The Naked Alpha

TESSA'S POV:

"You would not like to experience the Alpha’s anger," Maeve’s warning replayed on a vicious, unending loop inside my skull, matching the frantic rhythm of my pounding heart.

I trailed behind her like a stray, battered dog following a cruel master. The skimpy brown slave uniform offered zero defense against the bitter draft sweeping through the grand corridor of the manor. The tight, sleeveless top pushed my chest up while leaving my midriff exposed to the cold, and the skirt stopped so dangerously high on my thighs I felt naked. The rough, thick vines wrapped around my wrists and ankles scraped my skin raw with every movement, a constant abrasive reminder of my new status. This was my reality now. Sold. Discarded. Stripped of my dignity and reduced to a piece of property.

My mind drifted back to Trent, bringing a fresh, burning wave of nausea that churned in my empty stomach. We were supposed to be mates. My future, my heart, my loyalty—I placed all of it in his hands. And he looked me dead in the eye during the pack gathering and sold me off like a broken piece of furniture to settle his own issues. The sting of his betrayal tasted like bitter ash on my tongue. I wondered briefly if he felt any remorse, if my sudden absence left a hole in his life, if he would try to buy me back. But recalling his smug, indifferent expression crushed that pathetic, naive hope. He was glad to be rid of me.

Tears threatened the corners of my vision, but I forced them back with a hard blink. Crying meant weakness. Right now, survival was my only priority. I had no intention of letting my severed head end up on a spike in the pack square over a simple mistake like being two minutes late to draw a bath. I picked up my pace, ignoring the sharp bite of the thorns digging into my ankles, as we approached the grand double doors of Alpha Garrick’s quarters.

Maeve stopped abruptly. Her sudden halt made me stumble backward to avoid crashing into her.

"Here," her voice sliced through the heavy, cold air of the hallway. She turned her hard, dark eyes onto me one last time, her gaze devoid of any pity. "Remember. Not too hot. Not too cold. Make it snappy."

I gave a stiff nod. My throat felt too tight to push words out. Maeve turned on her heel and marched away, the sound of her boots echoing down the corridor, leaving me standing alone before the towering wooden doors.

I took a deep, shaky breath, pushed the heavy doors open, and stepped inside, bracing myself for a dark, terrifying dungeon.

Instead, my breath hitched in my throat, my jaw dropping slightly.

The chamber was breathtaking. It did not match the brutal, bloodthirsty reputation of Alpha Garrick. The soothing scent of burning vanilla candles and rich mahogany swept over me, a stark contrast to the metallic smell of blood and fear I expected to find. Sunlight poured through massive arched windows, illuminating a calculated, artistic blend of stark white walls and deep obsidian accents. The room was massive, grand enough to host an entire pack meeting with space to spare.

At the far end of the chamber sat a colossal bed, dressed in thick, luxurious dark sheets. It looked impossibly inviting. My muscles ached deep down to the bone. I woke up today in a cold cage after passing out against my will, and the primal urge to just collapse onto that mattress clawed at my exhausted mind. I walked over, drawn by the illusion of comfort. My fingers brushed the edge of the velvet blanket. It felt softer than anything I had ever touched in my life. One more inch, and I would just sink into the cushions and let the darkness take me. I snatched my hand back immediately, my pulse jumping into my throat. Touching the bed was a sin; sleeping on it meant an instant, gruesome death sentence.

Beside the bed stood a massive, dark wood bookshelf. Rows of pristine, leather-bound books lined the polished shelves. I stared at them, bewildered by the sight. I never pictured the ruthless Alpha Garrick sitting down by a roaring fire with a good book. I imagined him tearing out throats, commanding armies, and buying rejected mates just to torture them for sport. He probably received these books as formal gifts and never even opened them. Still, my eyes wandered over the gold-embossed titles, distracted by the sheer normality of it all.

A sudden spike of dread shot through my freezing veins. I was dawdling. Snooping around his private things. I was doing the exact opposite of what Maeve commanded me to do. Panic twisted my stomach into tight, painful knots. I spun away from the bookshelf and practically sprinted toward the adjacent bathroom doors, pushing them open with trembling hands.

The bathroom rivaled the main chamber in sheer, absurd wealth. Polished black marble lined the floors and walls, reflecting the warm overhead lights. In the center of the vast room sat a massive bathtub, shimmering so brightly it looked as though it were carved from solid, pure gold. Majestic, heavy gold faucets protruded over the deep basin. I scrambled over to the edge of the tub and twisted the heavy handles.

Water gushed out, the roaring sound echoing off the stone walls. Steam began to rise immediately, curling around my face and dampening my hair. My hands shook hard as I plunged them into the rushing water. I lost all sense of temperature. The sheer terror of getting this wrong scrambled my brain and numbed my fingertips.

