Chained By the Alpha (Cleo and Zayn) novel Chapter 4

• Cleo •

The sun blazes through the curtains, burning my skin to a crisp as I jerk up from my slumber. Where am I? A violent headache has taken over my body, and I groan in pain. Squinting against the bright light, memories of last night flicker in my mind – some of which are very hazy.

I groan in pain as my head throbs more. I scrunch my eyes shut against the light and rub them, trying to remember what happened. Finally, I open them and my gaze darts around the large room, searching for a familiar face. Eventually, they land on him, standing by the window, looking out into the cityscape. His hair is wet, looking as though he recently showered. A pair of gray sweatpants clings to his frame.

Confusion bubbles inside me as I glance down at my unfamiliar clothing. It’s not mine or Lydia’s. My fingers nervously graze the fabric before I shift my gaze back to him, no longer able to contain my curiosity or anger.

“Did we…?” The words almost die on my lips, but I say enough to make him understand. He shoots me a wicked smirk before his expression softens into seriousness. An uncomfortable tension hangs in the air. Anxiety surges inside me as dread begins to fill my veins.

“Wait, you are being serious?” he laughs, and I glower at him. His laughter only grows louder.

“Trust me, if we did, you wouldn’t be questioning if we had.” A hint of amusement laces his tone.

I want to look away. Instead, my gaze lingers on his face. His expression is unreadable, and he seems to be lost in thought.

I take a deep breath before speaking up again. “Well, someone’s got tickets on themselves,” I retort and immediately regret it when his face hardens.

“No, I’ve seen every inch of you, Cleo,” he spits angrily. “I know exactly the damage I would have caused you had I helped myself to your body.” My face heats as I tug the shirt down, trying to cover myself up more.

It’s then that realization starts to fill me—this isn’t just some small mistake, this could have been a lot worse than what it already is, and it scares me deeply.

He must sense my fear because suddenly, his expression softens, and he crosses his arms over his massive chest, causing the muscles to ripple beneath his skin.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I could have easily. You’re just lucky that I’m not into somnophilia with drunk girls.” My heart hammers in my chest, and I try to process what he is saying. “Stress less, I never stole your virginity,” he mocks with a roll of his eyes.

My mind races, searching for any signs that I’d had too much to drink. All I can remember is arguing with Zayn, then after that, nothing. Why don’t I remember anything after speaking with him?

I mull that over for a second. Oh, my, what does Deacon think? Did he see me leave with him? Why didn’t he stop me? My eyes move to Zayn, who is watching me. The intensity in his gaze holds me for a few seconds before a thought flickers through my head and comes out of my lips in a snarl.

“What did you do to me?”

He seems taken aback by my words.

“Did you drug me? Is this some sick revenge to get back at my father?” I accuse, outraged that he would… he would… not steal my virginity?

“You did not just accuse me of raping you!” he scoffs. I say nothing, just stare at him, not knowing what else to do. I don’t remember coming back here, I don’t remember anything after seeing him. I shake my head, only the motion makes my head pound worse, and I clutch it, regretting the action instantly.

“Why don’t I remember anything then?” I mutter, panic coursing through me. When I open my eyes, Zayn presses his hands on either side of my hips. I move away from him as he leans closer. I swallow at how close he is, his scent overwhelming my senses.

“Maybe ask Deacon that question?”

I furrow my brows, and he shoves off the bed.

“Your so-called boyfriend is great at watching over you. Someone slipped something in your drink while he was grinding against your sister on the dance floor,” he spits, anger seeping through his words.

“She is not my sister, and I told you they are—” I start to say. He cuts me off.

“Yeah, I know they’re just friends right, the kind that rub genitals together on a dance floor? I saved your ass, just in case you’re wondering. I could have left you, I…” he doesn’t finish, just shakes his head.

In the overwhelming silence following Zayn’s words, my mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze lingers on me, intense and unsettling, as if he’s trying to decipher my thoughts. The air between us is charged with a tension I can almost touch.

His proximity is disarming, the heat from his body mingling with mine. Despite my turmoil, I notice the way his muscles move under his skin, the way his eyes hold mine with a fierce intensity. It’s a dangerous dance, this push and pull between us, and I find myself both repelled and drawn to him at the same time.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the oversized shirt. “Why should I believe you? You could be making all this up just to… to get back at me for something.”

