Chapter 137: Primal Instincts

Amelia's POV

I nodded weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I understand."

The intensity in Alexander's eyes should have only deepened my terror. That predatory gaze, filled with possession and desire, would have sent most people scrambling for the door.

But as the seconds passed, something shifted inside me. I felt his emotions through our bond—layers beneath the anger, currents of anxiety and what could only be described as fear. Not fear of me, but fear for me. Fear of losing me to another wolf. The realization left me momentarily stunned.

His rage isn't directed at me, I thought with sudden clarity. It's for me.

This understanding created a strange dissonance within me. My human side remained wary, confused by how quickly anger could transform into desire. But my wolf side—the primal, instinctual part that operated on a different wavelength—immediately recognized the truth beneath his fury.

My wolf recognized what my human mind struggled to accept—that his rage came from fear of losing me, that his possessiveness was the flip side of protection. The realization gradually transformed my fear into something else entirely, something that felt disturbingly like... belonging.

His grip on my wrists loosened slightly, but he didn't release me. Instead, his head dipped lower, his lips brushing against my neck. I shivered as his warm breath caressed my skin, sending electric currents racing through my body. When his mouth connected with my collarbone, I had to bite my lip to suppress a moan.

"Alex..." I breathed, my head tilting back instinctively to give him better access.

His free hand slid up my thigh, toying with the hem of my skirt. The simple touch was enough to make my knees weak. Every rational thought evaporated from my mind, replaced by a primal need that consumed me entirely. My breathing grew heavier as his fingers traced patterns against my skin.

His thumb made small circles on my inner thigh, each movement inching higher until I was practically trembling with anticipation. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress, marking me with his touch. I could feel his chest rumble with a low growl that vibrated through my entire body, awakening something wild within me.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered against my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure down my spine, making me arch against him involuntarily.

The metallic scent of blood from his injured hand grew stronger as his grip tightened slightly. I winced as the raw edges of his cuts pressed against my sensitive skin. The wound that had caught my attention earlier—the angry red gash across his palm—seemed to have reopened with our passionate exchange.

"Your hand," I said, concern momentarily overriding desire. I gently took his injured palm in mine, turning it over to examine the cuts more closely. They looked worse than I'd initially thought—a network of jagged lines crossing his palm, some deeper than others. "This isn't from breaking a glass, is it?"

Alexander followed my gaze and shrugged dismissively. "It's nothing."

But it wasn't nothing to me. The wounds were fresh and hadn't been properly cleaned. Was it from his rage? After knowing what happened between Daniel and me?

Something deep within me stirred—an instinct older than civilization, buried in the primal part of my brain that belonged to my wolf. Without overthinking it, I lifted his hand to my lips and gently pressed them against the wound.

Alexander went completely still. I could hear his breath catch as I parted my lips and allowed my tongue to trace the length of the cut. The coppery taste of his blood mingled with the salt of his skin, and I should have been repulsed, but instead, it felt right—natural. This was what mates did. We healed each other.

His pupils dilated until his eyes were nearly black, his breathing turning ragged. "Amelia..." His voice had dropped an octave, thick with barely restrained desire.

His left hand moved to my shoulder, his thumb hooking under the strap of my dress. With a gentle tug, the fabric slipped down my arm. The cool air against my exposed skin made me shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat building between us.

His fingertips traced my collarbone, then dipped lower, following the curve of my breast through the thin fabric of my dress. My heart hammered wildly as his touch ignited every nerve ending.

The world around us dissolved. There was only Alexander—his scent enveloping me, his touch claiming me inch by inch. His lips found mine in a kiss that wasn't gentle but demanding, consuming. I responded with equal fervor, my body molding against his as if we were two pieces of the same puzzle.

His hand slid to my lower back, pressing me harder against him, and I gasped at the sensation of his arousal against my stomach. The primal part of me—the wolf—howled in triumph. This was right. This was where I belonged.

Time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously. I couldn't tell if seconds or minutes had passed when his hand moved higher, cupping my breast through my dress. My nipple hardened instantly against his palm, and I moaned into his mouth, lost in the sensations overwhelming my body.

The shrill ring of the office phone shattered the moment like a gunshot through glass.

We both froze, the harsh electronic sound slicing through our bubble of intimacy with brutal efficiency. Reality came crashing back—the office, the workday, the people just outside the door. The ringing continued, insistent and unforgiving, a jarring counterpoint to our ragged breathing.

Heat flooded my cheeks as awareness dawned on me of what we'd been about to do, right here on his desk.

Alexander cursed under his breath, his jaw clenched in frustration. For a brief moment, I thought he might ignore the call, but it continued its persistent ringing.

"I should get that," I murmured, using the interruption as an excuse to escape the overwhelming intensity between us. I carefully extricated myself from his embrace, adjusting my clothing with trembling fingers.

As I moved toward the phone, I could feel Alexander's gaze tracking my every movement. The weight of his stare was almost physical, raising goosebumps along my skin.

I picked up the receiver, trying to steady my voice. "CEO's office, how may I help you?"

"I'm his mother. Who are you?" The sharp, imperious female voice made my blood run cold. I knew that voice—had heard it dripping with disdain as she'd publicly humiliated me at the Luna Festival.

Elaine. Alexander's mother.

"I'm his executive assistant. I'll inform him right away..." I replied, deliberately omitting my name. I didn't want her to recognize me, not over the phone.

"Hmm. Another new one?" she said dismissively, as if Alexander went through assistants like tissues. "Put my son on immediately."

"One moment, please," I said, my voice professional despite the churning in my stomach. I turned to Alexander, covering the mouthpiece. "It's your mother."

Something dark flickered across his face—irritation, perhaps, or resignation. I handed him the phone, avoiding his intense gaze. The last thing I needed was for Elaine to realize who was really answering her son's phone.

"Mother," Alexander said, his tone instantly cooler than it had been moments before. His free hand raked through his hair as he listened. "I'm at the office. Working." A pause. "Yes, I'm aware of tonight." Another longer pause. "I'll be there."

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a private family matter. "I'll go make some fresh coffee," I whispered, pointing toward the door.

Alexander nodded, his expression unreadable as he continued his conversation.

I slipped out of the office, grateful for the chance to compose myself. My lips still tingled from the contact with his skin, the taste of his blood lingering on my tongue. What had possessed me to do something so... primal? So intimate?

By the time I returned with two fresh cups of coffee, Alexander had finished his call and was reviewing documents at his desk, his expression pensive.

"Your mother called," I stated unnecessarily, placing his cup on the desk.

"Yes," he replied, glancing up at me. Something in his expression had changed—there was a resolve there that hadn't been present before. "About tonight..."

I tensed, wondering if he regretted our intimate moment. "Yes?"

"My mother has organized a family gathering at the Pack House. As my mate, I want you there with me."