Make Me Yours, Alpha

Dorian froze, the words echoing loudly in his ears. He lay motionless, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locked onto Alyssa’s face.

Alyssa’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion. A serene smile touched her lips, and she reached out a hand to stroke his jawline before her eyelids closed completely.

”I love you, Dorian,” she repeated, her voice a feather-light whisper before sleep pulled her under.

Dorian couldn’t move. He remained pinned to the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. His pulse raced, completely out of control, and for several seconds, he forgot how to breathe.

She lay curled beside him, her skin flushed and glowing from the scorching intimacy they had just shared. He watched the way her lashes curled thickly over her rosy cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly.

Slowly, his hand moved toward her face, his fingers hovering an inch above her jawline. He almost touched her, almost swept his thumb across the full curve of her bottom lip.

Then, a sudden coldness wrapped around his wrist, holding him back. With a sudden movement, he threw back the covers and got off the bed.

He snatched up his robe, throwing it over his broad shoulders as he paced into the bathroom. A second later, the shower stopped, plunging the room into quiet stillness.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, his eyes swept over the bed where Alyssa lay. His gaze raked over her curvy, delicate form, all soft skin and luscious roundness exposed to the air.

A shadow crossed his features as he stepped closer and pulled the sheets all the way up to her shoulders.

He lingered beside the bed, his hand aching to reach out and pull her against his chest. But after another silent minute, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and retreated into the cool air of the front porch.

Her confession had torn open a deep wound inside him, awakening memories he thought he had buried under a century of cold iron and carnage.

Elvira.

He leaned against the porch railings, his golden eyes looking lost and hollow as the ghosts of his past dragged him under. The night air did nothing to cool the fire burning in his head.

He had loved once. Wholeheartedly. A deep, consuming passion that had ripped him apart from the inside out. When Elvira died, he had sworn to never let a soul touch his heart again. He had forged a steel fortress around him, sealing himself off from weakness.

Yet from the second he found Alyssa, that fortress had begun to crack.

He had lied to himself. He called it obsession. A primal, dark craving because Shadow went feral at the sight of her. Even Soren, his demon who had been dormant for years, had awakened the moment her sweet, intoxicating scent hit his senses.

Even when he knew he was already falling for her, he refused to let himself name the feeling. Love was a curse. A fatal flaw.

Now, three whispered words had shattered every lie he had built. Did he love Alyssa?

He protected her, yes. He was obsessed with her. Wildly, dangerously obsessed. But was it love? Was it the same feeling he felt for Elvira before everything burned to ash?

He ran a hand roughly through his hair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. For the second time in his life, he was terrified. Scared of a mere feeling, an emotion.

The last time he had felt this paralyzing dread was the day Elvira died and took his heart with her.

He was terrified now because he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Alyssa. He didn’t know how to love anymore. Alyssa deserved light, not a monster cursed with a century of blood and unresolved trauma.

The harsh buzz of his phone on the porch railing shattered the silence. Cursing under his breath, he picked it up and scowled at the screen.

Owen.

He snapped the phone to his ear. ”Is there a problem, Owen?”

Owen’s voice came through the speaker not with his usual calm military precision, but frantic, ragged, and breathless, a tone Dorian had never heard from his top guard.

”Alpha! They’re here! The rogues!”

Dorian’s entire body went rigid. His grip tightened around the phone as he scanned the tree line of the surrounding palm grove.

”Where?” he barked.

”At the port! Hundreds of them! They’re crawling out of the ocean like fucking sewer rats.”

”Owen, listen to me very carefully!” Dorian cut in, the command vibrating in his throat. ”I’m on my way. But I want a dozen guards at the villa to guard my Luna! Now! Before I step foot off this property!”

”Right away, Alpha!”

”Hold back the rogues. Do not let a single one of them breach the main town!”

”Affirmative, Alpha!”

Dorian hung up. He turned and stepped back into the villa, slamming the door shut and sliding the bolt into place.

