Chapter 22 Bossy Alpha
Rhea POV
I woke to heat.
Not the gentle kind. This was the kind that consumed, liquid fire crawling under my skin, pulsing to a rhythm that didn’t feel like mine.
I sat up too fast. The world tilted. Every sound cut like a blade. My body felt strange, wired, heavy and light at the same time.
The room smelled of pine smoke and storm. When I blinked, I saw him.
The Alpha.
He sat near the bed, his elbows on his knees, watching me with that quiet, predatory stillness wolves are famous for. His presence filled the room, thick and unmoving.
“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was low and rough, a controlled rumble that made the air vibrate.
“Apparently.” My throat burned. “You’re still here. Lucky me.”
One brow lifted. “You nearly burned down my stronghold.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Bit of a spontaneous combustion situation.”
He didn’t smile, but something flickered in his eyes, amusement maybe, or disbelief that I was alive. His hair was damp, the dark strands clinging to his temples. He’d probably been pacing.
I shouldn’t have noticed that. But I did. I noticed everything, the scar that slashed down his jaw, the deliberate rise and fall of his chest, and the scent of rain and iron on his skin.
It was too much. He was too much.
I dragged in a breath. “Where am I?”
“Wildlands,” he said. “My territory. You’ve been out two days.”
“Two days?” I stared at him. “Why the hell didn’t you dump me in a ditch?”
He didn’t flinch. “You died in my arms. Hard to walk away from that.”
“Well, congratulations. I’m alive. You can stop brooding over my corpse now.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he stayed silent. Something else shifted instead, a current in the air, invisible but alive. It pulled tight between us, like gravity gone feral.
He stood. The motion was too fluid, too animal. When he stepped closer, the heat in the room changed. My pulse tripped, matching some unseen rhythm beneath his skin.
“Your power’s unstable,” he said. “You’re radiating enough heat to melt steel.”
“Oh, great. Control lessons from the guy who bit me.”
His eyes flared gold for half a second. “I warned you about that mouth.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Good.” His tone deepened, slow and certain. “Fear’s useless. Awareness keeps you alive.”
He stopped just short of touching me. Every inch of me screamed to move closer, and I hated that. The heat in my blood shifted, not dangerous this time, just… electric.
He looked like he felt it too.
“Back up,” I said quietly.
He didn’t. “Can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“Because whatever this is,” he murmured, “it’s pulling me to you.”
The words hit something deep inside me. I wanted to deny it, but the air between us was already heavy with proof. My breath stuttered.
“You’re overheating,” he said softly.
“Wow, thanks for the field report, Alpha National Geographic.”
“Name’s Rhett.”
“Good for you.”
I swung my legs off the bed, but he caught my wrist. The contact detonated. Sparks, literal sparks, snapped across our skin. My pulse went wild, and heat surged in waves.
“Careful,” he warned, his voice low. “You’ll torch the room again.”
“I’ll torch you if you don’t let go.”
He leaned in, close enough that the heat of his breath brushed my jaw. “You could try.”
The challenge lit something reckless in me. I met his gaze and refused to look away. His pupils were huge, the gold eaten by black. For one heartbeat, the air crackled like the world was holding its breath.
I tore my hand free. “You need to get that animal under control.”
He exhaled once sharply. “I’ve spent my whole life doing that.”
“Well,” I said, my heart still hammering, “you’re doing a terrible job.”
That got him, an actual laugh, quiet and rough. I turned away before he could see the flush rising up my neck.
“Get me clothes,” I said. “And food. And maybe a manual on how not to melt furniture.”
“As you wish.” The faintest thread of humor cut through his gravel tone.
The door shut behind him. The air cooled, but not by much. My pulse was still too fast, three heartbeats tangled out of sync.
Whatever I was now, it wasn’t human.
And every time I thought of his hand on mine, the fire under my skin woke up like it remembered exactly who it wanted.
______________
The door creaked open again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Rhett stepped back inside carrying a tray with meat, bread, and something that smelled like herbs and fire. Over one arm hung folded clothes. His expression was the same unreadable mask as before, though the pulse at his throat betrayed something else, unease maybe, or something worse.
He set the tray on the bedside table. “Eat.”
“You always give orders like that?”
“I’m an Alpha,” he said simply. “It’s what I do.”
I took the bread, tore off a piece, and tried not to moan when I tasted it. I hadn’t realized how starved I was until now. My body devoured everything, like I was trying to rebuild from the inside out.
“You heal fast,” he said quietly, watching me.
“Apparently resurrection comes with perks.” I swallowed hard. “So… what happens now? Do you keep me locked up like some sort of...”
“Guest,” he interrupted.
I snorted. “That what you call prisoners here?”
He tilted his head, considering me. “If you wanted to leave, you could try.”
“Try?”
“You’d collapse before the gates. You’re still half ash.”
He wasn’t wrong. My limbs trembled even sitting up, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “You’re awfully confident for someone who nearly got torched.”
His mouth curved in a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve faced worse flames.”
I hated the way my stomach flipped at that, hated that every word from him felt heavier than it should.
He dropped the clothes on the bed. Simple black trousers, a white shirt, and soft leather boots. My size. Somehow he’d known.
“What’s the catch?” I asked.
“No catch. You can’t walk around naked in a den full of wolves. They’ll smell blood and weakness. Someone would get their dick chopped off.”
I arched a brow. “And you don’t?”
His gaze cut to mine, hot and sharp. “I smell fire.”
The room felt too small again. The heat between us was its own creature, breathing.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Turn around.”
He did, without argument. Broad back, hair brushing his collar, tension rolling through every line of him. I dressed fast, fumbling more than I wanted to admit. The fabric clung to my skin, and I could feel the fever still burning underneath.
“All right,” I said.
He turned. For a second, he didn’t move. His gaze swept down slowly, measuring. It wasn’t lust, not exactly. More like recognition.
“You look less like a corpse,” he said at last.
“Wow, be still my heart.”
He ignored the jab. “You’ll stay here tonight. I’ll have guards posted.”
“Because you think I’ll run?”
“Because others might come looking for you.”
The reminder hit like a blow. Haven-9. The fire. My team. My people. They were gone, or worse. I bit down hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” he said softly. “But I’ve seen the way vampires hunt. If they find out what you are, what you became, they’ll tear the world apart for a taste.”
Something in his tone made me shiver. He wasn’t exaggerating. He knew.
“I’m not your responsibility,” I said.
He stepped closer again, slow enough that I could’ve stopped him but didn’t. “You don’t get to decide that. Not after what I saw.”
“What you saw was a freak accident,” I snapped.
His eyes flared gold again, just for a second. “That wasn’t an accident. That was prophecy waking up.”
“Save the mystic bullshit for your priests.”
“I don’t have priests.”
“Then save it for your therapist.”
That earned me another one of those near-smiles. He reached out and brushed his thumb across a soot mark on my cheek before I could move. The touch was careful but deliberate.
“You’re burning up again,” he murmured.
“Then maybe stop touching me,” I said, but the words came out too soft.
His hand lingered a heartbeat longer than it should have. “Rest,” he said finally. “You’ll need it.”
Then he left, the door shutting behind him like a vow.
I sat there in the silence, my heart hammering and my skin tingling where his fingers had been. Every cell in my body still hummed with heat and confusion and something I didn’t have a name for.
Whatever this new heartbeat inside me was, it wasn’t calm.
It wanted him.
And that terrified me more than dying ever had.