Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 7

Elowen

*God, I'm not a fucking idiot.*

The thought blazed through my mind as I stared at his cold, calculating face. I'd nearly died just trying to buy birthday bread in his territory. If I told him the truth about these past four years—about what I'd become, about the people who'd helped me, about the life I'd built—I'd never have another chance to escape.

*Hook, line, and sinker. That's what he wants. Complete surrender.*

But I could feel my strength returning with every heartbeat, his blood working through my system like liquid fire. My wolf was stirring, no longer crushed beneath the wolfsbane's poison. The numbness in my legs had faded completely, replaced by a tingling awareness that told me I was healing faster than should have been possible.

*I'll get my chance. I just need to wait for the right moment.*

Slowly, deliberately, I pushed myself upright until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. My spine straightened, shoulders squaring as I met his questioning gaze without flinching. Let him see that his intimidation tactics weren't working anymore.

"Despite saving my life," I said, my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest, "let me be perfectly clear: where I live, where I enjoy my life, and with whom I enjoy my life—"

His eyes flashed dangerously at those last words, storm-gray irises darkening to the color of a winter tempest. But I didn't stop. Wouldn't let him silence me again.

"—has absolutely nothing to do with you. From the moment you publicly rejected me, from the moment I left this pack, my entire existence became none of your fucking business."

The silence that followed was deafening. Kaius went completely still, his predatory gaze fixed on my face with an intensity that made my skin crawl. When he finally moved, it was with the fluid grace of a wolf stalking wounded prey.

"Still running your mouth," he murmured, stepping closer until his knees brushed against mine. His hand shot out, fingers gripping my chin with bruising force, tilting my head back until I had no choice but to look at him. "You know I can send you back to that dungeon anytime I want. I can find someone far more creative than Marcus to extract answers from you."

The mention of that bastard's name sent a chill down my spine, memories of wolfsbane and agony flooding back. But I'd be damned if I let Kaius see my fear.

"I would rather face someone a hundred times more cruel than Marcus than deal with you," I spat, yanking my chin from his grasp. "In fact, if I see Marcus again, you better warn him to be careful. I might just bite his fucking throat out this time."

Something flickered across Kaius's face—surprise, maybe even a hint of admiration—before his expression hardened into granite.

"You're testing my patience," he said, his voice dropping to that deadly register that made Alpha wolves submit. "Before I lose what little control I have left, give me one final satisfactory answer. Tell me what you've been doing for four years."

The threat was clear, but I was so fucking tired of being intimidated by him. Tired of cowering, tired of letting him dictate my life even from a distance.

"I've told you a thousand fucking times!" I exploded, my voice echoing off the medical facility's walls. "I spent four years getting as far away from you as possible! Far away from the past! Building my own life!"

He stopped pacing, his entire body going rigid. When he turned to face me, the fury in his eyes was so intense I could practically feel the heat radiating from him.

"Your new life?" His voice was silk over steel, deceptively quiet. "You will never have a new life again. Not after this." His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "And with whom, exactly?"

I smiled, the expression sharp enough to cut glass. "Anyone but you. Never you."

That did it.

The careful control he'd been maintaining shattered like glass hitting concrete. His hands moved to his shirt, fingers working the buttons with violent precision.

"You know what?" he snarled, each word dripping with barely leashed rage. "You've successfully killed any interest I had in civilized conversation. I don't want to ask you questions anymore."

*Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.*

"Maybe I'll just have to find the answers myself," he continued, shrugging out of his shirt to reveal the kind of physique that belonged in ancient war stories—all lean muscle and battle scars, power incarnate.

"Fuck!" The word tore from my throat as panic flooded my system. "What the hell are you doing?"

His hands moved to his belt, eyes never leaving my face as he spoke with deadly calm. "Doing the only thing I want to do to you right now."

I launched myself toward the edge of the bed, my restored strength surging through my muscles. But Kaius was faster—had always been faster. His hands slammed down on my shoulders, pinning me back against the mattress with overwhelming force.

The weight of him, the heat radiating from his bare chest, the familiar scent that had haunted my dreams—it all crashed over me at once. I should have been terrified. Should have been fighting with everything I had.

Instead, I felt my wolf rising to the surface, not in defense but in recognition. The mate bond, strengthened by his blood, pulsed between us like a living thing, whispering lies about belonging and completion and home.

*No. Absolutely fucking not.*

I had the strength to push him off—I could feel it burning in my muscles, my supernatural abilities fully restored. One good shove and I could send him flying across the room. But my body betrayed me, responding to his proximity with a heat that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with four years of suppressed longing.

My wolf wasn't helping. Instead of snarling for his blood, she was practically purring, pressing closer to the surface, drawn to his dominance like a moth to flame. The treacherous bitch wanted to submit, wanted to arch beneath him and offer her throat in the most primal gesture of trust.

"Get off me," I managed to growl, but even I could hear how breathless the words sounded.

His grip on my shoulders tightened, and I felt the exact moment he realized I wasn't fighting as hard as I could. His eyes darkened further, pupils dilating as he scented my body's unwilling arousal.

"Your mouth says one thing," he murmured, leaning down until his breath ghosted across my ear, "but your body tells a very different story."

The bastard was right, and we both knew it. Every instinct I possessed was screaming contradictory messages—run, fight, submit, claim, escape, surrender.

His eyes, predatory and knowing, burned into mine. "You feel it, don't you?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl, a challenge and a statement of fact.

I shook my head, a frantic, desperate gesture. "No. I don't feel anything for you." The lie tasted like ash in my mouth.

A cold, mirthless smile played on his lips. Without a word, his hand, still on my shoulder, slipped lower, gliding over my hip, then delving beneath the thin fabric of my medical gown, beneath my ragged underwear. His fingers found my labia, tracing the swollen, sensitive folds, slowly, deliberately. A gasp tore from my throat, raw and involuntary, as a jolt of pure, agonizing pleasure shot through me, hot and swift as a wildfire.

My hips arched, a traitorous, desperate twitch I couldn't control, responding to his knowing touch. The heat was unbearable, a burning itch spreading through my core, making my entire body tremble.

"Get... get off me!" I choked out, my voice weak, ravaged by the inferno he'd ignited. The words were a futile protest against the storm raging within me.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that vibrated through my bones. "Before I enter you, Elowen, you can curse me all you want. Scream. Fight. Let me enjoy your struggle."

Then, his mouth was on mine, not in a kiss of affection, but a brutal, possessive claim, tearing at my lips with a ferocity that matched the burgeoning chaos in my body. His other hand ripped the gown from my chest, the flimsy fabric tearing with a sound like thunder, exposing me completely. His lips moved from my mouth, trailing a searing path down my jaw, along my throat, to the hollow between my collarbones, teasing, biting, licking. Each touch, each flicker of his tongue, sent waves of unbearable heat through me. 

Just as the burning need threatened to consume me whole, just as I felt myself rising to meet him, a groan escaping my lips that was half protest, half desperate plea... he stopped.

Completely. His body went still, his hand freezing on my throbbing core, his mouth lifting from my skin. The sudden cessation of sensation was a cruel, exquisite torture, leaving me writhing, breathless, and achingly unsatisfied. My eyes flew open, wide with confusion and a renewed, profound humiliation.

His gaze was cold, sharp, and utterly merciless. "Now," he said, his voice as calm as a frozen lake, "tell me. Where are you from?"

*Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!* The silent curses tore through my mind. He was playing me, using my own body against me, weaponizing my most primal urges.

"Go to hell!" I spat, my voice hoarse, desperate to reclaim some semblance of control, some dignity.