His mind raced. Of course. How fucking fitting that on their final night in Ashgard, the soulless rogues decided to launch an attack.

He dialed Cole’s contact, pacing the floor like a caged predator as it rang.

”Pick up, Cole. Pick up!” he growled.

On the fourth ring, the call connected.

”Alpha Dorian?” Cole muttered, his voice thick and sluggish with sleep.

”Cole, get down to the port immediately!” Dorian commanded sharply. ”We have a massive breach. Soulless rogues.”

The drowsiness cleared instantly. The sound of Cole scrambling out of bed rustled through the line. ”Rogues? What... how did they slip past the borders?”

”I don’t know, but get moving. I’ll meet you there.”

Dorian ended the call and rushed back into the bedroom. Alyssa was still completely out, her breathing deep and undisturbed.

He threw off his robe, snatching his slacks and t-shirt and shoving his limbs into them with practiced speed.

Suddenly, a voice came through the mind-link.

[Alpha Dorian? We’re outside.]

It was Cade. The guards had arrived.

[Wait out there for me.] Dorian replied and severed the link.

He walked up to the edge of the bed and leaned over, gathering Alyssa’s soft body into his broad chest. She stirred in her sleep, instantly curling her face into the heat of his neck.

For one long minute, he held her close, every protective instinct screaming at him not to leave her side. He almost shook her awake to warn her, but seeing the peaceful calm on her face, he couldn’t bring himself to burden her with fear.

He pressed his lips firmly against her forehead. ”I’ll be back, my love,” he whispered into her hair. ”Stay safe for me.”

He carefully laid her back onto the pillows before turning on his heel and gliding silently out of the room.

Down in the front yard, Cade stood under the dim exterior lights, surrounded by eleven Lycan warriors.

”Cade, I want this house surrounded.” Dorian ordered, his eyes glowing with ruthless authority. ”Double the guards on every door. Seal off every window, lock every access point. If so much as a stray wind touches my Luna, I will flay every single one of you. Am I understood?”

Cade straightened instantly, slamming his right fist against his chest. ”We will protect the Luna with our lives!”

Dorian didn’t waste another second. He strode into the palm grove and dropped to all fours.

He didn’t shift into the wolf form that had carried Alyssa through the rain. This time, he summoned the nightmare. The monster that gave Wintercrest its blood-soaked reputation; the Demon Lycan.

His body contorted with brutal, sickening cracks. Muscles tore, expanded, and reformed in seconds. Thick fur sprouted out as his frame swelled to terrifying proportions. His jaw stretched, his eyes igniting into a terrifying fusion of molten gold and pitch-black void.

When the gruesome transformation finished, an eight-foot titan of pure death stood in the yard. The Demon Lycan raised its massive head and let out an earth-shattering roar before lunging into the darkness of the grove and vanishing at terrifying speed.

...

Alyssa shot upright in bed, a sharp gasp ripping from her throat.

Something had torn her out of her sleep, a ferocious roar that vibrated through the room.

She clutched her blanket to her chest, her wide blue eyes scanning the dark bedroom as she tried to calm her racing heart.

She turned to her left, reaching out into the dark for Dorian, but her fingers hit cold, empty sheets. The space beside her was vacant.

”Dorian?” she called out softly. She stared at the closed bathroom door, waiting to hear his approaching footsteps.

Silence.

A cold knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, picked up his discarded robe from the armchair and slipped it on.

Then she checked the bathroom. Empty. She checked the walk-in closet. Nothing.

”Dorian?” she called again, louder this time, her pulse spiking as she stepped back into the bedroom. Did he step outside?

She moved toward the door, her bare feet silent on the floor, and then, without warning, the air in the room dropped violently. The unmistakable, crushing feeling of being watched suddenly descended on her.

She opened her mouth to scream Dorian’s name, but her throat clamped shut when she noticed the two glowing, blood-red eyes staring straight at her from the corner of the room.