Zayn’s eyes darken, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I have no reason to lie to you, Cleo. You should be thanking me, not accusing me of lying or accusing me of… I saved you, that is all that matters.”

“Saved me how?” My voice shakes, and I fight back the tears that threaten to

spill.

“Someone slipped something in your drink,” he tells me. “I found you in the parking lot… trying to drive home,” he answers. Why would anyone drug me? And why did he care enough to help me?

I open my mouth to say something, then close it again, not knowing what to say.

“And Deacon, just let me try to drive?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “No idea. He was too busy, not dry-fucking your stepsister and his ex.”

“Stop saying that! You make it sound like he was doing something wrong!” I snap.

His eyebrows raise almost into his hairline.

“Because he is wrong! You shouldn’t be with him! You’re not his!” he snarls.

“What the heck are you talking about?” I growl back at him, and why is he getting so mad? Of course, I would assume he did something when I woke up, not remembering how I got here! Zayn sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath.

I struggle to process everything he’s saying about Deacon and Lydia. It feels like a betrayal, a wound that’s too fresh and raw. “You’re wrong,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “Deacon wouldn’t allow someone to do that to me, and nothing is going on with him and Lydia!”

Zayn’s expression softens slightly, and he takes a tentative step closer. “Cleo, I’m just telling you what I saw. He abandoned you. I wish it weren’t true, but I can’t change the facts.”

“You have a mate out there. One that wouldn’t abandon you. Deacon isn’t yours, so I don’t get why you’re with that loser, or he would have told you, you were his mate.” He shakes his head.

“Yeah, but heaps of people choose mates, they don’t have to be fated, and I, for one, don’t even believe in fated mates. Look at my father’s mate, real catch, she’s a golddigging bitch. I’d rather skip on the mate’s part, thank you,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.

“And you think Deacon isn’t after the same thing? He knows you’re the next Alpha, he becomes your mate, you become his Luna while he steals your title right out from under you,” Zayn states.

I’d never thought of that. Deacon wouldn’t do that. We’ve been together for two years and not once has he ever mentioned becoming Alpha once I take over the pack.

However, Zayn’s words about Deacon seeking power echo through my mind as I try to piece together the fragments of last night. I barely remember anything. I remember seeing him dancing on the dance floor, that’s it. The concept of him using me for his gain feels like a foreign thought, yet it gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.

“I never thought about it like that,” I admit reluctantly, the realization leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “Deacon isn’t like that. He cares about me.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, a skeptical look crossing his features. “Does he? Or does he care about what being with you can get him? Think about it, Cleo.”

His words sting, and a part of me wants to defend Deacon, to deny Zayn’s accusations. Another part, a growing, nagging doubt, wonders if there’s some truth to them. The world of pack politics is a complex web of alliances and power plays, and I’ve always known being the next Alpha would put me in the center of it all.

“Even if what you’re saying is true, what does it matter?” I challenge, trying to mask the turmoil inside me. “I don’t need a fated mate, fate can be wrong, look at my mother, fate really fucked her over.”

Zayn’s gaze softens again, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “You might be surprised at what fate has in store for you.”

The proximity between us is electric, a current that seems to flow from him to me, igniting a fire I didn’t know existed. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I feel as if he’s looking straight into my soul.

The room feels charged with an energy I can’t explain, and I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by an invisible force. His scent envelops me, a heady mix that makes my head spin.

“Doesn’t matter, not now anyway. Just do what you want. You wanna stay with the fool, be my guest. Just know that you’re safe. And nothing happened between us,” he says, his gaze holding mine. I suppose I should be grateful it was him and not someone else with more sinister intentions.

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little relieved. He nods, his eyes never leaving mine, as if trying to reassure me without words. Yet the tension remains, undeniably simmering between us – a heat that refuses to be extinguished, and his gaze is intense.

And though I know I should be grateful for his help, I wonder what it would have been like if something had happened between us. This dangerous thought sends a shiver down my spine and ignites a fire deep within me that threatens to consume my very being.

“Look, I wasn’t drunk, I had two drinks and I definitely didn’t take any drugs voluntarily, and I am sorry you had to babysit me. But you are wrong about Deacon, he wouldn’t abandon me,” I insist, my voice trembling with embarrassment. The heat between us is undeniable; however, so is the humiliation.

