Chosen by the Beast Alpha

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Lena’s POV

I froze, my mind blank. But what shocked me even more was that despite his transformation—those crimson eyes, elongated fangs, and the dark, swirling patterns snaking across his skin—I wasn’t afraid at all.

On the contrary, I found him utterly intoxicating.

Those inky tendrils curled over his powerful frame, and my fingers itched to trace them. His words barely registered in my mind. There was only one thought consuming me—I wanted to touch him.

Then his low, gravelly voice cut through the silence again. "Take it off or leave."

I had no way out. The moment I stepped into the Bloodmoon Pack’s territory, there was no turning back.

I reached for the zipper of my dress, letting the fabric slide down my body, revealing black lace lingerie beneath. The cold air prickled my skin, raising goosebumps, my nipples hardening against the thin fabric. Now standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties, I felt my legs tremble faintly from nerves.

Dominic’s gaze remained indifferent, as though I were nothing more than an insignificant object.

I stepped toward him, each stride making my pulse hammer harder. When I finally stood before him, the scent of raw masculinity and faint tobacco hit me, sending a sudden rush of heat pooling low in my stomach.

I bent my knees and straddled his lap, my thighs pressing flush against the hard muscle. I could feel him tense instantly, his body turning rigid as stone.

"You must know the curse," he warned, his voice dark. "Women who get close to me don’t end well. Aren’t you afraid of dying?"

I met his gaze without flinching. "I don’t know anything about rumors. I’m just... drawn to you."

Something flickered in his eyes—too fast to decipher.

My fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. The first one undone, revealing his collarbone. The second, the curve of his chest coming into view. By the third, his firm pectoral muscles were fully bared to the air. His skin was searing hot—so hot that when I pressed my palms against him, my fingertips nearly burned from the heat.

"You’re burning up..." I murmured, my breath hitching. The dark patterns shifted under my fingers, alive and restless. My chest tightened, my pulse pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

"Keep going," he commanded in a husky whisper, his voice noticeably rougher.

I continued unbuttoning the remaining buttons, pressing my entire palm against his bare chest, feeling the steady but quickening rhythm of his heartbeat. My palm was slightly damp with sweat, and that unfamiliar heat within me was slithering down my spine.

"Look up. Kiss me," he suddenly ordered.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his. At first, it was just a light touch, then I tentatively flicked my tongue, tracing his lower lip. His taste made my head spin, and without thinking, I deepened the kiss, my tongue clumsy but eager as it sought entry into his mouth.

"Is that all? You kiss like a dead fish. Lick me, Lena. Put some effort into it."

I obeyed, curling my tongue more insistently around his lips, trying to push deeper. His breathing grew noticeably heavier. My body pressed forward of its own accord, my lace-covered breasts rubbing against his scorching chest, the slight friction making me suddenly wet between my thighs.

"Dominic..." I murmured his name, my voice so soft and unfamiliar to my own ears.

His large hand clamped onto the back of my head, and he kissed me back with bruising force. His tongue pried my lips apart, tangling with mine in a relentless, sucking rhythm. My breath was stolen instantly, my lungs burning as if they might burst, leaving me with nothing but broken whimpers. The kiss was too deep, too rough—my lips felt swollen, saliva trailing down my chin, but I couldn’t even think to wipe it away.

"Let go... you’re too rough..." I gasped weakly between breaths, but he gave me no chance to recover.

When he finally released me, my lips were red and swollen, my vision unfocused, my chest heaving as I struggled for air.

"You’re insane..." I panted, my legs trembling so badly from the kiss that I could barely stand.

"That’s more like it. Now, stick out your tongue. Lick my fingers."

Trembling, I obeyed, running my tongue obediently over his thumb. The salty, smoky taste of tobacco mixed with his warmth sent another clench through my stomach. My panties were undeniably damp, the slick sensation filling me with equal parts shame and arousal.

"It tastes faintly like tobacco..." I admitted in a shaky whisper.

"The other hand," he released my jaw and held up two more fingers in front of me. "Lick them clean. Every inch."

