Chosen by the Beast Alpha

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Lena’s POV

Then, Daniel blinked. The haze over his face dissipated, and his professional mask slid back into place with swift precision. He shifted his gaze from Anna to me.

"Miss Foster," he said, his voice once again unnervingly calm—so calm it bordered on deliberate. "Alpha is waiting for you in the VIP lounge upstairs. He asked me to bring you to him."

"Now?" I glanced at Anna, who still stood there, clearly stunned. "...Fine."

Daniel led me through the boutique’s back hallway while Anna stayed behind. I caught her eye as we left—she mouthed "Go" and gave me a thumbs-up, but her gaze kept flickering toward Daniel. I filed that away for later interrogation.

The elevator doors opened onto the VIP floor. Stained glass walls, plush leather furniture, the faint scent of premium cigars and cedar lingering in the air. Daniel guided me to a set of double doors at the end of the hall, knocked twice, then stepped aside.

"He’s inside," Daniel said. "Try not to break anything."

I walked in. The room was a private lounge overlooking the shopping district below. Dominic sat in an armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other. He looked like he’d been here a while. Composed, bathed in the afternoon light, his gray eyes sharp in the glow.

He didn’t stand when I entered.

"Restless as ever, incapable of going a single day without stirring trouble," he said, that familiar mocking edge in his voice. "Is it a hobby, or just an innate talent of yours?"

Still seething from the earlier clash with Lily, I dropped into the chair opposite him and crossed my arms.

"And you just can’t resist cleaning up after the she-wolves around you. Sending Daniel to handle my mess—how chivalrous."

His expression shifted. The smirk faded. He set his glass down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Daniel reported everything your stepsister said to you," he murmured, voice low. "I also had him pull your father’s files. Financial reports, agreements... your medical records. You’ve been malnourished for a long time."

My stomach dropped. The shattered fragments of my past laid bare—I didn’t even know what to say.

His voice lost its usual sharpness, becoming raw, almost hoarse. "I didn’t know before. I thought your father was just a strict man, perhaps neglectful. I didn’t know he beat you. I didn’t know your stepmother starved you, didn’t realize you endured so much abuse."

I stared at the carpet, my throat tight, still unable to utter a word.

For a long time, I had forced myself not to dwell on the past, told myself to stay strong, not to let those memories break me.

And now, Dominic had dragged it all into the light. Suddenly, I felt a lump in my throat—a strange sensation, the feeling of being truly seen.

I didn’t know how to face it.

Just as my eyes began to burn, Dominic spoke again. "Now that I know, you should leave."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"You heard me." He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Lena, you were forced. If you’re afraid of Luke or your father’s retaliation, I’ll handle it. I could take care of Luke before sunrise, and your father won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll make sure of that."

His tone was eerily calm, as though offering to kill my ex-husband and threaten my father was some reasonable parting gift.

Rage hit me first in the gut, then surged up through my chest, scorching my soul. It was blinding, unbearable.

"Are you serious?" Before I could stop myself, I was on my feet. "After reading about every horrible thing that’s happened to me, your solution is to kick me out?"

"I’m not kicking you out. I’m giving you a better choice."

"You didn’t ask what’s best for me!" I shrieked.

"I don’t need to ask. It’s obvious," Dominic said with infuriating certainty.

"Don’t tell me what I should want!" My voice cracked. I strode toward him, shoving his shoulder—but he didn’t budge.

I shoved him again, harder this time. "From the moment I stepped into your house, you’ve been pushing me away! Every time I try to stay, you find some new excuse to kick me out! What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?!"

He seized my wrist with bruising force, his gaze burning into me. "My problem is that I destroy everything I touch. I thought you were smart enough to figure that out."

"Oh, how ironic." I struggled against his grip, but he held fast. "So you’ve decided that no one in my life has ever loved me. My father beat me until my bones broke. My stepmother starved me and locked me in the basement. And your grand conclusion is: I should leave. That’s your answer?"

"Exactly. It’s the only answer that keeps you alive."

Keeps me alive?

When he’s the one facing death?

"You’re turning into a beast, Dominic!" I shouted. "You’ve got months left at most—that curse is eating you alive from the inside! Instead of fighting it, instead of trying for parents who’d be devastated to lose you, you just sit in that chair planning how to die quietly!"