“You are seriously still doubting me? See for yourself.” Zayn hands me his phone, and on the screen is a video of me being carried inside the packhouse by him, clearly not in control of my own body.

“Your so-called boyfriend left you alone while you were like that.”

I chew my lip, tears threatening to spill at the thought of Deacon just abandoning me. I hand the phone back to him. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“As I said, you were slipped something, and you threw up on yourself. I showered you.” He shrugs, though his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. My face flushes at the realization that he’d seen me naked, he had said it. I was kind of hoping he was joking and that he had his cleaner, maid, or someone else do it. As if sensing my discomfort, Zayn leans over me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

“Don’t worry, you have nothing to be ashamed about,” he smirks, and I swear I notice a glint of desire in his eyes. He lets me go after a few intense seconds.

I move to the edge of the bed, only to realize I have no underwear on, and I awkwardly pull the shirt down, trying to conceal myself.

“Let me guess, you took me to the hospital, too?” I snap, trying to regain some sense of control as I climb off the bed, only to notice that my injured leg is now completely healed.

“No, I healed you,” he replies, shaking his head.

I stare at him in disbelief. “You what?” I ask him. Healing like that was incredibly rare and dangerous; it is taboo for a reason. Mates would only heal each other in the direst of circumstances, and even then, such an act could be fatal for the healer. Why would Zayn risk his life for someone who meant nothing to him? When another thought occurs to me, he could have sired me by doing so, meaning my wolf would obey him.

“Please tell me you’re joking right now?”

He folds his arms across his chest and raises one eyebrow at me. “Do I look like I am joking?”

I swallow. “You could have sired my wolf before I even got it!” I snap, annoyed at him, though that may explain the weird attraction I’ve had toward him since waking up.

“I can’t believe this. I saved your ass just to get abused over it, gee thanks,” he snaps, making me feel guilty.

“It’s not that… Please don’t tell my dad about this,” I plead, my voice barely audible. I shudder at the thought of what he’d say or do if he found out. What if he strips me of my title? Especially if Zayn has in fact, sired my wolf to obey him? That would put the pack at risk.

“Fine.” I let out a breath of relief when he speaks again. “But you have to go to breakfast with me,” Zayn says with a grin. My heart leaps in my chest. What if we’re seen together?

“Not anywhere anyone will see us together,” he says like he is reading my thoughts. “So what will it be?”

“Deal,” I agree, and I stand only to look down. “Ah, Zayn?” I ask, and he tilts his head to the side. “My clothes?”

He blinks at me. “Ah, right. You threw up on them. I threw them in the trash.”

I glance down at the shirt I’m wearing. I can’t go to breakfast like this and certainly not home in this. My eyes widen in horror, another thing I will need to explain to my father.

Zayn moves toward me, and I peer up at him. He grabs my shoulders. I stare at him like a damn moron, then warmth rushes through me. Oh, no, what if he did sire my wolf? He must realize where my thoughts went because he chuckles and rolls his eyes, steering me toward the bathroom.

The bathroom is spacious and modern, with gleaming fixtures and a large, glasswalled shower.

“I think you sired my wolf!” I blurt embarrassingly, and my hands move to my mouth.

“Why? Fantasizing about me now?” he purrs.

“And you don’t sound the least bit upset about that!” I growl. He appears to think for a second. “Nope, not at all.”

Zayn’s nonchalance about the possibility of having sired my wolf only adds to the swirling chaos of emotions inside me. His casual dismissal of something so significant makes my head spin, yet his next words stop me dead in my tracks.

“Would it be such a bad thing if I sired you?” he muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “At least I know how to treat a woman.”

I scoff at his audacity. “Really? You? How exactly would you treat me differently?”

He steps closer, and the intensity of his gaze sends a thrill down my spine. “For starters, I wouldn’t leave you vulnerable and alone at a club,” he begins, his voice low and steady. “I’d respect you, protect you…” His words trail off.

I roll my eyes, trying to mask the effect his words are having on me.

His proximity is overwhelming, his scent envelopes me, making it hard to think. The idea of being with Zayn, of being his, sends a jolt of excitement mixed with fear through me. His words, though seemingly playful, carry a weight that’s impossible to ignore.

“And how exactly would you do that?” I challenge, my voice barely above a whisper.

