias. Awed by his power and beauty, maybe, but never bone chillingly terrified.
There is something unspeakable about Alpha Varian, and I've garnered that from a glance alone.
"No need," Claude assures me breezily. "I'll protect you from his wrath as long as you stay where you are."
His grip on my hip tightens imperceptibly, while his hand on my thigh appears to feel heavier.
When he turns his head to drink from his glass, I dare my eyes to venture back to Alpha Varian. I figured his appraisal of me was a fluke, but he's continuing to watch me, angling his head ever so slightly to the side.
"Why is he staring?" I ask Claude softly.
"You're dressed differently to everyone else. It's what pulled my eye." He fluffs a layer of my dress up, the soft fabric sighing.
"This dress was all I had," I admit sheepishly. "We don't wear red where I'm from, and nor black unless we are grieving."
Claude's breath traces my ear as he leans close. "I like your dress just fine. I'm enjoying the wait. The tease—"
I press a hand to his chest, my heart thumping in my own. His eyelids are heavy, and his breath smells faintly like cigarettes and liquor.
"I'm not going to sleep with you, Claude. I came here tonight to dance, to have fun then to retire back to my humble cottage," I murmur lowly, the music nearly carrying my words away.
A muscle below Claude's eye twitches as he draws a breath in deep.
For a moment I'm convinced he's going to unceremoniously dump me off his lap and tell me I've wasted his time. Instead, a predatory smile curves his lips upward.
"I realise I've been so incredibly rude. I haven't asked for your name," he says.
I consider lying, but there doesn't seem much point now.
"It's Dove."
"Well Dove, let me ask only one thing of you tonight." He tilts his head, the red light staining his almost white hair. "Do not deny yourself pleasure. There is no shame in indulging, even where you think it to be a sin."
I swear his hand is slowly bunching my dress up, dragging the fabric up my legs. I shift uncomfortably, trying not to brush my backside against his crotch while I do so.
"I'm not ashamed," I mumble, although I very much am.
"Then relax. I'm handsome, am I not?" The fabric inches higher.
I look down at his lips, full and enticing. I bet he's a good kisser, and an even better fuck. He wouldn't make love either, and it would feel so good to experience something new.
"I suppose..."
"Then let's see where this night takes us."
As much as I want to focus on Claude, I can't shake the weight of Varian's stare. When I risk another look in his direction, I confirm he's continuing to watch me with rapt interest as he sips slowly from his glass.
Clive appears in front of me suddenly, handing me a glass of water. I take it tentatively, pausing before I drink from it.
I doubt Claude would drug me, but that could be a naïve assumption...
"Part of the fun for me is the chase, the hunt and the game of seduction," he purrs in my ear, sensing my unease. "Why ply you with drugs when I have my willing pick of an entire party?"
The softest laugh pulls my attention to Varian.
"Lay off it, Claude," he mutters.
His voice drifts across my skin like brazen fingertips, featherlight in a way that leaves tiny bumps on my skin. I can hear that classic husky accent, noting the sultry undertones that have seduced many into his bed.
"Is there a problem?" Claude's grip on me tightens.
He taps his fingertip against the rim of his glass, the gentlest curve to his lips. "Your dreadful flirting tactic is ruining a perfectly good night."
Claude may allege to be friend of the Alpha, but he's stiff beneath me. I feel as though I've been thrust into a powerful man's scope of attention and I want nothing more than to slink back into the shadows.
"Tactic?"
"Where you make her feel so lucky to have been selected by you for the night in hopes she'll fall into bed with you," he deadpans.
His blatant manner of speaking is familiar. Matthias is the same, afraid of no one. With Varian, however, it seems there's a darker undertone that has me so afraid I can't move.
"Don't ruin my fun, Varian," Claude grits out.
Varian shakes his head, looking away. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Claude plucks my half drunk glass of water from my hand, setting it down before he shifts me to look at him. My body is so wrought with nerves that I'm trembling, having lost a decent amount of control over my body.
"Anyway, I can't stop imaging how you look under this stuffy, hideous little dress—"
"What do you think of all this, Dove?"
Varian yanks my gaze back to him.
"Excuse me, sir?" I sound breathless.
"This party? Claude." He waves his hand to encompass the room. "What do you think?"
Is this a trap? Claude is looking between us, his eyes grave. The Alpha is speaking to me and I fear I've become a disposable pawn in a fucked up game of power and sin.
"It's a bit much," I murmur, ignoring the dig Claude's fingertips into the flesh of my thigh.
"A bit much." Varian's brows raise. "Interesting."
After being in Matthias's acquaintance for some time, I know how Alpha's operate. They can sense deception on your lips before you even speak, and they don't favour it, even if it's a compliment to them.
Claude's lips brush against the shell of my ear. "If you have any brains in that pretty head of yours, you'll watch your tongue."
I bristle. Is Varian going to kill me?
"Do you intend to allow my friend to fuck you tonight, Dove?" The Alpha asks, shadows licking up the strongly angles of his face.
"I...I haven't decided," I stammer.
Varian draws in a breath, ignoring the challenging glare coming from his friend.
"Come sit beside me," he instructs, motioning to the vacant chair to his left.
"Varian. Stop fucking around," Claude bites out, his hand splaying out against my thigh possessively.
I think I might have kissed Claude and possibly danced with him before sneaking away before I fell in too deep. With Varian's attention on me, I'm thinking otherwise.
"Dove. Come sit next to me," he instructs smoothly, dipping his head toward the empty leather chair.
"Next to...or—" My eyes drift to his lap.
"On this very chair." The slightest smirk on his lips weakens my legs as I force myself up from Claude's lap.
He reluctantly pulls his hands off me, letting me walk a few paces, sinking down into the chair next to Varian. This suddenly shift pulls attention from every corner of the room.
"Go get her another glass of water, Claude."
His brows crease. "Me?"
"Go on."
Claude stares his Alpha down for a few painful moments, his fingertips tapping rhythmically against the arm of his chair, anger stirring in his arctic blue eyes. Eventually he stands, reluctance making his movements stiff as he approaches the bar.
I release a slow breath, my cheeks shamefully warm.
Glancing to my left, I see the Alpha's full attention has settled on me, and never in my life have I felt so terrified.
🤍••🤍
As always, you can read this book 16 chapters ahead on Inkitt and 10 chapters ahead on Radish!
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