Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 215: Sweet Temptation

Damon – POV

I sat at the massive obsidian table in my office, the air thick with the scent of old ink, steel, and something darker—mine. Maps were splayed out before me, old ones etched in bloodlines and territory, new ones blinking with digital borders and thermal grids. It wasn’t just about power anymore—it was about precision. Dominance. Control. Every pack that dared oppose me, every faction that stood in my way, would be laid bare and bleeding beneath my boot.

And now... now, I had a new asset.

The witches.

Still draped in their ceremonial robes, they stood obediently by the far wall. No longer elusive shadows dancing around the edges of prophecy—they were mine. A gift handed to me on the precipice of ascension. And when Hades fully awakens within me, they won’t just serve—they’ll worship.

More loyal than any wolf bound to me by blood.

More vicious than any alpha raised by teeth and war.

And far more useful than my current pack, half of whom feared me more than they followed me.

I tapped a dagger against the edge of the table, dragging it slowly across a carved-out section of rival packlands. "Place the witches here," I muttered, more to myself than to them. "Discreetly. Let them blend in with the forest covens. I want surveillance enchantments laced through every inch of that border—if one wolf so much as sneezes, I want to know."

One of them stepped forward. "Yes, my lord."

My lips twitched into a smirk. My lord. I could get used to that.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms behind my head, letting my mind slip from battle formations to something infinitely more thrilling.

Her.

Elena.

Fuck.

I could still taste her lips on mine, still feel the softness of her thighs around my hips, the warmth of her soaked lace brushing against my cock. She’d run from me tonight—jumped up like I was fire—but not because she didn’t want it.

Because she did.

And that scared the hell out of her.

Good.

Let her run.

Let her build her little walls again, stack them stone by stone, thinking she’s safe behind them.

Because I won’t tear them down.

No—I’ll wait. I’ll leave her with questions, with heat in her blood and ache in her core. I’ll let her mind stew in the possibilities, and her body tremble every time I walk too close.

Better to keep her anticipating the "what if."

Because the longer she waits, the more desperate she’ll become. Her wolf already wants me—wants the bond, the power, the claim. And when I’m near, that primal part of her screams. She doesn’t even realize how close she is to snapping.

I just have to keep sparking the flame. A touch here, a glance there—a brush of skin, a whisper of dominance.

Every time I get close, I’ll leave her hanging, wet and breathless, clawing at restraint.

It’s delicious.

Every interaction is calculated, every lingering stare a seed planted. I can already feel the tension pulling taut. She’s strung so tightly I could pluck her nerves like harp strings.

By the time I decide to truly take her, she’ll be so sexually frustrated her wolf will tear through skin to get to me. And when she breaks—when she finally begs—it won’t be from weakness.

It’ll be from need.

Raw. Honest. Uncontrolled.

That’s when the full mate bond will lock into place. That’s when the final surge of power will awaken the last piece of me—the one slumbering in the pit of my soul, waiting for her to open the gates.

Hades.

The tyrant the witches revere.

The god the prophecy promised.

And she, the unwilling vessel, will become the queen of a kingdom she never wanted. But she will be mine.

My mate.

My queen.

My key to world domination.

I stood slowly, walking to the tall window that overlooked the southern border. Moonlight streaked across the glass like silver veins. The witches’ reflection hovered behind me, silent, waiting for orders.

They didn’t need more tonight.

They’d seen enough.

I pressed two fingers to the glass and traced an imaginary path through the packlands.

Let them all come. Alphas, rogues, resistances, councils. Let them bring fire and silver.

They’d never see the storm coming.

Because while they braced themselves for Kane and Dean... they had no idea that I had returned.

And I would not stop until the world howled beneath me.

Elena – POV

Stupid sleep refused to come.

No matter how tightly I curled under the covers, no matter how many times I flipped my pillow or tried to count imaginary sheep, my body simply wouldn’t shut down. It still tingled—everywhere. His touch lingered like it had soaked into my skin, a phantom heat buzzing along my thighs, my breasts, the dip of my lower back.

Damon.

I cursed into my pillow for the hundredth time.

Why the hell did he have to look at me like that? Touch me like that? Sound like he was seconds away from claiming my very soul?

And why the hell did I want him to?

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, teeth clenched. I’d told myself that I would be fast asleep before he came back. That I’d find some magical escape in the blackness of unconsciousness. But the hours dragged on. The moon dipped lower. Dawn began to creep its pale fingers across the horizon. And still, no Damon.

Of course he didn’t come back. I practically leapt off him like he was made of lava.

I didn’t even realize when sleep finally took me...

...but then I felt it.

The dip of the mattress behind me. The whisper of warmth at my back. A breath, hot and steady against the nape of my neck.

A hand slid around my waist, firm, possessive, drawing me backward into a chest that was all heat and bare skin.

Oh fuck. He was naked.

Why was he naked?

My heart slammed against my ribs, panic and arousal colliding in a dangerous dance. I wriggled, trying to create space between his body and mine, but his arm only tightened around me.

"Stop moving, Elena," he growled, his voice low, dark, soaked in sex and danger, "or I swear I’m gonna fuck that ass that won’t stand still."

My breath caught. My thighs clenched instinctively.

Because he wasn’t bluffing.

I could feel him—hard, thick, pulsing against my backside. And it definitely wasn’t like that before. My poor brain short-circuited under the weight of every sinful implication.

"The things you do to me," he muttered, grinding against me in slow, deliberate motion.

"Feel that?" he asked, rubbing himself against the swell of my ass.

"That’s what you do to me, Elena."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out except a shaky breath.

His hand slipped beneath the blanket, fingers gliding up my thigh with excruciating slowness. Featherlight at first, then firmer—more intentional—as he inched higher, pushing my nightgown with him. My skin burned in the wake of his touch.

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