Zayn’s smile evolves into something more predatory, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a rush of excitement through me. He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand lifts, tracing a line down the side of my face, his touch feather-light, causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

“You have no idea, Cleo, how much I could appreciate you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive hum that vibrates through me. His hand moves lower, skimming the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

His other hand comes up to gently cup my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I’d worship every inch of your body,” he continues, his gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. “Every curve, every line…” His fingers trail down to the neckline of the oversized shirt I’m wearing, teasing the edge of the fabric.

I catch my breath, my body responding to his touch in ways I can’t control. His proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze—it’s overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “With my hands, my tongue, I would trace every inch of you. You’d never be out of my sight, you’d be lucky if I let you out of my bed,” he whispers, sending heat throughout my body. “I’d make sure you were safe, cherished…”

His words are like a caress, wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into the spell he’s weaving. I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, in the fantasy he’s painting—a fantasy where I am adored, where I am the center of someone’s world.

Then he ruins it, his voice turning teasing, almost taunting. “I certainly wouldn’t abandon you while you were in a vulnerable state,” his face pulls away with a smirk.

“By the smell of your arousal, I bet you want to find out exactly how I’d worship you, don’t you?” His fingers trace lower, brushing just below the hem of the shirt, teasing the bare skin of my thighs. “I bet Deacon doesn’t get the same reaction from you.”

The spell breaks, and I step back, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat my face.

So intimate and raw, that cuts through me, reminding me of the reality of the situation.

“I… You can’t just say things like that,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure. The mix of arousal and embarrassment leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Zayn’s expression shifts, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes before he masks it with a smirk. “Can’t I?”

Turning away from him, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a turmoil of emotions raging inside me. Zayn’s words, his touch, have awakened something within me, something I can’t quite understand. And as much as I want to explore it, I’m also terrified it may mean he has sired me.

The heat rises in my cheeks.

“You’re just messing with me,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction as I peer at him over my shoulder.

Zayn’s smile fades, replaced by a look of sincerity. “I’m not, Cleo. You deserve better than Deacon. You deserve someone who sees your worth, who values you for who you are.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. The thought of being valued, cherished even, is both alluring and terrifying.

“Now go shower, I’ll find you some clothes,” he tells me.

Alpha Zayn leaves the bathroom to fetch me some clothes, and I turn on the water, adjusting it to a warm, soothing temperature. As I step under the spray, the water cascades over me, and I close my eyes, letting it wash over my skin. The tension in my muscles begins to loosen, while my mind refuses to quiet down.

My mind is a whirlpool of confusion and unbidden thoughts about Zayn and the things he just said. The way he moved, his muscles rippling under his skin, had left an imprint in my mind, one I find both unsettling and undeniably alluring. His presence seems to linger in the room, a tangible force I can’t ignore.

As I lather soap over my body, I find myself thinking about Zayn more, about the way his sweatpants had clung to him. It’s a visual that’s both provocative and intimate, and it sends a warm flush through my body.

I shake my head, trying to dispel these thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, not now, not with everything that’s happened. It’s like a current I can’t swim against, drawing me in despite my best efforts to stay aloof. Rinsing my face, I open my eyes, and to my mortification, he walks back into the bathroom just as I am about to step out of the shower. His eyes never leaving mine, he strips off his own clothes and I open the door to hop out when he cages me back inside the shower, forcing me to remain in with him.

“Dude, you are getting far too comfortable with me!” I snap, my embarrassment morphing into irritation.

He smirks and steps into the shower with me. I try to hop out, but he reaches for the soap behind me, effectively caging me in. I take a step back, bumping into the cold tiles, letting out a shriek. I lurch forward and slam into him in my haste to get away. His strong arms wrap around me, stopping me from falling. Now, I am flush against him, feeling the heat of his body against mine and feeling my blood run to my face. I try to pull away. He keeps a hold of me.

“Only the other day, you were saying unshifted females shouldn’t be around unmated males?” I remind him, trying to sound confident despite my awkwardness. “I’m pretty sure you’re breaking your jailbait rule?”

He only smiles, tugging me even closer, making me gasp. “I figured that went out the window when I healed you last night,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. “With my tongue.” He lets out a soft purr, and this time, his tongue runs along my lips.

