Alpha's Dark Desires
Chapter 69: The contract

Chapter 69: The contract

Elena’s POV

As Kane walked back into the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other, I couldn’t stop the flood of memories that surged through my mind. The way Ashley had entered last night, carrying that cursed bottle of wine, setting glasses on the table with a practiced grace that made me instantly uneasy. I remembered the way she moved, how she had slipped out of her dress with such shameless ease, leaving herself in nothing but her lacy panties, her eyes dark with seduction. She had laid there on the couch, waiting for Kane, her body posed as if she were some kind of offering.

It wasn’t just her audacity—it was the way she had done it, the strange submissiveness in her actions, the way she positioned herself on seeing him enter the room. It wasn’t the confidence of a woman teasing her equal. No, it was something darker, more unsettling, as if she were playing a role—a role she knew all too well.

And then she’d called him Master.

The word had sent a chill down my spine, even in the heat of the moment. That wasn’t a normal term of respect, not even in a pack as stern and hierarchical as Kane’s. It wasn’t what an Alpha was supposed to be called. And yet, it had slipped from her lips so naturally, like it was second nature.

I remembered Kane’s reaction, the flash of fury in his eyes as he commanded her to leave. His voice had been sharp, cutting through her seduction like a blade. But she hadn’t gone quietly. She’d stood her ground, mentioning something about a clause in a contract—a clause that seemed to make Kane even angrier, his control barely holding as his fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, I had thought he might actually strike her. That was how far she’d pushed him.

I hadn’t understood it then, and I still didn’t now. But it was clear that this "contract" wasn’t just a business agreement. It was something deeper, something tied to whatever kind of hold these women—women like Ashley—seemed to think they had on him.

And Ashley wasn’t the only one.

My thoughts drifted back to that eventful shopping spree, when Kane and I had stopped at that boutique. That young woman, her cheeks flushed as she all but tripped over herself to please him, had also called him Master. At the time, I had brushed it off as some kind of over-the-top respect for his authority as Alpha. But now, looking back, it felt wrong.

It wasn’t respect. It was something else entirely.

These women—they weren’t just members of his pack. They were clearly his former lovers. That much was obvious from the whispers I had overheard, the sly smiles and veiled comments from women who claimed he was the best lover they’d ever had. The rumors about Kane were endless, and as much as I hated to admit it, some of them had always gotten under my skin.

I wasn’t blind to the reputation he carried—not just as a ruthless leader but also as a charmer, a ladies’ man. That reputation had been one of the many reasons I’d despised him for so long. It wasn’t just the way he treated people, his cold, calculated ruthlessness. It was the stories, the way women spoke about him as if he were some untouchable god, someone they’d never get over.

And then there was my father. Kane’s treatment of him had been the spark that had ignited my hatred for him all those years ago, the reason I had spent my younger days dreaming of a life far away from him.

Even now, as I watched him set the glasses down with a soft clink and pour the champagne with careful precision, I couldn’t shake the bitterness that lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t as strong as it once was—especially after everything that had happened yesterday—but it was still there, simmering when thinking about the past.

I tried to push the thoughts aside, tried to focus on the present. But Ashley’s voice echoed in my head, the way she had hissed about the contract, the way she had looked at him like she owned a piece of him.

What exactly was this contract?

I needed answers. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him—not yet. He looked so... hopeful, so different from the man I’d spent years loathing. The way he had been with me all day—gentle, patient, almost tender—was a side of him I’d never seen before. It made me hesitate, made me wonder if confronting him now would shatter whatever fragile truce we had managed to build.

But I couldn’t ignore it forever. The memories of last night—the whispers, the seductive poses, the title of Master—were like a thorn in my side, impossible to forget.

Kane raised his glass, his lips curving into a small smile. "To us," he said softly, his deep voice cutting through my swirling thoughts.

I managed a weak smile in return, lifting my glass to meet his. The champagne fizzed and sparkled, its sweet scent lingering on my nose but I still didn’t attempt to drink it.

"To new beginnings," I said quietly, though the words felt hollow.

Because even as I said them, a voice in the back of my mind whispered that this wasn’t the end of the questions. It was just the beginning.

Kane must have noticed the shift in my demeanor as I sat there, champagne glass untouched, my mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head, his dark brows furrowing as he asked softly, "Elena, what’s wrong?"

I swallowed hard, knowing that this was the moment I had to confront him. The memory of Ashley’s actions last night—the wine, the way she laid herself out so brazenly, the contract, and that unsettling title of Master—was weighing heavily on me. If we were truly going to have a fresh start, I couldn’t let these questions fester.

I put the glass down and met his gaze, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. "What was that contract Ashley mentioned last night, the one she presented when she tried to seduce you?"

Kane’s entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders stiffened, and his jaw tightened, as though I’d hit a nerve. His uneasiness was palpable, and I could see the way his eyes darted, searching for an escape, for a way to deflect the question. But I wasn’t about to let him wriggle out of this. Not now.

"Elena..." he began, his voice low, but I cut him off sharply.

"No, Kane," I said firmly, my tone brooking no argument. "I need to know. We can’t start fresh, we can’t have a new beginning, with ghosts in our closets. If this is going to work, there can’t be any secrets between us."

His frustration was evident as he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a long, weary sigh. For a moment, I thought he might refuse, but then his eyes softened, and he nodded, almost to himself. Without another word, he stood and walked over to the cabinet beneath the mounted TV. He opened a drawer, his movements tense, and pulled out a familiar-looking document.

It was the same one Ashley had been holding last night, the one that had sent his temper into overdrive.

He hesitated, holding the document in his hand, his grip firm as though he wasn’t quite ready to let it go. Then he turned to me, his gaze locking with mine. "I will change for you," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. And then he extended the document toward me.

As I reached for it, he didn’t release it immediately. His fingers lingered, and I could feel the weight of what he was about to share. Finally, he let go and moved to the other side of the couch, sitting down heavily. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching me closely as though bracing for my reaction.

My heart pounded as I unfolded the document, its pages crisp beneath my fingertips. I didn’t know what to expect, but the sinking feeling in my stomach told me it wasn’t going to be good. The title on the first page made my breath catch in my throat.

BDSM Contract: Agreement Between Dominant and Submissive.

What the actual hell? My eyes widened as I scanned the first few lines, my mind reeling. The first page explained the nature of the agreement, detailing roles, responsibilities, and boundaries between the Dominant and the Submissive.

I glanced at Kane, who was now watching me like a hawk, his expression unreadable. "What is this?" I asked, my voice sharp with confusion and disbelief.

"It’s exactly what it says," he replied quietly, his tone steady but strained. "A BDSM contract. Ashley was one of my submissives... before you."

The room felt like it tilted slightly as I tried to process his words. Submissives? My heart thudded painfully as I thought back to the women who had called him Master, their demeanor so deferential, their actions so practiced. It all suddenly made a disturbing kind of sense.

"You... you’re into this?" I managed to ask, my voice cracking slightly. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.