Seduce the alpha

Evening cloaked the sky in velvet when Aurora stepped back into Zev's chamber.

The soft click of the door was like a sigh against the silence, and her breath caught as soon as her gaze landed on him.

He lay across the bed—reclined but alert, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped across his chest. Black silk clung to his frame like shadow made flesh, hugging every line of power that coiled beneath his skin. His silver hair spilled across the pillow like spilled moonlight, and his crimson eyes—half-lidded but sharp—locked on her from the moment she entered.

He didn't smile.

Just watched.

As though she were part of the architecture now—an uninvited adornment.

"Alpha Zev..." Aurora said carefully, smoothing the front of her gown as she stepped in. Her voice was hushed, threadbare, like she feared waking something that might bare its teeth. "Are you feeling any better?"

He didn't answer right away.

Instead, his gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, lashes casting soft shadows on pale skin. Then he spoke, calm and distant:

"I've healed from worse."

She swallowed, stepping further into the room. The silence between them crackled—familiar now, but no less dangerous.

"I—" she hesitated, folding her hands, suddenly very aware of the scratch of fabric between her thighs. "I'm sorry. About the... the mark. On your neck."

For a beat, there was nothing.

Then—

Zev's gaze dropped to her slowly, deliberately. A lazy, wicked curve touched his lips, like he'd been waiting for her to bring it up. He shifted, one arm pressing against the mattress as he sat up, effortless and fluid like a wolf rising from slumber.

"You think I mind?" he asked, voice low and cool.

Aurora's mouth parted.

"I... I wasn't sure," she said quietly.

His smirk deepened, and his red eyes gleamed like embers stirred by wind.

Zev stood slowly, letting the silence stretch with the sound of the mattress creaking under his weight. His bare feet hit the floor with a soft thud, and he took a step toward her—then another—until he was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

He didn't touch her.

Not yet.

But his voice dropped—silken, edged, the kind that scraped down your spine and kissed where it hurt.

"You think I'd flinch over a scratch," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder without actually touching her skin, "when all I want… is to mark you deeper?"

Aurora's breath caught.

He leaned in—close enough to make her feel caged, close enough for his breath to brush her ear.

"You want to apologize, little rabbit?" he whispered. "Then say my name the way you did last night... when you thought I was too deep inside you to notice your sins."

Her knees nearly buckled.

He chuckled darkly, the sound like velvet soaked in flame.

"Or better yet..."

His lips ghosted just beneath her jaw.

"...get on your knees. And let me hear it from there."

And just as Aurora opened her mouth—

*Knock.*

Sharp. Measured. Hollow.

Not a servant's knock. Not a friend's.

Zev didn't flinch. But the storm behind his eyes shifted.

"Ignore it," he growled.

*Knock.*

Louder now.

Zev stood to full height, the softness gone. The predator returned.

Knock.

Sharp. Deliberate. Measured—like it came from someone who'd never been told no.

Zev's jaw tensed.

Then he smiled.

Slowly.

Not the kind of smile that welcomed. The kind that warned.

Without turning his head, he murmured, "Don't open it."

Aurora froze mid-step. Her fingers hovered near the knob, caught between instinct and command.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Zev stood.

The bed sighed beneath him, the air tightening as he rose with unhurried grace. The room felt smaller now. Darker. Like something old and dangerous had just stirred behind his crimson eyes.

That wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His crimson eyes flicked to the door, then back to Aurora.

"Rabbit," he said slowly, voice curling with smoke. "Someone's trying to seduce me by knocking at this hour."

He smirked.

"What do you think, hmm?"

Before she could answer, he peeled off his shirt in one fluid motion, letting it drop like it was beneath him. Bare chest, inked and sculpted, caught the flicker of lamplight. He stepped toward her—slow and certain, hunger flickering behind his eyes.

"I think I know how to punish our.... intruder," he murmured, voice rougher now, closer.

Then he crossed to her.

Each step was a silent promise.

Before she could speak, his hands found her waist—firm, unyielding—and he pulled her against him. Aurora gasped, her cheek grazing his bare chest, skin still warm from shared heat.

Knock. Again.

Closer. Sharper. Demanding.

Zev moved.

He opened the door just enough.

Just enough to make a statement.

Light spilled in—

And so did the Queen.

Her eyes swept over the scene—his bare chest, the flush burning up Aurora's neck, the scent of something unfinished hanging thick in the air.

Zev leaned lazily against the doorframe disappointed, gaze coiled in quiet threat, mouth tilted in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"You're interrupting," he said silk-smooth. "Next time, knock softer. Or not at all."

A pause.

Not long.

But lethal.

The Queen's face didn't shift—but the temperature dropped.

She didn't speak.

She didn't need to.

She turned, cape slicing through the air like a blade—and vanished down the hall without a sound.

Zev shut the door.

The click echoed.

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was loaded.

He looked down at Aurora, eyes still burning with that cruel, unreadable glint.

Then—

where we—"

*Scrrrrrt.*

A soft, sudden sound at the base of the door.

Something slid in. Pale. Folded. Unassuming.

Zev's head snapped toward it. His body, still bare from the waist up, moved like a loaded weapon as he strode to the door and bent to retrieve it.

A letter.

No seal. No name. Just thick parchment—creased and warm from hurried hands.

He opened it.

Read it once.

Then again.

His jaw clenched, a shadow darkening his already storm-lit features. Aurora watched the shift—the way the veins in his forearm seemed to tighten, the sudden absence in his eyes.

He didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

Zev crossed to the bed, grabbed his shirt like it had offended him, and tugged it over his shoulders in one swift pull. He didn't glance her way as he tied the strings at his wrists, his movements sharp, precise.

*Something's changed.* Aurora felt it, tightening in her chest like a thread pulled too hard.

"King Ezra," he muttered under his breath, as if the name tasted sour. "Wants me."

He turned toward the door. His hands flexed once. Twice.

Then he was gone.

But Aurora didn't sit still.

She pressed her ear to the wood, breath shallow. Beyond it, she could hear the retreat of his footsteps down the corridor—quicker now, more purposeful.

The hall murmured around him.

A tension was rising in the palace.

Something had been set in motion.

And whatever it was... it had just stolen the softness from Zev's eyes.