I lowered my head, starting from the base of my index finger, licking upward inch by inch, my tongue curling over each knuckle before reaching the fingertip, then moving to the middle finger. Strands of saliva stretched thin between my lips, and I could hear the faint, wet sounds as I licked, my cheeks burning as if on fire.

"Is this enough...?" My voice trembled with a sob, my thighs instinctively tightening—only to be forced apart by the unyielding pressure of his knee.

"It seems you learn quickly." His tone remained icy, but the palm pressed against my waist was scorching hot, his fingers digging in slightly, as if restraining something. "Since you’ve behaved well up here," his knee mercilessly wedged between my thighs, pressing against my already soaked core, "then shouldn’t this part learn too—how to properly welcome its master?"

"Wait—!" I gasped sharply, my body jerking in response. The sudden pressure made my lips clench violently beneath the lace, a rush of heat spilling out uncontrollably, drenching my panties completely.

He gave me no time to adjust. That same hand, now slick from my tongue, slid between my thighs, his rough fingertips pressing against the thin lace covering my most sensitive spot, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

"Stop... my legs... they’re giving out..." My voice melted into a whimper, my legs shaking uncontrollably. Pleasure surged through me in electric waves, my inner walls spasming as more wetness gushed out, soaking his fingers and my panties entirely. My breathing grew ragged, reduced to shallow gasps, yet my hips arched forward instinctively, craving deeper contact.

"Lift your skirt yourself," he commanded, his fingers never relenting. "Let me see."

My hands trembled so badly I could barely grip the fabric, but I managed to inch the hem upward—first revealing my thighs, then the damp lace clinging obscenely to my swollen folds. The cold air hit my overheated flesh, making me shiver, a trickle of slickness trailing down my inner thigh.

"Good." His voice was low, roughened with something I’d never heard before, his fingers now dragging the lace aside to stroke my bare clit and entrance.

At that moment, I felt it—the hard length straining against his pants, pressing insistently against my thigh, hot and thick. His breathing had deepened, his chest rising and falling faster than before. I knew—he was hard because of me. He wanted me.

"Please... stop..." My plea bordered on a sob, yet my body arched shamelessly into his touch, every stroke threatening to buckle my knees.

Suddenly, his hand clamped around my wrist like a vise, the pain wrenching a cry from my lips. The flicker of desire in his eyes froze over, replaced by something darker—almost disgust.

"Enough."

He shoved me off his lap without mercy. I stumbled back, colliding with the cold wall to steady myself, the ache in my wrist making my eyes sting.

He stood, his shirt half-open, his chest still heaving, the prominent bulge in his pants impossible to ignore. Yet he acted as if nothing had happened, methodically buttoning his shirt with deliberate precision, every movement radiating dismissal—revulsion, even.

"Disgusting amateur theatrics." His voice was glacial, cutting like shards of ice. "Did you think mimicking a harlot’s antics would pique my interest? Get out."

He turned away, striding back toward the imposing chair as if the mere sight of me sullied his gaze. "Your room is in the west tower. Someone will take you there. Remember your task—you are here to fulfill the terms of our agreement. Spare me any more of these pathetic, pointless attempts."

"Fine," I murmured, my voice barely audible. Clutching my still-throbbing wrist, I turned unsteadily toward the door.

The moment my back was to him, every trace of feigned humiliation and distress melted from my expression. My heart hammered wildly, but no longer from fear alone—I had felt it, unmistakably. He had wanted me too. And yet, he had chosen to push me away.

For the first time, I realized with startling clarity just how deep my own hunger for this man ran. Far deeper than I’d ever admitted.

Dominic truly was a capricious devil, and what I’d just done had been reckless beyond measure. Yet I hadn’t collapsed. I hadn’t shattered. I hadn’t fled like a madwoman. What unsettled me most was that even after his cruel humiliation, my body still ached for his touch. The ghost of that electric pleasure still tingled along my nerves, undeniable proof that what had passed between us was real.

This betrayal of my own reason terrified me—and thrilled me. Luke, my mate, had never made me feel like this. Why?

But the moment I set foot in the Bloodmoon Pack, I knew there was no turning back.

The only way out was to give them what they wanted.

A child.

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