Arousal floods me, and instinctively, I lean in toward him, only to realize what I am doing. I jerk away, but his grip on me remains strong. Embarrassment washes over me as he lifts his hand, brushing his thumb over my cheek. That silly smile still dances on his face, clearly toying with me. His scent envelops me, intoxicating and entrancing me.

Before I know it, I am leaning in again, our lips nearly touching as he speaks.

“I’m definitely getting too comfortable around you, but are you uncomfortable because you want me closer or because you’re scared of what Daddy will think if he finds out?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Shut up,” I spit, glaring at him, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. The truth is, I can’t deny the strange attraction I have toward him. However that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him make fun of me for it.

“This is your fault because you’ve sired my wolf when you healed me!”

His eyes sparkle with mischief as his smile grows even wider, the sharp points of his canines peeking out from behind his lips. He laughs before releasing me from his grip.

I glare at him, still feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“You shouldn’t do that,” I warn him, trying to regain some control of my body. Instead of taking me seriously, he turns away from me to wash himself. I glare at his back before my eyes follow the trail of water droplets running down his strong shoulders, along the curve of his muscular back, and finally to the swell of his ass. When he turns around, my gaze lands on his cock—long, veiny and thick. I gulp at the size of it.

“Still think you wouldn’t have noticed if I slept with you?” he laughs, clearly enjoying my discomfort. As I lift my gaze to his face, I feel the heat in my cheeks intensify.

All the blood in my body seems to be rushing there, making me lightheaded.

“And she says she’s not a virgin; your blush says otherwise,” he teases, stepping closer and stepping under the water to rinse himself off. Feeling caught out and exposed, I stare at the wall, not knowing where else to look. Moments later, he hops out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. “I left you a towel on the sink,” he informs me, walking out of the bathroom.

I stand there, the water still cascading down my body. My mind floods with conflicting emotions. I can’t deny the fierce attraction pulsing between us, but I am also terrified of what it could mean. For me, for my pack, and for my relationship with my father if he finds out Zayn has sired my wolf before I even have a chance to meet her. The thought of my father finding out lingers uncomfortably. If he truly has, this is bad, he’ll have influence over my wolf, influence over me.

Hopping out, I wrap the towel around my body. I get dressed in the clothes he has left for me, which are men’s clothes that are too big and carry his intoxicating scent. As I step out of the bathroom, I try to regain my composure, preparing myself for whatever lies ahead.

Even with the uncertainty and fear, part of me feels alive, electric. And inexplicably drawn to the puzzling Alpha who has so thoroughly turned my world upside down and is on the verge of getting me murdered by my father.

Trying to explain one run-in with the Alpha was bad enough. How the heck will I explain spending the night with him? My father must be raising the alarm as we speak. What if Deacon went to my house looking for me, or if Lydia saw him take me, and told my father? Panic slivers through my veins at that thought.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I find Zayn waiting for me. The scent of him clings to the fabric, simultaneously comforting and maddening. I know I should be furious with him for siring my wolf, and I find I can’t bring myself to hate him for it, considering he did stop anything from possibly happening to me. It’s the only thing that explains the strange attraction I have toward the man.

“Please tell me we aren’t leaving your pack with me dressed like this?” I whine, tugging at the clothes once I am dressed. As I do, my pants fall, prompting a shriek from me as I scramble to pull them back up. Zayn laughs, his eyes dancing with amusement as he reaches over to help me. He grabs the waistband, hoisting them up so high I can almost tuck my breasts in them. I hiss when he gives me a wedgie, front and back. I glare at him, and he laughs, tying the drawstring again before stepping away, so I can try to pull his sweats from my crack. Great, now I have to walk around with a wedgie and camel toe.

“Come on,” he chuckles, guiding me toward the door. Reluctantly, I follow him, unable to shake the feeling that I am walking straight into the wolf’s den once home. We make our way through the grand hallways of his packhouse, eventually emerging outside, where my car is waiting.

“I had my brother bring it back for you,” he tells me, gesturing toward the vehicle, another thing I have no memory of. He then leads me to his own car, opening the door for me. I hesitate for a moment before sliding into the plush leather seat. The interior of his car is sleek, with a glossy black finish. It is the kind of car most people can only dream of owning—for Zayn, it was just another luxury in his life, while it gives me anxiety in case I break something or scuff it with my shoes.

Zayn hops in and puts the key in the ignition. “You aren’t taking me into the city, are you?” I ask nervously as he starts the car. “My father will murder me if he catches me with you.”

