The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 22

Freya's POV

I moved my body against his, forcing my hands not to tremble as I placed them on his chest. His heart beat strong and fast under my palm. My wolf stirred, responding to his Alpha scent, to the heat radiating from his body. I felt my pupils dilate, my breathing grow shallow.

I sat in his lap, the warmth of his thighs beneath me sending unwanted heat through my core. His hands came to rest on my hips, fingers digging in just enough to assert control. I brought my face close to his, close enough to feel his breath on my lips.

Thorne's eyes changed, the gold flecks expanding until they dominated his irises. His control slipped just enough to reveal the wolf beneath. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me closer.

"The Freya of three years ago would have paid any price for this opportunity," he murmured, his voice rougher, deeper than before.

I didn't respond with words. Instead, I leaned forward, hesitating just a moment before pressing my lips to his. Our first kiss. Despite years of fantasizing about this moment, I had no real experience. My lips touched his awkwardly, too hard at first, then too soft.

Time seemed to stop. This was Thorne Grey—the Alpha I had dreamed about for years, the man who had sentenced me to hell, now kissing me. Three years ago, I would have given anything for this moment. Now it was happening under the most twisted circumstances imaginable.

My wolf howled inside me, torn between submission and resistance. My mind raced wildly. This is wrong. This is right. I hate him. I want him. This is survival. This is surrender.

Thorne went still for just a heartbeat, a subtle tension running through him that I felt under my palms. Then something broke loose in him. A low growl rumbled from his chest as his hand moved to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. He took control of the kiss with practiced precision, guiding my inexperienced movements.

The shock of his touch sent electricity racing across my skin. This wasn't how I had imagined our first kiss would be—not in this cold hotel room, not as a transaction. In my dreams, it had been tender, affirming. This was desperate, hungry, tainted with power and need.

"You've never been kissed before," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with surprise and something darker, hungrier.

Heat flooded my face. "There weren't many opportunities in the Wilds," I whispered, embarrassment making my voice catch.

His eyes darkened, the gold expanding until barely any human color remained. The scent of his desire intensified, sharp and demanding. "Then let me show you," he said, his voice dropping to a register that made my wolf whine in response.

This time when his mouth claimed mine, he moved with deliberate slowness. His lips coaxed rather than demanded, teaching rather than taking. I followed his lead clumsily, learning the rhythm of it, the give and take. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I gasped in surprise, a jolt of unexpected pleasure catching me off guard.

This is Thorne. Alpha Thorne Grey. The man who put the silver collar around my neck. The thought blazed through my mind, making me dizzy with contradiction. My body responded to him even as my mind rebelled.

The taste of him—mint and metal and pure Alpha—flooded my senses. I never imagined a kiss could be so overwhelming, so all-consuming. The reality of him was nothing like my inexperienced imagination. This was raw power, controlled expertise, a skill honed through years I had spent suffering in isolation.

My hands clutched at his shoulders, uncertain where to settle. My inexperience embarrassed me—I, who had once thought myself worthy to be his mate, couldn't even kiss him properly. My wolf didn't care; she surrendered completely to his dominance, even as my human pride ached at the humiliation.

His free hand found my hip, fingers digging in just enough to guide me closer. The heat of his palm burned through my clothing, branding me.

"Relax," he commanded softly, his breath warm against my mouth. "Let your instincts guide you."

I tried to obey, letting my wolf's natural responses surface. My body softened against his, my head tilting to allow him better access. When I tentatively traced his lower lip with my tongue, mirroring what he had done, he rewarded me with a growl that vibrated through both our bodies.

The sound shocked me to my core. This was no gentle suitor; this was an Alpha in his prime, barely containing his primal nature. The truth hit me like cold water: I was playing with fire, teasing a predator who could consume me entirely. Yet instead of fear, I felt a disturbing thrill.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending an unexpected rush through me. His teeth grazed my bottom lip—not quite a bite, but a reminder of the predator beneath the civilized exterior.

His hands roamed my body, finding sensitive spots that made me gasp against his mouth. He touched me with practiced confidence, knowing exactly how to draw responses I couldn't control. When his fingers slipped beneath my shirt, tracing the skin of my stomach, I shuddered involuntarily.

"Your inexperience is... intoxicating," he said, his voice strained with controlled desire. His eyes burned into mine, pupils fully dilated. "I can smell how new this is to you."

I should have been embarrassed by his words, but instead, they sent a fresh wave of heat through me. My wolf preened under the Alpha's appreciation, even as my human side struggled with the knowledge that this moment—which should have been special, sacred—was happening as a transaction. Years ago, I had imagined our first kiss would be the beginning of something beautiful. Instead, it had become currency in my desperate bid for survival.

When his skilled touches intensified, I bit my lip to keep from making sound. I turned my head away, refusing to let him see my face at my most vulnerable. But my body betrayed me with each expert stroke of his fingers, trembling against his hand, my scent heavy with arousal I couldn't hide.

---

Just as Thorne moved to continue, a sharp, searing pain tore through my abdomen. I doubled over, gasping, clutching my stomach. The pleasure vanished instantly, replaced by agony so intense my vision blurred. I slid from his lap to the carpet, curling into myself.

"Freya?" Thorne's voice changed, the dominant Alpha tone giving way to surprise. He knelt beside me, his scent shifting from arousal to concern. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak through the pain. Each breath sent new waves of agony through my torso. I tasted blood in my mouth, metallic and warm. "Last night," I finally managed, the words coming in short gasps. "Someone attacked me... internal injuries..."

Thorne's expression hardened. He carefully lifted my shirt, exposing my torso. I heard his sharp intake of breath as he saw the extensive bruising—purple and black marks spreading across my ribs and abdomen like a violent map.

"Who did this?" he demanded, his voice low, dangerous. The scent of his anger filled the room, sharp and acrid. "Why didn't you go to a hospital?"

"I went to... an underground clinic," I whispered, each word an effort. "In the Shadow District." I curled tighter, trying to escape the pain. "Took herbs... was supposed to help..."

Thorne's face transformed, his jaw clenching, a muscle working in his cheek. The Alpha was furious—I could smell it, see it in the rigid set of his shoulders. He pulled out his phone, his movements sharp and precise.

"I'm calling my private physician," he said, his tone allowing no argument. "This needs proper treatment."

As he stepped away to make the call, I remained on the floor, pain radiating through my body. I had pushed too far, done too much before my injuries had healed. The doctor's warnings echoed in my mind, mocking me for ignoring them.

I heard Thorne's voice, low and commanding, ordering whoever was on the other end to bring specific medications and equipment. His Alpha authority carried through his words, ensuring immediate compliance.

Thorne left the room to arrange for medication and security measures, leaving me alone with my pain. Moonlight streamed through the windows, casting silver patterns across the plush carpet where I lay. The moon was nearly full, its pull strong even through the glass.

I dragged myself toward the window, instinctively seeking the moon's comfort. My wolf strained toward the silvery light, yearning for healing.

The moonlight touched my skin, cool and gentle. My thoughts turned to my family, the pain making me vulnerable in ways I usually guarded against. "Dad... Mom... Ethan... it hurts so much," I whispered, my voice breaking. Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot against my skin.