Chapter 29

LUXURIA.

I got into my chamber, and my skin flushed with hot desire and need.

The coolness of the room did nothing to soothe the heat simmering beneath my skin. I tried, I really did—sitting in the icy bathtub until my limbs shook and my teeth clattered—but it wasn't enough.

My mind betrayed me. The memory of him in his chamber, the way his gaze had seared through me, how his voice had rumbled low and commanding, left a mark on me that no amount of cold water could wash away.

Just the thought of him sent a pulse of need straight to my core. I hated him. I feared him. And yet... I wanted him. My body ached with a hunger I didn't know how to fight. It was maddening, this war inside me.

I should have known better. I should have fought harder. But I was weak. I was falling, and I hated how much I was giving in.

I shifted on the bed, trying to shake off the thoughts, but it was no use. The pulse between my legs was relentless, the slick heat gathering, making my thighs clench.

My breath came faster, my chest rising and falling as I fought to keep control. But the more I resisted, the stronger the need became, twisting deeper inside me.

There was no one here. No one to see my shame. No one but the Alpha in my thoughts.

My fingers trembled as I slid them down my stomach, my skin burning beneath my own touch.

 Gods… I shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong, so very wrong, but I couldn't stop. I was drowning in need, and I didn't know how else to survive.

I parted my legs, my breath hitching as I slipped my fingers lower, finding the wetness waiting there. The sensation made me gasp softly, my eyes fluttering closed as my hips rocked forward, seeking more.

I imagined him—Alpha Parthe—his strong hands on me, his mouth claiming mine, his body pressing against mine in that same dark, consuming way.

My fingers moved faster, slick against my wetness, the pressure building, growing hotter, tighter. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, my legs trembling as I chased the release I needed. "Alpha…" I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I pictured him above me, his name slipping from my lips again and again.

The pleasure swelled, threatening to consume me whole, each pulse bringing me closer to that sweet, torturous release. My body arched, muscles taut, and my breath hitched in my throat. I was there—so close—teetering on the edge, desperate for that final push into oblivion.

But just as I hovered on the brink, lost in the waves of pleasure, the air shifted.

A heavy, sudden sound—a door creaking open—broke through the haze of my lust. My eyes snapped open, heart lurching in my chest, but my mind refused to catch up. I lay there, frozen, unsure if it was real or some twisted figment of my fantasy.

Then, without warning, the door slammed open with a force that rattled the hinges.

Alpha Parthe.

My heart stopped. His presence filled the room, overwhelming, suffocating. His gaze bore into me, dark and cold, and I could feel every inch of his eyes on me—my bare skin, my shameful, exposed body. The pleasure that had moments ago consumed me vanished, replaced by a flood of icy panic.

I couldn't breathe.

Time seemed to slow. He was just there, watching me, his gaze locked onto mine. His expression was unreadable—cold, almost cruel—and my body burned with shame under his scrutiny. My breath caught in my throat, my fingers stilling between my legs, caught in the very act of my sin.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The air was thick with tension, so heavy I could barely breathe. My hand trembled as I yanked it away from my aching center, scrambling to cover myself with the sheet, but it was too late. He had already seen me, already witnessed my shame.

My hand still reached for the sheets but his cold voice made me freeze even more.

"Move another inch and watch me rip your heart out." It wasn't a threat.

He meant every word he just said.

Gods, no… Heat flooded my face, my skin burning with humiliation. How could I face him? How could I explain this? My body still pulsed with the ghost of my desire, but now all I felt was dread, sinking deep into my bones.

I opened my mouth to speak, to beg for his forgiveness, but no words came out. My throat was dry, tight with fear, and all I could do was stare at him.

He stepped further into the room, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes, dark and intense, never left mine

"Alpha… I—" My voice was barely a whisper, my hands clutching the sheet beside me.

He didn't speak at first. He didn't need to. The way his gaze roved over me—slow, possessive, demanding—told me everything.

His eyes dipped, lingering on the place where my dress bunched around my hips before trailing to my open legs.

Shame scorched through me, searing my skin. A tear slid down my cheek, but he didn't care. He watched, detached, as though my anguish was of no consequence.

I couldn't tell if he was angry, disgusted, or… something else.

"Luxuria," he finally said, his voice deep and quiet, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. His tone wasn't harsh, wasn't cruel, but it wasn't gentle either.

He sat on the stool in front of me as if he had all the time in the world. My breath hitched as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his robe.

His eyes, darker than I'd ever seen them, held an intensity that terrified me, the raw hunger swirling within them.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, the words that came out made me wish for death instead.

"Don't let me stop you," he said, his voice low, rough, and thick with desire.

My heart stopped.