“Relax, Cleo,” he replies, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “I have no intention of getting you in trouble with your father.” He revs the engine as I fumble for the seatbelt.

As we drive, I feel torn between the news of Deacon abandoning me and the realization that being involved with Zayn could have dire consequences. He is powerful, intoxicating – different from Deacon in every conceivable way. Then I remember what he said last night that he would never be caught dancing with another woman if I were his.

“Stop overthinking things,” he says, as if reading my mind again. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, your father won’t find you here.”

I want to believe him, more than anything. Deep down, I know anything to do with Alpha Zayn is playing with fire – and I am dangerously close to getting burned.

“My stepsister is always looking for any excuse to get me in trouble, and this wouldn’t just get me in trouble. My father would disown me,” I explain, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as I think about Lydia’s constant meddling.

“So?” he asks, his gray eyes meeting mine with a challenge. “You’re an adult, you can be around whoever you want,” Zayn shrugs, and I raise an eyebrow. No, he can be around whoever he wants, he’s an Alpha. Right now, I am just the Alpha’s daughter who relies on her father to still pay her tuition.

“My father hates you for some reason, he blames you for killing his best friend, I have yet to hear a word of this so-called friend he had,” I admit.

“Ah, he’s talking about my father,” Zayn states. Confusion washes over me, and Zayn smirks, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “That’s your real concern, your father.”

I swallow hard, averting my gaze. I can’t deny the truth of his statement.

“Relax, Cleo,” Zayn murmurs, his hand reaching over to brush against mine, sending an electric thrill up my arm. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter under my breath, the warmth of his touch somehow eases my fears. I pull my hand away, he clears his throat, placing both hands on the steering wheel.

“Because of my father,” he abruptly answers, catching me off guard. I look at him, confusion mixing with curiosity.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“They used to be best friends, and they were talking again before my father died. Your father hates me because my father is dead, he blames me. My father was going to sell him back the land, but I stopped him, not wanting Linda to get her hands on it. When the city was founded, your father and mine, along with four other men, co-owned the land on which it was built. However, Joseph got into debt to my father, and after Joseph was caught out, he spent the funds put aside for his half. My father was going to file for bankruptcy when your mother told my father to sell half of it.”

“So he was forced to sell half of their shared half or lose it all. He left a patch for your father from his half, which he finished paying off just before you were born, back then my father had no choice to sell the rest off. It took until I took over my father’s pack to recover what he lost.”

“As a result, your father has been holding a grudge against my father ever since, and he’s been trying to find a way to take the land back. That’s why he hates me – he thinks my father sold him out and tried to steal what is his. However, that hatred grew when my father died; your father hated him for it. For years they were really close.”

“If my father were in debt, he wouldn’t have had a choice,” I say, the pieces not quite fitting together in my mind.

“True, but your father didn’t see it that way and reckons my father caused issues in his marriage to your mother. However, what he doesn’t know is that your mother told my father to sell it because the money used to buy it originally came from her parents.” My grandparents died when I was six, so hearing him speak of them is a little odd?

“Only when your mother learned your father spent the land taxes and defaulted on her parents’ credit, she asked him to sell it to get back anything he could for it. My father, luckily, was able to sell a sizable chunk that paid her parents back. He kept a piece and gave it to your mother because your mother used to be best friends with mine until your father got it in his head that my father was meddling and after his wife.”

“Yet he left her for the troll he has now because she is his mate,” I scoff, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. Zayn remains silent on the matter, clearly uncomfortable with discussing my father’s choices.

“So, where is your mother now?” I ask him, trying to shift the conversation.

“Dead. She died nineteen years ago.” Zayn swallows thickly as if the words still sting after all these years.

“You have no wolf, ask me again when you have her.”

“Maybe I’ll challenge you.”

“Or maybe you’ll roll over and submit? I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.” He smiles.

“You seem so sure of yourself,” I taunt.

“Maybe I am just hoping you will be easier to deal with regarding your border issues. Hopefully you are more compliant, I already fight with your father enough.”

“Wait, you’ll handle the borders?” I ask him. He leans back in his chair, watching me for a second.

He seems deep in thought. “Your father will eventually find out, you’re aware of that, right?” he asks me. I nod slowly, my father is being irrational and putting the entire pack at risk.