Drawing a bath for Trent used to be a frustrating chore. He complained about everything, never satisfied with my efforts. But drawing a bath for Alpha Garrick was a literal matter of life and death. If the water scorched his skin, he would kill me. If it gave him a chill, he would kill me.

"Not too hot. Not too cold," I whispered frantically, repeating Maeve's words like a sacred prayer to keep the panic at bay.

I twisted the cold knob, feeling the water turn freezing, then panicked and cranked the hot knob until the steam grew thick and suffocating. I dipped my hand in again. Warm. Comforting. But was it right for an Alpha? I pulled my hand out, water dripping down my bare thighs, and prayed I hit the sweet spot. I had one shot at this new life, and I refused to die in the hands of a heartless monster over bathwater.

I needed to get out. Maeve said he would return soon, and being alone with him in his private space sounded like a one-way ticket to an unmarked grave. I wiped my wet hands on my skimpy skirt and hurried back out into the main chamber.

I headed straight for the exit, desperate to escape, but a glint of light in the far corner of the room caught my eye.

My feet stopped moving on their own accord. A heavy glass display case sat on a velvet-draped pedestal near the wall. Inside it rested an ornamental crown. I took a slow step closer, mesmerized by the sight. It was a masterpiece of forged gold, studded with massive, glittering rubies and sapphires that caught the light from the windows. The pack’s crest stood proudly at the front, polished to a mirror shine.

I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly. The glass box did not have a lock. I slid the transparent lid open, the hinges silent. My fingertips brushed the cold, hard gold of the crown. It felt heavy, substantial, reeking of ancient power and unimaginable wealth. A single gemstone plucked from this piece could buy my freedom a thousand times over.

Reality crashed down on me hard, bringing a cruel shiver down my spine. If Alpha Garrick walked in and found a filthy, rejected slave with her bare hands on his imperial crown, my execution would be swift and brutal. I would not even get a chance to scream. I yanked my hand back as if the gold burned my flesh, carefully sliding the glass lid shut. I took one last, long stare at the beautiful ornament.

Before I could even take a single step toward the exit doors, it hit me.

A thick, overpowering wave of raw cedar, crushed pine, and dark musk. Alpha Garrick’s scent. It slammed into my chest, heavy and dominant, stealing the oxygen straight out of my lungs. My knees buckled slightly under the sheer pressure of his aura.

The heavy wooden double doors of the chamber groaned loudly from the hallway.

He was here. He was right outside.

Blind, primal terror hijacked my brain. I spun around, my bare feet slapping softly against the polished floorboards as I scrambled for the nearest hiding spot. The bathroom. I sprinted back into the humid, steam-filled room, darted past the glowing golden tub, and shoved myself deep into the darkest corner behind a large marble pillar.

I crouched down, pulling my knees tight to my chest, making myself as small as physically possible. The rough vines dug deep into my flesh, scraping my skin raw, but I barely felt the pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart thundering at a preternatural speed.

This was the stupidest thing I had ever done. Hiding in his bathroom? It was a literal dead end. I mentally dug a hole in the floor, wishing the marble would crack open and swallow me straight into hell. I would gladly take the roaring flames of the underworld over facing him in person. My fingers tapped a frantic, erratic rhythm against my thighs. My legs shook, knocking my knees together.

Should I stand up, walk out, and apologize for taking too long to prepare his bath?

No. That would end with my rotting body becoming fertilizer for the courtyard gardens.

His powerful scent poured into the bathroom, mixing with the hot steam and the lingering vanilla candles. In seconds, I couldn't separate the air I breathed from the overwhelming musk of his dominant presence. It coated my tongue and burned in my nose. My stomach tied itself into painful knots as I drew in shaky, silent breaths, still crouched helplessly in the corner.

The heavy, deliberate thud of his footsteps moved across the main chamber. Each step sounded like a war drum echoing in my ears, vibrating through the floorboards. He moved closer. The bathroom was his target. There was no time left to formulate a lie. Too short a time to sell my soul to the devil for an escape plan.

The golden handle of the bathroom door clicked loudly.

The heavy door swung open, hitting the tiled wall with a dull thud.

I choked on my saliva, my eyes flying wide open in sheer, paralyzing shock. Alpha Garrick stood right in the doorway, the hot steam swirling around his massive frame.

He had nothing on.

Broad, hulking shoulders blocked the light filtering in from the main chamber. His massive chest was a canvas of hard, chiseled muscle, glistening slightly in the humid air. A sharp V-line cut deep into his lower abdomen, pointing directly to his thick, heavy cock hanging raw and exposed between his scarred, muscular thighs.

I remained crouched frozen in the corner, staring wide-eyed at the naked Alpha standing right in front of me.