Alpha's Dark Desires
Chapter 84: Long Night

Chapter 84: Long Night

Kane POV

Another day, another attempt at playing Alpha while my mind was elsewhere—specifically on my mate. I’m supposed to be handling pack duties, signing papers, and addressing disputes, yet all I can think about is her. Waking up with Elena in my arms has become something dangerously addictive, a habit I don’t think I’ll ever want to break.

Let’s talk about last night. Torture. Pure, sweet torture. After my little "lesson" on how a bit of kink could be more pleasure than pain, I was a mess. Her arousal had practically consumed me, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to let things escalate. Don’t get me wrong—I wanted her. Hell, I’ve wanted her from the moment I realized she was my mate, but I’m trying to be better for her.

Call it self-control, call it torment—either way, I refused to go all the way. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I need her to choose it. I want her to agree when she’s clear-headed, not just swept away by my ministrations. I don’t want her to wake up regretting anything or thinking I manipulated her with my touch. Nah, when I take her completely, I want her begging me for it—sober, aware, and willingly mine.

And here I am, supposed to be reviewing reports, but my mate is the only thing I can think about. Can you blame me? This morning... good goddess, this morning. Let me tell you about it.

Let’s start with how yesterday ended.

After dinner—which, by the way, was a team effort since I helped her cook (who knew my mate was so cute with a spatula?)—we decided to play poker. Mistake number one. Turns out, Elena is a card shark. I swear the woman had beginner’s luck—or maybe she’d been hustling me. Either way, she won, and I didn’t even care. Watching her smug little grin as she collected her "winnings" was worth it.

After poker, we decided to watch a movie. Her pick. Big mistake number two. Of course, she chose something with a prince. A prince, people. And not the kind of movie where the lovers can’t keep their hands off each other. Nope. These characters shared a "kiss," and I use that word loosely because it was nothing more than a stupid, innocent peck. And you know what? My innocent little mate had the audacity to blush at it.

I almost laughed out loud. Elena, my sweet mate, was blushing at something so tame it could play on daytime television. Goddess help me, I’ve got a long road ahead. You’d think by now I’d corrupted her a little—what with the kisses, the touches, and all the teasing—but no. She’s still too pure, too sweet. And now I’m on a mission.

First things first: I’m choosing the next movie. Forget this fairytale prince nonsense. I’m picking something with a real kiss—a toe-curling, heat-inducing kind of kiss that’ll make my innocent mate squirm in her seat. It’ll be fun, watching her reactions, seeing that shy blush creep across her face.

And maybe—just maybe—it’ll start her down the path of realizing that I can do better than any so-called Prince Charming.

She’s already mine. Now it’s just a matter of time before she accepts every part of me—the good, the bad, and the wickedly sinful.

For now, though, I’ve got to survive another day at this desk without going crazy thinking about her. Goddess knows how I’ll manage that.

Okay, so let me tell you how this day officially ended—with me plotting revenge on my mate. A little PDA movie marathon is coming her way, and I’ll make damn sure it’s thorough and effective. If she’s gonna blush at the most innocent peck of a kiss, then, by the goddess, I’m going to expose her to the real stuff. The kind of stuff that’ll have her squirming in her seat, cheeks redder than cherries, and looking anywhere but the screen. Payback is sweet, and I’m looking forward to it.

Oh, but that wasn’t even the worst torture of my day. No, the real problem started when we went to bed. You see, I’ve come to the unfortunate realization that sharing a bed with Elena—my sweet, innocent little mate—is a recipe for self-destruction.

Let me set the scene. I showered (cold water, of course, because temptation is a bitch), put on only my shorts, and crawled into bed. Elena? She shows up in these baggy shorts and an oversized t-shirt that she thinks is innocent but fails miserably. Why, you ask? Because the shirt makes it painfully obvious that she’s not wearing a bra. Yeah, you heard me. And my stupid eyes saw and then my body likey.

So, there we are. I spoon her—sweet, right? It starts out innocent enough, but here’s the problem: spooning is a dangerous game. Too intimate. And this little mate of mine decides she’s gotta wiggle and adjust to get comfortable. Does she realize her round, sweet little ass is pressed right against me? Does she? Because my body sure as hell noticed, and—well—let’s just say I was already sporting a hard-on that could rival steel.

Now here’s where it gets tricky. The second she felt it—yeah, that

—she froze. Completely stiff, like a deer caught in headlights. I swear I could practically see her face heating up even though her back was still to me. Did she do it on purpose? Was she teasing me? Or was she really just innocent and trying to find her best spot? Honestly, I still don’t know. She’s too pure for her own good—can’t be that naughty... right?

But the real hell didn’t even start there. No, my mate eventually fell asleep—like dead asleep—while I was lying there wide awake, praying to every deity I could think of for sleep to come. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. I spent what felt like hours just lying there, rock hard, trying not to breathe too deeply because every little shift she made only made things worse.

And then—because apparently the universe is out to kill me—she shifted positions. My innocent, cuddly mate turned to face me, her leg flopping on top of me like I was her personal pillow. And oh, it gets worse. Her crotch? Right on top of my now raging cock.

I swear, this had to be some kind of sick joke.

At this point, I was half a second away from getting up and taking my third cold shower of the night. But I didn’t move. Why? Because she was hugging me—like I was some fluffy damn teddy bear. She was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the living hell she was putting me through.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. My mate was using me as a giant pillow while I was lying there, fighting for my sanity and praying for dawn to come so I could escape the torture. The irony of it all? She probably woke up this morning feeling refreshed while I looked like a sleep-deprived maniac.

By the time morning rolled around, I was a mess. You can imagine the state I was in after an entire night of torture. I had a hard-on so intense it was bordering on painful, I was hanging on by a thread. You’d think after hours of sleeplessness, and praying for control, things would settle—but no. My mate, my sweet, innocent mate, had other plans.

It started with her soft, breathy little sounds. Little whimpers. Sweet moans that slipped from her lips as she moved in her sleep and my sweet little mate, blissfully unaware, was making it worse with these soft, sinful noises she let out in her sleep. Little sighs, whimpers—each sound only tightened the knot of need twisting inside me. I swear, she has no idea what she does to me.

I froze, every muscle tensed as I listened, my body betraying me even further. Was she dreaming? Of me? She had to be—who else would be corrupting her innocent little mind? I was the only devil in her life, and as twisted as it sounds, I was proud of it. Proud that even in her dreams, I was driving her crazy. Hell, it had to be me. Who else could it be? I was the only corrupt influence in her life, the only one who had been teasing her relentlessly and introducing her to this kind of wicked craving. The noises she made? They were cute, maddening, and completely wrecking me. Every breath she took, every sound she made, sent a jolt straight through me, tightening the coil of need that had been torturing me all night. But as cute as those sounds were—sounds I could honestly listen to forever—they were doing absolutely nothing to ease my frustration. In fact, they were making it ten times worse.

That... broke me.

Before I even realized it, I was kissing her.

My self-control snapped, and before I knew it, I was leaning in, kissing her—soft at first, just testing the waters. What’s the best way to wake up your sleeping mate? By stealing her breath away.