I sigh heavily. “You’re scared of him,” Zayn asks, and my gaze darts to meet his.

“Not in that sense, not how you’re probably thinking. My father won’t hurt me.” He raises an eyebrow at me, his eyes darting to my cheek, almost like he can see my father’s handprint there. Instinctively, my hand goes to my cheek and my face flames.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks.

I swallow guiltily. “I know he hit you, Cleo. I could see the burst blood vessels under your skin when I showered you last night and washed your makeup off.”

“He was angry because I came to you for help. I overstepped.” He nods slowly and leans forward in his chair.

“That doesn’t give him the right to put his hands on you.”

“It’s not like that.” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I exhale, knowing there is no point in arguing. He hates my father and nothing I say to him will justify his actions.

“He apologized; he lost his temper. He isn’t usually violent, he’s never hit me before,” I admit.

Zayn’s jaw clenches. “If you’re not afraid of him hurting you, then what are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of him giving my mother’s pack to Lydia,” I tell him.

He nods.

“And I’m scared of him marrying me off to Boyd.”

“That won’t happen,” he tells me, and I laugh. He has no idea.

“It won’t happen, Cleo,” he tells me; his aura rushes out and I fight the urge to push back against it, knowing there is no point in challenging the man when I don’t have my wolf. Gritting my teeth, I stare down at my plate when he drops his aura.

“I’ll speak to Alpha Dane. I have a meeting with him next week, anyway.” I look up at him, hopeful. If I can’t get Boyd to refuse the marriage alliance, maybe Zayn can convince Alpha Dane not to force it.

“Why would you do that?” I ask. This man has already done enough for me.

“Because no one should be forced into a marriage for treaty agreements,” he tells me. “Now finish eating, you should head back before your father sends out a search party for you.”

“That’s if he hasn’t already.”

He snickers. “I’m sure he has. He’s probably tearing the city apart as we speak, looking for you. Have you decided how you’re going to explain your absence?” I shake my head, and he clicks his tongue.

“Well, you wanna think of something quick.”

I nod, mulling it over. Either way, I know I’ll end up having to come clean eventually. Occasionally, it’s best just to rip the band-aid off.

“I guess I’ll tell him I fell asleep in my car,” I ponder.

“He’ll believe that?”

“No, but it will give me a few days to come up with a better excuse, or I can tell him I stayed at Deacon’s which will not go down well, but Deacon will cover for me.”

Zayn says nothing and we finish eating in silence. When it’s time to leave, he drives me back to his place where my car is waiting and hands me my keys, along with another key and a plastic card. I stare at the swipe key with the small silver key attached to it.

“What’s this?” I ask him.

“That is the swipe card to the gate to get in here, and the key is to the packhouse,” he tells me. My eyes widen, and I try to pass it back to him.

“Zayn, I can’t take that,” I tell him.

“You can, and you will if you want my men watching your borders,” he tells me.

I swallow guiltily. “You still haven’t said what you want me to do. I can’t pay you, my father would notice if I took money, besides, I don’t even know what he pays for pack protection.”

“When do you go back to school?” he asks, and I lean against the hood of my car.

“Next week,” I admit, and I can’t wait to be away from my father, Linda and Lydia.

“And what do you do for work?” he asks.

“Mostly, I work for my father, and only during breaks. I was paying off my car after Lydia almost totaled it, but after my fight with him, I think I’ll steer clear of him since he paid to get it out, especially if he is serious about this marriage alliance. I know he’ll try to force me to drop out.”

“He can’t do that,” Zayn tells me.

“He can when he pays for it.”

Zayn sighs, then runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine,” he says, stepping closer and placing his hands on either side of my hips. His scent overwhelms me, and he smirks, seeing the effect he has on me. “You’ve sired my wolf, you know that. My father is going to murder me,” I growl, yet it comes out more of a moan. My eyes widen, and my face heats.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he purrs, giving me a devious smile.

“Zayn, stop playing with me. It’s not funny!” I growl at him. The shaky note in my voice betrays how hot and flustered this man makes me. His gaze rakes over me and ignites a pool of desire which has been simmering deep within the entire time I’ve been with him. I try to remind myself it’s the sire bond from him healing me, yet another part of me can’t deny how attracted to the man I am.