His grip on my wrist tightened further. His jaw clenched—I’d struck a nerve.

"Eliza left, and you never recovered. She called you a monster, and you believed every word so completely that you’d rather let the curse win than ever hear it again?"

"Enough."

"Not nearly enough! You’d rather beg your father to kill you than accept help from anyone!"

Every conversation, every rejection, every time he pushed me away with those dead eyes—they all led to the same conclusion: He’d decided he was going to die, and now he was just wasting what time he had left.

"You’re a coward, Dominic," I said coldly.

His eyes flashed crimson, like he might set the entire room ablaze—me included.

I clenched my jaw and steadied myself. I couldn’t let him destroy this fragile chance between us. I had to help Celeste.

His breathing was ragged, the struggle plain on his face. The urge to throw me out of the room warred violently with the desperate need to clutch me tight and never let go.

"If you weren’t backed into a corner," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, "would you even be here? If your father hadn’t sold you off. If Luke hadn’t betrayed you. If you had anywhere else to go. Would you still be standing in front of me right now?"

The honest answer was complicated. The real one was simple.

"There are no what-ifs, Dominic. I’m standing right here, telling you I want to help you—no matter the cost!" I answered firmly.

A storm had been brewing in Dominic’s eyes. And as my words landed, something inside him shattered.

"Liar," he gritted out, each syllable sharp as a blade.

He moved too fast for me to react. One moment, I was staring at him; the next, his lips were on mine. His hand clamped around the back of my neck, dragging me against him. The kiss was rough, desperate. Laced with the burn of whiskey, fury, and something deeper, something electric that shot straight through me, head to toe.

I kissed him back with everything I had. My fingers twisted into his shirt collar, pulling him closer. He growled against my mouth, the vibration trembling through my chest and settling low in my belly.

His hands found the hem of my shirt and yanked. Fabric tore, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor. Cool air rushed over my exposed skin, and I gasped—but his lips were already at my collarbone, teeth grazing, tongue searing against my pulse.

"Dominic—" My voice was hoarse, breathless.

He lifted me effortlessly. My legs locked around his waist as he carried me to the leather couch, dropping me onto it with barely restrained force.

His fingers closed around my left breast, squeezing hard enough that soft flesh spilled between his knuckles. My nipple scraped against his palm, stiff and aching. He pinched it between thumb and forefinger, twisting just once—my entire body shuddered, toes curling inside my shoes.

His mouth left mine, trailing biting kisses down my jaw, my throat. Teeth caught on my collarbone, leaving damp heat in their wake. He took my nipple into his mouth, tongue circling the areola before sucking sharply, as if trying to draw something out of me.

One hand kneaded my breast while the other slid lower. My skirt was already bunched at my waist. He tore aside the flimsy barrier beneath. Rough fingertips brushed over my folds, finding my clit and rolling it between his fingers.

"Ah—"

My back arched, a choked gasp escaping my throat. He parted my labia with two fingers, his middle finger teasing the entrance without entering, just circling the slickness until his hand was glistening.

"So wet already?" His voice rumbled against my ear, low and hot. His fingers sped up, swirling tight circles over my clit. My thighs trembled, my heels digging into the couch cushions as my hips lifted instinctively, chasing his touch. The heel of his palm pressed against my mound while his fingers worked me in quick, relentless strokes. Pleasure crackled through me like electricity, exploding from that single point and surging up my abdomen.

"Good?" he murmured.

I arched into him, hearing my own voice—hoarse, unfamiliar—whisper, "Yes."

My fingers fumbled with his belt, the metallic clink of the buckle loud in the quiet room. His lips found my ear again, teeth grazing my earlobe as he murmured, "I could stop right now."

"Don’t you dare," I rasped, my breath ragged.

He kissed me deeper, his weight pressing me into the couch. I could feel him—hard, insistent—and my hips rose instinctively. A low groan escaped him as his mouth trailed down my neck.

Then—knocking. Urgent.

Daniel’s voice followed, sharp with alarm.

"Alpha! A group of Rogues just attacked the Bloodmoon Pack!"

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