“And what if I don’t want to stop?” his voice is low, barely more than a whisper as he dips his head lower, his lips moving against my ear. It sends a thrill of anticipation spiraling down to my toes. The way he looks at me…it says he wants more than just playful banter. He wants me. I don’t know if that is his way of getting back at my father, however I can’t say I would turn him down if he requested my body for payment. It goes against everything I believe in; I’m saving myself for my mate, or for Deacon to mark me, but why do I feel like I would throw all that away for him?

Deacon! Deacon! You have a boyfriend; I remind myself.

Zayn’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him. My breath hitches as I feel the hard contours of his body pressing into mine. The feeling of raw power emanating from him makes my blood pulse wildly in my veins, filling me with desire. It’s intoxicating.

“I bet right now I could ask you to do anything, and you’d fall over yourself to do it,” he laughs softly, pulling away to look at my face.

“It’s the sire. If you didn’t want me falling over myself to please you, you shouldn’t have healed me!”

He smiles wickedly. “Or maybe I have you exactly where I want you,” he purrs, and my eyes flutter closed at the sound emanating from his chest. Zayn’s words send a shiver down my spine.

Deacon! I remind myself again. Yet he ditched me, abandoned me in a vulnerable state!

I push Zayn away, trying to regain some control over myself. “We both know this is just the sire bond,” I say firmly, my voice shaking slightly.

He raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “Is it? Because I have a feeling you’re attracted to me regardless of the sire bond.” He takes a step closer, trapping me against my car with his body once more.

I can feel his breath on my face, and it takes all my willpower not to give in to him. “I have a boyfriend,” I remind him, hoping that will be enough to get through to him.

He leans in even closer, his lips almost touching mine. “And yet here you are, alone with me and you’re really putting up a fight to escape.”

I struggle to find a response as his hand gently cups my cheek. My heart races and my body betrays me in response to his touch. Tension crackles like electricity between us, the raw power of his aura radiates from him making my blood rush and my heart pound against the walls of my chest.

Zayn’s lips brush against mine as he speaks. “What if I said I want you as payment? Would you deny me?” I know I should push him away, remind him I have a boyfriend and this is wrong, yet all rational thought seems to have escaped me at this moment.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. I’m certain all he sees is desire burning in them, mirroring his own. “Zayn, please,” I beg him.

A part of me wonders if I am begging him to keep going or asking him to stop.

I bite my lip, trying to regain some control over my body and emotions. “This is wrong,” I whisper.

“Is it really?” Zayn asks, his hand trailing down from my cheek to lightly brush against my neck. “You don’t seem to be complaining.” He smiles smugly then leans in closer until his hot breath tickles my earlobe, causing waves of anticipation to sear through me.

“But you should go before I don’t let you, wouldn’t want that boyfriend of yours to find out you’re sired to another now, would we?” he asks, and hearing him speak of Deacon’s is like he tossed a bucket of ice water over me.

The thought of Deacon makes me stumble back momentarily, Zayn’s swift reaction leaves no room for escape. Strong arms circle around my waist, pulling me close again. The feel of his hard body pressing against mine causes me to take a sharp intake of breath.

He watches me for a second, and I push off his chest. “I should go,” I tell him while also reminding myself how wrong this is. Zayn lets me go and I fumble with my keys to unlock the car. Then I pause.

“You never said how I am supposed to pay you for watching the borders,” I remind him as I climb into my car.

“I have an office near your university. What days do you have free?” he asks.

“None. I have three early days,” I tell him.

“Then you’ll come there. You can help me in the office; I just fired my last secretary,” he tells me.

“Why?” I find myself asking.

“Because she is my ex,” he states. I crinkle my brows.

“Oh, the one you dumped via text?” I snort a laugh.

“Yep, don’t need her moping around work,” he chuckles.

“Who said she is moping? Maybe she is glad to be done with your arrogant ass,” I tell him.

He smiles. “Now I’m arrogant. Only a second ago, you would have let me kiss you,” he tells me, and my face heats. I open my mouth to argue that it’s the sire bond, but he beats me to it.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the sire bond. Now get home. You have my number if you need me, and I’ll have my men watch your borders from a distance,” he tells me before turning on his heel and heading back into the packhouse. Shaking my head, I start my car and turn it around in the huge driveway before driving out of his territory.

Now, to convince my father, I slept in the car or at Deacon’s, because guaranteed, he’ll be looking for me and will be on a warpath.